Bride Wanted : Matrimony , astrology and more...

Whoever said , "Marriages are made in heaven, consummated in earth" shall modify it to "Marriages are made in heaven, consummated in earth and facilitated by bhartamatrimony.com /shaadi.com", going by the current marriage market.

Apart from nappy changing and taking care of Lil General like a good mommy, I've been keeping myself busy with another activity - bride hunt for someone in the family. Arranged marriages is still the conventional way of getting married in India and a huge project in itself that starts with the to-be-groom or bride giving their formal consent to start the "search" process.

We got the go-ahead in February and since then we've been splitting our hairs trying to find the perfect the bride. Perfection has been as elusive as ever. The search-bride algorithm has way too may parameters to match that even Google would find intimidating.

Horoscope copies : Anyway, so we saw a good day (based on planetary combinations, I'll reserve that for another post) and made the first horoscope copy. Now again there were too my choices on the format of horoscope and bio data - what to reveal and what not to - traditional yellow page horoscope or new age jazzy PDF formatted horoscope to be sent by e-mail, to state property or not, hand written or computer printout. With each one having an opinion based on their exposure to IT, it took 4 weeks to settle on a set of hard copy/soft formats. Different versions evolved and we settled on a yellow page handwritten horoscope and computer printout for Bio-data. Writing the bio-data took more thinking than making a professional resume. By the end of 1 month, we had 50 copies ready for distribution.

Distributing the horoscope : The next traditional/logical step is distributing them to friends and relatives which was relatively easy. In olden days, marriages were fixed this way. If the horoscope didn't match for your son/daughter, you would pass it onto someone else who is looking for a suitable groom/bride their son/daughter. This way the chain went on until it culminated. There were also middlemen called brokers who facilitated the search process professionally.




Now, sites like bharatmatrimony.com and shaadi.com have become brokers. And it is good business for these sites with the number of registered users running into tens of thousands. You enroll yourself in these sites and get an opportunity to find a suitable bride/groom from 1000 other registered users. The choice/exposure for the bride/groom of finding a compatible person is high unlike in traditional search where the control lies with parents. So I enrolled my brother and was overwhelmed for the first week or 2 by the profiles of girls, spending days browsing through hundreds of profiles. It dawned upon us two weeks later that making your profile interesting with salary details, a digitally altered picture, scuba diving/racing as hobbies and Japanese/Mexican cuisine as favorites invites lot of "interests" whereas a boring/predictable one with watching tv for hobbies and sambhar/rasam, mom's khana for favorite cuisines evinced hardly any interest. After a lot of experimentation and no success we decided this was futile and reverted to the traditional parent-centric method of advertising - in national newspapers' - Sunday's matrimonial column.

Here comes the interesting part. The day the ad appeared in the paper, phone calls started coming in as early as 7:00 a.m. and this continued for weeks later. I filtered some of them based on the time they called like 2:00 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon. The response was overwhelming with over 100 horoscope/enquiries coming in by post/courier and e-mail.

Some of our experiences ....sample this ad taken from the "Bridegrooms wanted" column last week's Sunday Hindu Matrimonial section :
Iyer, Vadamal, Athreya, Puratathi 26/180 SWE, MNC Rs.3.5 pa
Show me the money, baby : The first question the girl's family is interested in knowing is how much the boy earns. You would hardly find a ad of a boy without his CTC mentioned. And the girls are upfront in stating their demand - that the boy has a flat has about Rs. 5 p.a. in CTC and go to the extent of checking their payslips. Money rules!

I have it all, I want more : The number of B.E / MBA educated girls is on the increase with an Engineering College opening up in every street corner. So a B.E BITS Pilani/REC girl wants only a M.S. boy from Wharton, no less.

Amrikaa - the forbidden land : We were interested in an alliance and we contacted the girls' parents this Sunday. The lady began the conversation with "Where does the boy work?". Mom replied, "He is in U.S on a project." Bang came the reply, "Sorry, mami (as in aunty), my daughter wants the boy to be in Chennai as she works there."

Yet another conversation with a lady in Coimbatore lasted oly 10 seconds. "Sorry, no US boys", she said. Gone are the days of the American dream of a decade ago when parents thought if their daughters got married to a boy in the US, it was a dream come true. Now, parents prefer their children to be married and settled here. Yet another face and consequence of the booming Indian global economy on its society.

A fairly good percentage of girls are career oriented and are to willing to relocate even between Chennai/Bangalore. According to me, this should be a decision taken by the boy/girl and not the parents. Even this morning there was a girl who asked if the boy was willing to relocate to Jabalpur or stay home while she worked. All the feminist talk is fine but please give me a break. The Indian society hasn't progressed so much so that dad are willing to stay home to take care of the baby or has biology changed so much that dad can give birth to kids yet. Flexibility is almost nil in the 500 odd that I have seen so far.

