Reenita's Wisdom

Pushpalata Vij (1922-2010)

The Indic culture believes that each of us is named for a reason. Names are not a reflection of your parent’s whim but a symbolic reference of your life purpose. Rarely though in our frenzied existence, do we stop to think about the reason behind why we were named.

Last week, when my grandmother passed, I reflected on her name, Pushpalata.

Pushpa translates from Sanskrit as flower, and lata, a creeping vine. The former is easier to make sense of -  through the seasons of life, my grandmother’s garden embodied the florescence of beauty, purity and simplicity. More subtle however is the creeping vine; it grows out along the ground, rooting every so often to enhance the striking presence of other plants with its own understated yet beautiful border. This  was my grandmother, Pushpalata Vij. [...]

Birthing A Child Is A Mother’s Work

Having deposited me at the hospital after I went into labor with my firstborn, my husband snuck around the corner with my father to grab some Indian food. Everyone had missed dinner given the excitement of my water breaking.

When Papa suggested that they order a bottle of red, my husband looked at him like he was from another planet. It was going to be a long night at the hospital; wine was certainly out of the question. Caught in a severe generation gap, my father thought that his son-in-law gone stark-raving mad. How did a night at the hospital, long or short, concern him? Birthing a child was a mother’s work and seeing her through the process was her mother’s work.

Traditional Versus Modern

Old northern Indian custom dictates that a woman return (from her husband’s home) to her maayka or mother’s home to give birth to her first child. In previous generations the birthing room was a strictly female zone flanked by the women of the household. It was considered taboo for any man (including the father-to-be) to be near enough to witness the ‘sounds’ of a woman’s labor. Both my parents were thrilled to host this time-honored tradition but had not yet come to terms with the reality of the modern age in which husbands typically ‘manage’ the birth process.

Thanks goodness though for the modern age. Considering my own mother had borne three children of her own, she was considerably squeamish about the procedure. Please can I stand on the head side, she begged. Amused by her reticence given her usually confident personality, I remained content with her sitting next to me and stroking my hair through contractions. Although she felt guilty later, it was a blessing to feel her hand tightly clutching mine as she recited the Gayatri Mantra, an ancient vedic prayer, throughout the birth process. It built one of the most important memories of my life, one that highlights the value of a mother’s love for her daughter.

All References Point to Mom

I have a deep affinity for the land of my birth. An Oedipal society, we grow up respecting India as our true mother and like most Indians I know, I am a strong believer in that life produces no coincidences. Ilya, my own daughter, was born the next morning to the musical rhapsody of A.R. Rahman’s famous patriotic song Ma Tujhe Salaam (we salute you our mother i.e. referring to ‘Mother India’). Nothing could have been more appropriate…it was India’s fifty-first anniversary of independence. All references that day pointed to mom!

Goddess Energy

My grandma, who had spent most of the night guarding the door to the birthing room in her best effort to maintain the tradition of the female birthing zone, stepped in to comment on her great granddaughter’s lusty cry. To her it showed promise of another confident girl-child to continue the line of strong women in our family. She gave her the middle name Devi, after that of her own mother. Devi, translates as ‘goddess.’ My grandma has a soft spot for female offspring; she believes that they symbolize the auspiciousness of goddess energy coming into your home.

My husband clicked a photo that morning that never fails to remind me of the interconnected bonds between daughters and mothers. The picture shows four generations of the women in our family: Pushpa (my grandmother), Veena (my mother), Reenita (myself) and Ilya Devi (my daughter). We are each a product of our mother’s work.

Bringing kids to an understanding of prayer and spirituality has got to be one of the more difficult aspects of parenting. As a Hindu living outside of India, I find myself particularly challenged in this area.

Learning Religion Through Osmosis

Growing up in Bombay, religion was ‘learned’ through osmosis. The mere fact that it happened around me on a day to day basis led me to accept what others later defined as ‘religious abnormalities,’ such as the family pundit (the priest)’s quick response to personal calls on his cell phone in the midst of a puja ceremony. As far as I was concerned, religion was always in plentiful supply, with more festivals and holidays than one could ever keep track of. So I figured it was okay to cut the pundit some slack. He had a pretty busy job, after all. Besides, he and I had a tacit agreement — as long as I showed up from time to time, I had full flexibility to take as much (or as little) as I wanted to out of whatever was being offered up that month.

Raising Hindu Kids in the West

Raising Hindu kids in the West is a whole different ballgame. I find myself preparing spiritual lesson-plans for my kids in much the same manner that a professor might prepare to teach a university level course. The end result of this is that the children analyze God down to a tee, asking questions that makes me as parent really grapple for the right (read politically correct) answers:
“Mummy, if Parshuram wields an axe, Krishna a discus, and they are both considered to be incarnations of Lord Vishnu, then why do people say that God is not violent? How come it’s okay for Draupadi to have five husbands and King Dashratha to have three wives? If Lord Ganesha can have a mouse with him everywhere he goes, then why do we get pest control every few months?”

The Gods are our Super Heroes

Thanks to a recent stream of animated movies that bring to light practically every aspect of Hindu mythology my kids have become obsessed with religion. My son Arya, especially has become such an ardent follower of the pantheon of Hindu Gods (in his eyes they are superheroes just like Batman and the Power Rangers), so much so that his daily habits are increasingly influenced by the values that God stands for. Arya will seize a bow and arrow at every given opportunity, because he wants to be prepared to destroy any evil that might come his way. That too with a single bow, like Rama the epic hero of the Ramayana. And at dinnertime, he will re-arrange everyone’s forks to face down into the plate. According to him it’s rude to point the stabbing ends of your fork to God!

I was particularly struck by a conversation that I overheard him having with a friend during a recent play date. Given that we were about to leave for dinner in a nearby restaurant, I asked the boys to go to the toilet. “Neale!’ came Arya’s earnest voice from the bathroom. “I am trying so hard but absolutely nothing is coming out.”
“Don’t worry Arya,” answered Neale reassuringly. “Just focus your mind and pray to Lord Ganesha. He will remove all obstacles that come in the way of your doing potty!” (For those of you who do not know this already Lord Ganesha is considered to be the remover of obstacles).

It turns out that I was not the only eavesdropping on the conversation. My inquisitive daughter rolled her eyes in her usual know-it-all way, expounding Ayurvedic wisdom that always makes me swell with pride yet shudder at the thought of a self created Mini Me. “The fact that he is constipated, means that his tummy is filled with dry wind,” she retorted. “Ganesha can’t fix that stuff, he should focus on Hanuman instead. He’s the one Super Hero who can after all fly faster than the wind, so if anyone can beat wind issues, Hanuman can!”