During my recent foray into baking bread, I discovered that the jar of rapid rise yeast I have sitting in the fridge dates back to times before J was born. How and why I carried it with me so many years, through so many moves is beyond me. The nice folks at Mefi and Reddit reported having baked successfully with yeast at least as old as mine. It was heart-warming to see I was not the only crazy around hanging on to herbs and spices over a decade old.
There is an odd sense of comfort and continuity in these things - some of which have been gifts. Chamomile from Z the year I got the mother of all colds and was preparing for a big move, saffron from a dear childhood friend, the sprigs of lavender from D's yard before she sold her house and relocated. The more nostalgic the provenance of the spice, the more thrifty I am with its use. I want to remember the good memories associated with them for a long time.
I had saved some Darjeeling tea my parents got me from Kolkata for a good five years. It felt bitter-sweet to brew that last pot of tea - thinking about the passage of time, them growing older, my fading connection with home and family there. That old tea-store was probably displaced by some modern retail chain. If I ever went back to visit there would be no Paresh Da to banter with and learn about this season's teas from the gardens he most favored. We would not be waiting in anticipation for his magic brew to be served in tiny cups for us to taste before he fine-tuned his blend for us. Everything had changed and would never be the same again. Reading the news of India lately is far from memories of such simpler times.
crossings as in traversals, contradictions, counterpoints of the heart though often not..
Wearbles as Amulets
Nice article on the dubious benefits of your smartwatch replacing the EKG machine. The author concludes the essay with the following line: The wearable EKG offers the comforting weight of medicine itself, worn on the wrist like an amulet warding off evil, whether it ever gets used or not.
The benefits of amulets cannot be denied. To the believer, they do work. I remember as a child, receiving one from my grandmother to ward off bad dreams. It took her about a month to get it to my parents by post. The process of making a customized amulet was fairly involved.
It was a tiny silver case containing some herbs in it sealed off with wax. I was warned not to poke or prod it. It was placed under my bed and like magic, there were no scary dreams again. A lot had to do with faith, ritual, and anticipation. Grandma's amulet was billed as the remedy that never failed to work - every grandchild at some point has received one of them for an assortment of maladies - poor grades, class bully problems, bad manners, lackluster appetite and what not. Her success rate was a hundred percent so ofcourse it would work for me too.
The benefits of amulets cannot be denied. To the believer, they do work. I remember as a child, receiving one from my grandmother to ward off bad dreams. It took her about a month to get it to my parents by post. The process of making a customized amulet was fairly involved.
It was a tiny silver case containing some herbs in it sealed off with wax. I was warned not to poke or prod it. It was placed under my bed and like magic, there were no scary dreams again. A lot had to do with faith, ritual, and anticipation. Grandma's amulet was billed as the remedy that never failed to work - every grandchild at some point has received one of them for an assortment of maladies - poor grades, class bully problems, bad manners, lackluster appetite and what not. Her success rate was a hundred percent so ofcourse it would work for me too.
Dampening Hype
Maybe we should look forward to the time when most people can print out their kids' braces at home, feed them alternative meat produced right in the kitchen and thanks to smart and connected everything have hours of time freed up to do things they had never done before. It would be instructive to see what good use this bounty of time is put to.
This story about the "real" environmental footprint of lab-cultured meat is just as expected as this one about security gaps in blockchain technology. Once the hype rises to a certain level of illogic, irrational bordering on insanity, such writing follows next - to temper the craziness to a commonsense level. The handwringing around meat consumption and the harm caused by it can be addressed perhaps by portion size and variety in diet. Michael Pollan had summarized it in just one line "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants."
In parts of the world, where eating meat regularly is an option for a majority of people - maybe each of us should think about eating enough but not in excess. For those of us who have a yard where it is possible to grow food - maybe we should do that instead of planting and maintaining grass. Pushing yet another product on the population to consume conspicuously does not seem to be the right solution for the problem.
I have been watching the blockchain business from the sidelines for years now - and how everything changes now. Could not have summarized my thoughts any better than this author who correctly points out that it is not much innovation but a lot of stupidity. But the hype got to a point where even commonsense folk started to second guess themselves - was there something there we needed to understand that we are failing to. Such is the case with fake meat, printed braces that will fix crooked teeth for nothing and so on.
This story about the "real" environmental footprint of lab-cultured meat is just as expected as this one about security gaps in blockchain technology. Once the hype rises to a certain level of illogic, irrational bordering on insanity, such writing follows next - to temper the craziness to a commonsense level. The handwringing around meat consumption and the harm caused by it can be addressed perhaps by portion size and variety in diet. Michael Pollan had summarized it in just one line "Eat food, not too much, mostly plants."
