Karma, Kairos, Fate...

Karma (often used in the context of 'fate') is a much used and sometimes misunderstood word. It is also generally considered a very oriental concept.  Hence I was surprised to be reading about it in a book on Greek mythology written by the French philosopher Luc Ferry.  His overview of Greek myths is interspersed with thought provoking snippets of philosophy.

Interestingly, one aspect that Luc Ferry brings out is the concept of 'seizing the moment' or completely being in tune with the present and all that it offers, for a harmonious and balanced life.  The goal of a life well lived is not measured in its achievements, physical or moral, but in how true to oneself one has been.

This thought, though woven into myths, is certainly the crux of many eastern spiritual texts (not to be confused with the religious ones, where symbolism, social and 'moral' connotations intervene).

In the Indian system of philosophy, karma (in the context of fate) is not something to be accepted with submission or fear, rather it is something to be wholeheartedly embraced and positively accepted as a part of one's evolution.  Karma yoga (there are broadly four paths or ways of doing yoga, depending on a person's inclination or temperament; the ultimate aim of all yoga being an understanding of one's true self) describes karma as being the right action (rather than a mysterious and often unwanted endowment called fate).

This kind of thought is also glimpsed in Chinese philosophy.  There is a saying by Lao Tzu which I particularly like : "The Master is ready to use all situations and doesn't waste anything.  This is called embodying the light."

Greek myths, speaking as they did of great gods and forces of nature, also reminded men of their role in the cosmos and the need to play out their part without fear, remorse or desire for other realms.  If this did not happen, cosmic harmony was bound to be affected as each element (and individual) was connected to the other.  This is emphasized in the telling of the story of Odysseus and his adventures on his way back home.  He is offered everything that might appeal to a mortal by Calypso - immortality and youth at the expense of going back 'home', but he chooses to return to where he belongs rather than hover forever in an unreal world.

Interestingly, this kind of thought does not end here but finds its way to modern philosophy, as Luc Ferry points out:

"Nietzsche was to reiterate this, long after the Greeks - which proves in passing that their message preserves an actuality such as can still be found in modern philosophy: the "love of one's fate."  To embrace everything that is the case, our destiny - which, in essence, means the present moment, considered as the highest form of wisdom, and the only form that can rid us of what Spinoza (whom Nietzsche regarded as "a brother") named, equally memorably, the "sad passions": fear, hatred, guilt, remorse, those corrupters of the soul that  bog us down in mirages of the past or of the future.  Only our reconciliations to the present, to the present moment - in Greek, the kairos - can, for Nietzsche, as for Greek culture as a whole, lead to proper serenity, to the "innocence of becoming," in other words to salvation, understood not in its religious meaning but in the sense of discovering ourselves as saved, finally from those fears that diminish existence, stunting and shriveling it."

This, of course, is just one point of view, but I have tried it and find that it works very well for myself (when I am able to put it into practice).

Going Solo

I reached Bangalore, bag and baggage in tow and the baby in my arms.  Happy to be heading home but a little apprehensive as well.  Apprehensive, because it was a new beginning and I wasn't sure how I would manage as my plans had gone slightly askew.  The reason being that one day before leaving, I had decided not to bring the maid along.

"No maid?" asked many well wishers.  "Are you sure?  When you get there, look for someone as soon as you can".

"All right," I replied hesitantly, "I'll do my best."

The maid situation had been pretty grim in Delhi.  Even in the large space that I had, maids and I seemed to be rubbing each other the wrong way.  So, in a confined little apartment with no private space, I wasn't sure what would happen.

As it turned out, I couldn't find someone I liked anyway: someone who was gentle, intelligent and professional and didn't come with loads of emotional baggage, advice and opinions.

As it turns out, I find after a month that I'm doing fine without a maid (though I'm functioning quite differently from many Indian homes, where either maids or parents are called upon to babysit).

Small though our apartment is, it is utterly peaceful.  The baby and I roam freely from room to room, looking out upon the trees that surround our house, listening to bird song (which initially startled him, he had never heard it so close or loud before!), insect hums and so on.  We watch the sun rise through our bedroom window and set through the one in our living room.  We walk outside whenever we want, listen to music and crawl on the floor.

I'm learning how to prioritize, how to break up tasks into small steps which take very little time when done gradually, how to put all my gadgets to the best possible use. 

The baby is learning how to entertain himself in the time intervals when I can't be with him.

It's not always easy, it's strenuous for sure, but it's also very satisfying.

Yesterday I baked my first bread.  Today I'm writing my blog.  It's raining outside.  My baby is snug in a rug and I'm spending a few happy moments typing.

What more could one ask for?

Baby Blues

(A song in be flat)

Oh my baby's got the blues
And I watch him, and I sigh
I just don't know what to do
I wait and hope as time goes by.

Sometimes he lies and smiles at me
As if he needed nothing more.
But he's as blue as blue can be
Just 'coz of the baby store.

All I see there is pink or blue
Apparently that's all they sell.
Everything looks nice and new,
But the colors aren't that swell.

