You are currently browsing the monthly archive for February, 2007.
Most people don’t know how I got the nickname of Andy. Its an Anglicized short form, and back in college, some girls thought I was a Catholic, named Andrea who had fashionably shortened her name to Andy. 
Way back in 1988, when I was in 6th std, Music lessons started. We were all excited, because Music period was with the ‘only’ male teacher in Baldwins…he he….ofcourse he was old and he was a ‘foreigner’..(at that time I thought he was anglo, but the truth is I dont know whether he was Anglo, or American or European). Anyways, whatever he was, the class was excited when Mr. Mitchell entered.
He had a limp that made him drag his leg forward when he walked. We were excited, and also a bit scared of him. He was a loud, and larger than life kind of figure for a bunch of 60 babbling girls. But after a few classes, we relaxed and started having fun. Music period meant that we could have fun, writing down songs along with the music notes that he gave us and then singing the songs!
Yes! Singing the songs whether or not we could sing! Oh the joy of that! 60 voices braying out ‘Dinah!’ or ‘Clementine’ and the myriad other songs he taught us. And no one was bothered about the quality of their voice..after all this wasnt a choir try out…no bothering about who had a soprano voice or alto voice.
Sometimes, when the braying got out of hand probably, sir(as we were supposed to call him) conducted quizzes, or let us play dumb charades. Once, I had to go up to him to take a note. “Whats your name?” he asked. In the din that was our 6 A classroom, the small classroom being the former dormitory for Laura Gill house students, where all of us were packed together side by side, back to back…he didnt hear me. He asked me to repeat my name.
With infinite patience, (reserved for teachers and others in authority) I told him my name. ‘Andaleeb’.
“What kind of a name is that?” he said, and scratching his head, “I can’t remember that. From today, I’m going to call you Andy.”
The class tittered, amused and bored. They had heard me pronounce my name a zillion/trillion times before…’UN-THE-LEEB’ but this was the best result that had come out. Of course, no one started calling me Andy right away.
Everytime sir met me in class, or in the hallway, he’d shout out..’How you doing Andy?’. I’d smile, a little embarrassed as other girls would look at me and laugh, probably a bit enviously at the familiarity the nick name suggested. A couple of years later, Neeta started calling me Andy. I dont know why. After that, in college, my friends from PUC, they started calling me Andy, having heard Neeta call that once. Then, later in degree classes, Shirley Bernard, one of my English teachers started calling me Andy. I was surprised at how fast the nick name caught on, that too without me using it to introduce myself! I never used Andy while introducing myself in class, or anywhere else. I’d painstakingly repeat my full name to anyone, but once they heard my nick name was Andy, they too would start calling me that.
Well, I dont mind being called Andy. Today, all my colleagues also call me Andy. And sometimes Sab goes to the extent of singing out Andy-Pandy when he wants to annoy me. Andy brings familiarity and cosiness that Andaleeb doesnt! I guess ‘Andy’ has helped demarcate my life into two…Andaleeb for family and formal occasions, or in letters to prospective publishers….Andy for friends and colleagues…
I don’t know how Mr. Mitchell is doing these days. The last I saw him, he was looking very ill. Still limping about school. But everytime he sees me, theres a smile and the booming, ‘How you doing Andy?’ 
src=\”http://andaleebwajid.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1171902883-hr-394.jpg\”
I guess the title and the picture(Some blogger had a similar mountain of books on her blog too…Guess I\’m a copy cat!) says it all….
I can\’t believe I have been hoarding so many books! Ofcourse, some among them are new additions…which I have a feeling I will read pretty soon. Others, like Middlemarch, and Scarlet Letter, are probably waiting for me to grow old, and slightly senile so I can turn their pages, and tell my grandchildren, \’In my days, we used to buy books. Not read them on your mobile/palm top/laptop\’ (or whatever its going to be next in my old age.)
And there are some, which are enticing, but I don\’t know why I cant make myself proceed beyond thirty pages. The House of Blue Mangoes is one. I bought this book in 2004! Egad!
Right now, I\’m focussed on finishing The Inheritance of Loss, and then its my Martha Grimes, that Shantaram which Ayesha has been raving about(and which has been an advance birthday gift to me from her!) and then its my MA (horrid) texts, and ONLY then, I\’m going to try and read those others, including House of Blue Mangoes.
src=\”http://andaleebwajid.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/1171719797-hr-385.jpg\”
(Christina\’s blog on her ten favourite books, especially her disclaimer got me thinking.)
