‘My child does nothing on a vacation, and that is alright’

23 Wednesday Aug 2017

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Conde Nast, Travel Stories

Published: Conde Nast Traveller India, August 23, 2017
<A line not in the original piece added to this blog version>

What use is a holiday if all you do is chase itineraries?

What-to-do-with-kids-on-vacation-866x487 Illustration via Conde Nast Traveller: macy75/Getty Images

When a well-meaning but slightly bitchy mother asked me, ‘What did you do on the holiday?’, I tried to explain the multiple dimensions of ‘nothing’ and ‘absolutely nothing’ without launching into a philosophical explanation. But ‘nothing’ somehow isn’t good enough, it isn’t satisfying. Can a EUR25,000 holiday be justified with ‘nothing’ to show for it besides a couple of fridge magnets and boarding pass stubs?

Having survived trips with some serious holiday Nazis, my husband and I have decided that we are not cut out for vacations ruled by checklists. And with cultivated practice, neither is our nearly-seven-year-old daughter Samaira. When she was a year-and-a-half, we spent a fortnight on a beach in Goa to a rhythm driven entirely by mood, with regular meals, books and showers thrown in. We stayed put at the hotel, without venturing anywhere—not even to that seafood shack everyone was ‘peri-peri-ing’ about. But, we returned home entirely refreshed and with the perfect tan—neither of which should be taken lightly.

After a hectic city life filled with the kiddie social circus of playdates, BFF parties, birthday bashes and NRI visits (all of which require the perfect tan) I’ve realised that the only holiday to write home about is the one with no agenda. The one where you do nothing.

<It’s more than that though, it’s our inherent attitude towards learning. The belief that only within rigid boundaries do we achieve; but I counter, only with a lack of boundaries do we have the space to create.> And so, from experience, I suggest ways to do ‘nothing’ rather effectively:

Age 2: On the grass by the lake, Salzburg
We walked the same roads often, strolling and taking in the beauty of the landscape, creating a sense of belonging in an unfamiliar city. We stumbled upon a playground right by the lake, with an old tyre for a swing. Parking our stroller there, we watched her play for hours, jumping and crawling, swinging and singing. Not wanting to put a time limit on freedom, we walked over to the town and brought back a picnic lunch in a nondescript paper bag. We sat on the embankment, lay on the grass and caught the few rays of sunshine on a cloudy afternoon. She felt like a child out of an Enid Blyton book, minus the pet. Sandwiches, cheese, lemonade, chocolate. Ducks that came to be fed. Memories that contain the joy of play that is not timebound, set to the music of the hills.

Age 3: The home life, Suburban America
A month in the States, and there was no ‘plan’. It was as simple as (or as much as) exploring the local preschool summer activities, playing games in the backyard, tending to the organic garden with her own watering can, going grocery shopping, walking in the woods, checking out the local strawberry festival and the butterfly farm, playing mini-golf, bicycling down leafy lanes, helping make meals, loading the dishwasher… Somehow they all served to foster spirit and maturity that Disney world cannot.

From the latter, you may enjoy the rides (that take an hour’s wait to get onto), bring back the toys and pleasant memories, but it’s a world of incredible make-believe. But by exposing them to a real-life environment that fosters independence in day-to-day skills, you allow them to explore a backyard filled with stories and mysteries of the imagination.

Age 4: People watching, Lisbon
In the long hours of summer, cafes on those cobbled streets were bursting with an eclectic mix of people. It seemed a shame to bypass the moment and rush off to the next place on the itinerary. Strong coffee, luscious berry tarts and people make for the perfect mix. We talked about a local shop that we liked, the street artist that appeared unable to take a bathroom break as he stood in the sweltering heat slathered with silver paint. We watched the birds swoop by and peck at tea-cake crumbles. We observed the American family that wore pearls and boat shoes together, and the Asian one that stared at their mobile phones together.

We tried to explain to our daughter why the two men—one scruffy and rather unwashed, and the other boho-chic—were holding hands, whispering sweet nothings and about to kiss. We thought of ways to tackle questions about marriage and babies with enough truth and enough circumspection. We watched her throw pennies into the water fountain, and talked about the significance and history of the buildings. People came and went, and we watched others who watched, taking a leaf out of the book of the best old-world artists and writers. We talked, mused, we stayed silent. Thoughts were built, explored and connected to new ones.

Age 5: Gallery observations, Budapest
A small travelling exhibit of a retrospective of Picasso’s art drew us in. We thought we could jet in and out quickly. I kept the folks waiting in the cafe as I took my daughter to check it out. She washed her hands off Picasso fairly quickly, but decided that Hungarian art deserved a bit more attention. War-torn moments, installations and gigantic abstract canvases caught her eye, and we spent five hours inside the National Gallery, where I had planned to spend 15 minutes. Children seem to have more interest in modern or abstract art than figurative art, perhaps. The lack of form allows them to draw from their imagination, which figurative art would perhaps limit them from doing. Sitting on those gallery benches, feeling like a moment out of The Thomas Crown Affair, helped rest my tired limbs and let her mind roam free.

Age 6: Cruise control, The Adriatic Sea
Every morning we would wake with anticipation of a new bit of land that would magically appear before us. Discovering a different country each day was an exciting experience, but cruises can be as hectic or peaceful as you would like them to be. With daily ports of call do you jam yourself in the routine of getting out, exploring and returning only to start the process all over again the next day? As we watched the hordes of travellers line up to ‘see’ the town and all its neighbouring heritage spots, we took a call—to not join them. We would begin with a leisurely breakfast on a nearly-empty ship, chatting with the crew that hailed from all parts of the world. Eventually, we would step out for a couple of hours to grab a light lunch or coffee in the town, drawing the locals into a conversation and keeping an eye out for an authentic home-grown boutique that stood out from the mass of chain stores.

Way before departure time, we would turn back, giving my daughter downtime in the balcony to sketch the day’s observations (while we Instagrammed), before the others arrived exhausted but replete with stories to tell back home. We had no stories; just flights of fancy, moods of a town captured through its locals and tourists, little streets or a Church explored. She had a point, after all, when she observed, ‘Mamma, all the ‘old towns’ look the same’.

Not Just Child’s Play

03 Wednesday Apr 2013

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood, Partying

Published: Mother’s World magazine, April-June 2013, Comment

What’s a child’s play without an elephant and a circus? Should toddlers be left deprived of such pleasures of civilized urban life, and how far are we willing to go into this material carnival…?

What’s happening?

You don’t realize how incomplete your social calendar is until you have a child. The ‘in’ gift for a newborn is either a smart-phone or little black calendar book so that the Mum may then ably ‘manage’ her child’s events and invitations. Because you will have that many, if you have worked the new-mother-society right. You start right from when the child is in your womb, and begin collecting the numbers of other eligible mothers from the gynecologist’s clinic and Lamaze classes. You keep up the work until you reach the pediatrician’s clinic – it’s imperative that you take your child regularly there, to amass the greatest number of mums on your database – to ensure that your child always has a play-date or a party to attend.

No self-respecting mum would keep her newborn or toddler at home to get bored. It is a bit lame if someone calls you up to fix a play-date and you have a free day – your child’s day should be free only in event of a cancellation, which may be surprisingly frequent seeing that children have to cope with a hectic social life. And always have a roster of backups: the kind of people who may be related to you or whose mums are too involved to work in such a systematic approach to child rearing. They would be grateful that you thought of them, even if it is at the last minute. And a play-date isn’t really a play-date unless it is well thought out and planned, describing the educational level, skill set, calibre and hosting skills of the mother. From intricate arts and crafts that pop open in a box and musical events that define the dormant skills in our children to more elaborate ones where a little circus is organized. After all, what is a play-date without a real elephant or a few horses or a juggler and magician? Where ideally, a play-date is meant to be a one-on-one evening to encourage activity in your child with a slight nudge towards sharing and accommodating, today, mothers have confused them with carnivals.

You must go with a gift to every play date or event you attend, and it would be best to have a recycling cupboard and you are likely to get as many gifts, most of which would not match the exacting standards you have for your own kids, but would do very well for the others. You must also maintain a gift diary – who gave you what and of the approximate value. You can’t goof up by returning the same gift to the person it came from, nor must you over-spend on someone who gave your angel a silly little do. Of course, you must expect that the child you are gifting is smarter than their age (even if you are internally wishing they are slow), and therefore give an age-appropriate gift that’s meant for a kid at least a year older. After all, mums know that the age on the box doesn’t mean anything – you need to show off to other mums that your kid plays with older-kid toys.