In parts of the world, where eating meat regularly is an option for a majority of people - maybe each of us should think about eating enough but not in excess. For those of us who have a yard where it is possible to grow food - maybe we should do that instead of planting and maintaining grass. Pushing yet another product on the population to consume conspicuously does not seem to be the right solution for the problem.
I have been watching the blockchain business from the sidelines for years now - and how everything changes now. Could not have summarized my thoughts any better than this author who correctly points out that it is not much innovation but a lot of stupidity. But the hype got to a point where even commonsense folk started to second guess themselves - was there something there we needed to understand that we are failing to. Such is the case with fake meat, printed braces that will fix crooked teeth for nothing and so on.
Content Drone
I once knew a guy (S) not so different from the one featured in this modern-day parable of a guy who works for a website. S was recruited out of college to be a digital marketer back in the day when that was still a new and sexy thing. This was a very forward-looking company, seeking to reinvigorate the way they marketed and sold their very traditional product hoping to attract a new generation of customers. S had landed his dream job. When I met him during one of my consulting gigs, he had been at this company for over a decade and they were paying off his sizeable student loans. He had by then completed his masters on their dime. He was the resident SEO and social media guru, tweaking content ad-nauseum to achieve the impossible goals laid out for him. Just when he thought he had made it, the goal-posts would change, the ranking algorithm would be updated, the old tricks would no longer work.
For the year that my engagement with that client lasted, I saw him interview scores of vendors, snake-oil providers of various stripe all promising S the nirvana he sought. But he knew better. He vetted them very carefully and almost always discarded them for good reason. Part of it may have been job security but it is also true that no one really has a secret sauce for generating viral content across every business domain, market segment and target audience. S has a much better feel for the market he served as any of these "experts".
Last time I checked, S was still there and it has been about twenty years. Mostly the same job, though his title is more verbose now. He has stayed so long with this company and done only one thing during that whole time that it would be all but impossible for him to do something else at this point. Those skills are transferrable I am sure, but being a content drone for another company another website may not be the change that S is dying to make.
For the year that my engagement with that client lasted, I saw him interview scores of vendors, snake-oil providers of various stripe all promising S the nirvana he sought. But he knew better. He vetted them very carefully and almost always discarded them for good reason. Part of it may have been job security but it is also true that no one really has a secret sauce for generating viral content across every business domain, market segment and target audience. S has a much better feel for the market he served as any of these "experts".
Last time I checked, S was still there and it has been about twenty years. Mostly the same job, though his title is more verbose now. He has stayed so long with this company and done only one thing during that whole time that it would be all but impossible for him to do something else at this point. Those skills are transferrable I am sure, but being a content drone for another company another website may not be the change that S is dying to make.
Lost Connections
Reading Lost Connections by Johann Hari. He speaks to a mother who has lost her daughter and how she copes with the grief.
Far from being irrational, Joanne says, the pain of grief is necessary. “I don’t even want to recover from her death,” she says about her daughter Chayenne. “Staying connected to the pain of her death helps me to do my work with such a full, compassionate heart,” and to live as fully as she can. “I integrated that guilt and shame that I felt, and the betrayal, by serving others,” she said to me, with some of the horses she has rescued running in a field behind her. “So in a way my service to others is how I remunerate—it’s my way of saying sorry to her every day. I’m sorry I did not bring you safely into the world, and because of that I’m going to bring your love into the world.” It made her understand the pain of others in a way she couldn’t before. It “makes me stronger,” she says, “even in my vulnerable places.”
Recently, I called my grand-aunt who I have not spoken to in decades. After losing her young son to cancer, she became a different person and there seemed no way to connect to her at any human level. Her grief was unique and unshared by most of us who sought to comfort her, trying to bring her back to the land of the living. I was too young back then to have the wisdom or the words to offer her any solace- those much older than me did not appear to fare much better either.
When I spoke to her a few weeks ago, she sounded like the person she once was - before her son's untimely death, yet without the love and warmth, she was then been capable of displaying. Her recovery seemed to have restored the facade of the person after the core had been razed to the ground. After hanging up, I felt like my call had been in error. There was still nothing I could do or say that would ease the pain she must still feel every day. It was very illuminating to read of another mother's journey of loss and how she copes with it.