So my baby's swathed in blue,
And it's blowing out my mind
But I don't know what to do,
No other colours can I find.

No sunset peach, no grassy green,
No earthy shade, no gentle hue
No weave, no texture and no sheen -
Just a flat landscape of blue.

So my baby's got the blues
Though he doesn't seem to care.
He's fancy free and he's footloose
His world is far away, elsewhere.

From Home To Home

Time has come for us to head from my father's home back to my own.  Three months, as is the custom in India - and it's a wise one (if one wants to move at all), for babies seem to settle down remarkably when they hit this age.  After this, moves are likely to be more unsettling for them as they look around, recognize and begin to communicate with everyone they meet.

It's quite a different set up from some months ago, for the baby and myself.  My father and I had plenty of time to set up the baby's room - a table of the right dimensions converted into a changing table, a wonderful little rocking cradle just right for his small size, enough empty cupboards for all the knick knacks that inevitably go with babies.  Everything in sight was scrubbed, dusted; shelves were lined with fresh paper.  At that time, I planned everything (with some help of course) but didn't know quite what to expect.

Now, there is no time to plan anything, nor am I physically in my own house yet.  It's a house that has long been lived in by two busy adults - shelves packed with books and music, cupboards full of baking equipment and crockery, kitchen filled with spices, herbs and foods gathered lovingly from all my travels.  Nothing remotely resembling baby stuff.  Lots of dust, a few insects...We have a lot of work ahead! 

There's no space for a changing table so I will make do with a bed.  We need a room for the maid, who accompanies us, so I will have to share the office room.  Our gift cupboard (yes! we actually had the luxury of buying gifts for lots of known and unknown people in advance, whenever we saw something nice) will be emptied for the baby.  Some books will be transferred to cardboard containers.  And this, I know, is just the tip of the iceberg (rather hurricane)...

On the other hand, the baby and I know each other intimately now and we manage to function as a comfortable unit instead of a bewildered mother and a desperate baby (of course, things keep changing and each day brings it challenges, but we are more settled now).  I feel more comfortable in subjecting the baby to all these changes than I would have just a month or two ago.  It's a good feeling (and I hope it lasts!).

Nice (and comfortable) as it has been in my old home, I am now ready to head to my regular home and settle in amidst the chaos!

Moms Need Moms Too

All kinds of lists are made out during and after pregnancy about people's requirements - things the mother and baby need.  While all these can be gathered from books and well wishers and bought in shops, I'd like to add a very important part to nurturing - having one or more loving person whom one can connect with.

This doesn't need to be your own parent or even a relative.  It just means having someone to communicate with - someone warm, understanding and supportive and (preferably) who has gone through one (or more) generation(s) of babies and pregnancies.  There are so many questions to be asked, so much reassurance required and so many helpful hints to be gathered which cannot come from any other source.

I'm lucky to have a long distance, wise and wonderful friend who has seen (and experienced) several pregnancies and a much younger relative (around my age) close by who has been supplying me with all the things I needed (that I didn't even know I needed).

The first few months go by in a daze, and one forgets to eat, tries to sleep (but can't), tries to squeeze in luxuries (like bathing!) and essentials (drinking water!) - I can see my old self looking on sardonically and saying, "Get a life, girl!"  But that's what happens while trying to cope with baby on one's own.

Time goes by and you realize that while you are there for the baby, there has to be someone there for you - especially when you're trying to keep the baby comfortable against all odds and fighting sleep deprivation!

Books do help.  They offer wise words, laughter, spiritual remedies and more - if one lays one's hands on the right sources.  While there are many pregnancy books (I find the 'What To Expect' series handy), I would like to mention two that are the equivalent of wise mothers' words, which have helped me through this period.  The most useful and reassuring book on pregnancy I have read has been 'The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding' by La Leche League International.  This doesn't just deal with breastfeeding (though this is an important component of the book, more so because (as the book itself says, and I have experienced it too): so many people including doctors keep saying, "This isn't working is it?  You had better stop") but also deals with aspects of bringing up a baby from a natural, baby point of view (not in terms of time or milestones or other things that most books talk about).  Similarly, 'The Secret of Childhood' by Maria Montessori is an old classic that I find has given me a different perspective of bringing up infants : how to try and see things from their viewpoint not from an adult's.  Apart from this - my yoga books and murder mysteries prop me along and help switch my thoughts when I am tired.

But most of all it is emails going to and fro and small phone calls and little bits of time spent talking and being with a small set of warm, loving, caring people that have really helped me in these last few months.

Having Faith

A new direction to one's life requires one to have a lot of faith - both in oneself and in the process of life itself.  I don't mean to be didactic but am writing this partly to air my thoughts and partly in case it is of help to anyone who finds themselves in unfamiliar situations, on the brink of uncertainty or nervousness.

Babies are meant to be bundles of joy.  But they are huge responsibilities as well.  Especially when all the literature tells you how vulnerable they are and how many infections they are likely to catch and so on.  What they don't tell you (and what you need someone else to - in this case I am fortunate to have an old friend, Nora, who I send frantic emails to in times of distress) is that babies are natural fighters and things are usually not as bad as they seem.  But people at hand often love to tell you how you can do things better or differently.  Well - listen if you like and think it over, but don't be overwhelmed - and don't lose heart!  Things have a funny way of straightening themselves out - it may not be the usual way or someone else's way, but that is of no importance.

