iKarma...

I don't do much around the house!

I work very hard at my job, often putting in more hours a week than are needed and sometimes even burning the midnight oil or rising really early to make sure I've given the job at hand everything I have. Whether it meets the expectation of another or not then becomes a matter of rhetoric...

So when it comes to home, I take it easy! If I can get a few minutes in between, I'd rather watch TV, I take pride (not just pleasure) from a Saturday afternoon nap and given the smallest chance, I'll sit on my high black chair, put my feet up on the bed and do my favorite thing. Write...

But there is one thing I do! Without fail. Every week day, at about 630 AM, as I make myself a cup of coffee (first or second depending on what time I wake up), I also make my son his favorite lunch. "Idli"...

Now if you don't know "Idli", go Wiki - "a traditional breakfast in south Indian households, Idli is savory cake of south Indian origin popular throughout India. The cakes are usually two to three inches in diameter and are made by steaming a batter consisting of fermented black lentils (de-husked) and rice"...

The Idli I make for my little fellow is the mini-version. About an inch each in diameter, I make them in a circular steel mould that has 18 little cups (kinda like a cup cake tray, only round), which are filled with the batter and then placed in a pressure cooker (go Wiki) to be steamed...

And I have a method! First I pull out the bottom pan of the pressure cooker and pour some water in it. Enough to drown a base plate made of aluminium on which will stand, first an empty Idli mould of the traditional 2-3 inch diameter type and then over it, the special 18 one-inch cup mould....

Once I place the traditional mould on the base plate, I pour some water on it to cover its four 2-3 inch cups, to temper the metal plate from being wrung out of shape due to the heat. It's holding water now, but one fine evening, it will be filled with batter to provide a traditional "tiffin" dinner to the family...

Then comes the best part! I pick up the little fellow's special mould and with a carefully cleaned index finger, I apply Ghee (go Wiki) to each of the 18 cups. Once the cups are well-oiled, I fill them with the batter and carefully place it over the support plate. I then close the cooker with the lid and turn the stove on...

It takes 20 minutes! Just enough time for me to walk upstairs, wake up my son, throw him in the shower, get back to the kitchen, heat up his breakfast waffle and his milk and set them on the table for him. Once I turn off the stove, I let it cool for a few minutes before I can open the pressure cooker again...

I safely put the hot lid away, pull out the plate full of Idlis and place them next to the little fellow's lunch box. I then scoop out the Idlis, one at a time, placing 4 rows of 4 each that fit the lunch box like a square and put one right in the middle on top of the others. Idli number 18 is served to the Gods in a little silver cup...

Today is a week day! The middle of the week in fact and my busiest. I woke up at 3 AM, started working, had my first coffee at 5 and by 630, it was time for my second. And as though I'm wired to do this by rote, the Idli was already cooking when the digital clock on the stove turned 637...

Having added a couple of slides to the presentation I was creating and draining the coffee from my cup by 7, I went to wake him up. It usually takes a couple of call outs to get him up but today, he sprang up from the bed on the very first call. "Yay! It's a Half-Day Today", he said, even before wishing me Good Morning...

In a second, he was in the shower and I was back in the kitchen. I had just switched off the stove before 7, so I set his breakfast on the table and then opened the cooker. And even before he arrived at the table, I had packed his lunch, put it in his lunch bag and gone to get ready to drop him at school...

"Are you dropping him or should I", my wife asked? "I'm going, I'm just getting ready", I said. "Thanks" she added, "But why did you pack Idli for him today? Today is a Half-Day", she said. It's when I realised that it hadn't even registered when he said it a little while ago. "He can still have it for lunch", I smiled...

Soon we were in the car, on the way to school and then I was back at my work desk, which I didn't leave for many hours. A quick lunch was followed by more work and when I decided it was time to hang up my boots for the day, I sat up on my chair, put my feet up on the bed and started writing this...

I paused here for a bit, looked out the window, and wondered!  This is my sweat-equity, I think! My "Idli Karma"...

Of Dad and Son...

It's difficult to understand my son. Why does he worship me? I hardly do anything for him. First of all, I travel a lot so I am hardly there for him. All the cool stuff he does like websites, books, "Lego" leagues and the "Mad Science" camps is all taken care of by my wife. She spends endless hours nurturing him and fueling his dreams. Really, he is her full-time job. So when he is asked to write an essay about "Who should be the next President of the United States" or "Who is the person who has impacted you most and how", and when he has only one answer, "My Dad", it truly surprises me.

Today was kind of a rude wake up call. For the second day running, he refused to go for a 5 PM showing of Cars 2, whose release he has been eagerly awaiting for a long time. "The reason", he said, "is I want to go to the park and play cricket with Appa". I have been recovering from illness over the long weekend and asked him if he can just go play with his friends and he said, "No Dad, I want to play with you". So I mustered all the strength I had and rode along to the park. Luckily a couple of his friends were already there so they started playing themselves. Just as I thought I will sit on the benches and enjoy the evening, he said, "Appa, can you field?".

