#as indian parents do

[read-write-thrive]

part 1

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop”, while pessimistic, seemed to be a running theme in Charles Rowland’s life. It wasn’t really a phrase he heard when he was alive, to be fair, but at some point he’d come across it (probably hanging out with too many Americans, but can’t remember for sure) and it felt a little too much accurate. His dad’s come home angry again? Time to wait for the fallout. He’d gotten written up at school for not paying attention? Just a disaster waiting to happen. He goes against his best mate’s advice? There he goes, literally torn from Charles’s arms and back to hell, just as he’d said. Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but that’s the gist.

The looming anxiety of it all usually slid off of him for the minor stuff, and was otherwise bottled up and shoved far away for the heavier stuff, but regardless he didn’t let it show. Have to keep up appearances and all. He’d only had one real instance of all those emotions blowing up (and he still blames the Night Nurse for all that mess) so he thought he was doing a bang-up job keeping himself together.

That was until his dad died. Yeah, it was rough, and he ended up berating the old man on his death bed, which probably was a shitty thing to do. And yeah, he’d needed a bit of a cry afterwards. So what? Blokes cried sometimes, and he was man enough to admit to his emotions and all that. The girls had done a good job of emphasising that he (and, mostly, Edwin) needed to express their emotions more. That it was healthier to let it out than bottle it all up. Not sure if they still needed healthy habits as ghosts, but it wasn’t hurting anyone. Just a little uncomfortable.

All that to say, it felt like his friends had been treading on eggshells around him ever since his dad died. Which was infuriating, yeah, but also didn’t make sense to him. Especially after he’d already cried—did they expect him to get angry again? To blow up over a dead man? He thought he’d gotten it out of his system just fine, so getting these weird vibes was starting to stress him out more than anything. He’d resolved to bring it up on their next movie night and ask why they were acting funny—didn’t want to mess up a case, after all.

However, he didn’t get the chance before it all came crashing down on his head. Ultimately, Edwin was the messenger.

“Charles, I—“ he took an unnecessary breath, “Have you checked on your mother lately?”

His undead heart went cold, but his default smiley ways were still stuck on, “Not really, why?”

Edwin’s eyes were sad, which was never good. He didn’t emote unless it was serious, “I think you need to visit her. She’s not faring well.”

And so they went. Turns out everyone hadn’t been waiting for Charles to blow up, but rather for his mother to pass and then for him to break down all over again. Edwin had been checking on her daily since his father’s passing, deducing correctly that Charles would be too swept up in the emotions around his dad dying to remember that his mum wasn’t getting any younger.

The girls weren’t free until the evening, but they promised to stay in touch and maybe visit later if they could (particularly if they could figure out how to visit the Hospice without rousing suspicion). And so Edwin and Charles were on their own.

Charles had rushed into the room, as if running at the issue would evade the emotions of it, or as if getting there quickly would reveal it was all a lie—neither of which were true.

Instead, he was face to face with a dying woman with some resemblance to the photo on the mantle in the house he grew up in—his grandmother, or maybe his great grandmother, or some favourite aunt, he couldn’t remember anymore— hair gone fully white, pulled back into a tight bun so as to keep her curls controlled, keeping her gaunt, sleeping face exposed. Unlike that photo, this woman was in a hospital gown, tucked into sterile sheets, with a tube under her nose to help her breathe. Gone were her usually loud and ornate earrings, her bare fingernails stained from years of colour. There was a singular blanket laid across her lap, on top of the sheets, that almost looked more familiar than the woman it covered. It was her, but apparently he hadn’t stopped to just look at her any time recently, if ever. It felt too much like looking at a ghost, as ironic as that felt.

She was awake, but halfway to dozing. There was someone at her side, adjusting the blanket and murmuring reassurances in what was definitely Punjabi. It had been so long since he’d heard it, added to having never properly learned anything besides English under the threat of his father, that he couldn’t make out the words. That realisation left a stinging feeling in his chest.

“A relation of yours?” Edwin asked at a whisper, coming up to stand beside Charles, almost entirely copying his position from that fateful hospital room. It didn’t seem as if either of the room’s living occupants had noticed them.

Charles blindly reached for Edwin’s hand for comfort, not looking away from the scene in front of him and matching his partner’s volume, “No idea. Don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

Edwin hummed, “Perhaps a little too young to have met you. Or someone your mother reconnected with recently—“

“I’m not really in the mood for deductions, love.” Charles said, not unkindly. Everything felt too fragile to be picked apart like that.