Now if you have socially arrived, or want to prove that you don’t just exist, you must ensure everything that you gift is personalized. So you will need to painstakingly take every child’s name with the correct spelling – after all, parents are prone to complicated versions of names for uniqueness – and ensure that you get the gifts personalized as per age, sex and party theme. For this purpose, it’s best if you hire a party planner. No sensible mum will get involved in the nitty-gritties herself. Your job is to play mediator – between a demanding child, an exasperated dad (it’s his wallet after all) and a scheming party planner. And as a mum, you must invite the whole town, if possible, because that’s the kind of friend circle your child is destined to have. Your child must know everyone. And by default everyone must know your child. And therein lies the path to fame. Simply – by throwing the party. Everything is directly proportional to a better life. The grander the party, the more talked about it will be. Each child arrives with an entourage – mum and sometimes dad, and the nanny. All of the décor must be three-dimensional, because for your toddler, the world is not enough in it’s meager one or two-dimension-ness. There must be a string of games and stalls and events, because children need options today. There must be a spectacular buffet of palate-teasers – variety for the kids, variety for the mums and a staple box of goodies for the nanny. And if you are unable to provide food for the nanny, you can always hand out envelopes of cash – it’s smart, after all, that’s what the have-nots really value. And when your kids go to playschool, one must ensure that we have one-upped the gifts given by the other kids. If they did one personalized gift, we will do two. Paradoxically, budgets are infinite and money is not an issue when your child’s future social standing is in question.

What happens when that happens?

Children are picking up material values as they go along: they understand luxury brands before they know the meaning of money or even know how to count. Before the child has held a book, the child has discovered the difference between an iPhone and a Blackberry. Apple was a healthy fruit, today it’s products are prized possessions and bargaining chips. When parents are asked to send their children to school with an object from a letter from the alphabet and the child comes in a Ferrari for ‘F’, when children have come home sobbing because of the injustice and severe humiliation of having to show face at school in a Toyota car when the others arrive in Mercedes’; you begin to question how you can battle the problems of a materialistic society that survives on the luxe market to prove it’s self worth. If a child is linking self-worth to a material good, it won’t be far that we have a society of no-gooders. With the desire to get bigger and better, faster and to prove that we are very ‘with-it’, mothers have begun to forget the basic idea of parenting – the fact that children don’t need more than the most basic tools to learn, an attentive parent to guide them and a controlled foundation from which to build upon and become a better human being.

What you can do to not let that happen….

But in a world full of negative peer pressure, how does a sensible mother keep her head on her shoulders and bring up a child that the world would be proud to have as an adult? Not a child that wears Burberry and carries Prada with aplomb and has nothing else to say for herself, but a child that values human worth before material gain: to make the child understand that it’s not who you wear but who you are that counts. For a mother to decide to be different from the madding crowd and to stray from those that wish to derail human values, it is important to believe in oneself and have an unwavering faith in doing the right thing instead of doing things right. What does that mean in real terms? Not sheltering your child from the reality of the world for one. Letting your child explore options and letting your child know brands. But through it all, ensuring that he doesn’t begin to value the brand as something to aspire towards, but as a choice. Explain the differences between engine power or threadwork rather than revering a price tag. Let your child understand the value of money. Don’t allow your child to become spoilt because you want him to have everything his friend does, or everything you didn’t. Listen to what he wants. Where do his interests lie? For instance, is he keen on painting or building? Then invest in something that you feel he really enjoys. Keep innovative parties, involve him in the party decisions, deliberations and creative ideations. Ask his help in choosing colours and décor, get him to help with cutting and pasting. It will be a fun activity and he will value it. He won’t compare it to another, if he had a hand in creating it. When you make your child a composer, he is less likely to find the music of another sweeter.

It’s also important to find like-minded people: the madness of many as opposed to the rationality of a few. Whom you talk to – with respect to schools, parties, events and activities – makes a difference to the way you begin to think. Your child trusts your judgement – make sure it’s the right one and based on the right decisions. For instance, a mother may tell you to apply to a certain school, “Because it’s the best!” But it’s very important to understand what that means – find out what is special about the school. You’d be surprised how much people consider things that you may not care for. A school may be great for them because it pulls the ‘right’ crowd, prepares your child academically or even has imported equipment! You need to see what you value and what kind of an education or influence you wish your child to have, and accordingly make decisions. The moment you choose for the right reasons, you will find it easier to attract the right peers for your child and surround yourself with the right influencers. Or at least the ones that match your own thinking. Because somebody’s Potter could be someone’s Voldemort.

My Baby and Me

20 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood

Published: Mother’s World, September-November 2012

When a woman leaves the hospital after a successful delivery, she returns home not just with her tiny tot, but with an overwhelming sense of responsibility. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh rewinds to the many doubts, the questions and the emotions that filled the early days of motherhood

“She’s just so little. What if she breaks?” It was ignorance, of course. Babies are far more resilient than we think, but for a new mother, who has never had younger siblings it is a revelation. Suddenly, from the moment you leave the hospital and come home there is an overwhelming sense of responsibility and control – you need to wield that control for things to not shatter around you. You run a million checks, feverishly click through all the lists, ignore the fact that your body doesn’t feel anything like what it used to and make the little tot the focus of everything that matters. The most exhilarating feeling is tucking her in – for the first time – in the little cot you spent ages pondering over and making just right. Watching those spiked lashes tuck themselves into the generous curve of her cheek as she breathes evenly and naps. She sleeps in the most dramatic positions – limbs thrown towards the world, limbs tucked in, hair askew, she kicks the bolsters right out of the cot…. You watch her sleep, squirm, pucker up her little face so, listen to the strange little sounds that emanate, and you are lucky if you fall into some kind of wonderous, exhausted slumber.

And then she wakes up. With a loud piercing constant wail. It rips through your sub-conscious and remains etched in your memory for months to come. You spring to attention, tending to her needs. She’s expressive – in the I-will-howl-when-I-need-anything-front. You’re reeling from the assault to your senses. Here is a little child you have brought home and you are unable to gauge what sets her off – why does she cry so much? And so loudly? And so incessantly? As you fumble and race through the newly-learnt motions – nursing, diaper changes, sleep, nursing, diaper changes, sleep, you don’t have a moment to ask yourself – ‘What were you thinking?’ You’ve lost track of how much and if you ate, but you force yourself through the motions of eating because you must. For her. You are assaulted by barrage of suggestions, recommendations and ministrations – of what to do and not do, of what to eat and not eat…until you wonder if you are the baby or is she? It’s for her. You wonder how far you need to go to ensure that she can become the person you think she can be. In the first few weeks, you don’t even know how you will get through the first year…much less see her off to college. Life just seems to have braked and stopped mid-way; you are suspended in a black hole that you can’t crawl out of.

You are shocked at how fiercely your emotions roll. Every breath you take seems to be for this other little helpless person, who is so incredibly dependent on you that it stuns you. And scares you. Was it merely a month ago that you were the girl who laughed without a care in the world? Was it only recently that you were a person with a sense of self-worth that stemmed from more than a sense of responsibility for another? You look at the mirror and you feel that you have aged – there is a tautness of the mouth that suggests restraint and rigid control of overwhelming emotions, there are shadows under your eyes that shine with love but belie a weariness that doesn’t abate. Your skin has shed its glorious pregnancy glow and pales listlessly. You are edgy and skittish – you set off in a whale of tears at the most inane things, and you begin to cling to the father of your child. It’s as if only he can truly understand that you are changing, you are out of control and you are not who you were just a few weeks ago. You need him to understand. You need him. You feel betrayed that he has a life with a semblance of normalcy and yours has become unrecognizable. You wonder if that’s fair.

And yet, you walk through each day, noting milestones, becoming more adept at the daily rituals, more in tune with your child, more able to slide in and out of the dark moments with a strange in-built coping mechanism. And then the colic hits. She cries uncontrollably every day, racked with stomach pain. You can’t get her to stop…you can’t help her. You hold her tightly, clutched to your chest and find that there is no solace. Every shred of control that you have wielded, every manner in which you have coped, suddenly spins away and you are left feeling ridiculously helpless. And you feel your insides clench with pain, because you think you should be able to help her, make her feel better, but you can’t. You medicate, you control your food, but all you can do is wait it out. As her face scrunches with pain, turns red with wailing and tears pour out rapidly, you die many small deaths with every cry.

