Beauty in the times of recession

The wise would say that beauty knows no religion, but my feeble argument is that beauty knows no recession. And the beauty industry is booming, irrespective of the economic downturn. We,the women,are keeping it alive and pumping!!

The streamlined eyebrows,the hairless upper-lip,the bleached sideburns,the smooth and waxed arms and legs,the glowing massaged and creamed faces,the styled hair are as essential to women as roti-kapda-makaan. And since there’s much ado about the bread-and-butter, we all do not care about the butter anymore as it is lethal for the waistline. Plain bread will suffice for us and the butter-kitty goes towards our essential beauty needs.

Since I’m home these days, I just thought of doing something to pamper myself. So I decided to go for a facial ;the thought of somebody slathering my face with cream and massaging it in ,was heavenly and appealing. And I had Kiran’s number who is well within my drivable radius.She is the neighborhood beautician,an Indian lady who has converted the smaller room of her apartment into a beauty parlor.

So,I called her up to practically tell her that I would drop in around 11 or 12 for a facial. It sounded easy and extremely doable.I mean, it was a Thursday morning, not a weekend and considering here only clientele is the bhartiya naaris in the vicinity, how busy could she be!

She doesn’t even run an organized business. There’s no sign outside her place which announces her business. She is not listed in the yellow pages. She has no pamphlets or fliers circulating in the JB Dollar stretcher envelope or the weekend Columbus Dispatch. All her business is only through word-of-mouth,the sisterly Chinese whisper which results in telephone number exchanges.

Still, this lady tells me with profuse apology that she is all booked till the evening.This was one woman who knew how to keep her business afloat in times of recession and that too when her customers are the penny-pinching Indian women.She must be doing something right to become a much yapped-about darling of the fastidious ,the particular and the unforgiving ladies!And all the more I want to experience it myself.

And once again, it is proved that the only means of communication that works with us women,is the word-of-mouth.Its range is widespread and results guaranteed.The viewership of any movie,the success of any grocery store or an on-going deal,the attendance at an event,depends on whether the girlfriends approved it or shunned it.

Its been a decade!

Yes, we completed 10 years of marriage this July!

And since then any incident big or small, whatever happens,I find myself attributing to the 10 years.

That day, while chopping tomatoes, I chopped my finger as well. You see, such accidents don’t occur everyday. And this cut was a little big because holding my finger under running water didn’t stop the blood.

So I went to him for a remedy. He ordered Ishaan to get a band-aid because Ishaan is the official keeper of band-aids in the family as he buys a band-aid packet each time we go to Drug-Mart. So we have band-aids of all shapes and sizes and designs- ultra-strips, wash-proof, spider-man, Scooby-doo, you name it!

After Ishaan fetched the band-aid with enthusiasm, P put it on my finger.
And he goes –‘You’re all set, now be careful!’
What I expected –‘Okay, now you leave the rest of the chopping, I’ll do it.’
Now, I know what to expect.
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Me: I am gaining weight; I’m noticing some flab around my middle, do you?
P: Yes, I’ve noticed it too.
Me: Okay, so what clothes make me look fat?
P: All of them.
---------------------------------

That morning he complained he was sleepy, so I asked him what time he slept last night.
I remembered he was not in when I slept.
P: I came upstairs around 11.
Me: So I slept before that.
P: Yeah, you were snoring away!
Me: I don’t snore.
P: Yes, you do and that too loud.
----------------------------------

My dancing star

Look at her - tooting her own horn,blowing her own trumpet, chiming her own bell!Thats what I would I have said with utmost conviction;had I read a post about someone writing about her own child's performance.

But here I am,wearing the immodest woman's cap and the doting mom's shoes, and pleading guilty!

Yesterday was Ishaan's first stage performance and that too it was a dance performance.Both of us parents are born with crooked,heavy feet made of lead which refuse to move to the rhythm.We are pathetic dancers, so having inherited our talentless genes,I never expected Ishaan to take any interest in dance.But we were in for a surprise!

A dear friend who is an excellent dancer,suggested that we put up a performance by our kids at the India festival.She took the ownership and the onus to teach them the dance steps.She patiently and painstakingly coached them,coaxed them and cajoled them into giving this flawless performance.Thanks to you Shalini,that we came to know that Ishaan has an inclination towards performing on stage, as he exclaimed -'Our dance was too short, I wanted to keep going on and on at the stage!'