SWE, MNC - no longer an endangered species : How could I have known before the matrimonial ads that SWE stood for "Software Engineer". SWE is so common that you will be surprised to find one who is not ...So the father of a girl told us, "Anything but software. I have enough of this species in my family already and I'm sick and tired of their lifestyle, so please give me a break. They have it all - flat, abroad vacations once a year, car etc etc and they also have a sick body that complains of back ache /head ache at 35 years..." Yes, he did say in so many words. I'm not exaggerating.

Age/Height : There was this gentleman who called one fine morning and said "My daughter is born on such and such date." I was confused for a minute. I replied, "Sir, I think she is older than the boy." He replied, "So what these days, they do. I don't think it should be a problem.". I replied, "But it is for us. So, no, thank you.". Thank God, he didn't cite Abhi-Ash as an example.

When horoscopes become horror-scopes : Now we've gotten this far. Someone who is ok with the pay package, where the boy works and what he does, and the next logical step is to see if their horoscopes match. This is when horoscopes become horror-scopes. You can find a Doctor who treats Alzheimer's easily but getting an astrologer has become so difficult. Finally when you do get a good one and when humans arrive at a consensus, their planets don't. Either there are too many planets in the same house or one in the wrong house or a gentleman called mars/rahu in the 7th or 8th house, or the star of the boy/girl don't see eye to eye. This part has gone beyond my comprehension. Too many astrologers around with too many interpretations to make us go mad and their business thrive.

Even if everything else is fie, all goes for a toss in this stage. What is frustrating is when the girl's side says horoscopes match and the boy's side say it doesn't. Didn't the astrologers goto the same school?

Astrologers and GOD strike a deal : And then they strike a deal with GOD and ask people to break 100 coconuts in front of a temple that is in a remote village inhabited by 50 people where the only way to go is by a bullock cart. Alright, I'm stretching it too far but you get the point. Under the name of "parikarams", astrologers make a huge list of what do on from Monday morning to Sunday evening, which temple to visit that would set your stars right!

Complexion : please enlighten me : Now comes the part when appearance matters. After seeing the 800 odd pictures of girls on bharatmatrimony.com, I've got a complex. Most of them call themselves 'fair' and are beautiful. No doubt, we are still a prejudiced society. Fair always means superior to us - a hangover of the Raj.

Only when you see the pictures close enough will you realise the brightening tricks.

The stakes are high. Who makes the first move? The rules of the game are clear. These are unwritten rules. Even if everything is fine - family, appearance of the girl, compatibility, horoscope matching, the guy's family has to wait for the girl's to make the first move. If you make the first move, then it is perceived as there is some shortcoming with the guy :(

The hunt is on. Times have changed. It is a woman's era - they have it all and want more. With men's parlors mushrooming, their appearance also matters.

Pandas are more easily available on this planet but suitable Indian brides are becoming an endangered species. Lets preserve them.

Beware of sending courier to/from Pune by DTDC / First Flight

Till date, I've lost 3 parcels sent to and from Pune and all of them by different couriers - Professional, DTDC and most recently First Flight totallig to Rs.6000. While in the first two cases, the entire parcel got lost, the last one sent on April 2nd was tactically stolen by First Flight. The parcel comprised of 2 expensive shirts in one box. While 1 shirt reached, the other one was removed from the pack by slittig one corner, repacked the same way and sent with the outer cover that had my handwritten to and from address. In this case, it is hard to recover the insurance money as there is no way to prove to those guys that only 1 shirt was delivered. I have lost faith now after 3 experiences in sending anything to and from Pune. I thought it was a mere coincidence when a set of Titan watches sent from Pune got lost a year back followed by sent of dresses sent from Delhi. Sometimes, this is reason enough to hate the corrupt society we live in! More than the cost value of these parcels, what hurts is that all of them were gifts ... so the thoughts, effort and love that went behind selecting/shopping each of them also is stolen!

The Cognizant (CTS) matrimonial bureau

If you are employed with Cognizant, then check with your HR. They just started a internal site to register yourself for finding prospective life partners (within the company). Alright, I'm kidding and that was rude of me to say such a thing. But the reality is that out of every 10 alliances I have received for P, 3 are working in CTS. And I'm not exaggerating. That's a whopping 33%. For some reason, eligible bachelorettes working in Cognizant/Wipro/Infosys take pride in saying where they work at in their matrimonial bio-data or the online matrimonial sites they register at. Has working in CTS become a passport to finding a suitable groom and settled life? I'm surprised that they even flaunt their well-crafted photogenic pictures on websites and state where they work at...maybe times have changed!

In many instances, the bride's brother works at CTS. So if you do the math, it will save a lot of parent-person-hours spent in registering various matrimonial sites to finally end up getting married to another person working in the same organization sitting in another office or some cubes away..what if they just had an internal matrimonial system...call it a social responsibility initiative :)

I'm 2 months old, says Lil General

Pranav. 60 Days old. 5.1 Kgs. 57 Cms. Wheatish Brown. Brown Eyes. 12 hours of sleep. On Diet. Clean habits : Wet my bed only 10 times a day. Single and ready to make friends.

Alrighty folks, if you liked my first edition, I'm here with how my second month passed by.