“Right. Apologies.” Edwin squeezed his hand and went quiet.

Charles squeezed his hand back in forgiveness, joining in the silence. He kept going back to what the stranger was saying, familiar consonants both soothing and devastating. What kind of a son was he, failing to comfort his dying mother, unable to speak her mother tongue, a stranger to his relatives? His tears were thankfully silent.

It took much longer for his mother to see them than his father. Several days passed, with the mystery relative coming and going more days than not, and the usual nurses and caregivers administering various care. Over time, the boys (the girls couldn’t figure out how to enter the space, but were supportive from their distance) had learned that the stranger’s name was Sangeeta, and she was a niece of his mother’s who’d noticed her steady decline and was the one to take her to hospital and then to hospice care. Charles’s mother had apparently stopped taking care of herself after her husband’s death, and she had refused other care, so at this point all they could do was make her comfortable. Charles spent a whole morning ranting to Edwin about it, how unfair it was that her life was so tied up in his asshole father’s that she wasn’t even trying to live after he was gone. Edwin, the deeply kind person he was, had let Charles rant until he ran out of steam, then gently pointed out that she’d been under the thumb of his father for far longer than Charles was, and that she’d now had to mourn her husband and her only child, which presumably takes a toll. Charles had started crying before Edwin had even finished talking, and Edwin had held him close on the plush sofa for the rest of the day.

It was hard to tell if it was a comfort or not when she finally saw them, but Charles decided that wasn’t important to think about right now, if ever. Right now, his mother could see him for the first time in forty years, and they didn’t know for how much longer. And yet, with all this time to prepare, he still found himself speechless when the time finally came.

“Mere laal,” She beat him to the punch, eyes glazed over but clearly locked on Charles, “I am glad to see you again, beta. It’s been so long.”

Charles let out a shakey breath, “Hi, mum. It’s—well— it’s been longer for you. I’ve visited a few times, over the years.”

She reached out a sinewy hand on a bone-thin arm, and Charles flew to the seat by her side, keeping his focus to make sure his hand stayed solid in her grasp. He vaguely noticed Edwin taking the seat beside him.

“Such a handsome boy. You were so young.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Charles, all anxious energy and nerves, tears of his own threatening to spill, was quick to respond, “It’s alright, mum, I’m alright. No need to cry over me.”

She huffed, “Nonsense. You were the light of my life. Who else should I cry over?”

They were both crying at this point, tears streaming as they sniffled in turns. Edwin laid a careful hand on Charles’s back in a show of comfort.

However, that seemed to give Charles an idea, “No, really mum, it’s okay! See the bloke next to me? His name’s Edwin, and he’s been by my side all these years! He’s the one who first found me, and we’ve been helping people ever since. It’s been aces. Not sad one bit.”

Edwin stiffened at the mention, then all but froze when her eyes turned to him. He knew he looked night and day from Charles, and if he started talking she was bound to find him as abrasive as everyone always did, so why had Charles pointed him out!? If ghosts could sweat, Edwin would be drowning in his nerves.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long moment before she broke the silence, “He’s been good to you? Not like those other boys.”

Edwin wasn’t sure what to do with that, but thankfully Charles was quick on the uptake, “Not like them at all. He’s— he’s the best, mum. None of those tossers could even compare.”

“Because the boys— the ones who—“

Charles gripped her hand, “I know, I know. He’s a genuinely good person, Edwin. I was bad at picking friends in life, but thankfully I chose well with this one.”

His attempt at joking was overlooked completely by her, “Those boys, how could they do that? I knew their families, John Parish’s mother went to your funeral… Such cruel boys…”

“I’m alright, mum, I’m okay.” Charles kept going, smiling even as the tears continued, “It’s all in the past.”

“I should’ve fought harder for you… kept you close… mere laal, taken from me…” She was sobbing, her whole frame shaking with hiccoughs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles took a steadying breath, “You know I couldn’t have stayed in that house, mum. And no one could’ve known those lads would go that far…”

Her sobs were worse for a moment, then stilled suddenly as she fought for oxygen. She coughed weakly.

At that, Charles’s crying intensified, despite all he did to keep himself together. He could tell. He knew what was coming. It was still devastating to see. Edwin pulled him in for a proper side hug, taking care not to jostle his grip on his mum.

