The infant airplane syndrome!

For an infant, an airplane ride can be truly traumatic. As adults, we know that after 16 hours, there will be light at the end of the tunnel. The infant has no such hope.

Think about it from the infant’s angle- it is suddenly stuck in this cage. Its earlier, familiar world is gone. In this new world, it is dark, it is cramped, it is filled with rows upon rows of absolute strangers. Further, you do not get a seat of your own. You must stay strapped to the parent’s chest for hours on end. When the parent walks down the aisle to the soothe the infant, there is more fear. You see more people heads, much like a Mumbai suburban train in rush-hour, confirming that the world beyond your seat…is far worse. The child must be filled with such panic!

How do you assuage this kid? Naturally, it screams as though there is no tomorrow. The mother tries to pacify. She is unsuccessful. She tosses the child over to the father. He is equally clueless. Sometimes, parents come armed with a “pacifier”. it is a device that sticks into the child’s mouth and allows it to calm down. At this point, a pacifier is completely useless. The child is bawling, its mouth is ajar, and stretched to the limit on all sides. How is the pacifier going to stay in place? At the most, the parent can use it, to calm his or her nerves!

Parents of infants face other forms of subtle, rude barbs. They invite ugly stares from co-passengers. The stare says it all- “You are an irresponsible parent, with no knowledge of parenting. You have instilled absolutely no discipline; no wonder, the infant is wild, on the loose and so unruly!”

Sometimes, you are lucky to get co-passengers who have “been there and done that”. They give some constructive advice, “When the plane takes off and when it lands, the air-pressure changes. The child experiences intense pain in the ear. That’s the reason it cries so much. It is ok to give some medication. That way, the child can sleep through the journey!” Sage advice all right, but how do you implement it now?

In some cases, the parents have signed up for a “bassinet”. The airhostess hands over the bassinet. For the uninitiated, a bassinet is a glorified vegetable vendor’s basket. It is a tiny little trough, just enough to fill a couple of tomatoes and potatoes, so that you can hand it over to the grocer for weighing and pricing. The bassinet is clamped in front of the seat. Once you place the child in the bassinet, it screams even louder. It shakes its hands and legs in such a frenzy that it comes dangerously close to toppling the entire bassinet and may be, the delicate partition-wall that holds the bassinet in place!

One big problem with a plane journey is that there is no scope to distract the child. At least in a train, the child can look out of the window. Yes, we agree, that in a plane, there is no arresting scenery to watch. Still, the arrangement of clouds and the play of light and shadow can keep the child interested. But even this entertainment is denied.

In an airplane, even if you get a window seat, you are asked to keep the windows shut. Someone is disturbed by the light streaming through the window and complains. The airhostess comes by, “Sir, can you down the shutters of the window?” Parents of the infant are now truly helpless.

When there are multiple infants in a plane, the crying follows a well-documented protocol. It is a like a jugalbandi between a mrdangam artiste and a ghatam player in a concert. First, one infant howls from one side. The other one simply watches. Somehow, the crying infant is pacified. Now, the other child takes over. And once this ghatam artiste has completed his aavartanam, the mrdangam player takes over once more. This ping-pong continues for a few iterations. Eventually, the ghatam artiste and the mrdangist join hands, and together, bring the roof down! So too in this airplane- strains from each infant, one on either side, is unified into one harmonic screech, as this vocal jugalbandi draws to a climactic close!

The kids have cried themselves hoarse. Peace reigns. All is quiet, except for the occasional advice to “Fasten your seatbelts and refrain from using the restroom. We are experiencing some turbulence”.

We are told Sage Vaamadeva experienced this exact “infant airplane syndrome” when he was stuck in his mother’s womb.  For him, the “get me out of here” feeling was so intense, that whilst in the womb, he pondered over the verities of life. When he was born, he was already an enlightened person!

Yes, the “infant airplane syndrome” can be such a game-changer, in fact, a life-changer!

 

The Indian in the US hotel

The Indian mind is used to certain perks. The moment you land up in a hotel, half a dozen hotel attendants are up and about. Someone opens the door of the taxi for you, someone unloads your luggage, someone leads you to the reception desk. Once the registration is complete, you simply head to your room. The luggage will arrive on its own! You are used to such royal treatment.

