Idlis, dal, friends, family for Rawin ...

... not in that particular order we think, although we don't really know Rawin's preference. From 5th to 15th January, Tuk and I with Rawin spent a really wonderful time with friends and family in Chennai and Trivandrum. We started and ended the visit in Patrick's house and were taken care of by his entire family especially his wonderful wife Geeta and their two sons. There we also met Thomas and his family, and my elder sisters Indira and Vasantha who were both eager to hug and cuddle Rawin. In Chennai also, my elder brother Lawrence was greeted with a big smile by Rawin as if to say he is well remembered from Lawrence's visit to Bangkok when Rawin was only about a month old. And we made a trip to Trivandrum to stay at the home of my other elder brother Ravi and his wife Sundari, and where my mother - Rawin's Indian grandmother - now lives. Ravi and Sundari were really delighted to spend time playing with Rawin. And as a mark of this visit, in the best Indian tradition, the "Hon'ble Thiru Thai-natu Ilavarasar Rawin" planted some seeds in their vegetable garden.

The year of living in intimacy … and imperfection

Two weddings including a trip to India. The birth of my son. Contemplating this year leaves me with the "is this really happening to me" feeling in a good way. Suddenly it seemed everything fell into place in life in a compressed space of time. While this was the wonderful episode of life in 2010, the struggles for me as a husband and parent were also going on in the background.

Managing to travel back and forth between Bangkok and Chiang Mai, doing a film on Mekong fishing were the livelihood stuff. Trying to spend as much time as possible with my son watching him grow was the life stuff. In the middle of both, was the effort to get our marriage going as my wife and I learnt intimacy.

Though we had spent time together, we had never really lived together and we were sharing a space that soon also had our son in it. Saying that we were at hand and watched our son grow can mean something wonderful to people who hear about it, but we think only those who have been parents to a new born fully understand and appreciate the miracles, misapprehensions and misunderstandings that it brings to the relationship.

Having to wake up in the middle of the nights is sometimes not quite the worst thing in the world. There are other worse things involving bickering, late-night emotions, terse replies that leave each other feeling bad until we meet again. But its also good to realise that all of above actually happens (thank god) only about 5 percent of the time. The rest of the time we're quite contented in many imperfect ways. We cook for each other burning the occasional omelette, take trips around Bangkok with our son and get caught in traffic, enjoy our evening walks showing him around the trees and birds in our condo, look for toys and shirts anticipating what we're going to get him when he grows up. When my wife comes back form work, its often with a beer for me, and I bring back steamed corn for her. When she is out working all day, I set aside my computer and take care of Rawin; we switch at night as I start work and she plays with him. Striving for imperfection or at least giving ourselves up to it has helped us forgive our imperfect selves and brought us a measure of intimacy.

Here's thanks to 2009. And looking forward to more intimacy and imperfection in 2010 and the many years ahead. Cheers!

Rawin in Chiang Mai

Rawin in Chiang Mai

In November, we took Rawin on a flight for the first time in his life. He was just 5 months old. The trip to Chiang Mai was mainly to get his tourist visa to India at the friendly Indian consul in Chiang Mai. And it was also a test run for us to check out and prepare Rawin for our slightly longer flight to India in January 2010.

the first days with a newborn

Its Saturday 20 June. 10 days after Rawin was born. Almost a week after returning from the hospital. We are back in our condo in Bangkok. Tuk’s close friends have visited us as also her family including the grandparents.

Ten days of just us with baby Rawin. Tuk and I had wanted to be with our newborn son during the first few weeks rather than go stay with the grandparents.

We said its the loveliest thing to do: just us and our baby together as we both learn hands-on how to feed, clothe and put to sleep a newborn. It would be enjoyable. How difficult could that be really? Well. It all depends.

The nights are the worst and dawn can’t come soon enough. Every sneeze, wheeze and hiccup feels like a crisis. Tensions rise between us as well but fortunately they are rare and soon pass as we look at each other or hold each other. I have to constantly remind myself that she needs all the support she can get right now, and I don’t have to be right or wrong (although my mind fights against this).