This did not go unnoticed, and the dying woman suddenly smiled, as if the devastation was forgotten with the oxygen. She looked back to her son, “I am glad you have been happy, beta. You deserved happiness.”

“I’m happy, I’ve been so happy mum, I promise,” Charles tried to calm himself down, stuck in his reassuring her.

“Mere laal, light of my life, darling boy,” She breathed with difficulty, smile dropping, “Can you forgive me? I failed you…”

Charles’s frame shook with his vigorous nodding, “I forgive you, mum, you did the best you could, I love you so much—“

Her weak smile returned, glinting in the lamplight of the evening room, “Thank you, beta. You were too good for me, for this world…”

“All because of you, I swear it, all thanks to you—“

“Charles.”

“I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son, I’m could’ve been better, gotten you out of that house—“

“Charles, darling.”

“You deserved better, I love you, I forgive you—“

“My love, the light—“

Edwin was right, a deep blue light had filled the space, illuminating the still body of his mother. Her face was pulled into a slight smile, eyes closed, as if she was having a pleasant dream, even as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

“No, no I’m not ready—“ Charles immediately started to protest, gripping onto her hand like a lifeline.

“Charles—“

“I only just got to see her! She only just got free of him! No, no, I won’t—“

Edwin gently but solidly grabbed under Charles’s arms, “I’m sorry my love but we should go—“

Charles was nothing but hysterics by this point, head thudding onto the sheets for a moment before Edwin fully pulled him away. He said more, but Charles was too overwhelmed to process it properly, buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes making him feel alive in all the worst ways. Maybe it was just the first time he had cried this hard in his afterlife, or maybe being this close to an active death did something to their physiology—

Everything was a blur as they returned to the flat, Edwin all but carrying him through the mirror so that he wouldn’t get lost on the way. They collapsed onto the sofa, extra large cushions taken up by their ghostly presences. The girls were already there, and joined into the cuddle pile without another word (or perhaps with a few, Charles still wasn’t all there yet). Edwin jostled them all slightly to better position everyone before settling in again, making sure Charles was properly surrounded.

Charles sobbed for a while longer. He wasn’t quite sure for how long, or what day it was, or if he was bothering his friends by taking up their time and space like this. His devastation had seemed to take over his entire being. But, when he did breathe a little easier, when he was finally able to sit up, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. His mom was dead, yes, but so was he, and dying had granted them both freedom from that man, from that house, from the cruelties of the world. And in his death he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were there for him when he needed them and would still be there for him tomorrow, and the next, and the next. The other shoe had dropped, and it certainly hurt, but thankfully he had people around him to help him through it. He was truly lucky to have them.

~

hope you enjoyed this impromptu series exploring Charles and his parents and grief and loss and all those lovely things. this was inspired by the complicated emotions I have / had after my grandparents passing, and I heavily encourage you to do something similar if you’re ever struggling with these big emotions—therapists and such will say that journaling is where it’s at, but sometimes it’s easier to project onto fictional characters and that’s ok !!! and, just to drive the point home, I want to reiterate that you are loved, and there are people around you who are there to support you, I promise ❤️

also, just to make it abundantly clear, I’m a v white midwestern american and as such have vvv limited knowledge of cultural aspects of Charles’s mom—I did research and tried my best, but if I screwed anything up PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!!! same goes for Britishisms ig but mostly looking for feedback on her Punjabi and her various cultural elements :)

[cherries-in-wine]

Getting in trouble for a guy is so not worth it, getting in trouble with the girls and then manipulating your way out of punishment is so worth it

[wastingawayinmyroom]

reread disintegration, finished the currently posted chapters of cmu, and reread the second half of choices in one day.

the smut and angst are literally mixing in my brain like a blender 😭😭😭

anw, here’s my thoughts of cmu!!!!

CHEEESE TOASTIES

sir you get a date with a guy and you take him to fucking ITALY. BECAUSE HE SAID HE LIKED ITALIAN FOOD???

crazy but damn I need a sugar daddy now

regulus is an icon

the James Wins thing has me screaming istg

STOCKINGS KINKKKK (almost the same level of accurate as the knife kink)

”stroke your ego”??? girly more like stroking his di-

dude. the gender representation. this was actually wonderful to read abt, like gender-fluid reg is so underrated. give my pookie some love y’all!!!!

but fr his struggle with gender is something I relate with on an atomic level

the smut….

look ik somebody’s gonna be like “jia!!! you’re a minor!!!”

but if y’all can write masterpieces with minors doing stuff and write about minors reading that same type of stuff, then i can read about that stuff

anw GAHD DAYUM

THAT WAS HOTTTT

regulus in denial about the praise kink 🤭

”inappropriate use of champagne” “me and the limos are at it again” damagecontrol your tags will kill me

after the angst kills me ofc

that was WILD

can’t wait for puerta vellarta!!! or whatever it’s called!!!

