flowers, food, and "face-wrestling"

I decided to do the flowers for the Thanksgiving table myself and that reminded me of Mrs. Dalloway saying she'd get the flowers herself. Then I briefly wondered if I was like her in surrounding myself with events as a way of avoiding the void.

Anyway, the day before an event is always suspenseful for me. I tend to make a lot of food, but we have just the one fridge and freezer, so I can't overshop or cook in advance, and it's a gamble if I'll find everything on my list. I didn't find parsnips today. But I suspect no one cares about the parsnips but me.

Pic: Max and Huck in a post-dinner "face-wrestle." There's a lot of groaning-growling-baring of teeth and positioning of jaws in scary ways... and they seem to be having so much fun. It reminds me of my two boy cousins--whoever arrived first at my grandmother's place for the weekend would wait anxiously for the other one, and the minute he arrived, he'd be greeted with the affectionate invitation, "Let's go fight, da!" And then my baby cousins would kinda fight like Max and Huck do now.

things I was told this week

Nu's pneumonia came up when I dropped in on the girlfriends yesterday. As I was wondering if I should be around other people, DV, who was such a rock when Nu was in distress, told me that the CDC has changed its recommendations for the pneumococcal vaccine, lowering the age recommendation. I'm getting it. 

As I was dropping Nu off for driving practice this morning, I told them I'm very self-conscious as I drive up to their instructor's car, making sure to keep my hands in the 10-2 position and all that. And Nu told me that actually, now you're supposed to keep your hands in the 9-3 position because of the possibility of airbag injury! And also that perhaps I should drive badly, as it might be helpful. The instructor would cut them some extra slack because they'd be like, Whoa! That kid has a terrible role model. Thanks, Nu.

A person I love love love dearly told me that they're separating from their partner. Twenty plus years ago, when we were all in grad school, they'd brought this person to my Thanksgiving table as a friend. And in a phone call later that week I'd said to them that it seemed like the other person wanted to be more than friends. They got married a few days after Big A and I did. My person has supported their soon-to-be-ex emotionally and financially for nearly two decades and this just fits the overall trend and it sucks and I am heartsick. 

While I was coordinating a welcome gift drop-off for a cousin's new baby, I casually asked my aunt what new adventures she and her husband had been up to since they were now empty nesters... and she told me she'd just divorced him. I wasn't expecting this for all the obvious reasons, but also because they had had an arranged marriage, and I think this is the first divorce in that generation on my side of the family. This is huge and liberating--I'm so happy people are looking out for their happiness without letting tradition and fear of scandal get in the way. 

At did a class on inoculation for other organizers in their old bedroom before family dinner this evening. When I was dropping them off at their place, At told me that in every class, they mention how I talked to one of their Indian coworkers in Telugu and how that helped build a connection. Aw! I feel like a small part of labor history!

Pic: The Red Cedar in spate. (Just past the stadium.)

mid-night, mid-life, mid-everything

Do you remember how childhood used to be real and we lived inside it?

I just got off the phone with my mom... we were chatting and having a great time, but suddenly she did some time math (it's around 3:00 am here, 1:30 pm in India) and told me to go to bed. 

She also said she would send me 100$ to buy "something nice" on my December trip with my sister and I suddenly felt about 12 years old. When I did the currency math, $100 is like 8400 rupees, and I demurred, but my mom won't let me refuse. 

Something about being hustled off to bed and the delight in my mom's voice about treating me makes me feel precious and small and cared for. And it makes me want to cry. But of course this week, everything makes me want to cry.

Pic: Sanford Woods last week. 

right to party

I spent weeks prepping, and everything went really well (I think!)!!  There was a photo booth, a henna artist, a craft table, a cards table (it's traditional to gamble, I set out dominoes for people to stake), some dupattas for those who wanted to add some desi flair, and a banging playlist. I wish there had been more dancing. 

I'm not sure we'll be in a house this big next year, so might as well use it, right? And our house was FULL. Still is in a way--all the bedrooms are occupied, and poor Nu is sleeping in the rumpus room. (It's an Indian kid rite of passage-- giving up your room to assorted "cousins.") 

