Niki Bhatia's Blog, page 2
September 27, 2012
Origins of Pink and Blue....
Finally!!
My new book, Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue will be available on Amazon in 2 weeks.
Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue is inspired by my 2 boys. I once heard my older son telling my younger one that he was “like a girl” because he liked the color pink and enjoyed playing with toys that some people might associate with girls. I had bought him a Dora doll, a stroller and a couple of other dolls when he was preschooler. As he got older, he wanted My Little Pony, Littlest Petshop and Zoobles, which are marketed mostly to girls.
I tried to explain to my older son that they are just toys and pink was just a color. I told him how he also liked pink at one point but out grew it. After hearing him taunt his brother, I had to have a serious talk with him.
I wondered about other boys who may be, or have been, in similar situations. This is the beginning of teasing and bullying. Anti-bullying and anti-teasing education has to being when the children are very young and not in middle school. Teaching kids to be accepting of people’s difference has to begin early on. When they come to understand that we don’t all have to fit into a mold, they will become better “tweeners” and teenagers.
The lesson inPink is Just a Color and so is Blue is simple! Pink and blue are just colors and toys are just toys. In fact, I wanted to send a message through the illustrations as well. They are done in a monochromatic scheme, where only the two main characters are in color. The idea being that let us look past all the pink and blue and focus on the kids who are learning and enjoying. I purposely colored the words pink and blue in opposite.
We don’t need to be caught up in gender specific colors, toys and roles in society. Society is changing, albeit slowly. Why should the play kitchen be considered a “girly” toy. Aren’t most chef men? Don’t we want our boys to be nurturing dads and husbands. So what is the big deal with little boys wanting dolls and stroller?
I don’t have girls but growing up I mowed the lawn, helped my father paint and put in vinyl, preglued tiles. I was athletic and loved sports of all kinds. Most of my best friends in college were men. Today, I love to cook and take care of my boys. But I can also figure out how to fix the chain link in a toilet tank! And I still love to paint!
When my older son was little, I bought a kitchen for him to play with. If the look on my husband’s face could kill!!! He couldn’t understand why I would buy such a toy for our son. I had to remind him that he was a great cook himself! When our boys were little, he helped to change diapers, bathe them and feed them. To me, that made him a greater man! So what’s the big deal with a little boy playing with a doll?
Even as modern and advanced we are as a society, we seem slow in changing when it comes to gender specific roles in society. Yes we are changing but we do have ways to go. The ideals set up by a pink and blue society seem to be holding us back. Pink and blue are just colors and toys are just toys. They should not define who our children are or who they will become. Toys are just means to exploring and learning about the bigger world they live in.
I did a little research online to find out more about where the whole notion of pink and blue came from. Some of these things I included at the end of my book.
For instance, in the early 1900’s fashion magazines promoted the color pink as being appropriate for men. Being a shade of red, as it is, it was considered strong and masculine. Blue on the other hand, was cool and dainty, and as such was a great color for women!
But I did not include the most interesting part, as I knew it was not appropriate for children. During WWII, the Nazis captured millions of prisoners. In order to keep track of them all, they established a color coding system. We all know that the Jews were forced to wear a yellow Star of David on them at all times. It was sewn onto their prison uniforms in the camps.
A whole series of color coded inverted triangles, pointing downward, allowed camp officials to identify the “crimes” for which the prisoners were incarcerated. For instance, political prisoners wore red triangles, emigrants wore blue triangles, real criminals wore green triangles, Jehovah’s wore purple triangles, and “asocial women (lesbian) wore black triangles. And finally, the pink inverted triangles identified those the Nazis thought to be gay!!
Pink is a beautiful color. And so is blue. But what is it about our society, that we have this need to put everything in nice little boxes? Why can’t just kids be kids. Let them explore and be confident.
If we as adults become more open-minded, then it will automatically flow into our kids. Then maybe kids will be more tolerant and accepting of eacch other. When kids are accepting, they are less likely to tease or bully. So let’s spread the message that toys are just toys and Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue!!!!
Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue
By Niki Bhatia
Available on Amazon by 1st week of October
My new book, Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue will be available on Amazon in 2 weeks.
Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue is inspired by my 2 boys. I once heard my older son telling my younger one that he was “like a girl” because he liked the color pink and enjoyed playing with toys that some people might associate with girls. I had bought him a Dora doll, a stroller and a couple of other dolls when he was preschooler. As he got older, he wanted My Little Pony, Littlest Petshop and Zoobles, which are marketed mostly to girls.
I tried to explain to my older son that they are just toys and pink was just a color. I told him how he also liked pink at one point but out grew it. After hearing him taunt his brother, I had to have a serious talk with him.
I wondered about other boys who may be, or have been, in similar situations. This is the beginning of teasing and bullying. Anti-bullying and anti-teasing education has to being when the children are very young and not in middle school. Teaching kids to be accepting of people’s difference has to begin early on. When they come to understand that we don’t all have to fit into a mold, they will become better “tweeners” and teenagers.
The lesson inPink is Just a Color and so is Blue is simple! Pink and blue are just colors and toys are just toys. In fact, I wanted to send a message through the illustrations as well. They are done in a monochromatic scheme, where only the two main characters are in color. The idea being that let us look past all the pink and blue and focus on the kids who are learning and enjoying. I purposely colored the words pink and blue in opposite.
We don’t need to be caught up in gender specific colors, toys and roles in society. Society is changing, albeit slowly. Why should the play kitchen be considered a “girly” toy. Aren’t most chef men? Don’t we want our boys to be nurturing dads and husbands. So what is the big deal with little boys wanting dolls and stroller?
I don’t have girls but growing up I mowed the lawn, helped my father paint and put in vinyl, preglued tiles. I was athletic and loved sports of all kinds. Most of my best friends in college were men. Today, I love to cook and take care of my boys. But I can also figure out how to fix the chain link in a toilet tank! And I still love to paint!