I\’ve listed \’The Nanny Diaries\’ on my list of favourite books on Y!360. But now, I\’m not so sure. The first time I read it, I loved it. I thought it was a very good take on the nanny scene in NY, where rich and affluent mothers, hand over their children to hired nannies, and just forget about them.
I re-read it a couple of months ago, and I realised that the book depressed me. Where its self-deprecating humour, quite like most chick-lit books on the scene had earlier made me smile and maybe even grin, now, I saw the sadness lurking behind it. Most of all, I felt sad for the little kids, who would fit in the cliche, \’poor little rich kids\’ perfectly. They have all the toys they want, all the custom-made furniture and designer clothes, but no mommy. Mommy apparently is busy getting herself some valuable \’me-time\’ while she palms off the child to a harried nanny who feels that being a nanny is the only job that she can do with her clothes on that pays so well!
The Nanny Diaries is the story of Nanny who is on the look out for a job that will help her get through college. She likes kids, and becoming a nanny is thus natural. In the park, she bumps into Mrs. X who feels that Nanny could be a very good substitute for Caitlin her present nanny. Her four year old son Grayer is wary around Nanny at first, but slowly, the lines blur. Nanny becomes the most important person in Grayer\’s life, ofcourse, after his mother. Mrs. X reels off child psychology to Nanny, but doesn\’t have the time to actually get down on her knees and see her son.
At the backdrop is the X\’ es deteriorating marriage, and Mrs.X\’s feverish attempts to keep things looking smooth, fighting hard to dribble gloss into the cracks that have appeared in their marriage.
In my first reading, I was simply amused by reading the account of Nanny\’s experience with Park Avenue mommies who dont blink before spending huge sums of money on body treatments, but waver before paying up money to the person who has become their child\’s primary care-giver. Now, I felt angry and annoyed.
The last chapter of this book has been my favourite. I realised thankfully that it still is. The book reads easily, rather like Bridget Jones Diary and it does seem like a variation of a chick lit book. But read it for the depths hidden underneath the light prose. Read it if you dont feel like bashing up all those mommies who give birth to kids, and then hand them over to others to raise. I guess I feel so strongly, cos I became a mother once again!
( I just googled for it, and found that its been made into a movie too!! Didnt know that!)
Hey! I managed to pick up The Inheritance of Loss from indiaplaza.in for a very reasonable rate. Also helped that I had a Rs150 coupon to reduce the price further! Just reading it. More about it as soon as I finish reading it!
Sometime in May 2002, I had joined a group of young Muslim women, and we had started an awareness group for women. The group’s aims were to educate Muslim women about their rights and to try and do something for the community.The need to mobilize our women was reinforced because of the Gujarat riots that had occurred just then.
My friend Rehmat pulled me into this group, despite my reservations. All said and done, I am not the kind of person to take out a morcha and go on a protest. I dont know why, but I have never done something of this sort, and I didnt see myself doing it either. Suddenly, after joining this group, it seemed as if my eyes were opened. What was I doing with my life all these years I wondered? There were a group of young educated Muslim women, who were so totally into this, into it in a way I would never be. I felt as if I would never belong there, because these people had been together for a long time, they spoke of rallies and morchas, and visiting slums and doing things I just wouldnt have. Why wouldn’t have I? I think, getting passionate about something, enough to do something about it, these are things that should be inculcated, probably from school itself. I was ashamed at my laidback attitude of all these years.
At our group meetings, one of the first things we did was to collect money for the Gujarat riot victims. We collected a very modest amount and I think Rehmat passed it on to Brinda Karat[yes the same Brinda Karat of CPI(M)]of AIDWA who was headed out to Gujarat very soon. After that, we met every week, discussed various issues but never really got down to doing anything. We were a group of young motivated women, who had good ideas. But they remained just ideas. And for me, I wasnt able to put my entire self into it. For one, I was pregnant, and ammi had reservations about me travelling in autos for the meetings every week. Also, the women had some how formed a clique of their own, and no matter what I did, I wouldnt be a part of them. It wasnt that they weren’t nice and welcoming, but I was just a passing breeze in their lives.