No such luck in the US. You are entirely on your own. Once registration is complete, the receptionist sums it up- “You are all set. Here’s your access card. The elevator is to the left!”   There is no room to protest, “Saar! Are you serious? Do you know I am coming from India after a 20 hour flight? I am carrying 2 huge granite blocks, I mean suitcases...that I can barely move. Plus, I have a trolley, a carry-on baggage I mean, and a backpack. You expect me to carry them to the 6^th floor room? You are joking, aren’t you?” There is no one to hear your rant. Where did all the people go? Where are all the people? You want to vent out your frustration, “Hello? Is anyone there? Any attendants? Any hotel-boys, any housekeeping staff, any chhotus, hello? Anyone there at all? Hello?” All you hear is silence...amidst the mild-yellow ambient lighting, and yes, with that blessed, background, piped music that plays over and over, endlessly. You can well…huff and puff your way to the 6h floor hotel room.

These days, whether it is India or the US, there is a certain standardization, as far as entry into hotel rooms is concerned. It is an access card based entry- no fiddling around with a lock-and-key anymore. In its ideal essence, of course, the method is simple- you tap your card against the door- and voila! it glows green, the door clicks, and lets you in.

Call it Murphy’s law, sometimes, try as you might, there is no response. There must be some method to the madness, you wonder. You hold the card this way, hold it the other way, rub the card violently against the door, give the card a lick, yank at the doorknob with brute strength- it stays stubborn and dead. You wonder if you are missing something elementary. After all, you do not want to look stupid in a foreign country. After half-hour of absolute futility, you run down to the reception. “Oh! Sorry about that! The access card had timed out. Let me reissue a new card. You should now be all set!” the receptionist solves the problem.

The Indian mind has certain unique characteristics. The moment you enter your room, even a hotel room in the US, you immediately take your shoes and socks off. It does not matter that the room is carpeted, and the local custom is to walk all over, with the shoes on. The mind is conditioned- you need to feel the floor, albeit a carpeted floor, with the soles of your feet. There is an immense, unquantifiable relaxation, that you instantly experience. Only now, treading the carpet with your bare feet, do you feel at home, even if it be, a hotel-home.

The first thing that comes to mind is the most crucial point, “How do you get coffee tomorrow morning?” To answer your fervent call, the eye catches a coffeemaker in the room. There are multiple items stacked around the coffee maker; cups, coffee-powder- both “regular, roasted” and “decaffeinated” coffee. In addition, there are sugar sachets, there is "brown-sugar", an artificial-sweetener, a “creamer” (milk powder) and finally a wooden stirrer.

For the next hour, you feel like Thomas Alva Edison crouched over his light bulb invention. How do you put these ingredients together to get that blessed cup of coffee? After immense toil, there is eventually, coffee! The anticlimax cannot be spelt out in words- this is anything but Kumbakonam degree coffee. You hold your tongue out in disgust- how do you swallow this concoction? The devas would have felt exactly like this. After churning the ocean relentlessly, for  days on end, for their back-breaking effort, all they got (at least initially) was poison, haala-haala visham! There is instant empathy with the puranic story.

How much you miss India! It would take just one phone call at 5:30 am to “room-service”. “Can I have 2 cups of strong filter-coffee, yes, kumbakonam-degree-coffee, sent to the room immediately? Don’t make it lukewarm. I need it nice and hot. 1.5 spoons of sugar per cup. And if possible, some munchies also. What munchies do you have?  Rava-idli? Kesari?” Before you can put down the phone, you can hear footfalls and a gentle tap on the door, “Sir! Coffee!” How much you miss India!

Wedding gifts!

In the days of yore, a wedding gift was simple. You took a standard, white, postal envelope and inserted a 100 rupee note. That done, a shiny, one-rupee coin was added, taking care that the coin did not fall off the envelope. Rs 101 was the standardized wedding gift since time immemorial. You made sure that along with the congratulatory note to the couple, (a standardized template that said- “with best wishes”), you clearly indicated the name of the donor. That detail was important.