ALSO THE THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS MENTION????

MICAH NEMEREVER OH MY GODDDD

IK ITS NOT THAT IMPORTANT BUT AKAHKWHWI

MY FAV BOOK

IN MY FAV FIC

SBAJBAJA

LILY EVANS HAS TASTEEEEE

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

the amount of effort that goes into figuring out what to cook and eat every day is RIDICULOUS. i used to think people were so weird and boring for eating the same thing every single day but it truly does make life so much easier

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

whenever i refer to myself as Asian, in my head, i am spiting that one idiot who once "corrected" me for calling myself that

[quartermoonconvergence]

gotta be honest here if u rationalise max’s parent characterisation as “indians who don’t know english” i do not want u here

[solqrays]

just had the horrifying realisation that i might be a gold jewelery person rather than a silver jewelery person . . .

[bibleofficial]

went to the beach w kp & 4 other indian friends & 3 of us had NEVER surfed before girl WHEW it’s SO fun literally only 20quid to rent a wetsuit & board & i fucking smashed my toes on the sand so much, but also we 1) got the wrong tickets so we got off 1 stop early 2) went to find a bus & the bus that was supposed to be 15 min turned into an HOUR 3) on our way to find a bus back everyone’s phones are dying or dead bc it took us 3hrs longer to get there, cigarettes are out 4) all of the shops in town are closed & the town seems to have ONLY a tesco extra & 1 off license that sells a PACK FOR 15.65 A PACK WHICH IS FUCKING CRIMINAL ITS CHEAPER TO BUY IT FROM TESCO ARE U INSANE 5) the bus back to the other town kept skipping us bc the bus stop wasn’t the ACTUAL bus stop - i had 1 bowl since literally 11a & we got back at fucking 11p 😭😭😭

[anabsoluteagathokakological]

"500 lazy people must've died for you to be born." -my lovely mother

[emeraldgreaves]

turns out meeting people you work with is really good for making you hate job things a little bit less

[i-wanna-b-yours]

maybe i'll never amount to nothing 🥲👍

[sixpigeonz]

.

[nandiniivyas]

Not me doing everything that my parents not want me to do and then wondering why do they keep on scolding me all the time but I love that me studying well covers up every shit I do, which eventually makes me do more fucked up shit because ik studies are gonna cover it up so.

[sudamaniparva]

this is a weird entry, but i think Mon Mothma and her daughter Leida are the best metaphor for the indian mainland vs diaspora children divide. for this metaphor to work, i'll be simplifying quite a bit and i know that all people are not like this.

Mainlanders tend to be a lot like Mon Mothma. there's an awareness for the horrors committed by the culture, all the unsavory aspects are alive and well. while the good of the culture is present, it's shadowed by the knowledge that real human abuses are being perpetrated. your understanding of culture is a lot more balanced, and people who chose to support it mostly do so from a reformist point of view.

diaspora children act a lot like Mon Mothma's daughter. diaspora tend to be isolated and mocked for their beliefs, and just generally are isolated from the culture. the loneliness that comes from that causes people to double down on their beliefs, and cling to everything. the bad is brushed aside as you fight against the pressure to assimilate to the dominant hegemony. as a result, diaspora do often have more conservative points of view about the native culture.

and thus, the clash is born.

[heatwa-ves]

to Me klav cuts his hair and lets the dye grow out and stops painting his nails post aa4. Unfortunately the writers suck ass so they didn't do anything like that. Do they even address his character again I think he's in aa5 but prob not much . Well I wouldn't know and I'm choosing to live in my beautiful headcanon world. Also he's indian 🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳🇮🇳

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

I made a post the other day that mentioned IEPs. So I wanted to make a post as someone who was worked for the american school system, and explain IEPs versus 504s. I double checked by looking online just to make sure I wasn't spreading misinformation. (Or just the way my severely underfunded county did things, bc they cut corners) And I found this site above that gives a great break down. It offers a pdf with a chart that compares the two. There is a video that explains it as well. There's also video, a podcast, and the transcription available here . That link also has a few links to other resources.