Its rightly said that kids are nothing but clay;it just takes the right hands to mould them.

And I watched this performance from backstage, but since then I've watched this video multiple times and it makes my heart swell with pride and it takes my breath away as my handsome dude grooves to :'Bachna ae haseeno,lo main aa gaya.'

Ishaan is the guy in the center.

Don’t give her any grass

Ishaan’s school reopened this week.
Since the kids in each grade are shuffled each year and assigned different homerooms, it’s always an excitement to know his new classmates and to find out whether any kids from his daycare or the neighborhood or the last classroom landed in the same classroom.

When he got home, dad wanted to know whether there was any familiar face in his homeroom. This little conversation was going on between dad and son.

Dad: So, Ishaan are there any kids from your last classroom?
Ishaan: Yes, there’s this Indian girl from my last class.
Dad: So, was she all excited to see you again in her class.
Ishaan: No, she was like –Ishaan is in my class, that’s okay.
Dad: Did she say that to you?
Ishaan: No, but I know she was thinking this!
Dad: Hmm, you know, girls are like that, but don’t worry, you just don’t giver her any ghaans (grass)
Ishaan: What why should I not give her any grass.
Actually, I want to, so that she eats it and gets sick.
Dad (Laughing uncontrollably): Nahin, tu bas use bilkul ghaans mat daal.
Ishaan (frustrated now): Why Papa, what’s with the grass?
Ishaan: Papa…..what??
Dad could not answer because he was laughing uncontrollably and looked as if he would burst any moment with some laughing gas that he was inhaling.
So, I butted in at that point.
Me: Ishaan that is a saying in Hindi, which means don’t pay the least attention to her.
Ishaan: Okay, I got it.

I’m not a hermit

When P goes out of town for work, a feeling of calm and freedom descends on me.
People are surprised that I don’t miss him and I myself ask this question to myself-is something wrong with me, am I a hermit, a recluse who severs all ties and lives on his/her own.

But no, I am not!I am a person who loves company but I am also a person who enjoys being alone with myself, once in a while.
And this time, while he was gone, I tried to evaluate this light-heartedness I feel when he’s away, starting from morning till night:

1. I wake up by the sound of my own alarm and not to the shriek of his alarm which goes off 30 mins before mine, but is terribly ignored by the master, and it keeps on shouting again every 10 mins, only to fall on deaf ears.

2. I can get dressed with the bath to myself,without his huge frame looming all over the place.

3. After I step down after getting ready, its his judgment again – "Are you going to work like this?" One of the two-either I am inappropriately dressed according to his conservative standards or under dressed sometimes –"Did you shower already? Did you sleep in these clothes?"

Sometimes, this leads me to go change again, while muttering all nasty things.And all this makes me no pativrata by any standards.Its not that I listen to everything he says, but I choose to pick my battles, rather than be foolish to pick any bait.

4. I have to pour coffee in one cup, rather than two, the second one filling it up with more sugar than coffee.

5. After leaving work, I know I have to pick up Ishaan and don’t have to wait for the almost regular call –"I’m getting late, I’m stuck in traffic, can you pick him up?"

6. Either I cook or not in evening, is entirely,my choice.I don’t have to think of a hungry person who demonstrates robotic characteristics like lifting the covers off the pots and pans on the stove,soon as he enters home.

7. After dinner I have time to teach Ishaan or play with him because kitchen clean-up, wind-up is almost nothing. Can't believe my dishwasher isn’t stacked for more than 2 days, while when he’s home, its just overflowing each day.

8. I can go to bed anytime I want without being chided for sleeping while its still daylight. So I don’t end up having to watch a movie or just anything on TV,until I do my well-practiced yawn-and-drown act.

9.While watching TV, I don’t have to dread the moment he says- "You want to drink tea/coffee?"
You see, here, the pronoun used is ‘You’ not ‘I’, so all the coffee thing is for You and hence,You makes coffee for Us.
But I know that bait too well to bite it.

10.When I finally get to read my book, I’m not interrupted by what Obama’s doing because mostly,he’s reading some magazine about politics and has to speak aloud about what is right and wrong and why.

11.But all being too easy and perfect I cant fall drift off to sleep – because any scary/crime movie I’ve ever watched or anything to the effect I’ve read, just captures my mind. Any tiny little sound, be it the fan or the general contraction/expansion of the walls, spooks me and has my antennae up.