Some nights are a long descent into a nightmare of crying and irritation as he gets the occasional gas or tummy grumbles, doesn’t sleep soundly enough, fusses over his feeding, and ends up hungry and angry. I’ve never seen a baby get so annoyed or be so short-tempered as this little guy. God, what’s he going to be like when he gets older?

Some nights we think the walls have closed in as he cries and fusses and we don’t know what he wants or what we should be doing. Is it stomach ache? is he too cold? too hot? One night Tuk breaks down in tears and I have to comfort her (and also tell her that the baby book I have been consulting says that its not uncommon for mums to feel a large wave of depression about a week after birth. She smiles).

Hiccups are the worst. His whole body shakes. But we find a solution: rush him to Tuk’s breast. The hiccups vanish in about 5 minutes; for us it seems an eternity. Actually we thought the hiccups were lasting for an hour at least … until once I decided to actually time it.

Tuk’s breasts are not giving enough milk as yet. The doctor said it could sometimes take up to ten days. We could not bear the sight and sound of him crying when he’s not full, so we started on supplemental bottle formula milk since the 3rd day.

Its anguish for Tuk when he cries. Babies are supposed to cry, I say in my wise rational male voice. But his crying cuts into me as deeply.

Fortunately for us, he doesn’t cry very long or even hard. Mostly he just whinges a bit when we’re a little late with the feeding especially in the middle of the night. But he settles down once he gets his milk and then falls into sleep almost instantly after being full.

Tuk hugs him often. We also found that another great method is for me to take him all wrapped up and resting on my shoulder to walk around the room – something that he’s now gotten so used to that he demands we do it on a regular basis these days. We start writing down a time table of his feeding time to understand how often he gets hungry so that I’ll be ready with a prepared bottle in anticipation of his next cry for milk.

A few more days (and nights) pass. And it becomes just that little bit easier. We no longer fear the nights as much. We never feel tired at having to wake up around 2 and 3 am. We start to feel more comfortable with our newborn baby.

Hiccups? Tcha! Just a passing thing, he’ll be alright soon enough. Bathing? Pfft! He only dislikes (very much) when we remove his clothes, so we just do it all very smoothly and get some lukewarm water on him which he then enjoys.

Feeding? Once Tuk finishes feeding him on her breasts, he’s usually still hungry. So then its my turn to give him a top-up of baby milk as he lies on my lap. We’ve got this routine now pat even while its 3 am and we’re both half asleep. He hardly notices he’s been shifted from mum’s lap to the bottle in dad’s hand. Stomach cramps? Occasionally and its no big deal. We rub some Thai lotion on his stomach and feet. He gurgles and sleeps. We throw away the time table of his feeds and just do it by looking and listening to him.

During the day he’s started to keep awake for some hours at a time and “chats” to faces and brightly-colored objects near him and “listens’ to our voices. We begin to enjoy these moments even as we try to also do our own things, eat, bathe, talk, catch a nap, check about newborn stuff on the web. By Sunday 21st June, we’re very relaxed as we prepare for his first car ride (after being born) to take him to his grandparents. Tuk drives and I sit in the back seat holding him all wrapped up, a bag of bottles and water and milk and lotions all at hand.

We feel relief and a sense of reaching a plateau of comfort. We’ve gone through the first weeks of being parents all by ourselves. In between, we’ve had moments where our tempers have flared up or we’ve been on edge as every day seems it’s all condo and baby and stuff happening inside these walls. We’re finding new confidence in each other, becoming more trusting of each others decisions.

Having visitors helps.

We can laugh and chat and explain to others our fascination with this new life in our midst and how we’re coping (or not). My oldest brother visits and uncle and nephew get along well together: Rawin responding with gurgles as soon as my brother started talking to him.

Having someone from my family to visit and hold Rawin feels nice and it becomes a more forceful reality of me becoming a father.

One day, the entire team of Tuk's colleagues lands up, about 20 of them. They realize our living room is quite small and separate themselves neatly into two groups; all the women visit and chat with Tuk first while the men hang around outside. Afterwards the men troop in and soon the condo is full of chatter and laughter. We’re not alone. Now when he cries, we smile.