When my older son was little, I bought a kitchen for him to play with. If the look on my husband’s face could kill!!! He couldn’t understand why I would buy such a toy for our son. I had to remind him that he was a great cook himself! When our boys were little, he helped to change diapers, bathe them and feed them. To me, that made him a greater man! So what’s the big deal with a little boy playing with a doll?
Even as modern and advanced we are as a society, we seem slow in changing when it comes to gender specific roles in society. Yes we are changing but we do have ways to go. The ideals set up by a pink and blue society seem to be holding us back. Pink and blue are just colors and toys are just toys. They should not define who our children are or who they will become. Toys are just means to exploring and learning about the bigger world they live in.
I did a little research online to find out more about where the whole notion of pink and blue came from. Some of these things I included at the end of my book.
For instance, in the early 1900’s fashion magazines promoted the color pink as being appropriate for men. Being a shade of red, as it is, it was considered strong and masculine. Blue on the other hand, was cool and dainty, and as such was a great color for women!
But I did not include the most interesting part, as I knew it was not appropriate for children. During WWII, the Nazis captured millions of prisoners. In order to keep track of them all, they established a color coding system. We all know that the Jews were forced to wear a yellow Star of David on them at all times. It was sewn onto their prison uniforms in the camps.
A whole series of color coded inverted triangles, pointing downward, allowed camp officials to identify the “crimes” for which the prisoners were incarcerated. For instance, political prisoners wore red triangles, emigrants wore blue triangles, real criminals wore green triangles, Jehovah’s wore purple triangles, and “asocial women (lesbian) wore black triangles. And finally, the pink inverted triangles identified those the Nazis thought to be gay!!
Pink is a beautiful color. And so is blue. But what is it about our society, that we have this need to put everything in nice little boxes? Why can’t just kids be kids. Let them explore and be confident.
If we as adults become more open-minded, then it will automatically flow into our kids. Then maybe kids will be more tolerant and accepting of eacch other. When kids are accepting, they are less likely to tease or bully. So let’s spread the message that toys are just toys and Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue!!!!
Pink is Just a Color and so is Blue
By Niki Bhatia
Available on Amazon by 1st week of October
October 16, 2011
The Neighbors Upstairs……………….
Over 35 years ago, my family and I lived in an apartment of a 4 unit building that my father owned. Dr. and Mrs. Gupta (not their real names) and their 4 children lived in one of the other 2 bedroom, one bath apartments upstairs. Dr. Gupta was studying for his American medical credentials while Mrs. Gupta worked. Over the years, the Guptas and my parents became friends and so did the kids. My brother and I went to the Guptas apartment to play and the Gupta children came to ours often as well. As time went by, though, there was one issue that was straining the relationship. As would be expected with 4 young children and busy parents who had limited time to clean, the apartment was often filthy. Cockroaches infested the unit and soon were invading the other apartments. The other tenants started complaining. At some point, my father had no choice but to ask the Guptas to vacate the apartment. And so ended a relationship. Time went by and a couple of years later my parents ran into the Guptas while shopping at Sears. They exchanged pleasantries, caught up on the kids and my father invited them over for dinner. And so began a renewed friendship, one that has lasted to this day. The Guptas have been to my wedding and those of my siblings. My parents have also had the privilege of seeing all the Gupta children married and even attending some baby showers. I’ve always believed that there is something wonderful about the older generations. Tom Brokaw wrote about the men and women who lived through the Great Depression and the 2 World Wars. He coined the phrase “The Greatest Generation.” My parents generation also saw turbulent times and social unrest during the 1960’s and ‘70’s. Maybe that’s what made them great. Having seen uncertainty, turmoil, violence, death and destruction, I believe, taught them integrity and helped them value human life and relationships. Today we live in a fast paced, ever changing, transient world where people sometimes don’t know the person in the house next door. Our homes just got bigger with fewer family members people living in them. We thrive on change and get bored with things easily. Fashions and fads come and go. The neighbors we didn’t know move on to other places. Could we be as forgiving and embracing? 
October 5, 2011
Some Day………………….My older son just celebrated another &nbs...
Some Day………………….
My older son just celebrated another birthday. Time truly does fly by. The kids grow up so fast and soon leave the house before we realize it. I still remember that day in October when I gave birth to a baby boy too eager to arrive into this world, presenting himself 8 weeks early. Who knew that that shriveled up little being, hooked up to all the contraption in the hospital incubator would be asking me today, “Mom, Really….?!!” From the moment they come into our lives, they become the center of our existence it seems. We find ourselves recording every babble, blurb, word and mischief. Some days we can’t stop hugging them and some days we just wish we could beat the nonsense out of them! Some days we marvel at how they learn so readily and some days we wonder where they picked that up. Last year when my younger son turned 4, I wrote a poem that I wanted to share for my older son’s birthday. Whether it’s the older child or the younger one, whether they are 4 or 14, the feelings remain the same. My son keeps reminding me that he’s not a baby anymore. My answer is still the same, “You are not a baby anymore…. but to me you are still ‘my’ baby!”
Some day……….
Some day, he might be a pilot
…..Soaring high above the clouds
Holding 200 lives in his hands.
But for now…..
He needs me to hold his hand…
As he traces his name, “S-I-D”.
Some day, he might be a great writer
Taking readers to an imaginary world
But for now……
He can’t fall asleep
Until I read him Dora’s next adventure.
Maybe one day, …..he’ll be a rock star
With screaming fans and paparazzi
But for now…….
He insists I sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider”….for the 100th time.
Some day, he may be a celebrity chef
And open his own restaurant.
But for now ……..
He needs me to make my “special” Mac N Cheese
Because I make it…“the bestest ever!”