And I have to take an anti-allergy tablet which causes drowsiness to finally fall asleep.

After this post, I'm pretty sure that I’ll have to go anonymous.

The summer of 2009

When we get something we so wanted,
Why do we have to take it for granted?

We are an utterly ungrateful species!!The value of things we acquire diminishes, soon as we acquire them; no matter if it’s a tangible thing like a TV, a car, a dress, shoes, a cellphone or the more abstract ones like love, care, friendship, air, season.

Speaking of season- Thanks to where we are on the globe, we hardly get about 3 months of real summer. While breathing out vapors on cold, grey, dreary days of winter, the thought of sunny and warm days itself felt so appealing and I vowed to enjoy each warm day as much as possible.

I can step outside without getting bundled up in a coat, gloves, scarf and shoes.Since the days are so long with the sun not setting before 9 each day, I would do this and that but alas, before I overcame the inertia, the summer is ready to bid goodbye.

Its mid-August - with schools about to re-open, the fall season is just days apart. The greenery of the trees is to be rudely replaced by the dry skeletal braches.The color of flowers is to be replaced with the white of the snow which turns pale grey as it lies there without even melting.


The thought of the chilling wind gives me the shivers and the depression and how I wish I could have packed in a little more fun, while there was sun.

Here's taking stock of the situation and the ludicrous plans I had in mind:

--I’ll buy a bicycle this summer and pedal everyday.
Not Done
--I’ll plant tomatoes and dhaniya and pudina and hari mirch in the garden.
Not Done
--I’ll surely take swim lessons this summer.
Not Done
--I’ll walk from the parking lot to the office building instead of taking the shuttle bus.
Not Done
--We’ll cook and take lunch out to a park to eat.
Not Done
--We’ll eat a lot of salads and fruit for dinner.
Not Done
--We’ll take Ishaan to the pool every weekend.
Not Done
--We’ll do a lot of drivable day trips to nearby places.
Not Done
--I’ll sit outside in the porch with a cup of coffee and read a book on Saturday afternoons.
Not Done

--We’ll take Ishaan out to play or ride his bicycle everyday.
SOMEWHAT DONE
--We’ll go for walks everyday.
SOMEWHAT DONE
--We’ll grill dinner and eat sitting outside once or twice a week.
SOMEWHAT DONE
--I'll set the curd for dinner everyday at home.
SOMEWHAT DONE
--We’ll take Ishaan out to play or ride his bicycle everyday.
SOMEWHAT DONE

--We’ll throw a party in our backyard.
DONE
--I’ll teach Ishaan to read hindi.
DONE
--We'll teach Ishaan to ride his bicycle without training wheels.
DONE
--We'll go on a vacation for at least a week.
DONE

Didn’t make enough hay when there was sunshine
Doesn’t do any good now to weep,wail and whine!!

Interesting Thought

I am reading this book of short stories The Thing Around Your Neck
By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.The author is a Nigerian writer and writes about America as seen through the eyes of an immigrant.
This was an interesting excerpt from the book:

America is a strange place: where rich people are thin and poor people are fat, where mall food courts offer a surfeit of food and an absence of dignity, where the same items cost one price one day and half that price the next.

Daal-Chawal ki kasam

Man is a creature of habit.
And I am a slave to habit.
We were off vacationing in California for about 9 days, eating all kinds of food – Indian, Mexican, Italian, and American. Yes, we did eat at Indian restaurants but we used to order Chicken Tikka Masala and Palak Paneer etc, which is all fancy delicacies.But the linings of the mouth and tummy were yearning for plain yellow arhar-daal and steaming hot rice.

And this craving grew each day and while on the return flight, I was happy to reach home, so I can eat my daal-chawal. And soon as I entered home, I rushed to the kitchen to put arhar daal in the pressure cooker with a pinch of haldi and whole red chillies and put the rice in the microwave. In the background, I could hear P’s lame cries to help him get the luggage inside, but that’s normal and I quickly peeled and chopped a couple of garlic cloves for the baghaar.Yes,that’s the way mom cooks it, baghaar with ghee and garlic. And the consistency is important too. It should not be so watery that you can’t make out the grains of daal and should be fluid enough to blend with the rice. NO! this is not a recipe blog…so STOP!!