The afterparty was curling up with Big A on the sofa and finally eating some food and getting waited on by the fam; having Nu request that I share the playlist with them (WIN); and seeing At's text saying it was an "incredible party." (We stayed on text to talk about Sally Rooney. Do they have stellar politics? Absolutely. Are they a good writer? Maybe? At: "sometimes I feel like they really are capturing something though" "there's this beautifully understatedly marxist scene in a church later in the book that has stayed in my mind forever." I'm not at that part yet... Ok then. )

Anyway, the party is over. I spent weeks prepping, and it was such a nice distraction when I found myself slipping into a funk. Now I have nothing to distract myself with, and have only serious, scary, and sad things to think about...  c'est la vie.)

Pic: Fireworks. I'm happy to see all my people having a good time. (Can we pretend that the smoke is an aurora borealis or something?)

Happy Hallowali!

Happy Diwali-ween!

I'm taking the beginning of Diwali celebrations today as an assurance that love endures, and that light perseveres... all Hallow's Eve is actually the same thing, right? 

Nu dressed as Rainbow Dash today and is out with friends. Diwali is a multi-day affair and they have the day off tomorrow to celebrate Diwali anyway. Yay! 

I gather from friends in New Jersey that school districts there have the day off too. When I was at the fireworks store yesterday to buy sparklers for the party, the guys there wished me "Happy Diwali!" All this feels surprisingly mainstream!

I'm excited (and a teensy bit anxious--so many moving parts) about our Diwali party on Saturday--my baby cousin and her friends, a former student and their partner, and my in-laws are coming for the weekend... and to help me prep! 

Pic: Max and Huck with JL and Henry, who has recovered from his amputation like the champion he is!

Athithi Deivo Bhava

I looked up from gathering my things to see the host's father talking to his daughter, pointing at me from across the room accusingly, and saying something about "that girl..." My crime? I was trying to leave without taking food home with me. So I was properly chastised and packed up with leftovers.

It was lovely to take a break and celebrate an early Diwali with the girlfriends, play with some delicious babies, eat some delicious food, and celebrate life and light today.

The thing with the food reminds me that according to legend, Alexander the Great is supposed to have said that in all his conquests, he'd never encountered hospitality as pronounced as that in India. And that always made me wonder (1) how can you tell if the people you conquered are acting hospitable or servile (2) the Greeks and Persians whom Alexander conquered before he got to the Indians also make a big deal of hospitality in my experience (to this day), so I'm not sure what he was talking about. 

The title of this post is from the Sanskrit saying "the guest is (like a) God," which people like to drop into conversation. 

Pic: A crop of me from a group photo today--I tried a thing with bangs, my first time since giving myself pandemic bangs early in 2020.

"exchanged"

"May she is not her daughter. Hospital exchanged" [unedited]

I got this text from my mom last night as I was getting ready for bed and I couldn't understand it. Sometimes when my mom types Hindi or Telugu words autocorrect changes them into English and really messes things up, so I have to guess at her texts sometimes--I'm used to that. But I showed this one to Big A because it was so strange, and he got it right away and I was SO impressed... he knows my mom and all her quirks so well! 

(I was trying to highlight my mom's quirks and couldn't decide whether to point out she likes the rapper Nelly or she likes to tease me or she loves to hear me sing or that she has the most unorthodox views of marriage and Hinduism or her pre-marriage days or her fighting days with my dad or how I feel my relationship with her was cloned in a novel after we'd had dinner with the novelist. Yes, I kind of went down a rabbit hole after I searched "mom" on my blog.)

Anyway, the background to that text is my mom's baby sister was widowed earlier this year, and although my aunt had wanted to live by herself, the family pressured her to live with her only child who appears to have put themselves on my aunt's bank accounts and then kicked her out. Big A interpreted my mom's text thus: "Athamma is saying your shitty cousin is not your aunt's real daughter, and that your aunt was given the wrong baby when she delivered at the hospital." I mean, what would it matter--my aunt had brought up my cousin, but yes, that is what my mom was saying. And my mom was so proud of A for figuring it out. 