Maybe some day, ….he’ll be a surgeon
With many others looking up to him
But for now……
He looks up at me for praise
For going to the potty “like a big boy.”
Some day….. he’ll be all grown up
Some day….. …….he’ll be a man
Some day….. he won’t need me any more.
But for now ……..he does.
And though some days I wish… he could put on his own clothesAnd tie his own shoes
I wish… I could slow down time.
So that the SOME DAY would come……. just a little more later.
Happy Birthday, Love!!
My older son just celebrated another birthday. Time truly does fly by. The kids grow up so fast and soon leave the house before we realize it. I still remember that day in October when I gave birth to a baby boy too eager to arrive into this world, presenting himself 8 weeks early. Who knew that that shriveled up little being, hooked up to all the contraption in the hospital incubator would be asking me today, “Mom, Really….?!!” From the moment they come into our lives, they become the center of our existence it seems. We find ourselves recording every babble, blurb, word and mischief. Some days we can’t stop hugging them and some days we just wish we could beat the nonsense out of them! Some days we marvel at how they learn so readily and some days we wonder where they picked that up. Last year when my younger son turned 4, I wrote a poem that I wanted to share for my older son’s birthday. Whether it’s the older child or the younger one, whether they are 4 or 14, the feelings remain the same. My son keeps reminding me that he’s not a baby anymore. My answer is still the same, “You are not a baby anymore…. but to me you are still ‘my’ baby!”
Some day……….
Some day, he might be a pilot
…..Soaring high above the clouds
Holding 200 lives in his hands.
But for now…..
He needs me to hold his hand…
As he traces his name, “S-I-D”.
Some day, he might be a great writer
Taking readers to an imaginary world
But for now……
He can’t fall asleep
Until I read him Dora’s next adventure.
Maybe one day, …..he’ll be a rock star
With screaming fans and paparazzi
But for now…….
He insists I sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider”….for the 100th time.
Some day, he may be a celebrity chef
And open his own restaurant.
But for now ……..
He needs me to make my “special” Mac N Cheese
Because I make it…“the bestest ever!”
Maybe some day, ….he’ll be a surgeon
With many others looking up to him
But for now……
He looks up at me for praise
For going to the potty “like a big boy.”
Some day….. he’ll be all grown up
Some day….. …….he’ll be a man
Some day….. he won’t need me any more.
But for now ……..he does.
And though some days I wish… he could put on his own clothesAnd tie his own shoes
I wish… I could slow down time.
So that the SOME DAY would come……. just a little more later.
Happy Birthday, Love!!
Some Day………………….
My older son just celebrated another &n...
Some Day………………….
My older son just celebrated another birthday. Time truly does fly by. The kids grow up so fast and soon leave the house before we realize it. I still remember that day in October when I gave birth to a baby boy too eager to arrive into this world, presenting himself 8 weeks early. Who knew that that shriveled up little being, hooked up to all the contraption in the hospital incubator would be asking me today, “Mom, Really….?!!” From the moment they come into our lives, they become the center of our existence it seems. We find ourselves recording every babble, blurb, word and mischief. Some days we can’t stop hugging them and some days we just wish we could beat the nonsense out of them! Some days we marvel at how they learn so readily and some days we wonder where they picked that up. Last year when my younger son turned 4, I wrote a poem that I wanted to share for my older son’s birthday. Whether it’s the older child or the younger one, whether they are 4 or 14, the feelings remain the same. My son keeps reminding me that he’s not a baby anymore. My answer is still the same, “You are not a baby anymore…. but to me you are still ‘my’ baby!”
Some day……….
Some day, he might be a pilot
…..Soaring high above the clouds
Holding 200 lives in his hands.
But for now…..
He needs me to hold his hand…
As he traces his name, “S-I-D”.
Some day, he might be a great writer
Taking readers to an imaginary world
But for now……
He can’t fall asleep
Until I read him Dora’s next adventure.
Maybe one day, …..he’ll be a rock star
With screaming fans and paparazzi
But for now…….
He insists I sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider”….for the 100th time.
Some day, he may be a celebrity chef
And open his own restaurant.
But for now ……..
He needs me to make my “special” Mac N Cheese
Because I make it…“the bestest ever!”
Maybe some day, ….he’ll be a surgeon
With many others looking up to him
But for now……
He looks up at me for praise
For going to the potty “like a big boy.”
Some day….. he’ll be all grown up
Some day….. …….he’ll be a man
Some day….. he won’t need me any more.
But for now ……..he does.
And though some days I wish… he could put on his own clothesAnd tie his own shoes
I wish… I could slow down time.
So that the SOME DAY would come……. just a little more later.
Happy Birthday, Love!!
My older son just celebrated another birthday. Time truly does fly by. The kids grow up so fast and soon leave the house before we realize it. I still remember that day in October when I gave birth to a baby boy too eager to arrive into this world, presenting himself 8 weeks early. Who knew that that shriveled up little being, hooked up to all the contraption in the hospital incubator would be asking me today, “Mom, Really….?!!” From the moment they come into our lives, they become the center of our existence it seems. We find ourselves recording every babble, blurb, word and mischief. Some days we can’t stop hugging them and some days we just wish we could beat the nonsense out of them! Some days we marvel at how they learn so readily and some days we wonder where they picked that up. Last year when my younger son turned 4, I wrote a poem that I wanted to share for my older son’s birthday. Whether it’s the older child or the younger one, whether they are 4 or 14, the feelings remain the same. My son keeps reminding me that he’s not a baby anymore. My answer is still the same, “You are not a baby anymore…. but to me you are still ‘my’ baby!”
Some day……….
Some day, he might be a pilot
…..Soaring high above the clouds
Holding 200 lives in his hands.
But for now…..
He needs me to hold his hand…
As he traces his name, “S-I-D”.
Some day, he might be a great writer
Taking readers to an imaginary world
But for now……
He can’t fall asleep
Until I read him Dora’s next adventure.