I ambled across the grass and stationed myself somewhere between 2nd and 3rd base on the converted cricket field, from where I had a full view of everything. The boys were hitting the ball well but I was well positioned so I could always walk and retrieve the ball, on a day when running was simply out of question. It was then that it hit me. My Dad is my role model.

I grew up in modest middle-class Chennai in the 1980s. Both my parents had to work to support our huge joint family and my father was missing in action most of the time too. He would be gone for weeks sometimes, touring all parts of India, and we didn't even have realiable long distance calling within India, forget the modern amenities of today. Some times he would write us letters and most times he would arrive back home to receive the letter himself, such was the state of the Indian Postal Service. But, he always brought back something. Mostly it would be sweets for the family (wheat halwa from a Delhi sweet shop was a favorite), but sometimes there was special stuff for me. I will never forget my first white cricket sweater, a pair of nice cricket shoes and my first own table tennis racket. All three were very special to me and lasted me a long long time.

It was not what he brought back. It was what he was, and still is. He always rose at 5 AM. He would brew fresh coffee to last a couple of rounds for the big family. He was disciplined about his routine and encouraged all of us to be on time. He always dressed right for work and worked really hard. But most of all, he put others above himself. He was always the last to eat at a party, he was always the last to buy clothes for Diwali. Whether we were taking a rare vacation or we went to watch a test match at Chepauk, he always made sure that the children had food of their like. No matter how many times he had to wake up at night to take care of us when we were sick or even to turn on the bathroom light, he never complained. Why, there were times he had to put others' children above his own, but he took care of them like his own, that they remain indebted to him for life.

My son and I fight all the time. "My Dad is better than your Dad", I tell him. "No, he's not", he says. "Yes, he is", I push him on and then he climbs on me and pounds me while he squeals, "No, no, no, no, no, no...". His dad is his hero, but I sure am right about this one. As I walked across the grass to pick up the ball, it hit me today. I was not there for him for the first five years of his life, working nights and up to 14 hours a day. And though we then moved to the US and I started working days, I also started travelling. I don't do many of the things my Dad did for me. But something I do does it for him. I can't say what it is. Cricket is only a recent passion for him, though I'm sure it's big on his list right now. It could be the bear hugs, the international lullabies or my repeatedly saying, "you're my favorite person in the whole world".

I will never really know which one it is. But I sure did wake up to something today. He is giving me a real chance to be his role model and it is up to me to take it. And all I have is a small window of opportunity. I've got to be there for him, I've got to work harder and I've got to be always right in his eyes. As I sit here writing this at 1045 PM, I realize how hard that can be. Even though I'm sitting next to him on his bed, he's reading "Why is the Sky Blue", with his mother. I will sleep here in a few but will be up at 3 AM to be on a shuttle at 5 AM and be on the road for the next couple of days. I wished my Dad "Good Night" a little while ago and he assured me he will be up to make me my first cup of coffee.

Aha! It's all so clear now, not tough any more. I just have to do for my Son what my Dad did for me. Still does and always will. It's that easy...

Sh*t...

One of the least conspicuous (but most meaningful) items in my home is a green bamboo basket that is placed next to the pot in my bathroom. (If you're not into "gross" I suggest you leave this page right now because this is only going down the drain from here!)

The green basket holds a lot. A couple of newspapers, couple of Tinkle comics, sometimes a Reader's Digest and always the book that I am currently reading. Lest you get funny ideas about my reading habits, let me just spill the guts and say, every morning when it's pot time I catch up on my daily reading. It's usually short and occurs at a time when my family is still asleep so it really doesn't cause anyone any harm. Sometimes, especially on weekends, and if the book is in its nail-biting parts, that could be a much longer time and that's when the green basket becomes the object of my wife's ire.

Yesterday I finished reading my last one, a high school masala called "When it Happens". Coincidentally, yesterday was also Father's Day so my sweet son presented me with a book that I had recently read from our local library's "7 days only" section and simply loved that I wanted a copy for myself. It could not have been a better gift and I was so happy that my son was so thoughtful. Gotta love him.

So today, I replaced "When it Happens" with my new book in the green basket (no disrespect to my dear son here, I still love him and he's my favorite person in the whole world). But again, it made so much sense. That's the purpose of the green basket, I just finished reading my last book (perfect timing) and to top it all, the name of the book is "Sh*t My Dad Says". I mean, how much better can this get?

If you haven't read this book, I whole-heartedly suggest it. It's hilarious. Actually that's an understatement. Trust me, I wouldn't buy my own copy if I don't see myself reading a book over and over again. So you can imagine how many times this book will make it to the green basket and how perfect my home is going to look. Talk about homes that have a theme...

As far as my son goes, is he going to feel bad to see where his precious Father's Day gift went? Sure, he is. And he is going to be furious to see I even blogged about it. But hey! Look at the bright side. I just gave him his first chance at instant fame too. Now he has the opportnity to write his own book - "Sh*t My Dad Reads".

P.S. My son is all of 9 years and has no idea of the contents of Justin Halpern's classic. He's a good kid and will always be my favorite person in the whole world...