Until she passes the glorious three-month milestone and the colic magically disappears, the daily crying stops, she understands, she begins to coo affectionately, smile regularly, reach out for you, is ready to sit up and turn over, flexes her muscles to begin crawling…. She sits on the safari-themed bouncer chair and gurgles at her new buddies: Mr. Lion, Ms. Hippo and Mr. Monkey. She smacks them around, catches them, and kicks her legs rapidly in circular motions in glee. She jumps up and down in her cot – letting out a peal of excited laughter when she spies you. She plays peek-a-boo with you behind her cot bumper. She starts flipping over and crawling up to her favourite ducky. She splashes the bath water, she smacks her lips with food she likes, she tries to stand up and become tall, like you.

As you watch her grow at every stage – mentally, emotionally, physically, you marvel at nature’s perfection. As she holds your finger in a pincer-like grasp, knowing you will lead her to her future, she turns those wee lips upwards into a little toothless smile, her eyes turn to you with faith and unconditional love; the anxieties, misgivings and fears of the first few weeks disappear and the darkness that’s shrouded your soul lifts, allowing the brightness of youth and the magic of life to flood into your emotional space. You learn to let go, to stop trying to control and analyse what parenting is all about, and instead experience more the truth and patience of motherhood. Because there is more honesty in that relationship than there is in the world. Because however your life may have changed, the beautiful, quirky, affectionate little person is now your life.

How To Not Lose Yourself When You Gain Someone

1. Make sure you have help. If not full-time, then part-time at the very least. Rope in the grandmothers to babysit at regular intervals so that you can get a chance to grab some much-needed shut-eye or a chance to do something with yourself.

2. Pamper yourself. You’d be surprised how much it helps. Take some time out every week to do something special – a massage, a pedicure or manicure.

3. Time out: It’s important to bring back snatches of a previous life or a semblance of a social life. Whether alone or with someone, create a change of scene. Grab coffee with a friend, visit the bookshop, sit in the park or catch a movie.

4. Talk to people. Friends who have been through this are particularly helpful and sympathetic to your state and concerns. Chatting helps relieve the tension and having to cope with it all alone.

5. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Laundry, specks of dust, serving visitors fancy snacks (yes, Indian hospitality), matching cot bumpers…don&rsq
uo;t worry if you can’t get to everything. Just concentrate on the bigger picture. Delegate to friends or family members. You’d be surprised how willing they would be to help out.

6. Be prepared. Preparations managed before your delivery are always useful. You don’t want to have to run out to buy supplies with a colicky baby at home. And if you do, then delegate!

7. Talk to doctors. Post-partum depression, mood swings and lows are surprisingly common. Talk to your ob-gyn about what you’re going through and stay in touch with your child’s pediatrician about your child’s progress so that you feel in control.

8. Eat well, Sleep well. It’s astonishing how much difference being well fed and a good night’s sleep makes. Eat what makes you happy. Don’t starve yourself off food, love or sleep.

9. Engage your partner. Your husband will want to be involved in any way he can. You’ve done a lot of the work having the baby; now let him help out raising the baby. You will feel happier and it is great for the baby to feel her father’s presence.

10. Trust your instinct. People may give you a lot of suggestions, but unless they are medically important, trust your own instincts when raising your child. Often, mom does know best.

Malaika Zayed Khan for Mother’s World Magazine

20 Thursday Sep 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Interviews (All), Interviews: Cinema, Interviews: Cover Stories, Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Interview, Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood

Published: Mother’s World Magazine, September-November 2012, Cover Story

“I’m an out-with-them mum”

Malaika Khan makes the parenting thing seem a cakewalk. Less Stepford and more hip soccer mum, the soon-to-be-32-year-old vivacious and soft-spoken mother of two, is in her element with her life and family well in control. And she looks fabulous. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh takes a peek at woman behind the mother….

She is struggling to get her older son, Zidaan (4), in the mood for the Mother’s World photoshoot. He is not pleased at losing his time with his cousins Hrehaan and Hridhaan (Hrithik and Suzanne Roshan’s sons) who are over for their weekly play date. Malaika Zayed Khan is playing the role of super mom – cajoling the kids, smiling for the camera, popping into the kitchen to bring cheese slices on demand to appease Zidaan enough to take a shot, checking frequently if her guests – including the Mother’s World team – need anything to eat or drink. All the whirlwind activity is managed in a lovely blue day dress and stunner heels. “I’m still on the mission of losing weight. People who know me know that this is not me. I’ve always been a 44-kilo girl. I am 5 feet 2 inches, so 44 is a good weight for somebody of my height!” She’s a self-confessed foodie – to the extent that she can stare people down when they are eating enough to make them ask her if she would like a bite, she relates, with a peal of laughter.

The real challenge through her pregnancy has been losing weight, particularly her second one, which was a C-section. “It took me eight weeks before I could actually start working out. According to me, I have still got 10 kilos to go and I’m hoping it will happen by the end of this year. The first time (my weight loss) was so quick that I don’t even know where it went – because it was a normal delivery and also, I was far more conscious about what I ate – this time I’m eating what I feel like eating, when I feel like eating.” She works out three days a week with a trainer in what she terms ‘functional training’, which is a full body workout but using her own body weight rather than external weights. “I’ve been doing it for four months and I have been enjoying it – I haven’t had to sacrifice anything in terms of my food intake. It’s also genetics – I have it in my genes to be skinny – though I missed the height gene,” she chuckles.

As we track through her wooden-tiled living room to the marble floor bedroom, I express concern over ransacking her Juhu apartment. She reveals she is the person responsible for cleaning her house once a week. “No one is allowed to touch anything, the staff have to go wait in the kitchen. I’m a cleanliness freak…I set up my house every Sunday. Boarding school habits die hard!” It’s obvious then that she is a super active person, someone her husband refers to as one with ‘ants in her pants’. “People have this myth that pregnancy weight is so difficult to lose – in fact, it’s the easiest weight to lose. It’s how quickly you decide to tackle it. If you sit back and relax and enjoy life, it will pile on. I’m not a stay-at-home mum as much as an out-with-them mum.” She plays the role of soccer mom with ease: “trotting about everywhere”, taking Zidaan to all his classes (drawing, reading, writing), doing his kung-fu tumbles with him; simultaneously watching out for the younger one, Aariz (11 months) who is already attempting to walk – all of it becoming easier because of her naturally athletic body from years of enforced sports at boarding school.

Malaika’s a chronic planner – someone who always knew what she wanted when she wanted it, and luckily, managed to get it. “I completely planned my life – when I was going to have my first child, my second, when I was going to get married…when I was going to fall in love! It was a quick pregnancy each time, and I had planned a sufficient age gap between the kids.” I wonder if she’s got her children’s future planned as well? “No,” she laughs. “But yes, I’ve already told my son, you have to study law and you have to…” she breaks off with giggles. “My rule is that you have to complete your MBA and then you are done – you can then have the golden key of your life in your hands.” Coming from a secular household into a rather easy-going family, Malaika who is half-English, half-Hindu Jain, finds that she can even easily keep a balance culturally and let her sons experience a wide range of things.

What about keeping the kids grounded with fame surrounding them? “You have to let the child know his life, the only thing you can do as a parent is not let them think it all came easy. When we go shopping, and Zidaan wants to buy something, I never refuse. I put a hundred rupees in his pocket and tell him (with emphasis) that, ‘It is a hundred rupees – whatever comes in that money you can buy. And since it is a lot of money, you can buy at least three toys with it, so think wisely what you want to buy.’ We travel business class, not everybody travels business class. He can see it, and learn that if he wants to be somebody he has to work that hard. Just because he is an actor’s son, or has a grandfather, Sanjay Khan, or an uncle Hrithik Roshan, it doesn’t change him as a person.” Malaika admits, though, that she wouldn’t put him in a school just surrounded by celebrities – she would choose a more grounded school. Zidaan isn’t oblivious to his family’s chosen profession, however. He knows all his father’s and uncle’s films. “The other day I showed him a small episode from The Sword of Tipu Sultan, and he goes, ‘Dadu, that’s you!’” (Referring to his paternal grandfather, Sanjay Khan).