Maybe one day, …..he’ll be a rock star
With screaming fans and paparazzi
But for now…….
He insists I sing “Itsy Bitsy Spider”….for the 100th time.
Some day, he may be a celebrity chef
And open his own restaurant.
But for now ……..
He needs me to make my “special” Mac N Cheese
Because I make it…“the bestest ever!”
Maybe some day, ….he’ll be a surgeon
With many others looking up to him
But for now……
He looks up at me for praise
For going to the potty “like a big boy.”
Some day….. he’ll be all grown up
Some day….. …….he’ll be a man
Some day….. he won’t need me any more.
But for now ……..he does.
And though some days I wish… he could put on his own clothesAnd tie his own shoes
I wish… I could slow down time.
So that the SOME DAY would come……. just a little more later.
Happy Birthday, Love!!
September 22, 2011
Hey You Brown Lady!!
After having lived through the uncertainties of the job and housing market, we finally bought a house to call our home. We decided to buy in a school district we thought would best serve our 2 boys and where we felt the community was quite diverse.
My biggest concern about moving was my older son who would be going from a very small private school into a school with 3 times the population. For the past 4 years he had been in a school based on a neo-humanistic* philosophy, where the children did meditation every morning and were taught to love each other, their fellow human beings, the earth, and everything on it.
The same group of kids had been together since kindergarten and they truly had come to care for and love each other. They had their differences and like other children they argued, yet if any one of them were to fall or get hurt, they would all come together and make sure their friend was all right. It was an unlikely group, of the sort I hope my sons will have the privilege of knowing again. I can only hope.
I had picked up my boys from their new school one day and we were heading to the car when I heard a boy’s voice call out, “Hey you brown lady!” It came from the bus that had stopped near us, waiting to make a turn. I looked to see if I could see who had noticed my beautiful tan but since the bus was rather full, it would have been difficult to pin point anyone. I decided to keep on walking but those words resonated in my mind for the rest of the day.
From his perspective, the boy was right. Brown I am. But why did he notice just my color? How would it have been received, say, by a black person, to be reminded of their color? Did this child live behind a massive white picket fence with no real contact with people of color or of different cultures? What were his parents like? More importantly, I worried that this child, and others like him, noticed that my sons was “brown” too. How were my 2 boys received by the other “non-brown” children in the new school? Would my boys face adversity and challenges in 2011 for being who they are? Did the school not teach them about diversity and acceptance? I spoke to the principal about the incidence just to make her aware of it. In my desire to shield my children from hearing any further nonsense from this ignorant child on the bus, I had walked away without noting the bus number.
I thought about what I would have said to this child if I had the chance to meet him? I would tell him that yes, I am brown. I am brown and could never be peach or olive or white, even if I wanted to be. But the irony is that many light-skinned people lay in the sweltering heat of a scorching sun, hoping to avoid deadly UV rays, just “to be” brown! Since the school only went up to grade 5, I knew he couldn’t have been any more than ten years old. The logic of my argument would have been lost in his young mind.
I truly would not have wanted to see him punished in any way. How can you blame a child for having been sheltered? A child’s ignorance shouldn’t be punished. What that child needed was a first-hand education in culture, acceptance and loving. Children, I believe, are much more open-minded, loving and accepting than adults if they are given the opportunity to socialize and mix with others. Personally, I would have invited that boy to come to my house and play with my two boys. Maybe then he would find out what people on the other side of his picket fence are really like. They may be brown………. but they are beautiful……………once he got to know them.
……….by the implementation of Neo-Humanism, as put forth by P. R. Sarkar. Simply stated, if extending the sweetest touch of the heart to include all humanity as one's own be termed Humanism, then expanding that embrace to include the animals, plants, and even the elements is termed Neo-Humanism. The fact that the fortunes of all are intimately wreathed together must be recognized, if not today, then surely tomorrow. (PSOLI website)
My biggest concern about moving was my older son who would be going from a very small private school into a school with 3 times the population. For the past 4 years he had been in a school based on a neo-humanistic* philosophy, where the children did meditation every morning and were taught to love each other, their fellow human beings, the earth, and everything on it.
The same group of kids had been together since kindergarten and they truly had come to care for and love each other. They had their differences and like other children they argued, yet if any one of them were to fall or get hurt, they would all come together and make sure their friend was all right. It was an unlikely group, of the sort I hope my sons will have the privilege of knowing again. I can only hope.
I had picked up my boys from their new school one day and we were heading to the car when I heard a boy’s voice call out, “Hey you brown lady!” It came from the bus that had stopped near us, waiting to make a turn. I looked to see if I could see who had noticed my beautiful tan but since the bus was rather full, it would have been difficult to pin point anyone. I decided to keep on walking but those words resonated in my mind for the rest of the day.
From his perspective, the boy was right. Brown I am. But why did he notice just my color? How would it have been received, say, by a black person, to be reminded of their color? Did this child live behind a massive white picket fence with no real contact with people of color or of different cultures? What were his parents like? More importantly, I worried that this child, and others like him, noticed that my sons was “brown” too. How were my 2 boys received by the other “non-brown” children in the new school? Would my boys face adversity and challenges in 2011 for being who they are? Did the school not teach them about diversity and acceptance? I spoke to the principal about the incidence just to make her aware of it. In my desire to shield my children from hearing any further nonsense from this ignorant child on the bus, I had walked away without noting the bus number.
I thought about what I would have said to this child if I had the chance to meet him? I would tell him that yes, I am brown. I am brown and could never be peach or olive or white, even if I wanted to be. But the irony is that many light-skinned people lay in the sweltering heat of a scorching sun, hoping to avoid deadly UV rays, just “to be” brown! Since the school only went up to grade 5, I knew he couldn’t have been any more than ten years old. The logic of my argument would have been lost in his young mind.