Far from being irrational, Joanne says, the pain of grief is necessary. “I don’t even want to recover from her death,” she says about her daughter Chayenne. “Staying connected to the pain of her death helps me to do my work with such a full, compassionate heart,” and to live as fully as she can. “I integrated that guilt and shame that I felt, and the betrayal, by serving others,” she said to me, with some of the horses she has rescued running in a field behind her. “So in a way my service to others is how I remunerate—it’s my way of saying sorry to her every day. I’m sorry I did not bring you safely into the world, and because of that I’m going to bring your love into the world.” It made her understand the pain of others in a way she couldn’t before. It “makes me stronger,” she says, “even in my vulnerable places.”
Recently, I called my grand-aunt who I have not spoken to in decades. After losing her young son to cancer, she became a different person and there seemed no way to connect to her at any human level. Her grief was unique and unshared by most of us who sought to comfort her, trying to bring her back to the land of the living. I was too young back then to have the wisdom or the words to offer her any solace- those much older than me did not appear to fare much better either.
When I spoke to her a few weeks ago, she sounded like the person she once was - before her son's untimely death, yet without the love and warmth, she was then been capable of displaying. Her recovery seemed to have restored the facade of the person after the core had been razed to the ground. After hanging up, I felt like my call had been in error. There was still nothing I could do or say that would ease the pain she must still feel every day. It was very illuminating to read of another mother's journey of loss and how she copes with it.
Watching Billy Elliot Again
I watched this movie for the first time when I was pregnant with J. It made me cry and incredibly happy at the same time. I could imagine having a baby that would spontaneously dance for joy much like Billy. Indeed J was one of those - she could start to dance just about anywhere, anytime as a child. Frequently drawing the attention of an appreciative audience taken up by the cuteness of the moment.
Even past that phase of her life, nothing made me quite as happy as to see J at her dance performances. The idea of persisting with what you truly value despite insurmountable odds is one that I have a great appreciation for. I wanted to watch this movie with J as a thing to remember before she left for college - maybe there would be some life lessons there for her too.
There are few memories that I will hold as dear in my heart as that moment when we watched that magnificent last scene of Billy Elliot together. It was a deeply emotional moment for both of us. As we cried together and I felt the same goosebumps I did so many years ago. It was deeply gratifying to share with J something so close to my heart, so especially meaningful and to see her understand why.
Natural Causes
I am having so much fun reading Natural Causes: An Epidemic of Wellness, the Certainty of Dying, and Killing Ourselves to Live Longer, that it almost feels wrong. I find myself agreeing with Ehrenreich on most counts and where I differ, I appreciate her point of view as a valid, thought-provoking one. The experience makes me wonder if I might have entered a bubble created by this book that reaffirms everything I believe on the topic.
It gets to be a bit scary when a credentialed author validates my uninformed rants against the "system". Ehrenreich holds a Ph.D. in cell immunology; I was grateful to emerge alive out of tenth-grade biology never to venture near it again. She is wicked snippy with her little barbs like calling Deepak Chopra an all-purpose Guru like he were all-purpose flour suitable for any baking project or this line about Jobs "Steve Jobs had been a Buddhist or perhaps a Hindu— he seems not to have made a distinction—". On the mindfulness fad she says "This is Buddhism sliced up, commodified, and drained of all reference to the transcendent." So while her content is mostly serious she makes the reader chuckle too. All in all a very good and satisfying read.
It gets to be a bit scary when a credentialed author validates my uninformed rants against the "system". Ehrenreich holds a Ph.D. in cell immunology; I was grateful to emerge alive out of tenth-grade biology never to venture near it again. She is wicked snippy with her little barbs like calling Deepak Chopra an all-purpose Guru like he were all-purpose flour suitable for any baking project or this line about Jobs "Steve Jobs had been a Buddhist or perhaps a Hindu— he seems not to have made a distinction—". On the mindfulness fad she says "This is Buddhism sliced up, commodified, and drained of all reference to the transcendent." So while her content is mostly serious she makes the reader chuckle too. All in all a very good and satisfying read.
Indochine
Watched Indochine for the first time recently. Had heard of the movie back in the day but never got around to watching it. Read the reviews after I was done and thought it was interesting how most reviews were middling and the gripes reviewers had with the movie made sense. There was an expectation it seems, of a great war story told with intelligence and nuance. Indochine does not quite deliver that and to that extent the disappointment is justified. It has been compared to the French take on Gone with the Wind but that does not define this movie either.
