Report of 4 Nov '12
Good evening from our living room!
The clothes on the balcony are dry, I have been eating up a storm and must prepare for my class tomorrow.
My house is a mess. There is stuff everywhere. I despise clutter; if there is not enough space for things, I think some things need to go. An immaculate house is not my goal, but a clean one, with stuff in its place, would be dandy. I loved our teeny, 1-bedroom apartment in Indy; I had place for all my things and we did not have a whole lot of things. This last part was my favorite.
I have been in a bad mood. Living in an affluent country for months, and seeing what is possible if the Government cares for its people, leaves me a little bereft these days - in a country where the roads get wiped out after rains and the rank inequality of the poor not getting the food they need sets in daily. I think this is borderline depression: I am no longer inclined to do something about it, but want to retreat to a hole and ruminate. But, work must go on and we must do our part for those who have been left behind. I texted Scott and Naren rabidly earlier this week, after I drove to work on cyclone-battered roads, and both men replied with the grander purposes of our existence. That helped.
As did Ms. E's smile when I pulled up. The roads were horrible and I was fighting for space often in the only salvageable 2-foot wide portion of the road; as I reached, mentally, spiritually and physically exhausted, out bounded Ms. E. She was supervising clearing the trash, as the resident clearing it might run off, and beamed at me. Rachel McAdams's smile is nothing compared to Ms. E's, and she rewards me with this smile every morning that I see her, though I have done little to deserve it. As already mentioned, when she was in the eighth grade, Ms. E was sold by her brother to transgenders (men who dress up as women and are usually castrated, preferring to live life as women) who then sold her into the sex trade. I think of the many emotions that must have crossed a young 12- or 13-year-old girl's psyche as she morphed into adulthood - betrayal, horror, sadness, pain, resentment, torment - and think to myself that if she can smile, s***, so can I.
The patients have been good and mostly following what I tell them. A patient showed up last week, claiming that she'd lost all her meds and I got a phone call that she wanted a replacement. As one of these meds is a giant bottle of an iron supplement, and the lady's house was likely too small to lose meds in (no offence intended), I did not for one minute believe the story and refused the replacement. I told our nurse to get the social worker to quiz this lady and have no idea what came of it. (She might have given the meds away or sold them.) Giving anything for free is fraught with such dangers, but evidently many studies in public health have stated that when a family's fiscal health suffers, medicines are the first casualty.
A cyclone hit last week and we stayed home. The gale-force winds wreaked havoc, and were pretty impressive to watch. Staying home was nice and simple - eat, read, try to watch a movie between power cuts. Naren played the guitar later in the evening and sang; I like his rendition of "Zombie" and joined in. I love singing and dancing with my sons. The other one, Navin, is bashful, but will dance if I request; there is a somewhat grainy video of us on YouTube.
Scott and I got to see a Tamil movie called "Pizza," which we loved. It was a thriller, and very well done. We also saw "Cloud Atlas" and could not figure it out - 164 minutes of "What the hey?" Today we saw "Skyfall" and I loved it; Javier Bardem made a cool villain. We also got together with some friends for lunch at their house, and all the affection helped draw me out of the black mood I've been in. Your words of wisdom would help, too; feel free to send them on.
My father transited through Chennai and stayed overnight with us. That was grand fun. As I got up at 4 AM (fairly de rigeur) and made his coffee and then drove him to the airport, his profuse gratitude was pretty humbling. It was just a bed and coffee and kesari (sweetened cream of wheat - his favorite), made for a devoted and learned parent, and it was nice to share those moments.
Hope all of you have fine moments of your own with your families. I know I am always grateful that I can see mine.
Unw -
R
The clothes on the balcony are dry, I have been eating up a storm and must prepare for my class tomorrow.
My house is a mess. There is stuff everywhere. I despise clutter; if there is not enough space for things, I think some things need to go. An immaculate house is not my goal, but a clean one, with stuff in its place, would be dandy. I loved our teeny, 1-bedroom apartment in Indy; I had place for all my things and we did not have a whole lot of things. This last part was my favorite.
I have been in a bad mood. Living in an affluent country for months, and seeing what is possible if the Government cares for its people, leaves me a little bereft these days - in a country where the roads get wiped out after rains and the rank inequality of the poor not getting the food they need sets in daily. I think this is borderline depression: I am no longer inclined to do something about it, but want to retreat to a hole and ruminate. But, work must go on and we must do our part for those who have been left behind. I texted Scott and Naren rabidly earlier this week, after I drove to work on cyclone-battered roads, and both men replied with the grander purposes of our existence. That helped.
As did Ms. E's smile when I pulled up. The roads were horrible and I was fighting for space often in the only salvageable 2-foot wide portion of the road; as I reached, mentally, spiritually and physically exhausted, out bounded Ms. E. She was supervising clearing the trash, as the resident clearing it might run off, and beamed at me. Rachel McAdams's smile is nothing compared to Ms. E's, and she rewards me with this smile every morning that I see her, though I have done little to deserve it. As already mentioned, when she was in the eighth grade, Ms. E was sold by her brother to transgenders (men who dress up as women and are usually castrated, preferring to live life as women) who then sold her into the sex trade. I think of the many emotions that must have crossed a young 12- or 13-year-old girl's psyche as she morphed into adulthood - betrayal, horror, sadness, pain, resentment, torment - and think to myself that if she can smile, s***, so can I.
The patients have been good and mostly following what I tell them. A patient showed up last week, claiming that she'd lost all her meds and I got a phone call that she wanted a replacement. As one of these meds is a giant bottle of an iron supplement, and the lady's house was likely too small to lose meds in (no offence intended), I did not for one minute believe the story and refused the replacement. I told our nurse to get the social worker to quiz this lady and have no idea what came of it. (She might have given the meds away or sold them.) Giving anything for free is fraught with such dangers, but evidently many studies in public health have stated that when a family's fiscal health suffers, medicines are the first casualty.
A cyclone hit last week and we stayed home. The gale-force winds wreaked havoc, and were pretty impressive to watch. Staying home was nice and simple - eat, read, try to watch a movie between power cuts. Naren played the guitar later in the evening and sang; I like his rendition of "Zombie" and joined in. I love singing and dancing with my sons. The other one, Navin, is bashful, but will dance if I request; there is a somewhat grainy video of us on YouTube.
Scott and I got to see a Tamil movie called "Pizza," which we loved. It was a thriller, and very well done. We also saw "Cloud Atlas" and could not figure it out - 164 minutes of "What the hey?" Today we saw "Skyfall" and I loved it; Javier Bardem made a cool villain. We also got together with some friends for lunch at their house, and all the affection helped draw me out of the black mood I've been in. Your words of wisdom would help, too; feel free to send them on.
My father transited through Chennai and stayed overnight with us. That was grand fun. As I got up at 4 AM (fairly de rigeur) and made his coffee and then drove him to the airport, his profuse gratitude was pretty humbling. It was just a bed and coffee and kesari (sweetened cream of wheat - his favorite), made for a devoted and learned parent, and it was nice to share those moments.
Hope all of you have fine moments of your own with your families. I know I am always grateful that I can see mine.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
5:44 AM
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