Rawin ... from Tagore

We started looking for a name for our baby when Tuk was about six months pregnant. In Thailand (and unlike India where it is actually illegal), doctors are free to tell the parents the sex of the baby upon request.

Actually we had preferred to not know and did not plan to formally request our doctor. But once while doing the ultrasound scan, he casually asked us if we wanted to know; as we paused and looked at each other in some confusion, he told us that it was a boy, and that he was very healthy. It wasn't a big deal after that. It also meant we could start searching for a name.

Our search for names extended to Thai, Sanskrit, Tamil, Urdu and even Persian. With just one scoping condition: that it should begin with the sound of "ra" - thus similar to our names Rajesh and Ratchaneewan. A month before our son was born, we had whittled our selection down to a "top 3". But we were still not totally satisfied with any of them.

Until one day Tuk and I were chatting and she asked me "why not Rawin?". We both liked it at once. It struck me as being inspired by, and also sounding like, the first part of Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), the famous poet, writer and philosopher of India whom we both liked and who was also well-known in Thailand for his song "Gitanjali" (which is translated into Thai).

Rabindranath (or also sometimes Ravindranath) is most well-known as a poet but he was much much more. He was an extraordinarily creative and versatile person bringing out sublime prose and poetry and plays as well as songs, music and painting. He was also active in the politics of his time being a reformer and critic of colonialism. His writings reflected his critical perspectives on topics ranging from Indian nationalism and identity, to caste, ethnic and religious conflicts and violence.

In the early 1930s, he lectured and wrote poems and dramas criticizing India's "abnormal caste consciousness" and the practice of untouchability. An important aspect of his life was his contribution to religious and philosophical literature through his collection of essays like "The Religion of Man" and the very beautiful and touching "Sadhana: The Realization of Life" (see excerpt below). The essays in "Toward Universal Man" also show him as a social and political theorist.

Tagore was a musician, a vocal performer as well as composer. Apart from writing eight novels and four novellas, he composed more than 2,000 songs. He developed a new style of vocal music which is called, after him, Rabindra-sangit. His "Gitanjali" or "songs offering" about divine and human love is his best-known collection for which he won the 1913 Nobel Prize in Literature (becoming Asia's first Nobel laureate).

Two of his songs are the national anthems of Bangladesh and India: Amar Shonar Bangla and Jana Gana Mana (Thou Art the Ruler of All Minds) respectively. In 1922, Santiniketan (abode of peace), the school he had founded at Bolpur in 1901, was expanded into the Visva-Bharati University with a curriculum that emphasized social reform, international unity, and rural reconstruction.

Tagore traveled widely across Europe, North and South Ameica and Southeast Asia including Japan and Indonesia. His writings after his travels in Southeast Asia were compiled in "Jatri". He visited Bangkok on his way home to India from Java and Bali in 1927. Following that visit, he wrote poems on the "Buddhist spirit of Siam" and the maitri or fraternity of the Borobudur of Java. In Bangkok, Tagore was received by the King and Queen of Thailand along with two other members of the royal family: Prince Damrong (a collector of Siamese art) and Prince Chantabun (publisher of the Siamese Tripitaka). Tagore gave lectures in Bangkok's Chulalongkorn University.

The man whose acquaintance with the world does not lead
him deeper than science leads him, will never understand what it
is that the man with the spiritual vision finds in these natural
phenomena. The water does not merely cleanse his limbs, but it
purifies his heart; for it touches his soul. The earth does not
merely hold his body, but it gladdens his mind; for its contact
is more than a physical contact--it is a living presence.

When a man does not realise his kinship with the world,
he lives in a prison-house whose walls are alien to him.
When he meets the eternal spirit in all objects,
then is he emancipated,
for then he discovers the fullest significance of the world
into which he is born; then he finds himself in perfect truth,
and his harmony with the all is established ...

When man's consciousness is restricted only to the immediate
vicinity of his human self, the deeper roots of his nature do not
find their permanent soil, his spirit is ever on the brink of
starvation, and in the place of healthful strength he substitutes
rounds of stimulation.