I truly would not have wanted to see him punished in any way. How can you blame a child for having been sheltered? A child’s ignorance shouldn’t be punished. What that child needed was a first-hand education in culture, acceptance and loving. Children, I believe, are much more open-minded, loving and accepting than adults if they are given the opportunity to socialize and mix with others. Personally, I would have invited that boy to come to my house and play with my two boys. Maybe then he would find out what people on the other side of his picket fence are really like. They may be brown………. but they are beautiful……………once he got to know them.
……….by the implementation of Neo-Humanism, as put forth by P. R. Sarkar. Simply stated, if extending the sweetest touch of the heart to include all humanity as one's own be termed Humanism, then expanding that embrace to include the animals, plants, and even the elements is termed Neo-Humanism. The fact that the fortunes of all are intimately wreathed together must be recognized, if not today, then surely tomorrow. (PSOLI website)
January 3, 2011
Will 2011 Be My Year?
Once in a while, something happens in our world to make us reevaluate where we are in life, what we became and where we are headed. Once in a while, certain events in our lives reawaken within us the desire to find the essence of who we were before we found ourselves buried beneath the weight of daughters, wives or mothers. For some, it might be mid-life crisis. For others it may be a new addition to the family or the death of a loved one. For me, it knowing that this time next year, my littlest one will be in school full day and wondering what I’ll be doing when he’s in school. Motherhood, as I knew it up till now, is ending and I need to fill the void it will create. I need to reinvent myself. Maybe I need to “find” myself.Many years ago, I gave up my career as a teacher and decided to be a full-time mom. Some women are career oriented but I knew I needed to be home with my children and having done so, I can tell you, it is one of the hardest, unappreciated jobs in the world. I don’t look back on it with any regret and know that it was the best decision I could have made. And the fact that my teacher’s salary would have just barely paid for daycare didn’t really leave me many options either other than to stay home. Somehow, the kids grew up faster than I expected and now I find myself trying to get my teaching credentials in order here in the state of New York. I’ve been told that despite having many years of teaching experience, I may need to do student teaching and will eventually have to go back to school and get a masters degree which, by professional estimates , will take about $30,000. The bigger struggle still is questioning myself, “Do I really want to teach anymore?” But what else am I qualified to do? Being a mom and teacher are all I really feel trained for. Hence my need to find myself!The thought of going back into the workforce after so many years is a little daunting. Also, there’s still the desire to want to be home for my children, be home to greet them, help them with homework, talk about their day, and still be a mom. Unfortunately, society places such a premium on work outside the home that we fail to notice the value in having a parent, mom or dad, stay at home to raise the children. That’s why so many moms turn to real estate, jewelry making, selling Avon or some other home-based business so they can fulfill their need to “work” and be there for the children. I recently met a woman who gave up a marketing career to stay home and raise her only child. Being handy with the sewing machine, she started making ladies handbags at home, in her dining room. After overwhelming response from family and friends, she started designing and manufacturing the handbags to sell to retailers all over the country. She has rekindled an old wish. The ideal job for me would be one which had no set hours, no office, and no boss! What I really want….need… is to be my own boss. Being a children’s writer, would be a great option if I could get myself into the industry somehow. A few years back, I started writing children’s stories. I spent countless hours sending my manuscripts to many publishers. But just like in show business, for every Dr. Seuss, there are thousands and thousand of would-be, wanna-be writers just struggling to find a publisher. I know, J.K. Rowling and Dr. Seuss were rejected a 100 times before they became big. So I guess I still have many more rejections to face if I want to see my dream to reality. In the meantime, I keep thinking about my other options and the next “million-dollar idea!” I know it’s out there. Who would have thought that kids all over the nation would force their parents to buy useless rubberbands in the shape of cars and dinosaurs? If Sillybands can make it big, well, I’ve got a couple ideas of my own! Now I just need to find time, money and most importantly, ….guts! Let’s see if 2011 is my year.
December 29, 2010
Santa Gets Dora!
It seems Santa did have an extra Dora doll for my Siddy! He's been enjoying it ever since.
December 12, 2010
All I Want For Christmas…..is Dora!!!!
Some of the most memorable moments in our children’s lives we get to experience as unobtrusive bystanders, watching them as they play with friends and siblings.
I recently overheard my 4 year old, Siddy, talking to his brother Nikhil and asking his opinion on a matter of utmost importance. “Do you think Santa will ‘X’ out the Dora doll? I promise next year I’ll ask for Power Rangers, cars and a soccer ball.” How precious, I thought, that he had any awareness of social norms to try and rationalize with Santa Claus.
When the boys made their list for Santa, I explained that it was a “Wish List” and Santa would get them 3 to 4 things depending on how good they had been, what Santa’s inventory was like and where they were on his delivery route. Some things, apparently, he just runs out of!! Siddy is not a demanding child and kept his list short but among a few other toys, he asked for a Dora doll. I felt I had to explain to him that if Santa had any more Dora dolls left after giving it to all the girls, he would give one to him.
As a mother of 2 boys, I feel it my responsibility to teach them about equality and respect, especially as it applies to the opposite sex. The seeds have to be planted early on and childhood play takes on a crucial role in teaching these values. Through play they learn about compromise, sharing, following rules, and respect for toys and friends. But despite being a highly progressive nation, our society still dictates that certain toys are “boy toys” and others are “girly toys”.
When Nikhil was about 2, I happened to come across a nice, “masculine” blue and white play kitchen so I bought it for him. My husband’s reaction was that of a typical male. He said to me, in no uncertain terms, “Why the h#@* did you get that for him?!” This coming from a man who happens to be a great cook himself! I had to remind him that most of the greatest chefs in the world happened to be men. The fact is that the kitchen was the most popular toy with all of Nikhil’s and Sid’s friends, girls and boys alike, up until they became more aware of gender biases.