Its official. My name is Pranav. So, please stop calling me by weird sounding names - Kunju (mom), Juniol(pa), Thambudu(grandma), munnu(grandpa), ulli (grandpa)....

I've lost all the excess hair on my arms from birth and don't like Brother Bear anymore.

I've made 3 new friends - Mbiki, the bear, Bunny Rabbit and Winnie. Yuko, my dear friend still hangs out with me on late Friday night parties.

Continue reading ...

Pa was here for my second month birthday and it was fun playing Undertaker with him.

Stopped painting my mommmy's dresses yellow, still wet the bed though. Who said wetting is not gentlemanly?

I've acquired a good sense of fashion and this month was good for my wardrobe. One new dress everyday makes me a happy kid. I've styled my hair like a porcupine.

My fuzzy vision is gone. I can see beyond 12 inches and flash that 1000 Watt smile every time I see mommy and the orange curtain.

People said I'm too fast when I turned on my tummy on 22nd Dec - when I was just a month and 4 days old. I say I'm just too bored of lying around.

Spend more than 20 seconds with my mom and she will treat you to a lengthy discourse on how many hours I slept, how many she slept. She maintains a log to the minute of my sleep, counts my susoos, analyses the color of my poop and the number of times I fart. I'm telling ya she has gone nuts. She better get back to work soon.

Oh! I forgot to tell you about my favorite friend - Doc uncle. I visit him once every 3 days for indigestion, cold ,cough. Its been rough and the vaccine pained like hell. but Doc is very nice to me. I have all the syrups from the local pharmacy in my room now. Some syrups taste sweet, some bitter, some hot...but all much better than mommy's milk.

I sleep best on my pa's shoulders. I give a tough time to mummy and keep her guessing why I'm crying. Now I cry differently for my different needs..

1. I'm hungry. I need to be fed.


2. Putting me down after every feed irritates me. Regurgitating after the feed makes me comfortable.


3. I've done it. I'm lying in a wet bed. Change my nappy. Make it quick.


4. Dodos..I need some air. I'm either too warm or too cold. Touch my neck or tummy and decide which one it is.


5. I can't sleep by myself. Hold me and sing me lullabies.


6. Stomach ache. Mommy ..what did you eat. My tummy is aching.


7. Hiccup is bothering me. Will you do something about it?


8. I need to urinate but its paining. I'm straining...


9. I'm sick..running nose, fever and an irritating throat etc..


10. I'm colic.


11. No good reason. I'm bored and need some entertainment.

Remembering Rose Day

Every house has a whole pile of books, newspaper cuttings, photographs, memorabilia and greeting cards accumulated over the years. Its been the same with Pravin and I. We have collected so much stuff over the years that it takes up a whole cupboard at our parents'. Mom leaves the annual chore of discarding what is not needed, organizing and keeping the space (earmarked for this) clean to us. Very little goes out. It is funny how one gets nostalgic about a lot of things they weren't so crazy about the first time around. We relive those years during these cleaning sessions and decide it is worth keeping and that's how the pile keeps getting bigger and bigger until we finally ran out of space.

So this year, mom took it upon herself to clean the "junk" as she called it. And today she spent a good lot 4 hours doing that. Believe me, most of the stuff went back in like the newspaper cutting that said I stood first in our district in 12th Std exams and so on. And the invitation where mom was felicitated for my performance and so on.

Midway through the cleaning session, she pulled a white envelope from a bunch of similar envelopes and read aloud "Rotary Club, Trichy..something". All of them were dated Dated 17th February, 1999, and on them were written the words "Rose Day" and "PINK" inside a box.

Mom : "Do you know what these white envelopes are?"
I : "mmmmm...no..whats written?"
Mom opens the envelope and reads: "Happy Birthday from S..Dated 17th Feb 1999"

All of them are marked PINK on the envelope. There are about 5 of them. Do you need them? I know what they are now..after a moment I replied "Umm..no you can do away with them now."

If you are a RECTian, it shouldn't take long to guess what those envelopes were. In 1999, Rose Day was celebrated on 17th Feb. "Rose Day" was organised by STEP TREC club every year to celebrate Valentine's Day. They had roses delivered between the students across hostels with personalised messages sealed in envelopes labelled PINK (for friendship), YELLOW, WHITE (for Peace), RED (you know for what) and BLACK (for enemity). The event was fun for some to play pranks, some yearned for it to profess their love, for some 'psychos' it was just another day, for some there was lot to gossip on who exchanged what and for some it mattered who was crowned to have got the maximum no. of roses..I forget the terms..Some long lasting relationships. friendships, some that turned into marriages were made this day as some reading this post might agree.

Well well for me to open those bunch of envelopes this Valentine Day eight years later was going down the memory lane..If this is not coincidence, then what is?

Updated: I got a note from a friend (anonymity maintained) on this post who has seen Rose Days from close quarters..here is an excerpt of the message

Ah, rose day... getting up early in the morning to go to some god forsaken market in Trichy to buy hundreds of yucky-looking roses. Going to the stadium to sort them into colors, to create the black roses by bundling up thorns ....