Then it is that man misses his inner
perspective and measures his greatness by its bulk and
not by its vital link with the infinite, judges his activity
by its movement and not by the repose of perfection--the repose
which is in the starry heavens, in the ever-flowing
rhythmic dance of creation.
From Tagore's "Sadhana: The Realization of Life",
Ch 1: The Relation of the Individual to the Universe.

Gitanjali

The sleep that flits on baby's eyes — does anybody know from where it comes?
Yes, there is a rumour that it has its dwelling
where, in the fairy village
among shadows of the forest dimly lit
with glow-worms, there hang two
timid buds of enchantment.
From there it comes to kiss baby's eyes.
The smile that flickers on baby's lips
when he sleeps — does anybody know
where it was born?
Yes, there is a rumour that a
young pale beam of a crescent moon
touched the edge of a vanishing
autumn cloud, and there the smile was first born
in the dream
of a dew-washed morning—the smile
that flickers on baby's lips when he sleeps.
The sweet, soft freshness that blooms on baby's limbs — does
anybody know where it was hidden so long?
Yes, when the mother was a young girl
it lay pervading her heart
in tender and silent mystery of love—the sweet,
soft freshness that has bloomed on
baby's limbs.
From Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore (p.61)

Mr. Daniel

Burma/Myanmar. Rangoon/Yangon. My father's birthplace in Burma/India where he lived, worked and then died. Thailand my home now and where my son was born/India my home always and where I was born and the rest of my own family lives. The slashes we bear, the dichotomies we carry around, as identities slash labels slash etc.

Today is 22nd July, my father's birthday. Last year on this same day I was standing on the former premises of the Post Office building in Thingangyun district (pronounced Thenga'jun) in Rangoon, Burma. Thingangyun district was where my father was born. The post office building was where his father worked as a post master general. Then when my father was about 14 (around 1930s), he left Burma along with his elder brother Raju and his parents.
I still don't the exact place where he was born, or the year or date when they left Burma, or even why and, even more importantly, exactly how.


I tried finding the house he lived in when I was in Burma last year but did not succeed. The closest I came to was when I visited the church (St Joseph's Catholic Church) which sits opposite the old post office, an old man who worked there perked up at the mention of my father's name. He said that a "Jun uncle" in a Tamil family who lived nearby used to often mention his childhood friend "Daniel" who had gone back to India. When I eagerly asked if I could go visit Jun uncle, the man said he'd passed away about 10 years ago. I was visiting the place at least ten years too late. The Catholic church folks were Tamil but offered scant help. When I asked about looking at birth records, the young strapping looking parish priest took me aside and waved at a rubble of bricks and stones on the grounds. "We're building this enclosure and we need money", he smiled slyly and said. What an oily Tamilian weasel for a priest, I thought.
Conjecture about the reasons for my dad's family leaving Burma draws clues from the period that they left, ca 1930. At that period, there were anti-colonial fused with anti-Indian riots in Rangoon. Rangoon during that particular period was not a particularly favorable place for Indian migrants to live and make a living in.
How then did they leave? Back in Madras, when I was young, my father used to talk about how he and his family and relatives "walked" all the way back to India: from Rangoon all the way up the north of Burma then crossing across to Calcutta and then down to the south of India. They walked. Thousands of stories certainly lie hidden behind that deceptively simple description: "we walked". With the backdrop of an incipient civil war, anti-Indian riots in a city they had come to call home, and the beginnings of the British withdrawal to fight a larger world war that was fast looming, my dad's family left Burma with whatever clothes and bags they could carry ... and walked back to their homes and relatives in South India.
More of course needs to be discovered at least so that one day I can tell my son Rawin Daniel all about his Indian grandfather Mr. Rayar Doraisamy Daniel, or R.D. Daniel as he liked to be known, who was born not that far off away this day in Thailand's neighbouring country.

