English Blogs – Chandra's Anecdotes

From my memory lane: Connection of Hema mausi to Harvard University and my son Sanjay

Dr. Mayadhar Mansingh’s famous book “Hamasasya” is one of my favorite book. I was lucky to know Hema mausi when she visited USA and Canada. We talked many hours by phone and in person about children, life in general. Often, she encouraged me to read books and let my children get good education from great university. We talked about college education in USA since my daughter Seema was at Princeton University and son Bobby was about to go to University of Pennsylvania. Each time we talked about college I used to mention how expensive college education is here. In a nice way mausi used to tell me that I must aim to send Sanjay to Harvard University. I just smiled and said it is not easy to make to Harvard. My answer to her was that most parents wish for it but only few are able to fulfill this.

She never bought my reason but always firmly told me that a mother’s determination help children to focus on getting excellent education and success. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why all her children have achieved awesome higher education. When Sanjay was 10 year old we met Hema mausi at New Delhi. She reminded me that “I must not forget to try hard to send him to Harvard University”. That is the last time we saw her. With grace of universe and hard work Sanjay made to Harvard university for undergraduate study. He worked one year but always wanted to pursue his PhD degree in Economics. Finally, he is awarded his PhD degree from Harvard. When I received the great news today, I thought about Hema mausi a lot. I would have made my first phone call to her and told her that mausi, “Sanjay did it what you wished for him to do”. She is not in our world for me to share this news. When taking my walk, I looked up and saw in the white cloud there was a blue woman with a saree. There she is smiling at me. Maybe it is my scattered imagination. I am sure she would have happy to get this news.

I often think about her a lot when I ponder in my thoughts fondly. She always encouraged me to write my anecdotes which I do most of the time in my FB postings. I wonder if she would have liked them. She was very loving yet can say things bluntly as she sees them. I remember how firmly, with confidence she told me that it is up to mothers to mold their children to do things well no matter how difficult the task is! She did not take no for answer and told me that I must do everything to send my son Sanjay to Harvard. With her blessings, Sanjay’s hard work and kindness of the universe it became possible. Wish she was here to share this happiness with us. I know that she is always watching out for me because she loved me and my family. Sharing picture of Sanjay with my dear “Hema Sasyar Hema Mausi” when he was a baby and at New Delhi when we saw her for the last time.

I see my life as a Maple leaf

For me, my thoughts and daily activities go together like peanut butter and jelly. Every day I take my walk and see a large maple tree in our neighborhood which has a lot of leaves. I know that no two maple leaves are the same just the way two human beings are not the same. “Just like us human beings”, I mumbled to myself. I keep on comparing my life as the life of a maple leaf. Like the cheerful young maple lime green leaf in spring, I was a young girl with a full moon smile at Pathuria Sahi Puri, India. My life was clearly defined by my family and I followed the rules without many complaints. A leaf spends outdoors soaking up the sun rays and the raindrops. It does not have much choice on how to mold its life. Like her, I often spent my time talking to people in my family and from our lane. I kept on moving around the house to house in our lane to play or doing chores.

The leaf adjusts and adapts to the air currents and feels joy in the ride that is given to her. It feels secure on the tree. I also felt secure at my father’s home growing up with love and care. The leaf willingly becomes a landing pad for insects and birds and lovingly turned her face upward to provide food and shelter for the tree. I have done similar work by becoming a daughter, daughter in law, a wife, and a mother as I grew older.

Fall, is different, for trees. The young green maple leaf has changed color and becoming mature. I have noticed a shift, in the leaves on the trees. Same way now I have noticed a shift in my body and mind. Even my view of the dressing or doing things has changed.

Looking at changes in the leaves brings clarity in my life as well. My life’s journey is now made me mature and older. I am the fall leaf. My body is aging, not as strong nor as reliable and supple as it once was, I welcome the change and wonder how to prepare for what lies ahead.

I notice that some of the leaves on the tree will be brilliant in color, others dull and muted and even others will just dry up. Those dried up ones appear to be hanging on to something that will never be again young. Am I going to be the same as the leaf? I wonder, what determines the radiance of the leaf. Is it the weather, its living condition, or an unknown factor?

This is the fall of my life. My time on the earth is limited. How my life will be finished? Will I go out as the maple leaf in a blaze of color, or cling to the branch for dear life, waiting until I am withered, brown and windblown. Will the people who know me will shout Encore, Encore saddened, and not ready to see me go?

Do leaves have a choice when to go and how to go? Do I have the same choice with my life? Will my life circumstances determine my departure? Not sure. I noticed that my round of walk is done. So I will think about it tomorrow

Memory of Lucy

It has been many years, since i worked at St. Mary Manor nursing home, North Wales, PA where Lucy was a resident.