A Labor Story : Concluding part

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 5:30 p.m. - Intestines popping out

With the tablet not giving the desired outcome, I was induced drips and within minutes a throbbing pain developed that just increased in intensity. It would be there for 5 minutes and then go away.

Just when the Doc was about to leave the room, there was a huge commotion and suddenly I see the doors opening and a few men coming up the stairs carrying a huge person in a stretcher. The person on the stretcher, a lady in her mid 50s, was transferred to a operating table, helped out of her dress into the dressing gown (all this happening in front of our eyes). Just then I caught the mess she had become .. something near her stomach was popping out....you wouldn't want a description of that. I learnt later she was operated 15 days back and her uterus removed. She had apparently not adhered to the Doc's safety measures due to which the stitches had given away and she brought in. Another surgeon from across town was summoned.

With all the resources now attending to this emergency, I was left alone and at times the janitor was asked to sit by my side who would shout all the time. I retrospect, this is the only regret I have in this whole labor process. I wish nurses in hospitals spoke nicely to patients. When you are in so much pain, the least you can expect is some comforting words. Hospitals are so commercialised now that no one cares about service or whether you are alive/dead..its money all the way. In a country like India with a population of 1 billion plus, life of cattle is more dear than human life.

Continue reading A Labor Story


Monday, 18th Dec 2006 5:45 p.m. - I'm hungry, thirsty
I think I'm going to pass out in the pain. I cannot compare the pain to anything else because I have never experienced something of that intensity before.

I'm hungry.

I'm thirsty.

I feel like urinating.

I feel like pooping.

I can feel the contractions.

I feel like dying........

I am scared.

I am screaming in pain now.

I feel like seeing mom.

CNG : "Would you like orange juice?"

Myself: "Hell, yes."

She is called into the operating room for that intestine lady. And my juice is forgotten. There is no one attending to me. I can hardly speak. I muster some energy and motion my hand towards a passing human being and request for some water. Water comes a good 10 mins late. I also request to send mom in. The request is denied flatly.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 6:00 p.m. - I become an exhibit now. That damn word "strain".
Thank god, someone thought this screaming girl needs some help. The Cynical Nurse who is an administrator in the hospital and has no clues about giving birth to babies comes in and sits on my bed. She is accompanied by the janitor and an anonymous nurse. All of them yell at me to get froggy and not "waste the pain".

"Strain, strain", they scream.

Assuming they meant push, I lift my legs, hold it tight with my hands and push hard. They are disappointed.

"You are not trying hard. All that's coming out is only blood."

I'm lying in a pool of blood.

Taking deep breaths, in my next contraction, I push hard. They are excited now. One anonymous nurse says, "See there is the head now". She places the doppler and says the baby's head is fixed and I got to try real hard now.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 6:30 p.m. - Listen to my advice : Respect your mother and Don't make a baby

The interval between contractions had decreased. The pain down there was like this huge thing trying to gush out through a opening with the same rhythm as ocean waves would lash the shore and recede. Now imagine this happening every 5 minutes.

Two thoughts occurred to me that minute. The respect for my mother grew a zillion times for living through so much pain. I regretted for giving so much grief for mom. Don't ever hurt your moms, give them all the happiness you can. The pain they went through to give birth to you is something that words can never do justice.

The second thought was people who say my bundle of joy has arrived are either lying or they would have had a C-Section. It is simply not possible to live through so much pain and love that little one. Its just a bundle. And I was crazy enough to make a baby.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 7:00 p.m. I'm taken in
The Doc is out after operating on the intestine lady. I'm walked into the operating room. Half my body is on a chair. Legs are propped up on two stands. Once in this position, the entire arrangement is elevated. I'm back to the permanent frog position. I can see myself in the overhead mirror.

Contraction sets in and I'm pushing hard. Doc says "I'm not close enough to get the baby out". Cynical Nurse suggests that they go downstairs and finish the consultations and then be back. Damn Cynical Nurse.

I plead with the Doc not to leave me and go.

I cry, "I can't bear the pain anymore."

"Please do a C-Section. I want to die. I can't take this anymore.", I plead with her.

She casts a disgusted look and leaves.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 7:15 p.m. A new nurse
The Fat Mean Nurse Anu arrives and CNG hands over her shift to her with a quick rundown of the cases. Anu is initially patient encouraging looking attentively at me down there. Consciously avoiding the overhead mirror, I accidentally look at it between contractions while turning my head from one side to the other. Gynaec's job is not a pretty one to look at multiple v* through their careers patiently waiting for the head to come.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 7:30 p.m. Quick Contractions
Quick contractions now. Contractions that were minutes part are now seconds apart. Anu is joined by 2 more nurses and they are all encouraging me to "strain".

"Push". "Push". "come on strain a little more. you are doing good."

The pain is gone.

At last, I've learnt what it meas to "strain" else I was going to ask for a Dictionary so that there is no communication gap :) I take a deep breath ad keep pushing hard. But it is not hard enough for the big head to come out. They can see the hair of the baby now.