I happened to see it as a very different story - that of motherhood and sacrifices that often go with the territory. The locale, the defining events and historical context were the backdrop against which the story of this mother was told. The articulation of a grand sacrifice is far more difficult in a mundane setting - it does not make for cinematic epic. Yet each day, everywhere in the world there are ordinary mothers who are helping their progeny achieve their dreams at an unthinkable cost to themselves. They know of no other way to be. The character of Catherine Denevue is perhaps one such mother. On the scale of maternal sacrifice, she reaches the high watermark. The irony in her story is shared with that of real mothers who also make grand sacrifices like her - posterity may not treat them kindly, even the child may feel wronged in ways that were impossible to foresee. So it only makes sense that the movie ends with such a whimper.
I happened to see it as a very different story - that of motherhood and sacrifices that often go with the territory. The locale, the defining events and historical context were the backdrop against which the story of this mother was told. The articulation of a grand sacrifice is far more difficult in a mundane setting - it does not make for cinematic epic. Yet each day, everywhere in the world there are ordinary mothers who are helping their progeny achieve their dreams at an unthinkable cost to themselves. They know of no other way to be. The character of Catherine Denevue is perhaps one such mother. On the scale of maternal sacrifice, she reaches the high watermark. The irony in her story is shared with that of real mothers who also make grand sacrifices like her - posterity may not treat them kindly, even the child may feel wronged in ways that were impossible to foresee. So it only makes sense that the movie ends with such a whimper.
Fiction Assortment
Trying to like reading fiction once again, find a way to enjoy a simple story simply told. Started with Pigs In Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver and even got off to a bracing start. By chapter three I experienced the familiar feeling of restlessness that has been the bane of my fiction reading experience for over a decade now. I am not sure if I should stay or leave.
The feeling is akin to that of being stuck at a dinner party where it would be easy enough to slip away without calling too much attention. On the other hand, if you decided to stay you may meet some interesting people, have a few decent conversations. It's not a given that you would be rewarded for time spent but there is a distinct possibility. Some of us may choose to linger while others may skip out. I was at that point at the beginning of chapter three and decided to stay a while. Page sixty-nine, chapter eight and I had not yet been made whole for the investment of my time. The characters remained two-dimensional cut-outs all imbued with the uniform voice of the writer and not their own.
It was time to move on to the next book on my list - Remainder by Tom McCarthy. By Page sixty-nine here I had learned that the protagonist had earned an 8.5 million pound settlement for an injury that had left him in a coma and hospitalized for months. Upon recovery and in receipt of these monies, he wanted to reproduce a crack in the bathroom of his friend's house complete with the hallway, apartment block, neighbors and all with this money having found no other cause in his life.
"I’d be able to recreate the crack back in my own flat—smear on the plaster and then add the colours; but my bathroom wasn’t the right shape. It had to be the same shape and same size as the one David’s had made me remember, with the same bathtub with its older, different taps, the same slightly bigger window. And it had to be on the fifth, sixth or seventh floor. I’d need to buy a new flat, one high up. And then the neighbours. They’d been all packed in around me—below, beside and above. That was a vital part of it. The old woman who cooked liver on the floor below, the pianist two floors below her, running through his fugues and his sonatas, practising—I’d have to make sure they were there too."
I suppose that is a fine premise to write a story about. There are many among us without any real cause or purpose in life. Most of our experiences lack the heft we crave and there may be only a handful of moments when we felt truly alive. All those facts are relatable. When you bring a large sum of free money to bear on such a situation, then knowing what to do next can be very daunting. But a crack in the bathroom as the center of the universe was a bit out there for me. In the subsequent pages, the protagonist launches his plan to create the universe surrounding and emanating from that crack - the only deja vu inducing trigger in his life. This whole business sounded like Murakami might if he was fighting writer's block.
I have several more books to go through and hope one of them will deliver the joys fiction once used to.
The feeling is akin to that of being stuck at a dinner party where it would be easy enough to slip away without calling too much attention. On the other hand, if you decided to stay you may meet some interesting people, have a few decent conversations. It's not a given that you would be rewarded for time spent but there is a distinct possibility. Some of us may choose to linger while others may skip out. I was at that point at the beginning of chapter three and decided to stay a while. Page sixty-nine, chapter eight and I had not yet been made whole for the investment of my time. The characters remained two-dimensional cut-outs all imbued with the uniform voice of the writer and not their own.
It was time to move on to the next book on my list - Remainder by Tom McCarthy. By Page sixty-nine here I had learned that the protagonist had earned an 8.5 million pound settlement for an injury that had left him in a coma and hospitalized for months. Upon recovery and in receipt of these monies, he wanted to reproduce a crack in the bathroom of his friend's house complete with the hallway, apartment block, neighbors and all with this money having found no other cause in his life.