My memory of Lucy is misty. It seems like a dream. Time has softened the edges. But the touch of her frail hand, heavy breathing still remains fresh in my memory just like the way I remember the sea breeze from my native place, Puri Odisha.
Lucy had terminal cancer when she was admitted to St. Mary’s manor nursing home. The disease had taken its toll on her emaciated face, sallow skin tone. When I did my round with the day shift nurse to get a report, I looked at her heavy breathing and put a red tag on the chart. Anytime, Chandra, she can go any time said, Carol. I mumbled, maybe in my shift since I have established a relationship with her for the last few months. I called home to say that I may be late returning home

After the report, I asked the nursing assistant Ramona to keep a special eye on Lucy and inform me of the status. I went on to give medicine and do the treatment for the other patients as per my duty. Taking care of Lucy was difficult since she spoke no English. She gave a hard time when we tried to bathe or feed her. I remember well that a few weeks back I tried to comb her hair out of curiosity. As usual, she nodded her hair means “no, no”. Suddenly I thought of something to try. I pulled the chair close to her and I tried to talk to her in my Odia language that how I miss my mom. If she was alive I would have helped taking care of her. Each time I finished a sentence Lucy smiled and I made a stroke with the hairbrush. She nodded her head when I gently massaged her hair hoping she will get relief. In my mind, I was thinking that I am with my mom combing her hair. From that time, she became my patient. Every time I worked I made it a point to talk to her in my language and she reciprocated with a smile. My touch and expression was best in my mother tongue and that enhanced our communication. Love does not need language. All it needs a genuine feeling and touch which I had in mind when I was doing her care.

As time passed I saw that her condition deteriorated. Her expression changed from concentration to fear. She was unable to arouse due to heavy morphine dose administration for pain. We decided to establish A DNR (Do not resuscitate) status. I gazed into her face saying softly that don’t worry, I will be back to sit with you and we can talk that day. Not sure if she heard me but her eyes gazed at me saying come back soon. I read at nursing school that nurses must make it a point to sit with their patients before they go when the family is not available. Lucy had no family with her. One distant nephew came to see her during holiday time. I could see that her time has come. Quickly I asked the assistant to take care of the other patients. My intuition was correct. Her fear changed into a panic. She clenched my hands. Our eye contact was unwavering. “Just relax,” I said, speaking calmly and slowly. Do not fight. I gave the morphine as prescribed. “you will have no more pain”. “I am right here with you were my last words to her”. Her respiration became very labored after few minutes showing she is gasping for air. Softly I said, “I am here with you, you are not alone,”. I saw a little smile at the corner of her frail black lips. Few minutes before she was gazing at me but then her eyes were closed. I opened the window as hoping her spirit (Atma) will fly to heaven. I did that as I read it in our scripture. She was in peace.

Time has passed and Lucy’s memory has remained in my memories. I have often told my experience to fellow nurses of this painful memory. Lucy and I could not speak the same language but we were bonded in language of love. I did not have a mother and she did not have a child. So we bonded as we were family. I will never forget her smile, me combing her hair thinking as if I was caring for my mother. Our bond made her fear to accept her death. In return, she gave me the opportunity to care for her. I made it easier for her to say goodbye to this world. I wish I could have done more.

Regardless of how I felt about death, providing professional and quality care to dying patients and their families was salient. That is the oath I took when they put the pin on my dress after I graduated from Gwynedd Mercy College.

Remembering on my 51st marriage anniversary

I can’t believe that it has been 51 years since we got married. It was an arranged marriage orchestrated by our two families. Not sure how we both are so different and yet joined hands and stepped up to the most challenging, invigorating, inspiring, thrilling, yet delightful and heavenly job on earth, a marriage which has lasted so well.