A key aspect in any Indian wedding was a sincere accountant. Like the divine statistician Chitragupta, he diligently jotted down the name of the donor and the amount of the wedding gift in a diary. The diary was carefully preserved. At the next wedding, this time in the donor’s family, the exact amount was tendered as his wedding gift. Inflation and the like, was clearly unknown. This mutual give-and-take, accurate to the penny, ensured you stayed rooted to the dictum- “Neither a borrower nor a lender be!” As time moved on, there was only one change- Rs 101 was replaced with Rs 501, in keeping with the new times, and yes, inflation too.

In modern times, a cash gift is considered crass and inelegant. It is a different matter that cash is king, and the best gift. However, now that cash has fallen out of favor, the gift must be in kind. It is here that we hit a roadblock. What do you buy? If it is jewelry, the bride’s tastes may not match yours. You explore other alternatives- electronic gadgets, electronic shaver, beard-trimmer, culinary appliances, crockery, curtains, and other artefacts.

A safe bet is a framed picture of Lord Ganesha. After all, who does not like Ganesha? It is the perfect start to a new home. With other deities, there is a scope for worry- it depends on the couples’ religious leaning. With Ganesha, there are no such concerns. The problem is- after the wedding, the couple could be stranded with over 30 versions of Ganesha- enough to set up a Ganesha showroom! What do you do now?

Another confusing aspect in a modern Indian wedding is this vital point- when should you give the gift to the couple? Once “maangalya dhaaranam” ceremony is over, there is a mad rush. People jump onto the stage in droves, jumping over the priest and all else, to congratulate the couple and hand over the wedding-gift. The groom and the bride are clueless- their hands are full, with gifts thrust from all directions. If ever there was a “best man/woman” in a wedding, his services are urgently required now- at least to free up the couple from the overflowing barrage of gifts and stash them away for safe keeping.

That done, the guests make a beeline for lunch. It’s as if, their patience has completely run out. Since 7 in the morning, they have watched the endless rituals, and they have had enough of it. The irony is- the present juncture in the wedding, is hardly the time to hand over the gift. Even the Indian court has decreed recently, that until the “saptapadi” around the sacred fire is completed, the marriage is null and void. Evidently, such intricate details are yet to filter down into popular Indian consciousness.

American weddings (read American-American weddings, not Indian weddings held in America) follow a different format when it comes to wedding-gifts. The couple sit together and create an elaborate list of items that they need in their married life. These gifts cover the entire spectrum- from home appliances right down to a kitchen spoon.  The price of each item is mentioned alongside. That done, the list is advertised online to the world at large. Each guest chooses the item in keeping with his budget. Once a particular guest has made the selection, that item is out of bounds for other guests.

Looking at this, the Indian mind is all confused. By the time he makes sense of all this, very few items are left standing in the gift-list. He must now choose between a car (this gift has no takers yet) and a bathing towel. He goes for the towel. He shakes his head in absolute bewilderment, “This is the first time, I gifted a bathing towel as a wedding gift!”

A gift from someone, should not be over analyzed and dissected. Only the intent matters, they say. We have the quote- “Thou shalt not look at a gift-horse in the mouth!” In the American wedding, there is no scope for this adage at all. After all, this horse was specially ordered, along with the number of teeth it has!

 

 

Who won?

The last week was a confusing week. After the results of the general elections were announced, it was unclear who won and who lost.  It was like the sculpture at Hampi. If you covered one side of the sculpture with your palm, it looked like an elephant. And if you covered the other side, it now resembled a bull! The sculpture was a mix of both animals, and the final answer was left open to interpretation.

The results were just like this sculpture at Hampi. It made us ponder what "victory" and "defeat" meant. Victory and defeat were not clear-cut, black and white images; rather, they were colored in varied shades of grey. Depending on the viewpoint, the same event was interpreted as a success from one angle, and an abject failure, from the other.

Victory itself has several shades. People talk about a "resounding, landslide" victory, and sometimes about a “moral" victory. A peculiar form of victory is called a "pyrrhic" victory. The Mahabharata war is a prime example. After the war, the Kauravas were wiped out. But the Pandavas suffered heavily. Almost all their sons, except Pareekshit, perished in the battle. Yudhishthira was pained after the victory, and wondered, "Did we wage a war to gain such a victory? Was the victory even worthwhile, given the huge price paid?" Some victories are such- sugar coated victories, but ultimately, a bitter pill to swallow.