"I’d be able to recreate the crack back in my own flat—smear on the plaster and then add the colours; but my bathroom wasn’t the right shape. It had to be the same shape and same size as the one David’s had made me remember, with the same bathtub with its older, different taps, the same slightly bigger window. And it had to be on the fifth, sixth or seventh floor. I’d need to buy a new flat, one high up. And then the neighbours. They’d been all packed in around me—below, beside and above. That was a vital part of it. The old woman who cooked liver on the floor below, the pianist two floors below her, running through his fugues and his sonatas, practising—I’d have to make sure they were there too."
I suppose that is a fine premise to write a story about. There are many among us without any real cause or purpose in life. Most of our experiences lack the heft we crave and there may be only a handful of moments when we felt truly alive. All those facts are relatable. When you bring a large sum of free money to bear on such a situation, then knowing what to do next can be very daunting. But a crack in the bathroom as the center of the universe was a bit out there for me. In the subsequent pages, the protagonist launches his plan to create the universe surrounding and emanating from that crack - the only deja vu inducing trigger in his life. This whole business sounded like Murakami might if he was fighting writer's block.
I have several more books to go through and hope one of them will deliver the joys fiction once used to.
Imagined Outcomes
Read this quote in The Coddling of the American Mind
What really frightens and dismays us is not external events themselves, but the way in which we think about them. It is not things that disturb us, but our interpretation of their significance. EPICTETUS
Every part of it bears a huge significance for me. I have experienced the fright and dismay of external events beyond my control; consumed by the myriad of what-ifs and how many things could go wrong. The outcomes most dreaded seldom came to pass and all the energy was wasted in vain. The significance of the event was found to be greatly over-stated. A year or two after the fact, it was as if it had not occurred at all. One would think after several repeats of this same pattern, a person may learn something.
I have yet to see that happen with me. There are still triggers that can send me off on wild, unfounded tangents. What I have been able to control a bit better is the proliferation of such disturbance on to people around me that I love and care for. I am more likely to share my thoughts after the distress is past. The fact they are not being called upon to crisis manage enables them to think more coherently and often their counsel proves to be effective.
I often recall my favorite quote by Swami Chinmayanada "Disappointment can come only to those Who make Appointment with the future". This was one of several I walked past every morning on my way to class in high-school. I don't remember the rest very well but this one remains etched in memory. Just that appreciation does not equal assimilation.
What really frightens and dismays us is not external events themselves, but the way in which we think about them. It is not things that disturb us, but our interpretation of their significance. EPICTETUS
Every part of it bears a huge significance for me. I have experienced the fright and dismay of external events beyond my control; consumed by the myriad of what-ifs and how many things could go wrong. The outcomes most dreaded seldom came to pass and all the energy was wasted in vain. The significance of the event was found to be greatly over-stated. A year or two after the fact, it was as if it had not occurred at all. One would think after several repeats of this same pattern, a person may learn something.
I have yet to see that happen with me. There are still triggers that can send me off on wild, unfounded tangents. What I have been able to control a bit better is the proliferation of such disturbance on to people around me that I love and care for. I am more likely to share my thoughts after the distress is past. The fact they are not being called upon to crisis manage enables them to think more coherently and often their counsel proves to be effective.
I often recall my favorite quote by Swami Chinmayanada "Disappointment can come only to those Who make Appointment with the future". This was one of several I walked past every morning on my way to class in high-school. I don't remember the rest very well but this one remains etched in memory. Just that appreciation does not equal assimilation.
Manto
I have been a fan of Nandita Das for the longest time but I saw her in an entirely new light with Manto. It is a beautifully made movie that tells a story of a people who had lost their way once and are still largely lost. The protagonist and those close to him were ahead of their times seventy years ago and they still are. I had not read a lot of Manto in the past but this movie made me want to. As I read, I found it impossible to believe that his stories were written in those times and even more astounding that there was actually a readership. His words are like a blunt instrument designed to inflict pain and let it linger. It is not possible to ignore or forget a story like Khol Do.
Reading Manto made me think about people I knew of that era, many of whom have passed on by now. Or people like my parents who were just born around that time and have only heard of the atrocities and bloodshed. The lucky amongst them were largely sheltered from it and have no personal memories of the time. Refugee families like mine grew up on stories of life before and after partition. The mythology overtaking reality with each re-telling. I had a great grandmother who our relatives said had lost her mind and had trouble understanding the realities of her new life in India. A generation or two removed from the events, it was often hard for us to separate facts from alternate and imagined realities. Each person that told us their story had a reason to tell it the way they did. I wondered if any of them would have been able to endure Manto's writing and if they did what other than obscenity they may see in it.