Pic: This one made me cry. Max was hanging out outside and when I went to find him, he was curled up by Scout's memorial. He never met Scout, of course, but we do sound the wind chimes on our first trip outside every morning, perhaps that's why Max is feeling good vibes there? Or maybe (just maybe) Scout lingers there somehow? I swear--every morning, the tree-of-life solar lantern flickers when I sound the chimes... 

coming back around

Friends and family in the path of Hurricane Milton are beginning to "mark" themselves safe; I hope that continues. For right now, it feels lovely to be back home where everything is normal and human-sized (as opposed to thousands of feet tall or deep à la Arches and Canyonlands). 

And on my first full day back, these four beautiful encounters felt like blessings.

1) When I went to pick up the holy basil (Tulsi) plant from the people selling it, they turned out to be a South Indian mother-daughter pair who were so, so nice. The daughter was relocating to the U.K. and when I told them that I had done my doctorate in the U.K., she turned out to be an Oxford Alumna too. At that point, they--naturally--invited me to come in and have "coffee and tiffin." 

2) Although it was mostly an intro to their online tech and learning platform (Moodle), there was a sense of solidarity at the Zoom meeting for the volunteer Gaza instructors. (The initiative is led by Lille University in France and hosted by AnNajah University in Palestine.) I gulped when the admin said it would be good to record lectures because students may not have internet access or electricity at class meeting times. Most of the other instructors were men, so when I spotted someone who appeared to be a woman, I Facebook-friended them like it was 2006. Then KK and I had a heartfelt exchange about why we were doing this and swore comradeship. 

3) Finally, and for no reason I can think of, my masseuse AM decided to gift me today's massage. First I demurred, then I refused outright... but she shut me down by saying she knew I would respect her decision. This feels too, too much--massaging is strenuous work and a whole hour out of her workday is too generous. When I asked her, she merely smiled and said, "What goes around comes around." Which is inscrutable but fair, I guess. But she doesn't know much about me and I really haven't ever done anything special for her. (Although I clearly need to now. Ideas welcome.)

4) Pic: It's late in the year, but I think this is a fritillary? They were just soaking up the sunshine and doing that thing where they open and close their wings--as though in pure pleasure. I kind of felt like that myself at odd moments during the day. 

"May Peace Prevail on Earth"

Today, the Greater Lansing United Nations Association (GLUNA) planted a Peace Pole on the MSU campus. I'd been invited to speak as one of the 12 language representatives (repping Hindi), so I moved my standing Friday appointments and showed up.

It was a beautiful day, and the pole was unveiled by GLUNA's youngest member and its oldest (coincidentally, it was their 101st birthday today!). 

The earnestness of it all--the young people embarking on a life devoted to peace, the old people so committed to peace... the people ranged in their hijabs and taqiyahs and kippahs and dashiki and kente and Anishinaabe regalia (I carried my mom's Kashmiri shawl) were so moving. People are amazing and beautiful. We are all miracles. We all deserve peace. 

After I spoke, I was in tears. I stepped offstage to find CD (A book club friend who was there) so she could fold me in a hug. 

Pic: There should be an official press release (with me in it too) out sometime (I know my mom is waiting to see it). But this is a cropped image from a hurried photo I took. The specks at the top are leaves falling like confetti. 

flickers from other places...

Max is a goofball whereas Scout was a sentimental intellectual-savant, but they do look a lot alike and have some very similar habits. Like Scout, Max loves to be with me when I light the oil lamps in the evening, and sighs the same way Scout did when he settles himself for a nap across my legs, he even plays catch in the same silly way. 

Every morning when we wake up, the first thing Max and I do is go out to the corner where we made a Scout memorial. I ring the wind chimes, while Max (less sentimentally) pees. The other day I was playing catch with Max and he came around the corner just as Scout used to and as I mussed his ears and face, the solar lantern flickered awake although it was not at all close to darkness. It truly felt like Scout was laughing in the moment alongside us. 

*

I woke up from an intense dream last night in which my dad was asking why I hadn't placed a "pottu" on him. For the most part, this is a benign request--you'd place a pottu (the vermillion mark) as a blessing; I put one on myself every time I leave the house, or on the kids when they join me in meditation. But in Tamil slang, "putting a pottu on someone" can signify they have passed away and you're paying your respects to their portrait by putting a pottu on it. So obviously, I woke up dreading the day. Thankfully, it turns out I have no prophetic qualities, and the day passed uneventfully.