The truth was that the entire group itself turned out to be a passing breeze. One girl got married, another got busy with her studies. I lost the baby and ammi forbade me from going anywhere on any other meeting. Rehmat moved to Mumbai with her job, and life just moved on.
Today, I stop and sometimes think about those days when we met up in the Dar-es-Salam building on Queen’s Road. Was it for real? Its almost five years now. Although it was an invaluable experience, I feel that now I can view things more objectively. Petty squabbles, and community politics ruined the group before it could do anything really worthwhile. Moreover, there was an element of bossiness that Rehmat exuded, and after her departure, everyone just went back to their lives, probably heaving sighs of relief.
Why did I think of this now? Well, I don’t know. All this talk in the media about Parzania, and the Gujarat riots,…I saw some promos of the movie which chilled me…..I just remembered that its five years since people in Gujarat faced terror.
It started with my moms fever, a couple of weeks back. Ever since then, we’re all falling sick. Totally unexpected and very debilitating. Mom had 103 degree fever and was totally weak and I had to come here to cook and help around in the house. It was tough with Az and Saboor and Sid having college. Plus there was work also. Mom recovered, (that was around the time those awful riots broke out) and I headed back home to BTM.
A week later, mom came to pick me up, all revived, coz Shakeel Mam and his family were coming over from Madras. They hadnt seen Az yet and they wanted to see papaji too, who I forgot to mention, was the first person to fall sick, even before mom. I came here on Saturday, making plans to stay till Tuesday as Sab had holiday on Monday as well as Tuesday.
Monday – I had to take Az for his vaccination. I also thought I’ll take Sab along with us, and see if I have missed out on any of his vaccinations. Plus, there were those worrying mosquito bites on his arms, legs and even back! How had they bitten him there?
The doctor of course laughed when I told her about the mosquito bites. Its chicken pox, she announced. But how, I asked her. After all, Sab had been vaccinated with Varilrix when he was one year old. She looked slightly sheepish when I told her that just recently Sab had been asking me what chicken pox was, and I had told him rather confidently that he wont get it, since he had got vaccinated for it. She said it was a milder version and would subside soon.
Tuesday – It was getting rather difficult keeping Sab away from Azhaan. He refused to understand and was getting more and more cranky. Azhaan ofcourse had high fever because of his vaccination for DPT. Between the two of them, I was going bonkers and there was some stupid deadline we had to meet at work, where the client wanted to see the brochures on 31st Jan, and no later. Tuesday night, I took more than one, rather-too-sweet- bite of my mom’s ‘Bread mithai’, felt a little tickle in my throat which developed into a full fledged sore throat by midnight.
Wednesday – I got up feeling awful. My throat felt raw and I wasnt able to swallow anything. And there was the beginning of a fever. Took anti biotics that night, but it didnt help.
Thursday – Sore throat still there, every swallow of even water, a rather painful event. Also, ammi was once again feeling feverish. She also had the beginnings of a sore throat.
Friday – Both of us decided to go to the doc, but we couldnt walk up there. Ammi was getting the chills and she felt too weak to walk or even drive up till there. So we called Mansoor to take us to the doc. He prescribed meds for us, meds which really helped, as both ammi’s and my sore throat simply disappeared. It only left me with a runny nose, and ammu with a stuffy nose. 
( I also felt faint, the effects of not having eaten much from the past three days.
Whew! So, this week is finally over. I hope we’re all feeling better tomorrow. Sab’s chicken pox spots are mostly dry, except for three, where if I apply calamine lotion, he jerks his hand away, saying he gets a shock. Az JUST went to sleep. Sometimes, I think that baby is really confused about day and night. Even though its dark, and theres only the night bulb on, I have a feeling he thinks, chalo, let me smile at mom and see if she smiles back..if she does, she’ll surely play with me. And i’m sure he knows how irresistable his smile is.:D
If anything I’m concerned about, its that now, I am not able to tolerate anything that is slightly sweet also. Should I be happy that now i’ll probably lose weight, now that I wont be wolfing down hide’n seek by the packet, or munching on perk whenever I feel like it? Somehow, I dont think my aversion to sweets will be a long lasting one. Even if it is, its not going to help me lose weight. Not after the way i’ve been attacking the potato chips and mixture lying around in the house!