As the shots click by, we notice that Zidaan, who is known in the family as the “40-year-old man – with an old man’s soul” has settled comfortably into the nook of the sofa, clutching his sliced cheese roll in one hand and tucking the other arm around his little brother. Is it protective instinct, companionship or a sense of comfort? He isn’t in the least uneasy about having another person around sharing his parents’ time and affection, despite having got over three years of undivided attention. Malaika smiles at the thought; knowing it is something she has consciously worked towards and for which she has made an unconventional choice. “My theory was – if I give too much attention to the second one, the older one would feel the pinch. So, I focussed on the older one, because the younger was too little to know any better. When my older son was not around or asleep, I would go to my second child…to this day. I have left my second child to my mother and maid – both of whom have been wonderful – therefore not allowing my first child to feel at all insecure. Now I find Zidaan very connected with his brother, because he doesn’t feel jealously. I’m very vigilant – I look from the corner of my eye when I am hugging Aariz to see how Zidaan is reacting. This is my way of handling it – even if I may look back and find myself to have been the biggest fool for having given less attention to the younger one.”

While the baby of the family, Aariz, enjoys his toddlerhood, reaching out for things, gliding, looking at the AC vent and blowing out air with a cute rounding of his lips and a silent whistling sound; his mum proudly points out that Zidaan is thriving, with being able to spell his and his cousins’ names, knowing twenty words and framing sentences. Besides his martial arts, she’s trying to get him t
o play chess, but his father has drawn the line at pushing him into too many activities. “I’m getting him used to classes from now, so that when he needs to do more serious schoolwork later, he will be accustomed to the concept. These are not make-believe Einstein classes, these are fun activities incorporating knowledge – he enjoys doing it, I don’t force him into going.”

There is fun time – lots of it. “Holidays are just about the kids. Only twice a year do Zayed and I take off on our own and for no more than four days. We have flown back many times because I have started crying and having palpitations! Fifteen-day holidays without the kids didn’t work. Our holidays are adventurous…. In fact, I was hoping I would be charged enough to go for another child, hoping it would be a girl, but I’ll just hold on to that thought! Three boys are all I can take right now!” It does affect the time the couple get to spend together, but that’s all a part of the parenting life. “All relationships are going to have their ups and downs. Children are like kabab mein haddi – you love your child endlessly, but it does happen. The man may feel it more because he loses time with you, but it is a small phase and then you start enjoying it and it becomes three or four of you. Now I don’t even send out messages without signing off Zidaan and Aariz as well. It’s been quite smooth for us!”

Zidaan gets to spend Friday and Saturday night in bed with his parents, and he knows weekdays he’s on his own. His mom concocts creative games that he can play with his cousins on Sundays for their weekly play date. “I don’t encourage a lot of TV, it makes them feel that it’s more important that their mind gets more active than their physical body. If I watch TV, so will he. I have to make sure I’m doing the things I want him to do.” Malaika is all praise for her husband, Zayed, who’s always wanted to be a father. “He doesn’t even need me – he manages just fine, he’s just too, too good as a father. Zidaan and him are perpetually together. They go for movies and bowling, play videogames together, hang out on the iPad, he takes him to the park and sits on the bench and watches him play – that’s his time with him. Whatever time he gets at home, he wants to be with the kids. It’s been damn easy.”

Motherhood or a Career?

21 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood

Published: Mother’s World Magazine, May-August 2012

You take the big leap – have a child – and the next step is uncertain for many new mothers. Should you begin work right away, should you wait and play it by ear, or should you quit completely and just put all your time into raising a child? Do you even have that choice? Knowing that there can be no cookie-cutter solution, we find that some young working mothers are willing to talk about what worked for them and the battles that they faced – and we’re not talking just about losing vacation days.

A good home support system

Unless you are comfortable leaving your child in a day-care center or with a hired nanny, it is generally far easier to return to work if you have a good family support system. 32-year-old Shamira Mavany, was back at work at Elan Pharmaceuticals, in Philadelphia (USA) when her first daughter was two months old. She relied heavily on her mother or mother-in-law alternately taking care of her daughters Simrun (2) and Zara (1 month in November), while she returned as a full-time manager to her job. Delhi-based Jyoti Verma was back to being a consultant at a multi-national company six months into parenthood – “I have a very supportive husband so we share the responsibilities. I’ve also had some family support for when I needed it the most – the first few months of coming back to work.” With having in-laws around the corner and good staff at hand, for Shayonee Banerjee, when her son, Armaan, began going to school, taking time for work became automatically easier. “At least I know he is in an environment which is safe and enjoyable and that allows me to work peacefully.”

A workplace that understands

Working mothers unanimously describe flexible work environments or easy-going bosses as key to being able to balance parenthood with work. Mavany recalls how having an understanding boss really helped: “I remember being very exhausted when I returned to work after my first child turned two months old. Lack of sleep and the constant demands of raising an infant along with working full-time were taking its toll on me. There were times I felt I was not able to perform well at work and was not being a good mother either because I was just so tired and sleep deprived.”

Banerjee, who has just switched jobs and is now a marketing manager at IBM, enjoys great flexibility at work. “The days Armaan is not well, I work from home. If there is ever a need for me to return home from work, early, I do it. The company has implicit trust in its employees and the idea is to get the job done…not how and where the job is done.” Verma – like the others – chooses less-travel-oriented projects. “Luckily for me, I work in an organization that allows me some flexibility in choosing assignments and the group in which I work has provided me all the support I need. Contrary to my earlier beliefs my appraisal ratings haven’t suffered despite my being a little inflexible with regards to work-related travelling etc.”

Earlier the better?

Unfortunately, pediatricians and working mothers are not in agreement over the ideal time to rejoin the workforce. And ideal time aside, work places are not likely to extend maternity leave for more than six months at the most, unless they provide for a long-term sabbatical, with most expecting their employees back in two or three months

Banerjee admits it’s never easy to find the right moment to leave home for the job. “I would think getting back to work when your baby is little is far easier – both for you and your baby. Your baby is probably too young to understand and realize your absence and that makes you feel a lot less guilty. I was lucky to have fabulous help when Armaan was little – that allowed me to get back to work when he was all of eight months. Today he needs us much more and I feel guilty now – but I explain to him, that I need to go to work just like he needs to go to school everyday. There are days when he’ll turn his head round and say, ‘Bye, Mama’ and there are days when he will just bawl.” Verma feels that there is no golden truth. “Every child is different and copes in a different way. Every parent is different. All jobs have different demands. A parent needs to do a lot of thinking based on their personal circumstances and take a call.”

Pediatrician, Dr. Nihar Parekh of Cheers Childcare, talks about the ideal situation from the child’s perspective. Exclusive breast-feeding until six months (unless your work-place provides for expressing breast milk and arranging to send it home) means that is the bare minimum that a child should have his/her mother around as primary caregiver. After that, stranger anxiety sets in at around six-seven months and peaks at 10-12 months, where the child’s mind tries to differentiate between family and non-family. It is at this stage that direct family members should be around as primary caregivers. This is where the seeds of behavioral issues are sown. In an ideal situation, the mother should (if possible) wait until her child is fifteen months (and at a far more secure stage in his/her personality) to rejoin the workforce.

At the end of the day, it depends on how much one trusts the caregiver to manage a small baby – acknowledging that infants need constant attention and care, and older children need sufficient disciplining and monitoring – and at all stages babies need familial security.

Multi-tasking superwomen

While managing a baby full-time by itself is not an easy task, creating two sets of responsibilities has increased challenges. It means more pressure in terms of decision-making, greater amounts of multi-tasking and accepting that both areas of your life will require some adjustments and time-management. Mavany has learnt over time to reach out to family members for help. “I have also learned to prioritize and get the important things done first, along with accepting that I cannot get everything done perfectly all the time. For example, it is okay if the house isn’t always spic and span, or if we have to order pizza instead of having a home-cooked meal for dinner.”

Verma attributes more changes in the work-place: “I’ve deliberately taken up a role that allows me to balance my work and personal life and cater to the needs of my daughter, although it wouldn’t otherwise be one of my preferred roles. I feel my perception towards work has changed. I was one of the go-getters, seeking to excel in what I did and earn myself a name and reputation, even though it required a lot of extra effort from my side. Now, I only look to achieve what is possible without compromising on my child’s needs.”