When Siddy was younger he wanted a baby doll and stroller. So, to my hubby’s horror, I bought it for him. I swayed away from the pink and went for the more “neutral” purple since that was all I could find. Siddy spent hours holding, feeding and putting his baby to sleep. I realize from having 2 boys that it’s innately male to want to jump, run, build, break, burp and fart. (Boys love jokes about farting and burping!!) But they also have the capacity to love, care for and nurture. So why are all toys made for girls related to babies, home, domesticity, beauty and fashion and those for boys about building, destroying, science and sports? Kids learn early that pink is for girls and blue is for boys. I think we are the only nation that abides by this ideology. I find it disturbing that Legos, for instance, are marketed mainly to boys. Ask any great inventor or scientist of our time and they will attest that Legos, blocks and tinker toys played a major role in influencing their interest in science and technology as children. Why shouldn’t we give girls the opportunity to create something other than cupcakes from the easy bake oven? Why shouldn’t boys be taught to cook and what it means to take care of someone other than themselves?
Exposure influences who and what children become. I have yet to go to the house of little girls and see a bucket of Legos, or a telescope, or a doctors kit or tool set. It’s usually an explosion of pink and a magical land of fairies and princesses (which, by-the-way, Siddy is asking for but I am truly grappling with!) For now, I’ve decided Santa just might have an extra Dora doll for a sweet little boy. I’m sure after hearing her singing, “We did it! We did it!” for the 100th time, I might want to send Dora to a magical place of her own. I am confident that he will grow out of wanting to play with Dora dolls and such one day. But my hope is that the lessons he learns about loving, caring and nurturing will stay with him for a lifetime and make him a better man.
November 17, 2010
Technologically Advanced Socially Deficient
Technology is getting more and more nano-, faster and readily available to all. On one trip to India, I was shocked to see that even the poor rickshaw drivers carried cell phones and didn’t hesitate to talk and drive. Technology and advancements are great and necessary but can we admit that we have become all consuming and addicted to our gadgets and gismos that we’ve forgotten common courtesies and general, social etiquette. We’ve forgotten to enjoy “the moment” and have the need to be “in touch” all the time, anywhere and everywhere, forgetting the little things that matter. We are becoming a nation of ADHD adults who don’t know what to do with a few minutes of silence or free moment of time.
Women’s purses, or pocketbooks as they call them on Long Island, have become bigger and heavier and cell phones have become so much slimmer and lighter that I usually scramble trying to find mine in my big monstrous bag. I remember my very first cell phone, which was about the size of a brick. All I could do on it was…well …talk. Today cell phones are our lifelines, our windows to our world. I’ve known people who’ve lost their phones and it was as if they lost a dear loved one. With texting, GPS-ing, emailing, web browsing, videoing and picture taking capabilities, that cell phones have become such an essential, fundamental part of most people’s lives. From my perspective, we are becoming, unfortunately, technologically advanced but socially deficient.
We teach our children about manners, proper behavior and social etiquette but somehow adults think themselves exempt from what they preach. We tell our children to use “inside voices” yet we’ve all seen adults roaring on the phone as if the world cares to hear what they have to say. We tell kids to say “excuse me” when they bump into someone yet I see people texting and walking, not caring who they elbowed out of the way. One of the most shameful and deplorable social faux pas I have had the displeasure of witnessing was at a dinner party. Inquisitive, or should I say nosey, as to what was captivating this woman’s attention and keeping her from mingling with the company, I leaned over, only to see that rather than socialize, she was actually playing video games on her Blackberry!!! I guess she figured we were too ignorant, or drunk, to notice because she held the phone under the table.
Incidences such as the one above are inexcusable but there are other blatant indiscretions occurring all the time. I’m sure many people have gone out to dinner or lunch with someone who can’t be torn away from their Blackberry or I Phone. It’s right beside them, on the table. Do we not tell our children, “No toys at the dinner table”? Now, if the kids are at home with a babysitter, or there are elderly parents at home that may need tending to, I can understand. Or if the hubby is at home watching the kids and he’s pretty clueless in this capacity, I get it. You’d better be ready to rescue the hubby and tell him where the diapers are! But if you made special time to go out with someone, then answering phone call from others is just plain rude and disrespectful. Most adults realize this and get clever. You’ve heard people say, “I have to take this call. It’s really important. It”ll just take a second. ” Well about 3 “important” calls later, the other person should have the right to say, sure take that call. In fact, take it all the way to your car. Maybe then you can call them and actually have a conversation!
Our technology is making us asocial. Rather than actual face-to-face interactions , we thrive on communicating with people via cyberspace. Rather than enjoying the moment at a soccer game, recital, weddings, church or wherever, people are texting, emailing, commenting on Facebook updates or updating their own Facebook statuses as to where they are what they are doing. Is time with friends and family no longer valuable or sacred that the cells can’t be switched off or put aside for a brief moment?
Women’s purses, or pocketbooks as they call them on Long Island, have become bigger and heavier and cell phones have become so much slimmer and lighter that I usually scramble trying to find mine in my big monstrous bag. I remember my very first cell phone, which was about the size of a brick. All I could do on it was…well …talk. Today cell phones are our lifelines, our windows to our world. I’ve known people who’ve lost their phones and it was as if they lost a dear loved one. With texting, GPS-ing, emailing, web browsing, videoing and picture taking capabilities, that cell phones have become such an essential, fundamental part of most people’s lives. From my perspective, we are becoming, unfortunately, technologically advanced but socially deficient.