*

We had our annual Ganesha seek-and-find today (postponed from Friday). The kids found all 32 Ganeshas, showered them with rosewater, anointed them with turmeric and vermillion, and decorated them with flowers. I translated some Sanskrit slokas for them to enjoy, and they insisted on singing "Happy Birthday" in English as well. They heard about our adventure from yesterday, had so many follow-up questions, and were suitably celebratory not to wake up as orphans today.

Pic: The fam at brunch... Big A, Max, At, and Nu with Huckie underfoot. (I'm trying so hard to ignore the giant pile of napkins waiting to be folded behind A.)

Thursday things

It has been an absolutely brutal day in the news. Between the French spousal rape case, the French soft right-wing appointment/coup, the latest hindu-fundamentalist accidental same-side lynching, the Ugandan Olympian dying after being set on fire by her boyfriend, the Internet Archive losing its case and the constant drip, drip, drip, of the rising Palestinian death toll... Knowing as we rightly denounce the latest U.S. school shooting that U.S. weapons have destroyed every school in Gaza.

The small habits that save my Thursdays are an early morning walk with KPB around campus before classes start, a chat with my mom on my way home from work, and Subway for dinner that Big A picks up after his shift at the clinic. Also, my last class of the week is surprisingly high-energy and just so joyfully silly and good-natured. They're prone to doing things like bringing up Eminem's "The Real Slim Shady" to argue "logos" or spontaneously quizzing each other on where I went to school. I truly feel like I lucked out with this class and hope we keep this energy all semester long.

Pic: When I was 15 I started a poem with, "Every day for breakfast, I had a spoonful of sky..." It remains one of my favorite lines although it was secretly coded to refer to my E.D. This is that sky.  Taken on my walk with KPB this morning.

C.U.N.T.s

One of my (many) family names is the Telugu title "Dorakanti," and when Big A and I got married, we took the "Dora" part and linked it to part of his Lithuanian Jewish name to make our hyphenated family name. 

Flashforward to a few years later when after years of audience participation in The Vagina Monologues and joyfully yelling "Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!" in reclamation, I wished we'd taken the second half of my family's name. It would have been so cool to have been Prof. Kanti (pronounced "Cunty")--I would have borne that name with extra pride. (Not sure about the rest of the fam though--they're prone to bristle if someone so much as calls them "Dora the Explorer.")

But I got my chance while hanging out with the girlfriends after work this evening. We were making plans to hang out again next Tuesday, and I suggested that if we were going to keep doing this on Tuesdays, perhaps we should just make it official and call ourselves the C.U.N.T.s. (You know--as in the euphemistic acronym for cunt--C U Next Tuesday?) I think our group chat just got renamed "CUNTs." Baby steps.

Pic: On my way to work this morning, a sliver of sunrise over the Maple River. (A bit splotchy through the car window and a bit oblong  from cropping the car out of the frame.)

birthdays, bookstores...

I got to bed before midnight most days this week--progress! 

I did stay up well past midnight by accident last night, but it was just as well because I got to wish my dad in India a Happy Birthday bright and early. (It's also Chairman Fred Hampton's birthday and Mary Shelley's birthday, so he's in a very special club.) He didn't put his hearing aids in, so we didn't talk for very long though.

At the end of the first week of classes, things are going well (I think). I already know everyone's names--that's kinda my superpower so far. And the older I get, the more adorable I find my students... it was so cute when one of them made up a song to remember how to spell my name. 

It's also EM's birthday and the birthday of the independent bookstore in town so I stopped to pick up some book gifts and was gifted in turn with a lovely heart-to-heart with D.D. who still ministers to my soul although she no longer works as a pastor. 

Pic: My sister (with whom my parents live) sent me this pic of dad at breakfast and it made me miss my dad extra: our old hours-long conversations, his smiley face the way it was.

celebrations (and an observance)

National and international doggie day today!! Every day is a day to celebrate our doggie family and friends. But here's extra love for Max, Huckie, Scoutie, Izzy, Chester, Popo, Henry, Zoe, JoJo and also to the doggies we know in Internet land--Rex, Hannah, Zydrunas, Mochi, and Mr. Darcy--today.