Going on a guilt-trip

Culturally, women are often made to feel like homemakers rather than career-oriented individuals. After a child, perceptions tend to lean towards women as primary caretakers and not as working professionals. Banerjee, who comes from a familial background of successful professionals (including all the women in the house), was encouraged to rejoin the workforce after having a child. Not all are in the same boat though. While Mavany admits to having a guilt-free return to work due to the support of her mother and mother-in-law, there have been times when family members and friends have questioned her decision to go back to work and to travel for work leaving the kids at home. “I have felt judged and misunderstood by some friends and family members. Feelings of guilt have swamped me at times because of what others say about my decision to continue working full-time, and as my daughter grew up and wanted to spend more time with me. I have had to remind myself that I am doing what is best for myself and my family and that my husband s
upports me whole-heartedly in my decision. I believe that as a working mother, I am helping my family financially and I am also ensuring that I am not losing my own identity as a professional who enjoys her work. If I stopped working and stayed at home with the kids, I think over time I would be frustrated and disappointed with myself which would probably be worse for my family.” Verma is also plagued with worries. “Thankfully my baby doesn’t cry when I leave home. I don’t know what I would do if she would! Even then, when I leave her with her caretakers even for a bit, I am unable to do it without some guilt. I worry about her all the time when she is not in front of my eyes. I tell myself this is a passing phase and things will change when she grows a little older. My little one is a friendly baby and is not very clingy. I hope she remains this way because this makes it easier for her as well as us when we are not together.”

More Stress and Less Play

It’s not possible to cubbyhole your life into neat compartments, either. Work life and personal life will tend to spill into each other, sometimes not without a bit of chaos or frustration. “In spite of tremendous support from family, I am exhausted most of the time,” says Mavany. “I had to learn to accept that I could not get everything done perfectly all the time and I would have to live with it, for example it was okay if the house was not spic and span all the time, or if we had to order pizza instead of having a home-cooked meal for dinner etc. Even when I am travelling for work, there is never a moment when I am able to switch off mentally or emotionally from the kids and my household. There have been numerous occasions when I felt like I was bringing home work-related issues and vice versa. Yoga and a good night’s sleep really help me de-stress.

Mothers tend to lean on their husbands for support emotionally and as sounding boards. Most admit that without their partner’s support, this decision wouldn’t be possible. After a tough day, Mavany turns to her husband to talk about what bothers her. “If there is a work-related issue on my mind, I will take the time to discuss my feelings with my him and get his perspective on it. After that that I try my best to put the issue behind me and to deal with it at work instead of letting it bother me while I am at home. On the flip side home and family related issues tend to stay on my mind until they are resolved.”

For Mumbai-based Shainta Bhansali-Mehta who rejoined her old workplace as an advertising executive when her first son was three months old, and enjoyed flexibility at work, still felt like it was like a stressful race trying to reach early at work and returning home fast and trying to cope up with everyone’s demands. “There have been times when I may not have given 100 per cent at work or at home but if you have good support it can get easy to deal with. The best thing that worked in my case was to discuss these situations with my team at work and with my family at home.”

Banerjee sticks to prioritizing: “Some days get very busy and no matter how long you’ve worked, it just doesn’t finish. In my job, I’ve realized I will never get done with my daily to-do list. However, that has also helped me prioritize what is critical and what I’ve got to finish now. The rest can wait till next day morning. Also when I do feel like work is stressful, I just put longer hours to get it done.

The downside: sleep is now a privilege.”

Less play, but more me-time

Can a woman feel complete without sufficient time to herself? Many women suffer from a sense of loss, depression and incompleteness because of what they have given up to become a mother. Others realize how their life can become even more difficult if they lose parts of themselves to parenting that they valued before. Mavany is very clear that it was very important to go back to work to regain normalcy in her life. “Staying at home and being with kids all the time was not easy for me. I was itching to go back into the corporate world and have adult conversations and get something constructive done. Yes, I feel empowered as a working mother. My work keeps me motivated and I derive my identity and confidence from my professional accomplishments. I wonder how some mothers choose to stay at home to take care of their kids because I would find it very hard to stay at home.” Bhansali-Mehta feels the balance provides a mother with a “normal life, self-confidence and her own identity” and would end up being beneficial to the mother and child in the future.

And then there are those working mothers who feel that the ones who don’t work are the empowered ones. Verma feels that stay-at-home mothers are able to give 100 per cent to their child. “I sometimes fear my child won’t do as well as theirs and may have a ‘could-have-had-better’ childhood to remember. Despite this, I chose to be a working mother because I realized I’m not the kind of person who would be happy being a full time mother at home and my unhappiness could affect my family too. I need work to keep my mind stable. And I don’t know any other work than what I do currently.”

Women often feel that babies are a life-changing experience, not just because of the joys and trials a little rug rat brings, but also because it means that the primary caregiver – who in most cultures, particularly Indian ones, is the mother – has to change her life to accommodate another person. The constant attention required means choosing between working, an active social life or a career and being a stay-at-home-mum. It’s never an easy choice. But it’s important to remember that the choice is yours.

Baby Bonding

21 Thursday Jun 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Mother's World

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Mother's World Magazine, Motherhood

Published: Mother’s World, May-August 2012

Having a baby surrounded by a big extended family is the very essence of – and much like – living in India. Baby steps into a rather overwhelming world of warmth, security and distraction. There is a babble of sounds; there is a lot of noise. There are people around; there are too many people around. People are well-meaning and helpful; people are inquisitive. People always have an opinion – including how you can do the job of mothering better. That is not to take away from the fact that a child – at a stage when she’s almost like a sponge – absorbs and learns so much from different people, and finds pleasure in the company of various family members.

Belgium born-living-in-Mumbai Rachna Doshi points out that different family members can provide levels of attention to a child who is naturally at an ego-centric stage. “I find on occasion that I am irritable with my son after a whole day of feeding and potty training…ensuring all his needs are met; and when play time arrives, I’m too tired. Grandparents, being free of all the responsibility, are all about pure fun and play!”

At the very crux of a joint family lies the support system. To have ‘me’ time, to find a balance in life, a mother is likely to be heavily dependent on immediate and extended family. Doshi recalls growing up in a nuclear set up: “I found that when living abroad my mother did everything but relied on the older child to take care of the younger one. In our early years, I doubt my parents ever had time for each other least of all for socializing. It was only when our grandparents visited that they could take a few nights off.” And as she points out, people who live on their own, for lack of choice would tend to rely on the hired help much more – almost as if they were the extended family.

In India, the joint family system has proven itself, but with women becoming more self-reliant and opinionated, this can also fall flat in the face of antiquated thinking and habits and new age parenting principles. There is a definite trade-off between cultural transmission and spoiling a child with easy-going or lax parenting often followed by a grandparent. When the child is around people who are not the primary caregivers, he may begin to act up or take liberties that stricter parents may not afford the child. And vice versa, the extended family often takes an easier parenting route for two reasons: the fact that they are not the fall guy on the disciplinary front and because they feel certain things worked when they were parents and why should things be any different now?

Parenting is all about creating a set of guidelines that work for the parent and child, and sticking by them. When a child senses mixed signals, it confuses him and allows him to take charge of the decision-making. Delhi-based Reshma Kumar (name changed) faces daily frustration with maintaining an eat-play-sleep schedule and feeding rules for her eight-month-old son, Vedant. Where she stresses on healthy foods and skipping snacking, she often returns home to find that her son won’t eat his dinner because grandma has given him sugary cookies and Bourbon biscuits to snack on in the evening, despite having been repeatedly cautioned against it.

Dubai-and-Bangalore-based Tara Kinnelan (name changed) faces another problem. Her parent’s home isn’t baby proofed and despite requests, they tend to be negligent with massive vases and glass figurines scattered around, as her one-year-old daughter, Sara, runs amok. Her uncle and aunt are easy on anything she picks up. Kinnelan has often found medicines, cream bottles and cosmetics in her daughter’s hand. “I feel suffocated – where a support system should make my life easy, it gives me more stress! I’d rather do it myself, for my peace of mind, but that leaves me at the raw end of the deal.”

Advice is another battle a thinking mother is constantly waging. On one side is a mother’s gut instinct and on the other is the wisdom of experience. When Kinnelan’s daughter, Sara, was a few months old, and colicky, the hyperventilating grandmothers would rush in with a barrage of unscientific solutions and recommendations. “It was hard enough dealing with an inconsolable child, and to add to that, constant notes on what worked in their time! They wanted to control what I ate, how I fed her, how I bathed her, had long recommendations on herbal tummy ointments…all through Sara’s shrieks.” On the other hand, Doshi feels that in a time of illness a grandparent’s presence is invaluable. “When my son or I have fallen ill, it has been a blessing to have family around. As first-time parents, a child’s illness can be nerve racking and a helping hand or some advice from an elder can really be great guidance and comfort.” Doshi admits to there being a generation gap: “But it’s an opinion. I doubt that even they expect us to follow their advice unless we think it’s correct. In many cases, their advice is spot on and in as many instances we blatantly reject it in lieu of a more modern approach. There are no hard feelings. It’s their right as grandparents to offer the advice – whether we take it or not is our choice.”