My baby had a badly given vaccination that turned into an abscess.  The doctor I went to made various noises, "Has he been crying more than usual?" and so on.  More than usual?  Crying peaks when a baby is two months old.  How do I know what is more than usual??  I said he had no pain or fever and that she had told me there would be swelling on the leg.  "Yes, but only for 24 hours."  How does one know that?  The first vaccination (for tuberculosis) caused a boil that stayed for weeks, which is apparently normal.  "First time parent," she muttered and I felt terrible, as if I had missed something very important.  She squeezed the abscess and the baby started howling.  She suggested I go to some place two hours away from home, carry my feed, put him into surgery immediately and get the abscess out, however long it took.

I just went home, close to tears.  Fortunately there was a highly recommended paediatrician very close to my house.  I went to him.  "Just relax," he said and lightly touched the abscess.  The baby didn't stir.  He explained that this could only have arisen due to bad vaccination techniques and said I could go anywhere to get it removed.  Also that I was not a professional and hence couldn't judge abscesses - sometimes there was no fever or pain but they were infected, as this was.  Fortunately there was surgeon in the same clinic who was experienced and good.  I went to him and he bandaged the abscess saying it was too hard to open unless the baby was made unconscious, which he didn't want to do.  So the bandage stayed, the antibiotics began and we returned the next day, apprehensively.  The bandage was opened.  The abscess look a teeny bit better.  So it was re-dressed and this procedure was repeated for two weeks until the body took over and it began healing by itself.

Through all this, I had many moments of self doubt, of worry and concern, fear about the future and how I would handle the situation.  Many onlookers said this could never be a reaction to an injection, especially babysitters (babysitters are the hardest to deal with because they seem to have much more experience with babies than me!). Nora was the only one who said, "Don't worry.  This will all work out.  Babies are tough and it won't hurt him in the long run."

Everything has worked out.  I am still nervous each time I go to the clinic but it is close by and the baby seems to accept this routine, so we don't have a terrible time of it.  Now, the only thing I try and remember of this episode is to have faith in myself, in my ability to tackle new situations and be on unfamiliar terrain - because that's how life is.  And not look back to complain or criticize.

P.S.  Soon after I wrote this blog, I got a call from the original paediatrician, saying the next dose of the vaccination was due.  I told her I had not got the surgery done and it was healing.  She said, "In that case, it was not a real abscess.  I have recently had other children with such reactions but not as bad as your child's.  But this time we can give him the modified vaccine, which has just come in stock, because this is clearly a reaction to the vaccination (this is known to be a difficult vaccination for children, which is why two versions of varying efficacy are available)."

Well, life comes full circle.  I think the take home message really is that we can rarely say what is right or wrong, we can just do the best possible with the information and instinct we have and let life lead us on.

An Introduction To Babies

This blog, as many others that follow, are being typed on a tiny computer, when I have a few minutes to spare from my sleep deprived life!  Therefore, please excuse my grammatical errors and typos.

I grew up with books, bicycles, swimming pools, ovens, dogs and rocky stretches of isolation.  Therefore I was completely unprepared  for this new event that occurred in my life - a few weeks ago when my baby boy was handed to me after surgery in hospital.

This tiny creature, swaddled in an old soft sari of my mother's, lying inert and helpless before exploding into a mass of loud cries.  What was I supposed to do with it?

First things first.  I was to begin to think of it as "him" and not "it".  The next thing, of course, was to feed him.  That thought got me on my feet a couple of hours  after surgery and as I sat up in bed, a nurse placed him in the crook of my arm and showed me how to feed him.  This process continued, every couple of hours, all the time that I was in hospital.  My main concern then was how I would ever manage to lift him and place him on my arm for a feed.  Seems laughable now, but back then it drove me to tears.  As did most innocuous things for a new mom.

The next thing, of course, was  to change him- but how?  My husband and I poured over the diaper packet instructions (which don't say anything  about how to get the thing under him in the first place).    A crying bundle with a wet diaper is a tricky object.

"Lift up his legs," a well meaning passer by said.  That's the other thing about having babies - people are always freely venting their views on how small or thin or undernourished or cranky your kid is and throwing oodles of advice at you, which is hard to completely ignore.  Only a small fraction is useful, and, fortunately, this bit of advice came in that category.  But one really must follow one's instincts when the books and doctors (and passers by!) fail, for normal everyday matters.  That is what I am learning, the hard way.

Lift up his legs- but how?  A nurse came and showed us. By unceremoniously hauling his bottom off the table.  I wondered if his little body would take all that.  But I learnt that babies are flexible and strong.  My heart would almost break when I saw various people thumping the life out of him (or so I thought) in order to elicit  a burp.  But he survived.

And so have I.  And with these three fundamental things in place, I managed for a few days till new, other challenging things had to be dealt with.