In retrospect, I feel I could have done better if I had more emotional support if they had allowed mom to come in or if they allow husbands. I think hospitals in smaller towns in India should allow husbands to stay by the side of their wives during labor.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 7:45 p.m. When will this stop?
I swear to kill anyone who talks about having a second baby. It can't get any worse than this. I have no energy to scream. Some wise person had once said, "Conserve your energy. Don't scream. Instead push." I did just that. Convinced this is as far as it could get, Anu ran downstairs to get the Doc.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 7:55 p.m. A moment of relief
Doc comes in. By then I had taken a break and got my legs down. The nurses were wild that I was not in position. Legs and thighs were paining badly because of being in the frog position this long.

I feel my body is going to come apart and the baby is just going to cut through the muscles and fall out. So bad is the pain. Seeing the Doc, I was relieved but concerned too that she too might just ask me to keep pushing and I wondered for how long this see-sawing would go on.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 8:10 p.m. A prick
The equipment is all ready. Doc puts on the gloves. Has everything ready. I'm avoiding looking at the overhead mirror. I feel a quick prick down there. And then a scissor/knife like thing that runs down the skin to make a opening big enough for the baby to come out. The injection might have been a local anaesthesia. I didn't feel the pain while she cut through.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 8:13 p.m. Lil General arrives
There is a pump like thing next to me. She picks it and pumps in through my opening. I can feel the baby coming out. The head and then it gets worse for a few seconds as the body slithers out. Lil General is born. I'm surprised this part was so quick and easy. I see the Doc lifting the baby by its head in a forecep like thing and handing it over to the nurse. They timed his birth at 8:13 p.m.

I don't feel the umbilical cord being cut. The first thing I notice in the baby as he is being handed over is his ASSET dangling.

Delivered through vacuum, Lil General was a boy. A healthy 3.2 Kg baby.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 9:00 p.m. Post delivery pain is worse than contraction
From 8:15 p.m. until 9:00 p.m. I was being stitched. The Doc said later she was worried about my excessive bleeding. I cried and cried in pain through the stitching process. This pain was worse than the labor pain. Every inch of my body ached. To flush out the residual blood in the body, the Doc would insert something called a "kidney pack" which was like a hard pouch through a hole of probably 1 inch width down there and get it out forcibly...it would push all the blood out. She did this about 5 times. I glanced at the overhead mirror and all I saw was blood, blood and blood..all over. Like a scene out of some exorcist movie...

I'm given drips to control the bleeding. The Doc leaves. I'm alone.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 9:15 p.m. I want to see Mom
I tell Anu I want to see Mom. My request is denied.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 9:30 p.m. I want to see Mom
I plead with Anu to see Mom. I cry on seeing Mom. After a few minutes I ask Mom what baby it was. Anu was shocked. She said I'm probably the first patient in her career who has asked an hour after the baby's birth about the baby.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 10:15 p.m. I'm in pain.

"Please give me some painkiller.", I plead with Anu.

"This is no pain. you got to bear it.", says Anu.

"How many kids do you have?" I ask casually.

None came the reply.

"No kids, no opinion." I retorted, feeling sorry about having said that later.

Monday, 18th Dec 2006 11:30 p.m. I go to the room. End of a long day.
After washing me up ad inducing drips again, I'm walked to the room. After 5 steps I can see the path ahead diminishing anf my head spinning. Suddenly it is all dark and I pass out on the way. I'm helped onto my feet again and make it thr a few feet to the room and crash on the bed. The night is a blur. I wake up every hour to see the time and calculate how long it would be before Vivek gets there. It was the end of a long day.

Lil General, welcome to the family. You are a bundle of joy.

A Labor Story contd... - Part 2

The content for this post has been swimming in my head for weeks now. Reminiscing those hours leading to the birth of the Lil General here in full detail will make for a grouse reading, so be forewarned and use your discretion.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 12:30 p.m.
I have been pacing up and down the room while the rest of the family is reading my face, talking to hospital staff, taking phone calls and settling down.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 1:00 p.m. Pain Intensifies
Composed Nurse Geetha (Lets calls her CNG) comes in with the doppler. Checks BP and the baby's heartbeat.
She asks, "How far apart are the pains?" I've no idea. She promises to be back by 1:30 p.m. I keep pacing the floor. God, I think whose idea was it to make a baby.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 1:30 p.m. Enema time - the best way to clear your tummy
Am so relieved to see CNG. Everyone is asked to step out of the room while she asks me to lie down and pumps something like soap water inside me. Minutes later I rush to the toilet and can feel my system clearing out. My my...there was so much inside. Having lunch was such a waste of time.

CNG promises to be back by 2:00 p.m.

Continue reading A Labor Story


Monday, 18th December 2006, 2:00 p.m. Clock is ticking
No sign of CNG yet. Mom is wondering when they are going to take me inside as I'm in pain. I'm not talking..only the decibel level of my moaning has been on the rise.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 2:30 p.m. Yo..CNG is here.
CNG asks me how I'm feeling. I wasn't sure what to answer that would make her take me into the operating room. So I stay quiet and let my face and sounds do the talking.