Regardless of the difficulties, the rapport a child builds with his family and what she picks up or learns from the elders is important. Kinnelan’s father, for instance, was the person who taught Sara to climb onto and off a bed and would soothe her when she was cranky. Doshi and 32-year-old Aarti Mehta (name changed) value the traditional learning grandparents can bring to an impressionable child. Says Mehta, who has spent half her life away from India: “I leave it up to the grandparents to infuse my children with Indian culture, spirituality and religion which I am not really comfortable with.”

Doshi, who lives in a house amid four generations, firmly holds: “Though it may be easier not to have to deal with the constant advice, the joint family scenario definitely instills a sense of family values in a child as well as a sense of security. Aman learns various things from each family member, and having spent his entire life with so many people in the house never feels uncomfortable or insecure in crowds or with strangers, or even when his parents aren’t around.” Mumbai-based Sejal Jain Sachdeva, the mother of one-year-old Shay, has an alternate opinion, which is seconded by the childcare community: “I believe a baby’s sense of security comes from the parents or family sense of security. Even in a larger family set up, you find insecure children. I live in a joint family and my child cannot play by himself for more than ten minutes. He needs people to entertain him and look at his antics. On the other hand, he’s not intimidated when he’s amongst a large crowd. He enjoys the company.”

Mehta found it easier bringing up her first child alone, abroad, than she did raising her second in India. Admittedly set in her ways because her first son, Ved, was raised through the difficult period of new motherhood in New York without an extended family support system, she now lives with her husband and two sons in Mumbai in a nuclear system. “I love my set up: I have my space to live my life, spend quality time with my children and husband. And yet my support is a phone call and a few minutes away. My children get the best of all worlds – a very concentrated and focused upbringing by us, following our rules, while at the same time plenty of time with their grandparents – to get spoilt rotten! My parents and in-laws offer me a lot of space and respect in my decision-making and are readily available as and when I need them. I also find that this set up lets me really focus on my kids without falling into the trap of having them raised by others or in a crowd.”

There are also those who stay with the grandparents in the early days, when the baby needs constant attention and monitoring and choose to move to a more nuclear set up when the child is ready for school. This would appear to be particularly harsh on the grandparents, who are likely to have become used to having a little rug rat scampering around. Alternatively, not to miss a scenario overheard at a South Mumbai beauty salon – “My daughter is visiting with the kids – thankfully it’s only for few weeks! The house gets out of control with everyone around.” So, it appears that on the flipside, children can cramp the grandparents’ style as well!

It does take all kinds of people to make a family and the best answer is undoubtedly the one based on your own situation. The family members you have to live with: are they easy-going, flexible, understanding? Are they willing to lend a helping hand regularly? Is there open communication and dialogue? Are you willing to take a step back and let go of the reins occasionally? It’s natural for a mother to take parenting rather seriously – especially if she is a first-time mother. But, as Kumar has learnt, letting go of the small things and keeping in mind the big picture helps. “What Vedant is gaining from being around his grandparents, and what I gain in terms of space, is far bigger than some of the practices they insist on following. I have made my peace with that.” And if you are unable to find your eight-fold-path, you may need to take pointers from Mehta’s perfect scenario.

Out of India

20 Friday Apr 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Humour, Parenting, Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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India, Interviews: Travel, Motherhood, vervemagazine

Published: Verve Magazine, Features, April 2012

It’s best if your kids get trained on home ground to face the intricacies of a splashy European holiday, as you travel in season with the jet setters of the world. But while tossing around the Mediterranean waves, are Indian kids missing out on knowing their own turf, asks Sitanshi Talati-Parikh

It took a leisurely Sunday brunch conversation at Café Zoe, a new Manhattan-style eatery in South Mumbai – exposed brick, metal beams et al – to remind us of what makes an Indian Summer. For those without school-going children, vacations are all about nipping off to the next hotspot all year round. Children tend to make social lives non-existent and travel plans seasonal. In my time, childhood summer vacations expanded into long sunny and muggy days of reading, swimming, learning tennis; the lucky ones travelling to Disney World or coral sighting around the Reef, catching spring on one end and autumn on the other. Now, with the advent of the International Baccalaureate educational system (IB) – prudently adopted by the crème de la crème schools of the country – the concept of a summer vacation (matching the international breaks around June-July) if not travelling abroad, would be incredibly difficult days of watching the rain pelt away and probably kicking around some slimy mush.

No sensible parent would make the mistake of keeping the kids homebound during these difficult months. And so, as a matter of course, summer breaks have changed dramatically to be Riviera cruising or Tuscany villa-bathing. Indians and their little tots are quite in with the European jet set, hopping onto a chartered yacht for a soiree or catching a rave in Ibiza after the kids are snoozing. Not surprisingly, the IB system fits in beautifully with the LV-armed maternistas’ (mothers who are fashionistas or even simply, yummy mummies) idea of a chic vacation. The Far East is suitable for a quick turn during Easter, Europe and its many sophisticated charms make for a cultural rendezvous in the summer break, and Latin America and its mysterious Incas and Brazilian parades fit in quite neatly during Christmas and New Year.

The world is the child’s oyster and you may actually counter: for someone who must surely play a part in global politics of the future in some capacity, is it not important to start the education young? To that effect, it might just be ideal to switch Sunday brunches from chilli cheese dosa to whole-wheat apricot pancakes. From the local Udipi guy to Pali Village Café. Ironically, what we New Age Indians love about these new café hotspots is their intrinsic non-Indianness. You find yourself celebrating the escape from what is India into a safe haven of faux cobblestones, rustic interiors and Latino soundtracks. In any case, it is wise to alter their (the children’s) taste buds to suit the vacation spots, for most ease of use. After all, no self-respecting Burberry mum will allow for her child to demand dal-chawal in Marbella. Popularised by Zoya Akhtar’s 2011 film Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, children look forward in tangy anticipation to the La Tomatina festival in Bunõl as a wonderful cultural experience to whet an appetite for a freshly stomped meal. It’s not surprising then, that there’s an unnatural buzz in the air about Starbucks finally coming to India this year and Australian coffee house Di Bella making its foray into desi turf. Does one actually expect those little Gucci shoes to prance into a genuinely unpainted local Iranian café when there is an option of a peppermint frappuccino in a Christmas-carol touting, chicly hand-painted coffee shop?

The kids are wonderfully globalised, with curios for their rooms from every part of the world, and possibly a cultural hangover which can be passed off as jet lag. It is unlikely that Mount Abu or Meenakshi fit into the grand scheme of things, unless it’s a part of a school field trip. India is exactly that – a field trip, quite like going to the zoo or bird sanctuary or a museum: to be looked at with wonder, noted for a history or sociology class. You turn away with the first roots of cynicism as you wonder why our monuments can’t be as nicely kept as the ones we see abroad. You come away with a sense of loss and a protective distaste for the sights and smells of the country that will possibly stay with you a lifetime. The same smells that writers of the diaspora sigh about dreamily form a noxious accent to the lives of those who live here. Would we want our children to grow up fondly reminiscing about the urea-scented trips to the Elephanta caves, when they could deliberate on the Mona Lisa’s mystical smile over a Parisian pain au chocolat?

As it turns out, India is merely an option – or more rightly, Indianness is merely an option. It’s like a home menu that reads: Thai Monday, Mexican Tuesday, Italian Wednesday, Indian Thursday and Hibachi grill Friday. It’s not just about the food; it’s about looking at an Indian life. Cosmopolitan India is about rapidly assimilating the lifestyle of the world and making the city more palatable. It is no longer the expats who crave a Chilean sea bass and hop across to their local gourmet restaurant. It is the Indian who craves something regularly non-Indian to make him stay sane in a city that exhausts him with its grey clouds of monotony. If you can’t live abroad, at least the proverbial ‘Chef’ Mohammed can bring ‘abroad’ to your neighbourhood. There may have been a time when Indians just wanted to be cool and try new things. Today, Indians want international flavour with a sense of permanence. Indianness is merely chutney on the Mediterranean focaccia: in turn, layered, dipped into, hidden or wiped away.

Maybe in spirit, a city-dweller is a restless species, an eternal traveller, one who is looking for escape from home before he returns home. Maybe we just need to slow down: the pace of the city – with our always-online work, rapid-fire social connections perpetually drain us, and we need to be recharged often if not sooner. Our children face it from the word ‘Go’ – with their language classes for six-month-olds, baby gyms for nine-month-olds, and birthday parties every alternate day. Maybe it is a genetic illness we are passing along in growing measures down generations – that we can’t quite stop planning the next getaway before the first break has ended. It keeps the adrenalin pumping, keeps up the excitement to land at Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport (or your own desi equivalent) with a spring in your step, just brimming with the knowledge that soon you’ll be back here, taking off to another place of intrigue.