He came to our home to see me in response to a marriage proposal put forth by my fourth brother-in-law (who was his older brother). I did not like that he came to see me with a jute-bag full of coconuts from his village near Sakshi Gopal. I was hoping a foreign returned person will come at least with a fancier bag. We were left alone for a few minutes to make a conversation. He was an introvert. I am an extrovert who strikes up a conversation with strangers. After serving him tea and snacks my only question to him was that if I can finish my college. I wanted to finish and earn a B.A degree. His answer was if I wish to, then I can, why not? That is it. I got excited about the possibility of getting a degree after my marriage with him. I fell in love with him and prayed to Goddess RamChandi that please Ma, let him say “yes” to marry me. Soon after, with few exchange of talk between my dad and brother-in-law, it happened. My brother-in-law played a big role, saying to him that I can adjust to any situation. Since he was not looking for anything extraordinary but a suitable life partner, they all agreed that my marriage was settled with him. Within the next few weeks, an early date for the marriage ceremony was settled, since no other good days were there as per our almanac. That day was 4th June 1969
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After that day, I started my journey with my husband with the blessings of elders. I was 95 lb. and eighteen years old when I got married. We both did not have mothers and came from very middle-class families. So getting a stomach full of home-cooked food like fish, meat, fruits, and a nice three-room flat with running water was good enough for us. I remember going to a movie hall and sitting in the balcony for the first time with him. I pinched myself and the leather seat to see if it was true!!! With time we had two children who brought joy to us and we became a family. Giving them good education became main focus. We worked hard for that together. Today’s post is really about acknowledging the blessings that universe has bestowed upon us. We received a lot of love, trust, and support from our family members and friends. As I reflect back on this event every memory brings a smile to my face, which has strengthened our marriage as time goes by. I still have feelings that bring love and more commitment to our marriage every day. I developed a good deal of independence being with him, Personally, I am certainly blessed to have a life partner who has demonstrated tremendous sacrifices, courage, inner strength, and confidence, not only in creating opportunities for himself but also in providing leadership to our family that has made a difference. Indeed, I really feel heard, understood, and respected by him. This makes me confident and falls in love with him even more as we get older.

In 1977 we opted to immigrate to the USA in order to give our family a better opportunity. We since have a younger son who was born here. All our three children have graduated from esteemed colleges and are working in their field of choice. Today, I remember how loving and kind my husband has been to me all these years. His feeling has not changed since June 4th, 1969. With a promise to love and care in good and bad times we started our life together, thinking that it was destiny for us to marry each other with the blessing of our family and God. For a lasting union, it is mentioned that there must be genuine care, respect, and empathy for each other. I would say that I am truly blessed to have all these in my life. I reflected all the good advice he has given me over the years, which shaped me to be what I am today. People celebrate their special day in many different ways. Some celebrate going to their favorite restaurant, vacationing at their favorite place, and/or exchanging presents. Some people throw a big party for this occasion and celebrate with family and friends. Since I am a lover of words, nothing more will please me than process my thoughts with words like this for you all. For me at least, it’s only through words, I can express my feelings more clearly. Penning my thoughts is an expression of totality for me. I celebrate this special day with my words which may be different for many.

A song from my heart, Amaro Porano Jaha Chay ( Rabindra Sangeet) || Maithili Thakur

Remembering my Father “Bapa”

No, it is not father’s day but I just thought about my father whom I called as “Bapa” in my mother tongue for his love, guidance and blessings which came to me in disguise. He never told me what to do but showed in action by working hard and helping our extended family when they needed. My father was an orphan who studied under the public lamp post at night and worked to support his adopted widow mother during day time. He made a life for himself and his extended family by working frugally and tactfully. I never saw him wearing a pair of shoes. Yes, he went every where bare foot since it was a warm place where we are from. My friends used to make fun of him being on bare foot which I did not like at all while growing up. When I go to a shoe store I often wished if I could have bought a pair of shoes for him. Generally I pen my stories about people in which I explore my experience and impart stories about their life. Now I know how much my father scarified to make our life better than his life. He brought up his nine children without his wife (he lost my mom when I was very young) and built a nice home for us at Pathuria Sahi, Puri. He also owned land to supplement his income which secured our family financially. I will say that it is not too late for me to admit proudly that “Bapa” thank you for doing everything you did for yr family. I am trying to do the same for my family. A better life for them at USA. This is an important post from me in social media for U all which comes from my ❤️.

Scattered thought on this Hump day for you all

https://youtu.be/PbTY_m5yZ0w: Tribute song chosen for my post today.

What makes me feel like a kid and want to tell my story to U all daily? Since I will retire soon I thought about it a lot on my morning walk in this very cold day. I thought that I am lucky and it is a privilege that I was able to do few things which I wanted to do (having a college education in spite of having three children and married at age 18, working in medical field which I wished to do and help people, able to buy stuff which I need, having children who are self-motivated to do well at school). Of course that goes without saying that I have a husband and fy who has accepted me as I am! I often celebrated each phase of my life and be present in it than mourn something that is passed or don’t have. “Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep. I have a simple philosophy: Fill what’s empty if you can. Empty what’s full, U don’t want. Scratch where it itches. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way she or he handles these three things: a rainy and windy day, lost luggage at the airport and tangled Christmas tree lights. Enjoy the hump day and the song I chose for U all today.