Now, a little about our eating habits. There is a very thin line between loving food and adoring it. So, I can be classified as a food-lover but P is the one who adores food and treats it with profound reverence. When we sit down to eat, I am so lustily hungry that I hastily devour food and am done in less that 5 mins. But P first adjusts the salt n pepper, then reaches out for accompaniments like dahi and achaar and then he eats slowly, enjoying and savoring each morsel. Often times, at weekends, just to add a touch of romance, he lights a candle and puts in a DVD before eating, so we can enjoy a dinner-and-movie at home. But the hungry and impatient me –by the time, he searches the disk and puts in the player; I am about 3/4ths done!So much for a romantic dinner!!

Also, I believe that rice is supposed to be eaten so hot that it burns your fingers. I remember when we sat down to eat with my sis and bro-in-law in the early days, the BIL stared at us sisters for a minute, and said:
Tum behnein to jalte hue chawal khati ho!

But that day when I sat down to eat daal-chaawal after 10 days; I felt a reverence for it. So, I ate one plateful with greed and hastiness and then I stopped. I paused to soak in the aroma and goodness of the rice and to let my innards warm by the hot meal. And then I resumed eating, paying attention to each bite and thanking God for the comfort food.

Gone,baby gone.....

I had earlier wriiten about our family attachment to P’s moustache:
Moustache is family property
But he had been nurturing and sustaining this itch to wipe it off since I don’t know when.He kept on saying that he’s going to shave it off on our 10th anniversary, thus trying to be a new person, so that I forget all that I hold against him and we can eventually live happily ever after.But I didn’t know he was serious until the day the lightning struck!

This was the first morning of our vacation. As I stepped out of the bath, I saw Ishaan crying, his face wet with tears and his finger pointing towards dad’s face.I thought he had got into some trouble with dad, but then I looked at what he was pointing to - and Oh my God, what a shock it was to see his face sans the moustache.
Why did you not warn me, why didnt you ask me?His answer was that I would never have let that happen if I had been forewarned.

And I started crying too because it was like he had lost a part of his body, like a finger or a limb…he looked so incomplete and amputated.This was someone alien,this was not the person I was living with for the last 10 years,day in and day out.He has been with the moonch ever since I first saw him and that was 12 years ago!And this was not what I signed up for!That part between his nose and his lip was always covered under the moonch and was so unknown. It looked so bare and so exposed and so distinct as it was smoother and lighter in color,being protected from the harshness of the sun and the chill always.

Every time I looked up at him, I felt so genuinely sad and angry.It was a trauma for both me and Ishaan and that too inflicted upon us, without any rhyme or reason,just to address a whim. This was just hair,but I cant imagine the trauma of family of soldiers/accident victims who lose their limbs,eyes and have to live with it for the rest of their lives..

Its been about 10 days now and his moustache is growing back fast and there’s already a thin black line there in the vacant spot, which gives us some solace.And back home,he looked at himself in the mirror 10 times before heading off to work and I convinced him its okay now.But then he calls me from work that all are saying good things about his new look and even saying that he’s looking 10 years younger...Crazy People!!

So it looks like that what is gone is gone forever, sob, sob….

Happy Birthday,son

I can master any weapon, give me a gun,
But Lord I can’t handle a son under the sun.
And that infant, toddler, now turning seven,
Thank You dear God Almighty, thanks Heaven.

The contents were never labeled on the box,
At times-Meek as a kitten & then sly as a fox.
Can hurt us by distant looks and cold shrugs,
Again then floods us with kisses & warm hugs.

Doesn’t listen at all, tests my miniscule patience,
Other times, a picture of obedience and penance.
Inane, absurd but again sensitive and sagacious,
That’s what makes our jewel so very precious.

Mostly pure, free-flowing love, as if from a faucet,
That’s what we perennially get from our little cosset.
Hope it doesn’t change, as his chrysalis, he breaks,
Each moment, my soul prays and my heart aches.

Power rangers, star war knights, Spiderman,
Are immediate members of his growing clan.
His latest and incessant passion is sports,
Hopes to be cheered by sundry and cohorts.

Times I doubt his ability, his skill, his perseverance,
Shame on me, I could’ve myself been up on clearance.
No studies today he says- come what may, rain or shine,
Next moment- Mom, isn’t eleven times nine ninety nine?