We teach our children about manners, proper behavior and social etiquette but somehow adults think themselves exempt from what they preach. We tell our children to use “inside voices” yet we’ve all seen adults roaring on the phone as if the world cares to hear what they have to say. We tell kids to say “excuse me” when they bump into someone yet I see people texting and walking, not caring who they elbowed out of the way. One of the most shameful and deplorable social faux pas I have had the displeasure of witnessing was at a dinner party. Inquisitive, or should I say nosey, as to what was captivating this woman’s attention and keeping her from mingling with the company, I leaned over, only to see that rather than socialize, she was actually playing video games on her Blackberry!!! I guess she figured we were too ignorant, or drunk, to notice because she held the phone under the table.
Incidences such as the one above are inexcusable but there are other blatant indiscretions occurring all the time. I’m sure many people have gone out to dinner or lunch with someone who can’t be torn away from their Blackberry or I Phone. It’s right beside them, on the table. Do we not tell our children, “No toys at the dinner table”? Now, if the kids are at home with a babysitter, or there are elderly parents at home that may need tending to, I can understand. Or if the hubby is at home watching the kids and he’s pretty clueless in this capacity, I get it. You’d better be ready to rescue the hubby and tell him where the diapers are! But if you made special time to go out with someone, then answering phone call from others is just plain rude and disrespectful. Most adults realize this and get clever. You’ve heard people say, “I have to take this call. It’s really important. It”ll just take a second. ” Well about 3 “important” calls later, the other person should have the right to say, sure take that call. In fact, take it all the way to your car. Maybe then you can call them and actually have a conversation!
Our technology is making us asocial. Rather than actual face-to-face interactions , we thrive on communicating with people via cyberspace. Rather than enjoying the moment at a soccer game, recital, weddings, church or wherever, people are texting, emailing, commenting on Facebook updates or updating their own Facebook statuses as to where they are what they are doing. Is time with friends and family no longer valuable or sacred that the cells can’t be switched off or put aside for a brief moment?
November 8, 2010
Am I an American or am I an ABCD?
When my son Nikhil was about 5 years old I tried to explain to him how he was lucky to be both Indian and American. Since he was born in America, he was American. The fact that Pappa and Momma were born in and lived part of their lives in India made him Indian too. To my bewilderment, he started crying and screaming, “NO, I am Spanish!!” His 5 year old brain went on to argue that he watched Diego and could speak Spanish too. The fact that his playgroup at the time consisted of 4 Spanish-speaking boys only substantiated his argument.
I could have argued that being able to say,”Hola” and “excelente” made him about as Hispanic as eating pizza made him Italian. Not wanting to battle with a 5 year old, I decided I needed to educate my children about their Indian heritage. I wrote and bound my own books about Indian mythological Gods such as Krishna and Hanuman. I organized a story time with a few of Nikhil’s friends. After the story we would have related activities and try Indian snacks, some with interesting, made-up names like Indian donuts (South Indian mendhu vada.)
Another time I was trying to explain to Nikhil that he needed to address all Indian adults as “Uncle” or “Auntie”. He was rather perplexed since in his school all the teachers, including his kindergarten teacher, Sangita, were addressed by their first names only, not Ms. Sangita, just plain Sangita. I explained that in the Indian culture no one called an adult by their first name. He looked at me and said, ”Well, I’m not Indian. I’m American!” As much as I wanted to smack him on the behind, I had to admit that he did have a sound argument.
Since becoming a mother, I’ve done some soul searching and introspection . How can I teach my boys to be confident and proud of who they are if I am unsure of who I am? And who am I? Am I “American” or am I “Indian” or am I an “ABCD”? If I am truly an American why do I feel the need to teach my children about the Indian culture.
At times I did feel like an ABCD . This is the acronym made up by the Indian community to classify each other. The idea is that if you just came from India, you are Fresh Off the Boat or an FOB. If you were born here or have basically grown up in the US, you are somehow confused about who you are and hence you are labeled an ABCD (American Bred/Born Confused Desi), Desi being what Indians call each other.
Back in my high school days, I was often mistaken for being Hispanic. As a teenager, frustrated with the restrictions placed on me by my parents in the name of following traditional “Indian values”, I was actually glad not to be seen as an Indian. My biggest gripe back then was when people asked , “So where are you from?” I usually appeased them by telling them that I was born in India but what I really wanted to say was that I was from the Northwest side of Chicago! Jhumpa Lahari’s book The Namesake touched on this topic. Gogol, the main character of the book, went through a stage in which he alienated himself from his family and everything it represented. He gets involved with an American girl much to the dismay of his very traditional parents. Without giving away the book, it’s not till the end that he comes to grips with his family and culture.
The irony is that as culturally diverse as the US is today we still classify people according to the way we see them. It’s human nature. People are Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Saudi, African, etc. I still get the occasional, “Are you Indian?” The fact is that I am from India. I cherish the Indian culture for making my life richer . I love Indian food, which we have at least 3 nights a week. But we also eat Italian, Mexican and Chinese too. I love Indian clothes and wear them at Indian weddings and family affairs but I’m most comfortable in jeans and yoga pants. The fact remains that the outside world will perceive me as being an Indian no matter how “American” I may be or feel. But despite how others may see me, I know I am American. I love America and could see myself living nowhere else. This is the land of the free and being a women, it’s all the more important to me that I am here.
Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays ever since I came to the US. During the holidays my house is decked out, inside and out , with all the lights, glitz and gold. The fact that I love Christmas may be due to the fact that people are generally in better spirits and more kinder, friendlier and more giving. Maybe it’s because we tend to do more socializing and partying around Christmas time. All I know is I’m still “fa la la la la-ing” way past December 25th and my husband remind me that it’s almost Valentines Day!!
Motherhood has a way of eradicating any and all confusions, insecurities and doubts a mother may have. I am not confused anymore. I know who and what I am and I value the fact that I am Indian too. I’ve made a choice to hold on to my Indian heritage and pass on what I can to my boys. I am proud to be part of a country that invented chess, the place value system, decimal system. Yoga, Algebra and ayurvedic medicine also have origins in India.* India is rich in history and culture. It even has Bollywood which produces more movie per year than any other country, for better or for worse!!!
