Mothers and the law

Recently, I spent a beautiful Saturday bailing out an acquaintance who was charged. Since I choose not to spend my time in filthy jail cells interviewing society's unfortunate I was not there as his lawyer but as a supporter and potential surety.  The court house was abuzz with a close community of cops, crowns, counsel ( private bar and legal aid) and they all spoke a unique language peppered with words like "remand", "conditions", "first apperance" etc.  It took me a while to figure out the orchestrated fashion in which everything ran, albeit too slowly. While I got lulled into boredom by the tediousness of the process, I was struck by the number of mothers who were there, having perhaps spent a sleepless night following that initial phone call with tidings of the arrest.  What if they had heard their child had shot and killed several people as in the case of the Colarado shooter? The cold and ponderous machinery of the State which had entered their living room in that moment was now here to stay for a while.  They had brought into this world someone  who had taken other lives.  Had they actually missed the writing on the wall ?  Were they blindsided?  Or both?  Or were their kids those true "originals" who have an alternate perception of reality and are just incapable of compliance.  On that day in bail court, the predominant emotions expressed by the moms were disbelief, shame, self blame and guilt.  In several of those cases the blunt instrument of the law had been invoked for relatively "minor offences" bringing the  mother child relationship to a point of no return heralding a wake up or a break up call.  Trust had to be earned again and the terms of engagement between mother and child renegotiated.  Not in the case of this Colardao shooter who is clearly mentally ill.  I sent up a prayer of gratitude for not having to deal with this and for the collective group of parents and  kids who were present that day, to resolve, restore and heal without greater harm to themselves and others.  Parents must take over where the legal system stops.  What role do the state and guns have, you might ask? That's a topic for another blog!

Lessons from my coach

The past 6 months of my professional life were really challenging with a reorg and staff departures.   I thank my coach the amazing Bonnie Flatt for her stern yet compassionate approach in setting me on this path of discovering the leader in me and helping uncover the leader in others.  She held a mirror up to me so I can see myself truthfully and bring honesty and gracious collaboration to all my interactions and relationships.  I am writing this blog, as I near the end of my coaching, so people can support me through this process of growth in the following ways.  Ask me questions about the assumptions I make during my interactions no matter how difficult the conversation.  Point out if i am reacting without first seeking clarification as to why someone is saying or doing what they are.  Demand that I live truthfully without the artifice that comes with maintaining an image.  Call out my half truths and mind traps,  when I try to do things for them and to protect them rather than allowing them to rise to their greatness.   I have come to realise that wisdom is about letting go of the need to keep up the edifice of one's personality and being truthful is simply being present, aware and curious. 

The bane of alcohol in Chennai

We were at a mehendi ceremony a few nights ago.  When we got back in the car, the rental car driver who had taken us there said he had joined the dancing and festivities.  I was amused but curious.  This sounded like Dutch courage to me.  His rapid fire speech made me suspect he had helped himself to a couple of drinks at the bar.  I knew then that he had a problem.  Abandoning the driver coterie he had crashed into the hall and partaken of the booze.  Rather unheard off.  Now he was going to drive three of us women back in his inebriated state.   To top it all he hit me for money.  For his daughter's fees, he said  - which I could sense was a bald faced lie since schools have long since reopened.  Alcohol has been the bane of lower class families in Chennai, with the proliferation of the Tasmac ( government contolled)  liquor stores.  To increase their revenue Tasmac stores have recently decided to open earlier and close later. They are stealing from the back pockets of the poor to feed the corrupt appetites of politicians and the liquor barons, who keep them in power.  Women and children are the victims of this bane.  Social taboos are strong enough to prevent women from drinking - thank god - but they have to forebear wretched lives of abuse and penury.  Recently, at least three women I know were nearly killed by their spouses.  These are all super women raising their children and working multiple jobs to protect their dignity.   Back to said driver.  The first call I received early the following day was from this driver who told me his wife had suffered a heart attack and could I give him Rs. 3000.  I confronted him and said I did not believe him, that he has a problem and needs help.  I would not give him money but would assist with getting him help.  He meekly agreed.  I made several enquiries and am referring him to Voluntary Health Services which has an excellent addiction prevention program that is geared to income.  The rest is up to him and his family.   However, we need systemic change.  On June 3, 2012 Tamilaruvi Manian's Gandhiya Makkal Iyakkam (GMI) has called for prohibition and offered suggestions for alternate sources of revenue for the INR 18,000 crores that the TASMAC stores bring in.  GMI has a statewide campaign and a petition going out for all state residents' signatures.  Is there the people power and consequent political will to make this happen as they have done in Gujarat?

Loss

Yesterday I lost a dear uncle.  We called him Kannan Mama, fondly.  He was a very fit and disciplined man shy of 70.  Had recently become a facebook "friend" posting comments and sending emails!  I took it all for granted not complimenting him for adapting technology with such ease, at his age.  It was from a very preventable cardiac arrest.  Nothing an angio could not have taken care off, I believe.  The churning in the pit of my stomach has not stopped since the phone call.  In the unlikeliest of places, a gorgeous apartment, with a view of the sea, amidst an avenue of trees on a beautiful summer day, death had come knocking.  Unannounced.  His body was in an icebox in that apartment, looking well dressed and pious with the ash on his forehead a premature fixture of years of prayer.  As I stay here among old people,  I am shaken by the immediate and visceral realisation that death cannot be defied.  No matter his call with me last week promising to meet or the text just an hour prior.  So close yet no cigar as they say.  Eight years ago when my Dad died he had made all the arrangements.  He was the first person early that morning to arrive and console us.  Sadly, he is not around to hold our hand through his death. My only consolation is that I was meant to be here at this place and time to say a final goodbye.  He would have wanted that.