My thought on our Local Election Day

https://youtu.be/kGSDNCaR1WU (Caring for each other is most important)

It’s Election Day. The 2020 races are dominating headlines, but it’s important to vote today in local and state elections. This morning my husband reminded me that our voting booth has changed and I must go to the correct place. I thought how much he cares to let me know small thing like this, which is important to me. Many of my friends here often asked me how we deal with our arranged marriage and how it works. I don’t have any specific answer for them since all most everybody did that in my time at India. I tell them that we care for each other and learn to convert our care into love with time. While walking I thought it is true that he does care for me and our family a lot like many people. That is the glue to our long marriage and my willingness to stay married to him when I come back to this earth again since I believe in recantation as per my Hindu religious belief. So for me caring and respecting the person is an important element in marriage than having any other material.

Conveying few lines about SriGopal and Shantimayee Mohanty from my heart

This is the song he sings for her.

My ability to tell a story is what excites me to write about people and places. I now wish to write the story that I see in my head about dear Shanti Apa and Sri Gopal babu, friends that I know from Canada. I was happy and excited when I called and asked them whether I can write a few lines about them in social media. I can’t describe my joyous feelings when they both agreed for me to go ahead with my story. I was excited and could not wait to get started. The first thing came to my mind that they really bring the best in people, no matter how old and where they are from. They both know the art of passing down information, knowledge and wisdom in creative ways. With their selfless work they have helped to construct and shape our Odissi dance in North America when we did not have many dancers or media like now a days.

“Odissi (Odia: ଓଡ଼ିଶୀ Oḍiśī), also referred to as Orissi in older literature, is a major ancient Indian classical dance that originated in the Hindu temples of Odisha-an eastern coastal state of India”

Sri Gopal babu has often talked about how we can improve our small community and never mentions the negative side of what we did not or could not do right. I guess this is the reason why I often wish secretly that I should have been in Canada, which might have brought my creative side of wanting to act in plays and dramas. With his persistence effort we now have a yearly drama competition in North America. He started the Odissi dance in North America and the first Odisha society in Canada.

She will sing this for our Srigopal babu

If i get a chance and requested to sing for them I will sing this song (think the girl as the younger version of Chandra) for both of them with pride and joy.

Shanti Apa is the model wife and mother every man or child can aspire. Although highly educated, she spends most of her time working behind the scene to fulfill Sri Gopal babu’s love for promoting Odia culture in North America. Seeing Shanit apa I wish to be like her a little bit in many ways. She is proficient in all kinds of Odia and western culinary. My family had the good luck of being with them few times and I remember the food and hospitality she extended to us, although they did not know us well at that time. She is also an expert in dressing children for drama and dance. Most of the outfits were made with her direction or by her since the appropriate costumes were not available at that time (unlike now). Sri Gopal babu is a perfectionist and that makes her job twice hard but she always did it without any complain.

We are very fortunate that their daughter Niharika Mohanty (Rini) stays in USA and is the founder, Director, CEO of Guru Shradha dance Academy at California. Someday I hope to write something about our talented second generation Rini if she gives me an opportunity. Enjoy my post and know that we are blessed to have such talented and kind people among us in North America.

Few lines about Dr. A. Purohit and Padmini Nani with Love.

Dr. Arjun (Gaeen menas brother in law) and Padmini (Nani means older sister) Purohit now

song he sings for her

The art of storytelling or passing down information and knowledge in creative ways helps me to construct my thoughts. It is a process of using facts and narrative to communicate something for which I am passionate about. I like to write about people (with their permission) using facts and my imagination. Sometimes if I don’t have facts I just close my eyes and think about the person. Then whatever good thoughts I feel I pen it quickly. Recently I have tried to add songs to convey more information and complement the writing. I also add photographs to my posts. They say a picture is worth thousand words which saves me when I can’t think much about the matter. For a story to work it needs for me to select, condense, and organize the facts. At the same time my imagination must embroider on them, filling in the spaces, finding what is unknown within the known, which is exactly what I seem to do by using the limited knowledge and information I have about the theme. When I was on the telephone with Dr. Purohit, whom I often address as Gaeen (brother in law), he told me not to worry about facts but write from my heart and the way I feel. So here is my scattered thoughts about him and his beautiful wife Padmini (I call her nani, which means big sister).