She times the gap between the pains. I tell her it has been paining once every 5 mins. Not convinced, she decides it is actually 10 mins apart.

Leaves. Promises to be back at 3:00 p.m.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 3:00 p.m.
No one yet. Anonymous nurse peeks in and leaves. I am wailing in pain. Mom is sitting by my side helpless.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 3:30 p.m. Time to go in
CNG times the pains. It is 5 mins apart. Time to go in. I cast a 'bye' look at mom and go in, with no idea of what to expect. Mom walks me until the operating area which is about 20 feet away from our room.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 3:35 p.m. Not the real operating room. More waiting in order.
It is a huge room with many cots. The decor is not pleasing. Dull white walls. There is a big white board that has the names of the patients to be operated that evening.

All the beds are empty. There are a few operating rooms at one end of the room. At the far end is a stack of medicines and probably a toilet.

I'm helped out of my dress into the hospital gown - a dull grey one - the kind you see in TV. One anonymous nurse plaits my hair and ties it up with a white thread - good fashion sense :). They clean me up. While one nurse is doing that, the other is looking and a third is chatting. I expect the action to start soon, but nothing happens.

The anonymous nurses are now joined by some janitors and they all gossip about the Doc, how busy the hospital is today - the no. of out patients attended to by Doc already up at 54. That there is a steady flow of people down at the lounge and people are getting impatient/wild..some having come at 11:00 a.m. haven't yet met the Doc.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 4:00 p.m. - Pain subsides
Pain has subsided over the past 10 mins and I momentarily slip into dreamland. This sinful act is caught my CNG.

CNG shakes me, "What happened to your pains?"

I reply, "Oh, its there." I'm worried they might not get the baby out and fake the pain. But you know what, you can't fake real labor pain. Doppler and BP checks happen every 30 mins.

The anonymous nurses are still gossipping.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 4:10 p.m. - Pain intensifies. Position taught. That magical word "Strain".
Pain is back and so is my moaning.

CNG teaches me to "strain" during pain by getting my legs up like a frog and "strain" myself as if I'm constipated. She asks me to keep trying when there is pain.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 4:15 p.m. - I have company
Pain hasn't subsided. A lady is admitted next to me. Her caesarean is scheduled for 4:50 p.m. that evening. She is cleaned. She is not in pain and is sleeping peacefully. How lucky I think to myself.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 4:45 p.m. - Imperfect timing. I am reprimanded
The anaesthetist is here for the Caesarean lady (Sudha, I got to know her later). Action begins in the room. Sudha is taken in for the operation - turns out she wanted her baby out before 5:30 p.m. - some auspicious timing funda.

CNG - the experienced nurses of all, goes for the operation. I'm left under the supervision of the anonymous ones. A few minutes later the janitor takes over. I know I know ...She reprimands me for not "straining" and getting my legs up only after the pain has subsided. Poor timing ...I need to give birth to many babies to perfect this timing.

The mean janitor says, "At this rate you will only deliver by midnight. Do you want us to go home or not?"

I think, "Thank you for being so nice."

I'm alone again. In pain. I tell the anonymous nurse that I want to go to the bathroom. She helps me get up and walks me there but doesn't leave me. There is no privacy when you are in labor.

Monday, 18th December 2006, 5:15 p.m. - Yo! The Doc is here. Water breaks.
The Doc is out of the operating room after the Caesarean is done. That was fast I think. Meanwhile, the gossip has been on about the commotion in the lounge downstairs and the incessant wait. The joke is "Some people are making dinner plans at the lounge."

My pain has aggravated and so restless that I'm tossing and turning. Whenever I see people around I try the frog thing as though someone reminded me.

Doc tells me, "I'm proud of you. You have been patient and bearing the pain without making too much noise. I got to examine you."

Oh no, not again. The fist goes inside. Seconds later I'm lying in a pool of water. Now, I know what water breaking is all about.

My bed is cleaned up. Doc scolds CNG for being so careless all this while as the pain inducing tablet had not taken effect. She instructs her to induce me.

..to be contd...

A Labor Story : The story of how LG was born - Part 1

The content for this post has been swimming in my head for weeks now. Reminiscing those hours leading to the birth of the Lil General here in full detail will make for a grouse reading, so be forewarned and use your discretion.

Sunday, 17th December 2006, 10:30 a.m.: Everything is normal

A bright sunny Sunday morning. It's beautiful outside and I tell myself not today. We are watching the NDTV Profit's Real Estate show. Phone rings. Guests to be expected in a row that afternoon.

Sunday, 12:00 p.m. : Still doing great

First set of guests arrive. We entertain them for an hour. I get restless as lunch is delayed. I excuse myself and have lunch.

Sunday, 4:00 p.m. : Aaah, nothing yet!