Victory is evidently subjective. After the exam results are announced, both students party at the same venue, but for different reasons. The class topper of course, has reason to celebrate. Surprisingly, the last ranker also parties. He normally fails the exams, but this time round, managed to scrape through, with passing marks. In the process, he surprised himself and parties wildly!

Defeat is also subjective. In the times of yore, in a war, a soldier could never show his back. It was a mark of ultimate shame. Surprisingly, Krishna ran away from a particular battle, and still earned a special title called “rann-chhod”! Krishna’s fleeing from the battle, was not a defeat per-se, but classified as a “tactical retreat”. It enabled him to regroup and defeat the enemy later. We read this interesting episode of “success in defeat”, when Krishna takes on the mighty king of Magadha, Jarasandha.

In some cases, it is difficult to select a victor. A nail-biting cricket match is one such example. It is a neck and neck contest, with several ebbs and flows in the game, when the match could have gone either way. Finally, one side had to win. But the difference between the two sides is wafer thin, so much so, we exclaim, "Neither side lost the match. Today, Cricket was the winner!"

We often hear the phrase- "Jo jeeta wohi sikandar!" – “the one who wins is Alexander”, meaning, there is no place for a loser. This takes winning to an extreme. During toss-time, just before the big game, we often hear a statement, said in jest, "Heads I win; tails you lose!"

Loss is always deflating. We gave it our best shot and still ended up on the losing side. Such a loss is hard to stomach. It is as though, the wind is taken off our sails and we sink in despair. Sometimes, it is a case of being so close, and yet so far; as they say, “snatching defeat from the jaws of victory!” which hurts even more.

That's when this apt quote comes handy- "It is fine to lose many a battle- but the important thing is to win the war!" It is like our national motto- "satyam eva jayate". In the short run, it appears as though, we are losing. But these are small battles. In the ultimate analysis, the war will be won. Truth and justice will surely prevail as the winner. Quotes such as these inspire us to keep our chin up and shake off the negativity of the loss.

We learnt a famous poem in school called "If" by Kipling. A line in the poem goes as follows- "If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster; And treat those two imposters just the same!" Here, Kipling calls Triumph and Disaster as "imposters". It is as though, both victory and defeat are equally fake. In every success, there is an element of loss; maybe of time, of effort, of health, to achieve the success. And in every loss, there is a sliver of success. There is some learning in the loss- we go back to the drawing board, and start from the basics.

Finally, there was someone who claimed he never lost. “How did you manage that?” we ask, our eyes filled with wonder. He replies, “Very simple! I shoot the arrow first. Wherever it lands, I draw the target around it! That way, I always hit the bullseye!”

With so many definitions for victory and defeat, did your favorite party win or lose in the general elections? You can only purse your lips, and give a non-committal answer, “Well...It depends!"

Vajpayee ji's immortal lines on the topic-

"kya haar mein...kya jeet mein...kinchit nahi bhaybheet main...kartavya path par jo bhi mila...yah bhi sahi...woh bhi sahi...vardaan nahi maangoonga...ho kuch par...haar nahi maanoonga!" - whatever happens, defeat...I shall never accept!

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P.S: Translating the above lines loosely in English...rearranging the lines to maintain the flow:

kya haar mein...kya jeet mein...kinchit nahi bhaybeet main...vardaan nahi maangoonga..."not in defeat... not in victory...am I even a bit (kinchit) in fear! Never shall I ask for a boon (vardaan) (i.e. a boon to change the situation in any way)

why?

Because I am committed to the path of duty..."kartavya-path"....so much so, whatever I experience on this path..."par jo bhi mila"....I shall accept both- (success and defeat) with grace..."yah bhi sahi...woh bhi sahi"....

But one thing is for certain...(despite my acceptance of both success and defeat) what is that?

ho kuch par..."whatever happens"...."haar nahi maanoonga"...I will not be cowed down by defeat...(meaning, I will work to overcome the defeat..and convert it to a future success!)