Rawin

On 10th June 2009 at 1.43 pm our son was born weighing 3.1 kgs. I still relive that early morning when we drove to the Ramathibodhi hospital in the Bangkok traffic trying to be calm, chatting of this and that while trying desperately to not think of the worst - that all may be lost. Tuk had complained of pain the previous night but we both became anxious when she found herself bleeding in the morning. We rushed to our respective pregnancy books and decided to immediately leave for the hospital. My anxieties were soothed by the fact that things went so smoothly from the minute we landed at the hospital entrance. And I cannot thank enough the government hospital and its wonderful nurses and doctors.

Entering the hospital, Tuk walked to the wheelchair stand where a staff came over with a wheelchair and then we all three went to the sixth floor maternity ward. Tuk was asked to get to a bed behind a green curtain while they left the filling of forms to me and another nurse. The nurses and doctors went about their work calmly and professionally. By now my heart was beating loud enough for them to admit me into the cardiac seizure ward. Our doctor walked in after a few minutes and chatted with the others. Then he went and checked Tuk. I had one eye and ear on the closed green curtain with Tuk on the other side while helping the nurse fill in our forms, now even more openly thinking of the worst, asking whether our son was going to make it, praying, weeping inside for everything to be alright. A few minutes later our doctor (oh he’s such a cool youngish-looking dude) walked by and when I was waiting if he would say anything, he spoke to me, “the delivery is today for sure”.
So. It was going to happen. Almost 11 days in advance of the scheduled date. I hung around hoping to see Tuk. After a while, she walked out clothed in the hospital green robe. I was still trying to figure out what was going to happen when we were told that Tuk would be taken inside to the delivery room and I wasn’t allowed there. Tuk wondered aloud to me if she should just ask for a c-section and get it over with. I was almost going to say yes just so we could get this unbearable suspense and waiting over with, but I then asked her to wait on a bit. She nodded and then walked down the corridor into the rooms. The nurse told me that it was only the beginning of labour and it could take more than ten hours sometimes before they could tell me anything.
They told me to go home and rest and gave me the ward telephone number to call and find out the status. Since men were not allowed to hang around there, I had to leave but of course I couldn’t go home really not while Tuk was there waiting and god knows what was going to happen. Tuk’s friends called by now and they told me a place to have coffee and a bite to eat. I wandered off downstairs totally lost, surrounded by the hospital buzz of people and announcements trying to find somewhere to sit and collect myself. A small park and a coffee shop. Thank god. I tried breathing calmly and medidating, thinking of our life together which already seemed to have been filled with so much of everything, pain and joy and anguish and anxiety. I called Sunil who advised me to go to his place and eat and rest rather than wait around. I couldn’t decide at first, waiting around near Tuk seemed the best thing to do. But then there was nothing to do there and so I took a taxi to his place. Suddenly while inside the taxi I had the urge to fling myself out and rush back to the hospital. What was I doing? Why wasn’t I near Tuk? What if she needed me? I had to grip the seat and eventually made it to Sunil’s place without completely losing my mind. A shower and food and some conversation greatly helped. We checked with the hospital every hour. They told us to check later in the afternoon.
But by 1 pm I decided to leave Sunil’s place and come back to the hospital. I went straight to the 6th floor ward to check. I wasn’t sure what would have happened, probably nothing although it had been more than five hours. When I went to check, the nurse looked up the screen. And said, yes the delivery has happened at 1.43 pm, the boy and mother are well. Gosh. I couldnt believe it, and kept peering at the screen dumbfounded. Deo gratias as my father used to say. So this is how it feels. We have completed one part of our journey together, Tuk and I. I was wondering what to do next, hanging around trying to be inconspicuous in case they asked me to leave again. Then I turned round and suddenly Tuk was wheeled out in the bed and was near me. We held hands. We looked at each other. I smiled at her and said “congratulations mum”. Tears welled in her eyes. I’ll never forget that moment. She looked up at me, extraordinarily tender and eyes brimming with tears. I wiped her eyes and cheeks and we then smiled. I started sms’ing the world, starting with Metta her older sister and then Jackie and Masao, dear friends to both of us. I still hadn’t seen the baby our son. But that could wait. He was fine they said and had been taken to be checked and would be brought back in a few hours. For now, we were relieved and happy to just be together again.