My boys are, without question, American but I want them to learn about their Indian heritage not because they need to, but because it will enrich their lives too. Like me, they too can be Indian-Americans. They speak mainly English but I want them to learn Hindi too. If they can learn Spanish in school, why shouldn’t they know the language of their ancestor. They will always celebrate Christmas but why not Diwali too. They can eat hotdogs for lunch and curry for dinner. They can learn about the “Christ in Christmas” and Krisha in Vrindavan. They are fortunate to be able to experience the best of two different cultures and the values and merits of both.
America is not really a “melting pot” as some declared it to be . I hope my boys will recognize that the different ethnicities have not all blended into one homogeneous group. America is more like a salad bowl. Each ingredient of a salad adds it’s own unique color, texture and flavor to the dish. Without the individual items, it’s just lettuce…bland and uninteresting. And who wants plain lettuce when they can have lasagna, burritos ,biryani, falafel, kababs, Chicken teriyaki, sushi, chow mein, Thai curry and soooo much more !!!!
I could have argued that being able to say,”Hola” and “excelente” made him about as Hispanic as eating pizza made him Italian. Not wanting to battle with a 5 year old, I decided I needed to educate my children about their Indian heritage. I wrote and bound my own books about Indian mythological Gods such as Krishna and Hanuman. I organized a story time with a few of Nikhil’s friends. After the story we would have related activities and try Indian snacks, some with interesting, made-up names like Indian donuts (South Indian mendhu vada.)
Another time I was trying to explain to Nikhil that he needed to address all Indian adults as “Uncle” or “Auntie”. He was rather perplexed since in his school all the teachers, including his kindergarten teacher, Sangita, were addressed by their first names only, not Ms. Sangita, just plain Sangita. I explained that in the Indian culture no one called an adult by their first name. He looked at me and said, ”Well, I’m not Indian. I’m American!” As much as I wanted to smack him on the behind, I had to admit that he did have a sound argument.
Since becoming a mother, I’ve done some soul searching and introspection . How can I teach my boys to be confident and proud of who they are if I am unsure of who I am? And who am I? Am I “American” or am I “Indian” or am I an “ABCD”? If I am truly an American why do I feel the need to teach my children about the Indian culture.
At times I did feel like an ABCD . This is the acronym made up by the Indian community to classify each other. The idea is that if you just came from India, you are Fresh Off the Boat or an FOB. If you were born here or have basically grown up in the US, you are somehow confused about who you are and hence you are labeled an ABCD (American Bred/Born Confused Desi), Desi being what Indians call each other.
Back in my high school days, I was often mistaken for being Hispanic. As a teenager, frustrated with the restrictions placed on me by my parents in the name of following traditional “Indian values”, I was actually glad not to be seen as an Indian. My biggest gripe back then was when people asked , “So where are you from?” I usually appeased them by telling them that I was born in India but what I really wanted to say was that I was from the Northwest side of Chicago! Jhumpa Lahari’s book The Namesake touched on this topic. Gogol, the main character of the book, went through a stage in which he alienated himself from his family and everything it represented. He gets involved with an American girl much to the dismay of his very traditional parents. Without giving away the book, it’s not till the end that he comes to grips with his family and culture.
The irony is that as culturally diverse as the US is today we still classify people according to the way we see them. It’s human nature. People are Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Saudi, African, etc. I still get the occasional, “Are you Indian?” The fact is that I am from India. I cherish the Indian culture for making my life richer . I love Indian food, which we have at least 3 nights a week. But we also eat Italian, Mexican and Chinese too. I love Indian clothes and wear them at Indian weddings and family affairs but I’m most comfortable in jeans and yoga pants. The fact remains that the outside world will perceive me as being an Indian no matter how “American” I may be or feel. But despite how others may see me, I know I am American. I love America and could see myself living nowhere else. This is the land of the free and being a women, it’s all the more important to me that I am here.
Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays ever since I came to the US. During the holidays my house is decked out, inside and out , with all the lights, glitz and gold. The fact that I love Christmas may be due to the fact that people are generally in better spirits and more kinder, friendlier and more giving. Maybe it’s because we tend to do more socializing and partying around Christmas time. All I know is I’m still “fa la la la la-ing” way past December 25th and my husband remind me that it’s almost Valentines Day!!
Motherhood has a way of eradicating any and all confusions, insecurities and doubts a mother may have. I am not confused anymore. I know who and what I am and I value the fact that I am Indian too. I’ve made a choice to hold on to my Indian heritage and pass on what I can to my boys. I am proud to be part of a country that invented chess, the place value system, decimal system. Yoga, Algebra and ayurvedic medicine also have origins in India.* India is rich in history and culture. It even has Bollywood which produces more movie per year than any other country, for better or for worse!!!
My boys are, without question, American but I want them to learn about their Indian heritage not because they need to, but because it will enrich their lives too. Like me, they too can be Indian-Americans. They speak mainly English but I want them to learn Hindi too. If they can learn Spanish in school, why shouldn’t they know the language of their ancestor. They will always celebrate Christmas but why not Diwali too. They can eat hotdogs for lunch and curry for dinner. They can learn about the “Christ in Christmas” and Krisha in Vrindavan. They are fortunate to be able to experience the best of two different cultures and the values and merits of both.
America is not really a “melting pot” as some declared it to be . I hope my boys will recognize that the different ethnicities have not all blended into one homogeneous group. America is more like a salad bowl. Each ingredient of a salad adds it’s own unique color, texture and flavor to the dish. Without the individual items, it’s just lettuce…bland and uninteresting. And who wants plain lettuce when they can have lasagna, burritos ,biryani, falafel, kababs, Chicken teriyaki, sushi, chow mein, Thai curry and soooo much more !!!!