Wake up after a nap. Guests came, left. Every guest has a opinion of when I'm going to deliver.
The next bunch of people are chatting away with mom while Pravin attempts to lighten up my mood by getting me to play a game of Chinese Checkers. Wondering if we are not old enough for that. Yes, we are but WHO CARES. Once a champ, I was quite rusty that afternoon and lost a couple of games before gaining ground. We followed it with a game of scrabble wherein Pravin CHEATED and WON.

Sunday, 6:00 p.m. : The day just gets busier by the hour! Ummm Chocolates...delicious

Continue reading A Labor Story


Guests leave. Attending to guests all through the day takes a toll on mom.
Intercom rings. Pravin's delayed baggage arrives from Air France. We are busy unpacking stuff for the next hour and the house is strewn with all the goodies. While mom and Pravin are busy arranging stuff, I keep aside all the chocolates. When you are pregnant, all that you care about is FOOD. Mom's famous words "Eat all you want now. For three months after delivery, there will be a lot of restrictions on your diet." resonate in my ears. I take full advavtage of that and mouth a handful of chocolates. Sinful!

Sunday, 7:15 p.m. : Thighs ache. Finding it difficult to walk.

Exhausted. Too tired to move. The house is still in a mess. I announce my thighs are aching. Mom STOPS what she is doing. There's a tension in her eyes worried if this might be that fateful NIGHT. Nights are scary and if you have a pregnant girl at home, it gets all the more creepy. Mom calls the cooking aunty asking her to come and sleep in for the night.

Mom tells me to hold in until tomorrow whe she will get back to the pink of her health ad all energetic and stuff. I assure her that I will pass on the message to Lil General. You see he is in cotrol of the situation.

And then she is quick to list a set of instructions to me : no using the Indian toilet, no standing / sitting for long etc etc.

Sunday, 8:15 p.m. : What a bummer! The pain is gone....

I feel better. The pain is gone. I call the cooking aunty and ask her not to come. Mom is not convinced. She feels I'm close, very close to the D-day. We chat with dad. I feel exhuasted and crash in the drawing room after dinner.

Sunday, 11:30 p.m.
Sleep evades me. I can't find a comfortable position to lie down. I am mindlessly browsing orkut and chat with Vivek until midnight.

Monday, 12:30 a.m. : Undertaker Rules
I throw up. Meantime, Pravin is watching WWE and WCW on TV. I join him and seeing Undertaker smash people churns my stomach. I tell myself, "Labor pain can't be worse than this. Here's a guy with his arms beaten up by a steel chair and god knows how many fractures and blood oozing all over the ring."

Monday, 1:30 a.m.
With 4 pillows propped up, I decide to rest my bones.

Monday, 7:30 a.m. : When you're not working, there are no Monday Blues
Despite the lack of good sleep, I feel fresh and the spirit is high. 4 more days for Vivek to come. I tell Lil General, "Hold in until then. Pa will be here and then you can come out. There's no hurry but better BEHAVE YOURSELF until then."

Monday, 7:50 a.m.
Convincing Mom I need to go for a walk, I join Pravin and we walk to the hospital and get an appointment for that morning.

Monday, 10:30 a.m. : My weekly dream destination -- At the hospital lounge
No pains. I'm all good. Mom and I leave for the hospital. Its a long wait as usual. India makes a LOT of babies. To be No. 2 populous nation means a lot of work and the nursing homes here are a evidence to that fact. If you are a gynaec and in India, you can never be without a job for a zillion years.

Monday, 11:15 a.m. : The fateful meeting with the Doc
We meet the doc. She examines and is happy with the baby. The doppler goes "Dhak. Dhak. Dhak." Lg's heartbeat is racing as usual.

Monday, 11:17 a.m. : FIST of Doc is bigger than the baby
I tell the Doc that movements have reduced considerably. In retrospect, I REGRET having said that. She gives me a second look and explains that she has to examine me INSIDE which in simple terms means she is going to get that fist of hers inside. A full grow fist inside a teeny weeny hole...the very thought scares me.

Monday, 11:19 a.m. : Being born a woman SUCKS sometimes
I scream in pain. I am requested to cooperate. I feel like passing out.

Monday, 11:20 a.m. : All set for the wrestling mania to start says the doc
She is done and tells me that the cervix has opened, dilated and ready to deliver by that night and asks me to get admitted within an hour. She keeps a pain inducing tablet inside that would soon trigger natural delivery pains. The pain is so intense that words don't register in my head.

Monday, 11:25 a.m.
She explains all this to mom. Mom is still taking in all that the Doc just said. Its hard to believe when the moment is upon you. For months, for days we had been bracing ourselves for this day but still when it is finally there you don't know how to react. Mom asked twice if it was going to be today. Doc says, "By this evening in all likelihood. Your admission card and a room will be ready. Get packed, have lunch and be back in an hour."

Monday, 11:27 a.m. : Doc's motivating talk
Before we leave the Doc's cabin, I pose a naive question, "Will it pain?". "Ofcourse, it will. I have the patience to go thr a normal delivery if you have the patience. Even Queen Victoria sustained this pain to deliver her kids. No pain, no children." came the response. Very comforting words. We make an exit.

