It helps me to stay grounded and constantly r e m i n d s me to appreciate whatever I have.

This post is not about patriotism or an NRI flaunting their long lost love for their home country, which I am not and choose not to indulge. I am proud to be an American, very much an Indian American, very happy with whatever rights the Indian dual citizenship provides, for us to legally stay here as long as we want and are wanted.

This past week, the LH and Babio had been travelling and I was home alone with kids and my dad. Third time in a row, the kids fell sick one after the other, when the LH is not in town. I have been shuttling to the doctor’s office with 2 cranky kids, both wanting me to carry them and passify them at the same time. Thank God for ample domestic help, I could comfortably go around with the kids, leaving my Dad at the mercy of the maid, a good one.

First Dlittle caught an infection, with a very high temperature that wouldn’t come down in spite of administering alternate doses of paracetemol and brufen every 3 hours. She needed constant sponging even to contain the fever at 101 F. I held up decently well I think. But on the third day, when D developed a fever of 103.8, combined with stomach and chest pain, and I had to run to the doctor with an already cranky Dlittle, I lost it. I was cursing myself for having to go through all this all alone. Having hardly got a shut eye for well over 3 days, I was just terribly exhausted. Why this always happens just when the LH is out of town? Karma, punarjanam karma.

On the way back, the kids fell asleep on my lap, one on each side. Some kind of peace crept over, and I was watching the passers by on the road. The thought I just had about an hour ago reversed 180 degrees. How fortunate I am, was the thought this time around. To have a driver who drives the car, who puts the AC on and off on demand, some hundred times, when the cranky kids want it one minute and want it switched off another minute. How fortunate I am to be able to call my paed on a dusshera holiday, request for consultation and have the means to be comfortably driven some 15 kms to visit his home clinic. How fortunate I am to have food served on the table as soon as I reach home. How fortunate I am to be able to afford to take my kids to the doctor I think would be the best suited in spite of a holiday.


Looking through the car’s window, I witness this one lady with an infant in her arms, an empty milk bottle in her hands, and another kid holding on tightly to her torn clothes, knocking one car’s window after another asking for money. And this other family, 4 of all, the mother, the father, one older kid and one young infant all scrambled up in a scooty. It felt as though the kid or the mother would pop out any minute. The thought that was scary to me, is their everyday life. They seemed to be happy just like many others. The thought that then came, was of my maid’s sister who ended up quitting her job to take care of her ailing aunt, forgoing the little survival amount she made. I believe in karma and believe that everyone is destined to live life a certain predefined way. But why in the greater scheme of things, kids have to carry this burden, only the almighty knows. It breaks my heart however.

Bangalore is no short of classy restaurants and expensive outings. But, no matter how much one wishes to be in denial and hide inside the fancy tainted car, one cannot escape the streets and get to these fancy places without encountering a good lot of people with basic needs.

And this is why I love this place, the prominent mixed class of people constantly force us to take a step back from the daily rut of competitive lifestyle, rethink our priorities, remind us to appreciate everything we have, and to live life to the fullest. I could choose to sulk at the white Mercedes that zooms by, feel pressured/disappointed at not being able to make it as big in the area I wish to have a presence. OR I could look at the people who struggle for everyday things, feel happy for what I have and give as much as I can in any form. The choice is mine.

Unfortunately, this reminder of being fortunate and staying grounded comes at the expense of watching and feeling the not-so-privileged. Very sad, but true.

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