He lives at Kingston in Canada and was the chief Psychologist in a children’s hospital in that city. It is not an easy job to be the chief psychologist in any hospital. I have heard that they help any new Odia, Indian or immigrant people that arrive in Kingston area. Dr. Purohit is passionate about the issue of “Koshala” which is important to him and obviously he is trying to convince us with numerous posts about why it should be the way he thinks. He also practices Buddhist religion and helped me and many others when we have questions about life, love and other issues. I was proud when I saw him perform as an interracial priest at Somia’s wedding. The sermon was beautiful and the words still linger in my ears. He is licensed to be a priest. Most of all I admire and like his full moon smile. He makes me and my family as his own even though we have met him only a few times. That is the personality he has, which charms all young and old people, specially a talkative sister in law like me. Ha, ha.

On the other hand Padmini nani is very different. I can compare her beauty with the famous Bollywood actress “Madhubala”. She is very quick in what she does. Only she can handle her husband’s demand, who calls her 10 times in 15 minutes to find things. Like the girls at her time Nani married young and came to Canada with Gaeen. She put herself thru school here while having three children, just like some of us did at that time. She chose to help the elderly and became a nursing assistant, which is a demanding job physically and mentally. Take it from me (a nurse) who knows it first-hand. I believe it is the beauty, spontaneity and the sweet simplicity of Padmini nani conveyed to Dr. Purohit all he needed to know about her to make her his life partner.

Dr. Purohit performing wedding ceremony of Somia and Joran.

Finally I thank Dr. Purohit (Gaeen) to give me the opportunity to pen my thoughts. Enjoy my post and know that we are blessed to have such people among us in North America. Ty Somia for supplying the photograph from yr wedding where Dr. Purohit was the priest.

An immigrant mother’s scattered thoughts for her son.

Sanjay when two year old with Mom and Sanjay now.

My writing is from my scattered thoughts, but often come accompanied by my experience about who we are. This is about a mother who feels when her son is young and older and tries to make things better for her child.

It sure was a gift to have my son Sanjay, born here (in the USA) after a long time. We had two children born in India and then we migrated to the USA. I was only 20 yr. old and had two children. When I got pregnant with Sanjay, I was mature enough to know what motherhood means and how much work is involved to be a mom without the support of my extended family. I had family members to help me when my two older children were born.

I felt love and pride in having Sanjay born here. At the same time, I was fearful of Sanjay growing up as a brown boy. It always compelled me to think about how his life will be here. As a first-generation immigrant mother, I struggled with the thought of just how much he will face the ugliness and unfairness that is encountered by many young children because of their color. I was also joyful thinking of the opportunity he would have grown up here. In public school, he can play any sports and take music lessons free as a boy. No need to be born rich to have all these extra activities like in India when we were growing up. So I hoped for the best and kept exposing him to various activities like playing sports and taking part in the orchestra with the study.

I trusted that everything will be O.K if I can just do my best and tell him about his heritage. I tried to tell him the reason we migrated to this vibrant land and kept an intact, loving family around him. I have always used the art of storytelling or passing down information, knowledge, and wisdom in creative ways that helped him to know about our heritage, culture, and the country where we came from. I have used stories to pass on knowledge and advice on how to live an honest and better life. It reminds me of a story I used to tell him when he played the position of goalkeeper in soccer (football in the rest of the world) from the age of 4 till he was in high school. When little Sanjay started playing, he often asked me who I know played goalkeeper position as an example. I never played or saw many sports growing up back home. I had no one but to pull out the names from our mythology character dear monkey God Hanuman and Bhimsen. Hanuman is the supreme keeper who saved many obstacles from difficult situations in our Hindu scripture and always remains strong with his hand as the goalkeeper must in a soccer game. Somehow Sanjay liked my story and always prayed to Hanuman before he starts at the goal post in a game.

Bhimsen is a character in our scripture Mahabharat who is well known for his passion. He was big and strong as a child and an adult. He was passionate about food. He often found a way to reach out to the food even in darkness. His hands used to reach where the food was kept even in darkness. I told the story to Sanjay how Lord Bhimsen could find food in dark without light in the dark kitchen. So the key for him was to do things where he has passion and it will be easily done. This way he will do things with joy rather than being compelled to do.. We also talked to be strong by eating all food and stay calm as Lord Hanuman used to do. He remained calm and used to jump to catch the ball like our monkey God. I don’t know but as a mother, I felt good that I was able to answer his questions from my resource.

I also sang a lullaby to him and talked about our extended family. Often I described where we are from and told him about our big family. How we all live together in an extended family enjoying aunts, uncles besides parents. One popular lullaby was Oh, moon uncle you come and play ball with my son here since he has no uncle, aunt in our migrated country to play with.

I enjoy writing this story from my memory and wish my son good luck whatever he opts to do in his life.