An acquaintance points out that her sister has spent five years in the coolest, hippest, buzziest city in the world – New York, and yet, can’t wait to get away occasionally. So maybe it is less that we tire of India and more that we tire in general. It’s just that when we do get weary, we look far away for solace – wine country, beaches of Croatia…. What’s wrong with a neatly reworked heritage place – think Neemrana – in the nostalgic Matheran of our own childhood to build the memories of our children’s youth? As the desis would say it – though I doubt they would be couture (kosher) – ‘Culture ka culture ho jayega, aur holiday ka holiday.’

Baby’s Week Out

30 Friday Mar 2012

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Parenting, Publication: Verve Magazine, Travel Stories

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Humour, Interviews: Travel, Singapore, Verve Magazine

Published: Verve Magazine, March 2012
Illustration by Farzana Cooper

Singapore – the destination everyone’s been to. Repeatedly. With children in tow. Here’s a diary of an eventful trip to baby-friendly Singapore with an eight-month-old – where things turn out not quite as they were meant to be

Screen Shot 2017-07-25 at 3.18.07 PM

Day 1: Mumbai baggage
It’s a packer’s nightmare. You start by making a list. Until you realise that you could go on adding to-dos, but you may still forget something. And then you start hyperventilating. You take a really deep, shaky breath and realise – ‘Oh big deal – it’s Singapore. They have everything.’ As an intrepid traveller, I’ve battled my roots to attempt to travel light. No longer is it about, ‘What if I need this very pair of understated Anne Klein pumps over the glitzy Nine West ones?’ I am now confronted with packing for an eight-month-old infant. Her suitcase is nearly as big as I am. I’ve called ahead and asked our hotel to organise sterilisers, bottle warmers, baby cot, baby bathtub and stroller…but even so, as a friend once shrugged and said, “You want to travel with a baby, you can forget about travelling light.” And I’ve only taken one pair of shoes – the one on my feet.

Day 1: Flights and bassinet seats
The flight is uneventful, relatively speaking. My darling child dutifully falls asleep in my arms, soon after take-off, I gently put her into the bassinet in front of me. I’m just about to loosen my stiff limbs and try to settle in for a nap, when there is a slight rumble and the harried air hostess requests me firmly, ignoring my appalled expression, to remove the child from the bassinet due to anticipated air turbulence. Baby sets off a heart-wrenching wail at being disturbed from her deep sleep. I shush and rock her back to sleep over the next 45 minutes and hold her in my arms for the hours until we reach, setting off cramps in muscles I didn’t know existed. That’s the eventful part.

Day 2: Singapore and strollers
Landing in Singapore, I smile in the early morning light, dreaming of organic baby food, chic baby-friendly restaurants and malls with comfortable baby-changing stations. I already know that the city is organised around strollers – making it a piece of cake to walk around the wide pavements. Except…when your hotel accesses the main walkway through an underpass. So, I need to lug Baby and stroller down a flight of stairs, walk, and then up another flight of stairs to reach the pedestrian street. Oh no! How many times would I have to do this every day? I spy the biggest Zara on Oxford and a Starbucks right next to it. I can already see many happy hours spent between the two. Both are accessible via a flight of stairs. I’m not really into this lugging-the-stroller-up-to-shop-and-sip thing. I turn away with a sinking heart.

Day 3: The Great Singapore Sale and diapers
Of course, I have unwittingly chosen an optimum time of the year to pop into the city – at the end of the Great Shopping Festival – which means that all the malls are sickeningly busy and crowded, and waiting for the elevator to traverse floors means waiting forever. So Baby is now getting accustomed to travelling at an incline. The stroller is angled onto the escalator, with a bemused toddler strapped in.

I make a beeline for the nearest store to buy all the required baby things. From grocery store to medical store to convenience chain, each shrugs and points to the next one. I find myself amazed. My part of Orchard Street is completely sold out on Pampers’ diapers in Baby’s size. Apparently, every child in Singapore is a size medium. Good Lord, help me find diapers.

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Day 4: Jurong Bird Park and lorries
At Jurong Bird Park, Baby discovers the lorries. Startlingly awake from her afternoon nap (as we sweat up and down the park route driving the stroller and a sleeping Baby), she is thrilled to see them squawking away, flying in and perching on our hands and eating off our palms. She laughs and claps her hands at the sheer number of them, gurgles at the happy swish of colours.

Day 5: High chairs and changing stations
If there’s anything that Singapore should get full marks for, it’s the fact that any and every restaurant, even the tiniest coffee shop, will have a high chair. It makes it seem that children are wanted and are meant to be assimilated into the culture and not to be left home, like in India. While shopping for Baby on the fifth floor of Paragon, we take a break at the café nearby. It is also possibly the only one in Singapore without a high chair. A tad ironic, seeing that it is located in the children’s section of the mall!

After a run on the toy train at the play area, I walk smugly to the fancy diaper-changing station. I know this is going to be easy. What I haven’t accounted for is that Baby isn’t taking very well to being placed flat on a cold hard surface for her least favourite moment of the day. She sets off a massive howl that scares the daylights out of the ladies around. I don’t dare imagine what is running through their minds. I move away from the sophisticated station and prop myself onto a sofa and try to change her on my lap. There goes convenience. Not pleased at being huddled about, Baby doesn’t stop shrieking until she’s sitting up. I manage to pacify her with Olivia the Owl – her new best friend procured from the toy store nearby.

Day 6: Tiffany’s lullabies and the many colours of Sephora
I’ve worked out a great schedule based on where I want to shop and eat, so that Baby gets her sleep and meals bang on time. But as I cut through Takashimaya, right outside the understated bling of Tiffany’s, Baby suddenly wants to get out of her stroller and into my arms to sleep. I can’t sing lullabies to her in front of Tiffany’s with a straight face! Finding a quiet niche, I settle her in and tuck her into the stroller. As I quickly make my way to my target, Sephora, she’s up and awake dazzled by the colours and jarred by the music in the store. How will I ever shop here?

Day 6: Dancing rainbows at Clarke Quay
We set off for a quick evening meal at the lively waterside. Baby is quite well behaved, checking out the happenings. How perfect it all is! I excitedly prop open the newly acquired, organic, European baby porridge. I see to my horror that the food won’t mix, it’s coagulating and poor Baby is valiantly trying to chew with distaste. I distract her with the dancing colour water fountains in quiet desperation.

Day 6: Designer indecisions
No one goes shopping in Singapore without returning with a few prized designer goods. Some, like the Verve stylists, pre-decide what they have their eyes set on. For me, it would be impulse buys. My indecision leads me to make the walk back and forth between Prada and Miu Miu – which means Baby comes along for the ride. If only she could help me choose…but she seems content to sit back and listen to the muted music in the stores and eye the expressionless Japanese lady buying six pairs of shoes. A people-watcher, already.

Day 7: Night-time margaritas
Taking a taxi to grab dinner at Margaritas is totally worth it. Great Mexican food and ambience and enough wall paintings to keep Baby busy while I wolf down that enchilada, washing it back with the restaurant’s signature drink. From express dim sum lunches to fine-dining Thai, Baby has settled well into high-chair eating, but doesn’t quite master the patience bit, wreaking sweet havoc with the silverware and table mats. A shoe falls off, a spoon goes tinkling down, a fork spears the tiles, paper napkins find themselves arranged at floor level and a mischievous grin keeps you from tearing your hair out.

And then you take a sneak peak around – other children are equally busy self-entertaining themselves, and the only glances in our direction are indulgent ones. That’s what makes Singapore baby-friendly. Not the availability of baby food and diapers (or not), but the fact that they get it – what it means to be a parent who wants to eat a nice meal out and doesn’t want to leave Baby behind. And for those who do, most hotels in the city offer baby sitters.

Baby levellers

22 Friday Apr 2011

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Musings, Parenting

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Baby, Motherhood, Thoughts

To save time, we chose, on the spur of the moment, to go to the local park nearby instead of our country club. By we, I mean hubby, baby and I. As we got out of our chauffeur-driven car, assembled our one-touch baby travel system in front of curious eyes and strolled into the park, I could see what a picture we made. Designer shades, sundress, chi-chi baby outfit…it felt incongruous among the many who strolled along people-watching by the sea. As I reached forward to wipe some baby drool, I looked up and met the eyes of a simple, sari-clad lower-middle-class lady, who was resting her feet on a nearby park bench. She had a baby tucked into the crook of her arm.