It's Janmashtami!! The birthday of Krishna, the little blue boy, as my kids like to call him. Nu has always been a fan just because he's so pretty and always getting into trouble, and I think he's recently been reclaimed by second-gen Hindu kids as an LGBTQ icon. We had a small Indian feast and pooja to celebrate this evening. Back home, my favorite tradition was how people would borrow toddlers and dip their feet in wet rice flour so when they ran around your house, the floors would be decorated with "Baby Krishna's footprints." For a country with the highest growing population, Indians really delight in kids.

It's here! The first week of classes! And I'm so ready... I'll be in three classrooms tomorrow, and... my Canvas sites are live, my syllabi are uploaded, classes have been welcomed via email, diagnostics are loaded, and class plans are posted. I'm excited and keyed up! I hope I get to sleep early...

And finally, it is the six-month anniversary of Aaron Bushnell's brave, brave sacrifice. There's not a day I don't think of that young man and the sweetness of his dear face in the photos. I've never watched the video, but I probably know every word of his note by heart. Despite the horrific manner of his death, I always think of what he did as something intrinsically life-affirming. 

Pic: Max and Huck say hello to my mom on the phone!

eat, watch, eat what you watch

We've had a ton of people to feed in the last two days including our own At whose Boss Day it was yesterday. There was a big and beautiful summer ratatouille (I hope it was made by a rat, EM said!). But Boss Day for At is more about the entertainment than the food though. So, At sat us down for a family viewing of Caché (excellent) and then we went to see Trap at the movies (fun). 

But back to the food. I'd offered to make Poori because a pregnant friend was craving them... although I'd never made them before. I read a ton of recipes and watched some YouTube videos, but somehow, when it was time to fry them up... Big A and AS seem to have taken over (Pic).

"is it sad or is it good?"

I made time to watch The Goat Life on Netflix. It's on a dominant South Asian theme (immigrant laborers forced into slavery in Saudi Arabia), based on a bestselling Malayalam novel, and I wanted to be in the know. 

It's a long (I had an hour left to go when I thought I couldn't take any more) and disturbing film (the protagonist is forced to become a desert goat herder under dehumanizing conditions). If you thought it was about a G.O.A.T. life, no--it's about living with goats that bleat. 

Anyway, I was sitting around all sad and depressed after I watched the movie (by myself). Nu who came down after their shower was concerned. They listened to my recap and then asked why I was still thinking about it, "is it sad or is it good?" (They meant was the story sad or was it narrated well.) I was momentarily cheered because that's such an incisive question! I'm not sure I can answer it, though. 

Pic: Geese on the Red Cedar. I'm terrified of meeting them on the riverwalk, but they're so graceful in the water.

in which my mom schools me on how to use my phone

Sometimes when Nu and I are comfort-watching a show from the '90s (Friends or Dawson's Creek or Felicity--ok, the last two are mostly me), I'm amazed at how all those characters are just walking around without cellphones hoping to bump into their pals randomly and with no way to check in on people if they're late to a rendezvous. I say "they," but I did that too back then, obviously. Sometimes it seems like another lifetime! I wonder if Nu can really even imagine how it used to be. 

And I'm not even a person who uses their phone that much. I was reminded of that today when my mom made a request. She wanted me to record myself singing a handful of Thyagaraja kritis because she said she wanted to hear them right now. (It was so sweet. "I can't wait until June to hear you sing them to me again," she said.) When I told her I didn't know how to record, she gave me such specific directions starting with: "look for the "mic" symbol..." Seriously, I was so impressed. She said that she'd previously taught her aunts to make recordings when they found it difficult to type. Nu, who is of the digital-native generation, is my usual go-to person when I need to figure out something on my phone... but now I can ask my mom too.