Monday, 11:40 a.m. : I call Vivek
I regain my composure and outside the hospital, I look at my watch, do a quick calculation of the flights available that afternoon for Vivek. Realising he doesn't have much time, I call him from the auto and brief him. He starts off on his travel plans.

Monday, 11:45 a.m. : We are home.
Back home, we tell Pravin to get started. He takes out the magic paper that has all the phone numbers listed for this very emergency. Fingers tapping away quickly on the Landline, mobile phones. Close family called who need to get to the hospital to help out mom. From that day on until 15 days later, the phones do't stop ringing.

Monday, 11:47 a.m. : We're packed.
All the already packed bags are brought out. I have lunch, the fastest I have ever had. Pravin and mom are so tensed they refuse to eat. I'm all smiles now..no pain and I'm in high spirits. The day is here. The tummy load will be off but I'm a little sad that Vivek won't be there anytime soon.
Mom is very tensed but doesn't show it. Dad and Vivek have already called many times.

Monday, 11:55 a.m. : In Hindu Religion, there's a ritual for every event in life.
The neighbour granny inserts neem leaves in my stomach praying for a safe and easy delivery. Jewels are not allowed in the hospital during operation so mom tries in vain to take the last 2 bangles off my head. It doesn't come off and I bleed on the wrist...so we give up.

Mom had meticulously planned for this day. Like programmed robots we knew what to do and get started within 15 minutes. No..we hadn't done dress rehearsals :)

We are waiting for the clock to strike 12...for 10:30 - 12:00 oon on Monday's is considered inauspicious. Pain is slowly setting in.

Monday, 12:00 p.m. : The clock strikes twelve.
Mom, Pravin, our neighbour and I leave for the hospital.

Monday, 12:05 p.m. : The show begins...
The admission card is ready. It is a very busy day at the hospital as the Doc was away on a vacation for 5 days. The lounge is teeming with patients. As I wait a few minutes at the lounge before heading upstairs, people cast a quizzical look at my tummy and the discomfiture written all over my face.

Monday, 12:10 p.m.
I climb the stairs leading to the first floor where we are greeted by the Cynical Nurse. We are told the "Super Deluxe" room equipped with a visitors lounge, TV and a/c is not available. So we would have to settle in for the Deluxe version. Obviously, there is no choice and we take that with a request that we be shifted once the other one is ready.
The pain is increasing..what pain and where I'm not too sure. There is a pain and it is growing exponentially. The nurse - a composed one called Geetha is summoned. She examines and says it is not the REAL pain yet. Damn pain. Pain is a pain.

..to be contd..

Boys and Toys. Nokia 770 is awesome

There is something about boys and their passion (or should I say obsession ?) for gadgets that I can't understand. For a month after my delivery when Pravin, Dad and Vivek were here, the house was a maze of wires. The only member without a laptop and not connected to the Internet 24 hrs was Lil General. Of all the gadgets strewn around (HP Pavilion zv6130us (2), Creative Xmod, Nokia 5300 xPress, Digital Cameras, Camcorder and the Creative Jukebox/Video iPod to name a few), the one I enjoyed the most was the Nokia 770 Internet Tablet. It was very handy to check e-mails especially when you don't want to lug around a laptop and you have to babysit a newborn round the clock. Netgear with Airtel Broadband connectivity made it a pleasant experience. Check out Pravin's review of the 770.

Lil General's world as he sees it........

Four weeks to the day, I was evicted from Eden into this place they call the world. It was nice and cozy and comfy inside. So I thought I should let ya all know how I feel out here..

I have five loyal friends - Feeding Aunty ( mommy) , Susie aunty (urine), Winnie aunty(motion), lullaby aunty (granny) and the potty cleaning uncle (my pa).

I have a round-the-clock schedule, that no one seems to appreciate. They say, "He eats, shits, susoo's, sleeps and screams".

There are times when I feel my hand tastes better than milk. The flavor is all the same. I wish there was a menu and I could make a choice.

I can kick a ball better than Beckham and pedal faster than Lance ever did at Tour De France. I can win any competition hands-down for the longest susoo distance.

I am not appreciative of anyone sleeping while I am awake. Neither am I tolerant of my mom blogging or talking to dad over the phone.

I love the attention I am getting. When I feel forgotten and neglected, I make my presence felt by ensuring the laundry is full to keep them going for a while or by plain shrieking.

I hate it when my mommy ties a protective gear against my greatest asset eee eee eee. I'm The Man and I love my freedom.

There are some nice things I get to drink like the digestive drops and some bitter ones like the vitamin drops. Who needs vitamins at this age?

Oh visitors? I get a lot of them. Though I can't differentiate one from the other. They try their best to find similarities of my features with those of mom and dad. Some stretch it too far :)

Some people talk funny to me like my dad, some sing to me like my granny, some scold and spank me like my mommy, some who hold me after susoo and potty like my grandpa. I am enjoying it all now.

See ya all next month. So long. Lil General.