Even for my generation and those decades younger, this is not the world the majority is comfortable experiencing. We seek our escape from reality in its most brutal and unadorned forms to something more sanitary and infantilized so it becomes bearable. There is a reason that the likes of Chetan Bhagat are best-selling authors in India. We were not ready for Manto then and might never be. Instead, we will read such poignant essays of regret that begin with "Saadat Hasan Manto has a good claim to be considered the greatest South Asian writer of the 20th century. "
Reading Manto made me think about people I knew of that era, many of whom have passed on by now. Or people like my parents who were just born around that time and have only heard of the atrocities and bloodshed. The lucky amongst them were largely sheltered from it and have no personal memories of the time. Refugee families like mine grew up on stories of life before and after partition. The mythology overtaking reality with each re-telling. I had a great grandmother who our relatives said had lost her mind and had trouble understanding the realities of her new life in India. A generation or two removed from the events, it was often hard for us to separate facts from alternate and imagined realities. Each person that told us their story had a reason to tell it the way they did. I wondered if any of them would have been able to endure Manto's writing and if they did what other than obscenity they may see in it.
Even for my generation and those decades younger, this is not the world the majority is comfortable experiencing. We seek our escape from reality in its most brutal and unadorned forms to something more sanitary and infantilized so it becomes bearable. There is a reason that the likes of Chetan Bhagat are best-selling authors in India. We were not ready for Manto then and might never be. Instead, we will read such poignant essays of regret that begin with "Saadat Hasan Manto has a good claim to be considered the greatest South Asian writer of the 20th century. "
The Happy Couple
This post about low divorce rates in India and the reasons for it are (sadly) all true. Earlier today, I was chatting with my cousin M about the only happy couple we know in our whole extended family. That is a lot of people we are talking about here. In my grandparents' generation having eight to ten kids was more norm than the exception. The couple in question who stood out to us as the happiest we ever saw, had none of the traditional markers of "success". The man had a humble job in Indian Railways and never went to college. His wife was better educated but stayed at home. Their wedding was a very simple affair as she came from a poor family. Over a decade after the marriage, she got pregnant and had a miscarriage. They died people of very modest means and childless.
Through the fifty plus year marriage, they remained the only couple anyone of us knew that lived in peace, never ceased communicating, frequently laughed together and made others feel at ease around them. Their arguments never grew strident or demeaning. She was the best cook ever and every meal she made was a labor of love and perfection. He adored everything about her and took pride in her accomplishments. She respected him as a provider and support. Every other couple we knew were puzzled by them - they had "nothing" and yet they were so happy. Many considered them both very simple-minded. Surprisingly, no one tried to emulate their example and improve their own marriage.
M's theory is that this marriage was such a success is because she had zero expectations from it. Everything she got out of it was, therefore, a big win and she did not suffer very much in difficult times. She placed value in the man and their relationship - as opposed to having completed the checklist of a "good marriage". I suspect it was the same for him - his wife held intrinsic value for him as his companion for life. Her worth was not determined by how she well performed in her social and domestic obligations and whether she gave birth to their child or not.
For a couple who would be in their late nineties by now, they were way ahead of the times. They had a progressive and equal marriage that is aspirational for most desis even today.
Through the fifty plus year marriage, they remained the only couple anyone of us knew that lived in peace, never ceased communicating, frequently laughed together and made others feel at ease around them. Their arguments never grew strident or demeaning. She was the best cook ever and every meal she made was a labor of love and perfection. He adored everything about her and took pride in her accomplishments. She respected him as a provider and support. Every other couple we knew were puzzled by them - they had "nothing" and yet they were so happy. Many considered them both very simple-minded. Surprisingly, no one tried to emulate their example and improve their own marriage.
M's theory is that this marriage was such a success is because she had zero expectations from it. Everything she got out of it was, therefore, a big win and she did not suffer very much in difficult times. She placed value in the man and their relationship - as opposed to having completed the checklist of a "good marriage". I suspect it was the same for him - his wife held intrinsic value for him as his companion for life. Her worth was not determined by how she well performed in her social and domestic obligations and whether she gave birth to their child or not.
For a couple who would be in their late nineties by now, they were way ahead of the times. They had a progressive and equal marriage that is aspirational for most desis even today.
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