There would be many differences between the upbringing of that child and mine, largely material in nature – those of opportunities. And yet they looked peaceful. Flashback to a conversation with a few new mothers, who spoke in feverish agony about the sorry state of schools in the city – the horrendous situation of demand and supply, where their kids may not make it to the best schools, may have to do with second tier and even then wheedle their way in. How different is life for a person with means and one without? Both often need to snatch opportunities and push to get in – just to different places. One believes that the best is a basic right, the other hopes that somewhere along the way a better life may appear.

What is a better life? A bigger classroom, a fancy school bus, a posh car, smarter teachers? Life itself is a great teacher and sometimes, we forget the most basic of lessons. We are all born with the right to live. How we choose to live is a complex twist of fate, luck and opportunity. Motherhood can’t be that different across the board – every baby will poop, cry and laugh while learning to crawl. Possibly one will poop in the comfort of Pampers and soft linen and soundless air conditioning. But at the end of the day, each process remains the same. Their self-worth should be independent of the quality of their lives, rather should depend upon their desire to be someone.

Can the two be separated? Aren’t we constantly defining ourselves by our ability to attract wealth and power and the symbols of such derivates? I believe a society’s material image emerges from the “best” that we want to give our children. We believe that a fluffy eiderdown will make a better person or human being when maybe a hard bed is what is required. (I don’t mean that one should make a child suffer the rigours of life when there is no need to.) The fancy trappings are – if we admit it – for ourselves. To make ourselves feel better about being parents. In our desire to provide the best, we often create the worst. A society of weakening self-worth. All children need love, affection and food. The rest is – as the word states – immaterial.

The Mad Maid Brigade

12 Saturday Mar 2011

Posted by sitanshi talati-parikh in Musings, Parenting

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Motherhood

The moment the world discovered I was expecting, the most common and oft-asked question was, “Have you got help? Have you found a maid?” Apparently, maid-less in Mumbai equals having no life.

It’s trite that on my sabbatical I would be reduced to writing about baby maids, but there is a point to the rant. Pritish Nandy’s recent column on the greed of people (A Nation of Banias) echoes what I have been thinking for the past few weeks. There is something strange happening to the world of working people – and that defines our new middle class. The best comparison is to the maid market.

At a recent evening tete a tete, a friend advised me about a maid, Suvidha, affectionately known as Su, who is magical with babies, but just needs to be given a sense of importance. “Without you, I am nothing – you are my whole and soul, you make my world go around….” These words must be in effect repeated often to the said maid, to ensure that she sticks around. Or there’s Deepali, who came from a Calcutta bureau to take care of Baby, began fighting with the entire family after a fight she had with someone one the phone (love gone bad?), slammed doors around the sleeping baby, banged Baby’s legs, shook her head when holding her, and made her wail no end. We happily bought her return ticket and couldn’t wait to see her go. Another day maid, Sushma, lied about her hours of work on the very first day – because she got a call for another night job. So, she planned to abscond early, go home take care of her kids and then run a full night duty elsewhere. So when would she sleep? Would she manage a baby on no rest? Valentina, came with references and a well-stamped passport. She had just flown down from Switzerland the night before, and after touring much of Schengen world, was looking for a job that would take her to greener pastures yonder. Another claimed to be a governess, she wouldn’t clean, she would play with the baby. So was the mother supposed to clean while the governess played? Another one called Deepa came with emotional baggage from a bad childhood and child marriage (scary stuff), but touted working at ‘big houses’, name dropped and spoke about how she would work where there were at least 3 maids handling one baby. The mother would watch or party. Not used to being responsible, she brought with her a boisterous temperament, mood swings and a dollop of immaturity an carelessness. Another young girl hopped onto a train from Calcutta, begging and pleading for a job (she had no experience) because she needed the money. And then there was Manu, dear Calcutta Manu, who spoke about perfumes, matching nail polish, gold jewellery, mobile phones and air tickets.

And all of them have one thing in common – they are interviewing you. You may well please yourself thinking you are maid shopping or looking for the right fit, but there really isn’t much in your hands – they are house-hunting (size does matter), and will take the call depending upon the wealth, material comforts and perks offered by the house. Not only have their salaries tripled, as a prerequisite, they want to be provided with additional help for themselves – watch them boss over the rest of the household-, a mobile phone, jewellery, perfume, saris, the same quality soaps and such as used by the mother, air tickets to be ferried back and forth from their home as and when they please, frequent and fancy trips (preferably abroad, but if in India then exotic places only). And only the best must be used for Baby – they even judge you on the brands of products and appliances you use. “The one from ‘foreign’ is the best didi. Don’t use ‘local’ – ask someone to bring it for you.” If you can’t provide any of the above, you are on probation. They also want to know how many people in your house, what age group, what kind of child (temperament and such) and how often the child wakes at night. As 27-year-old Deepa openly said, “I am looking to buy a house in Calcutta. I give myself five years in Mumbai – and am looking around for the perfect house to spend those five years in, before I make my move back.” She also (two days into work) yells at the household help (who’ve been around decades) to keep the noise down, buy a pressure cooker that makes no noise, and in effect ensure that she gets ‘rest’ since she’s been so baby-busy. Surprising, when she sleeps more than the mother.

At the end of the day, you need to market your house, family and child to them, to lure them into staying; and thereafter begins the rat race to keep them happy. If you suggest a method to the madness of keeping your baby clean, happy and peaceful, they take objection and feel insulted. Of course they know better what is best for your baby. Even if they have just arrived the previous day. If you think otherwise, and dare to show it, they walk.

I’m told, maids have certain predefined lines: if they have scoped the scene and don’t wish to work there, they invent an excuse of a cold (so they can’t be around Baby) and beg off time to start. They then disappear. Or, if they’ve worked with you, they speak about their child’s wedding so that they can get you to gift them stuff like gold or money.

Also, they are trying to one-up the mother. They think it is a job well done if the baby responds to them rather than the mother. Deepa proudly told me, “The baby would eat from my hand only. If the mother fed her, she would turn away and look for me. The mother begged me to stay, to not leave, for the sake of her baby; but I couldn’t handle her mother-in-law’s interference any more. It was a perfect place, otherwise. So I moved on. And yet, I love children – I’m very attached to all of them. I got so much love there.” See the irony there? From all the gossiping (read: bitching or showing off) about other houses these maids are wont to do (annoyingly in the middle of burping or putting Baby to sleep), you realize that there is a trend of women, who quit nursing, who want to get back to their own lives and who then become highly dependent on their hired help. It gives the help an unhealthy sense of importance, and the effect on the child is something for another blog post. But who’s to judge a parent’s choices?

One realizes that a woman resuming normal life after motherhood is as good as her hired help. Does that mean that we must join the race to keep the maid? At what stage do we succumb to the insanity that has become a part of the child-upbringing-world? As I shopped for maids (or so I thought) a friend remarked, getting someone to help you get a maid is worse than getting a friend to help you with a guy you’ve both fallen for. No one likes to share maid numbers, what if they need someone too? Demand exceeds supply and people tenaciously and jealously guard their maids (from poaching) and refuse to give out any information, lest they may need one in the future.

It has given rise to the Bureaus. Whether they are formalizing a system for the better or leading to a lot of issues, is yet to be seen. These are offices of great self-importance, they run a maid delivery system based on the insane demand and take commission on every placement. Some even ask for a non-refundable registration fee up front and then keep you on your toes, calling them for a maid – a few times a day, everyday. There are contracts, they interview you, they check YOUR credentials…there are even scams galore, eating into the desperation of harassed new parents. And what do you know about the women who are given access to your home and child? Who knows where they have been, what they are carrying, what issues they are harbouring? Suvarna, my local masseuse maid points it out – “You need someone you can trust, bhabhi. We know the local maids, who knows about these bureau ones? You know what the world is like, nowadays….”

A few days of the runaround, and I gave up. I believe there be a greater joy and more peace in raising your child yourself, rather than having the stress of finding the right help. So what if it leaves you knee-deep in diapers and burp cloths? Parenting is all about learning the ropes the hard way. That’s how nature intended it. Maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be. And besides, I hear it’s uber cool to be managing Baby yourself, having a maid take care of Baby is so not nuclear-21st-century-gobalista.