I'm going add a quick summary of the most important details below regarding IEPs vs 504s. I'm also to going to add a link for parents/guardians who either don't speak/have limited English. (Unfortunately the pdf is in English, but you could probably put it through a one of online translators and the gist of what it saying.)

Most important differences between an IEP and a 504:

IEP: Is always written. Includes related services and specially designed instruction.

Generally much more in depth.

Requires any changes made to the IEP are given to parents/guardians in writing before the IEP team meets and makes any changes. You are automatically part of your child's IEP team. You have to right to attend these meetings. They will send a letter, by snail mail, telling you of a time and date they would like to meet. (If your kid has a good teacher, they will call and try to find a date that works for you. If not, you can contact the school and request a different day. Most schools are willing to be accommodating.)

Written consent from parents/guardians is required before evaluation and before the IEP is put into affect. HOWEVER, the student has to fall under one the 13 disability categories.

Typically includes modifications of the what the student is expected to know and learn. (For example, if the student has an intellectual disability, their learning goals will be established by the IEP team.)

This doesn't mean the student will not be presented with general education grade level concepts, just that they will be modified to meet the student's capability.

IEPs have annual goals that are measurable. These goals are made by the IEP team, including parents/guardians. (Aka, there is a lot of progress monitoring.)

Usually teachers will send out a progress report every two weeks. However, most teachers send out less formal methods of progress monitoring weekly or daily. Sometimes it's just a chart in a file folder where the teacher will jot a note of anything that the student was doing well with, or anything the were struggling on. Sometimes it's their complete work for the week sent home, excluding anything the teacher is keeping for records.

An IEP team has to include at least one gen ed teacher, one special education teacher (special education is usually called EC these days) a school psychologist/specialist, a district representative, and the parent/guardian of the student.

An IEP team is required to meet at least once a year, and the student is reevaluated at least once every three years. (Typically they are reevaluated and deemed still in need of an IEP. Though there are cases when students (mostly in high school) have received enough support that they no longer feel the need an IEP)

An IEP is a legal agreement. You have the right to sue the hell out of the school system if they fail to meet it.

504s:

Doesn't include specially designed instruction. Is meant to help student remain in general education.

Doesn't have to be a written document. (Though typically most schools do write documents. Bc otherwise they would not be able to keep track of what students need, bc there are so many).

Usually provides accomadations/assistive technology, but not related services of modifications. (Though sometimes these are also provided, especially if a student fails to qualify for an IEP, but still needs services and/or modifications)

Requires a student have a disability that impacts their education

Much easier to obtain than an IEP bc less requirements

No specific set of rules of who is on the student's plan team. Generally includes the parents/guardians, the student's general education teacher, (in the event the student has multiple teachers, the teacher will probably be their 'homeroom' teacher, and/or the teacher(s) of whatever subject/area your student is struggling in) and someone from administration, such as the principal or assistant/vice principal. Hopefully also someone from EC who has been trained to teach students with exceptional needs.

Parent/guardian consent is needed to evaluate the child, but this consent does not have to be written. (Many schools will still send some sort of consent form, bc the school system believes in documenting everything.)

The school has to tell you of any big changes to the plan, but they do not require your consent before starting them. Generally you'll be sent a letter of those changes in the mail. (If your students team is good at their job, they'll contact you before. Like, the teacher will call and say we are planning on starting x thing on y date, or email you if that's your preferred method of contact.)

504s don't track annual progress or create annual goals. (Though usually teachers will keep their own form of progress monitoring, bc a student with a 504 could be reevaluated and found they meet the criteria of an IEP. For that reason, many schools treat 504s as if they IEPs. Some schools suck though.)

For parents/guardians with limited or no English language known.

Most importantly, if you have a language barrier, your school must provide a competent translator/interpreter. They should NOT expect your child to work as translator for you.

And there is a lot of times where the translator isn't available that teachers will ask a bilingual staff member to translate for them. How you feel about that is up to you. A lot of parents don't mind in my area, bc we are severely understaffed when it comes to translators, and they want a quick response. If it's something you absolutely don't want, be sure to tell the school. You don't have to do so verbally; send a letter in your language stating your wishes. The school will find someone to interpret it. Keep a back-up copy for yourself.

Just as a general rule to all parents/guardians, keep documentation of everything the school sends you. You never know when you may need it.