Pic: Huck and Max keeping me company; I was putting dinner together while I practiced "Marukela Ra," one of the songs my mom had requested. This version I found is by the superb Maharajapuram Santhanam (incidentally, the grandfather of one of my school friends who's recently become a wonderful advocate and carer for the many street dogs in Chennai).

have loved him my whole darn life

I posted a short tribute on FB for Father's Day. I wrote, "My dad was the first feminist I knew. (He loved the poet Bharathiar deeply, and perhaps that's where *he* got it from...) I am so lucky to have had his fierce love and support in all things big and small all my life. I know he's loved me since I was born, but I've actually loved him my whole darn life."

But there's so much more to say... How he came from a family of six brothers, and mourned the baby sister who died as an infant for decades. How he'd tuck my sister and me into bed like it was a military operation--even lifting our feet to tuck the sheets under them. How he teared up when I got my first period, because he was so sad for my future lifetime of cramps and discomfort. How when I said he loved fiercely, I meant fierce in all its senses--sometimes he'd be so moved kissing us, his face would be like a grimace. How he made a rule that my mom could not compare us to other kids. How he'd find something good about even our failures or frame them in the most generous light. How he'd had secretaries to "take dictation" at work, but would painstakingly write notes to us in his (truly) terrible handwriting.

My mom is right--good dads get more kudos than good moms because good dads are rarer than good moms. But as the years go by and he gets older, I cherish every day and every conversation with my dad even more. I'm hoping to take all my A's--Big, Little, and Baby--to go visit him in India next year.

Pic: My dad and me on Elliot's Beach; I'm sure my favorite uncle took this one. I look so much like dad in this one.

the lift we needed

So buoyed by the surprisingly good election results in India! There has been such severe repression of press and academic freedoms over the last ten years under the fundamentalist and egocentric leadership of Prime Minister Modi, and that has been fractured by the secular INDIA coalition winning 232/543 seats today. 

Modi's victory is pyrrhic--he will likely still become the P.M. for a third term. But for the first time in a decade, there is a solid opposition bloc in parliament, and he will not be able to have unconstitutional, non-secular, Islamophobic, crony-capitalism bills passed so easily (or at all).

People who celebrate my Boss Day--I mean, who else but my immediate family--started saying the results were a Boss Day present to me! It was funny and SO sweet to see texts from my sister and At both pop up with identical language simultaneously. The exit polls had been so doctored to benefit the ruling party over the month-long election process, so the results took everyone including pollsters, psephologists, and pundits by surprise. 

What a wonderful glimmer of hope that India will fulfill its destiny as the biggest democracy in terms of more than just numbers. I spent so much of the morning just beaming at my computer screen enjoying the memes and gifs and schadenfreude (they lost in Ayodhya where they destroyed the mosque!) and texting with friends and (the progressive) cousins. So proud of my home state of Tamil Nadu that gave the BJP exactly ZERO wins. So grateful to the students, professors, journalists, farmers, and impoverished millions who protested and resisted Modi's fascism in every way they could.

Pic: I love this quote from journalist Ravish Kumar: "Not all battles are fought for victory. Some are fought to tell the world that someone was there on the battlefield." I think it applies to every battle I'm engaged in. Our fights are, at least in part, so people being oppressed know that other people see their struggles and will fight for them. To know that we/they are not alone. 

the week ahead

Nu's final exams are this week. But they're not feeling well. If they're still feverish tomorrow, I'll have to see if they can take makeup exams later in the week. 

Big A will be back tomorrow! Even better: He can take the summer off from the residents, so he won't have to travel to Milwaukee again until October. He has this whole upcoming week off, and we're so excited to do all our usual things together.

It was At's Boss Day today, but they were in meetings, so we celebrated by having a pizza delivered to them. I have no idea what At's week looks like. I guess I have a grownup kid! 

Things aren't so well in the world, but I've donated and called this week plus studied my Arabic, and made sure I'm paying attention (and drawn attention where necessary). Not sure what else to do at this point.  

My project deadline approaches. It's terrifying. But also, it'll be so freeing to be done with this stage of it. And then I'll be able to work on different things. Yay! 

Super long convos with mom and fave uncle and aunt this weekend. And a couple of girlfriend hangs planned in the coming days. I'm so lucky in all the people I love and who love me back so well.

Pic: Huck popping up to check on me. She's usually curled up at my feet at this point in the day, but tonight, there was some urgent toy-tugging that needed to happen with Max.