Leaves every scrap of paper scribbled and dirty,
Don’t mind it bcoz mom, he always draws pretty.
‘Pls don’t tell dad’, he tells me with a frown,
But ‘Oh I miss Dad’ soon as he is out of town.

Afraid of thunder, scared of the tiniest insect,
Unaware that one day frogs he has to dissect.
Voice starts to quiver and down come the dreaded ready tears,
Separation from home (college, hostel) is among his worst fears.

Every mom thinks her child is the one,
And I, for sure, claim to be no exception.
Every dad wants his child to do him proud,
And stand out shining in a teeming crowd.

The galaxy will forever flaunt its celestial glow,
But YOU son; will be the lone star of our show!!

My pet aversions

He/she, you, they - almost everyone is being tagged…how come nobody tagged me?
Well, for tagging someone, you have to think of someone, sigh… and I am so happy that my blogger friend Reflections thought about me and wants to know more about me.

This TAG is for 10 things that emotionally tax me and I’m calling it ‘My Pet Aversions’.
I dont know about the exact precedence of the list below, but these definitely sap me out:

1.Injustice to women: I hate men who treat women like lesser beings and also in many cases, like doormats. Some call me a feminist and so I am.

2.Show Off – This is something that makes me cringe. I have always been a firm believer of: ‘Substance over form’. And though I agree that some form is mandatory to hold the substance but vain form with no substance is like empty beautifully-wrapped Christmas gifts adorning a Christmas tree at a corporate party.

3.Breaking promises: I hate breaking promises and when someone does that to me. I believe in – do what you say or don’t say it. Keeping your word even in the smallest things speaks volumes of your character.

4.Unsolicited Advice: Some people designate themselves the counselors of all humanity and want to ram down their opinion down your throat. Its difficult for them to understand that – I choose to be what I am.

5.Sugar-coating the neem: I hate glib and smooth talkers who make it difficult to discern the venom under the honey. I believe in calling a spade a spade, because that’s what it is. And sometimes, if you dig your teeth inside the sugar-coating, the stark bitterness makes you gag your guts out.

6.Manipulating Others: Some people spend better parts of their day in analyzing how they can take advantage of others. And they twist your arm without you even knowing it and its too late to slip away ;-)

7.Letting out secrets: You trust somebody with a secret and they let the feathers out in the air to be blown everywhere. This is so hurtful and disrespectful.

8.Doing laundry in the public: You need to share your woes, that’s understandable and that’s human but I don’t agree with washing dirty linen in public, in front of people you hardly know!

9.Pretence: I believe people who try to be what they are not suffer from low self-esteem. Every individual is precious and different and one must respect one’s identity. I love this caveat: “Kauva chala hans ki chaal, apni bhi bhool gaya.”

10.Over-curiosity : Some people just don’t know when to stop and keep on shooting
intrusive queries, no matter how much you try to convey your annoyance.
A good example is: How much do you earn?
I made up a standard answer to this quest:
"Bas daal-roti ke layak mil jaata hai, zyada kuchh nahin."

Sick and Poor Joke

I absolutely know and believe that this belongs to the sickest poor jokes category, but noone will shoot me for penning it down.So here goes:

Before Marriage :
Marry me, I will treat you like a रानी(queen)


Marriage Day +1 :
Now since you are much more closer to me than before, I hereby honor you with prefix नोंक .
So,henceforth I will treat you like a नोंक + रानी(maid servant)
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bath obsession

I’m not a compulsive cleanliness-loving maniac or a very organized person, but I am extremely particular about having spic-and-span and sparkly bathrooms at my home. I don’t care if living room’s a mess or beds are unmade, but no compromise for the baths. Even when we lived in India, I had a whole crew to manage -cleaning help, cooking help, babysitter and all that, but cleaning the bathrooms I always reserved for me. No one would scrub the tiles to a shine as it doesn’t make sense to anyone.

And P gets irked when I wake up on Saturdays and don my cleaning gloves and start emptying the bathrooms to clean them thoroughly. Even sometimes when I’m in low spirits and depressed, he tells me to go ahead and clean the bathrooms, to perk me up- my favorite activity, as he calls it. Yes, it does give me immense satisfaction to look at the result at the end of it and it’s an esoteric stress reliever.

And its that unexplainable beatific feeling to enter the bath with the fresh smell, with no water streaks on the shower doors or the faucets and no soap scum in the basins or tiles and no water splashed on the mirrors. It makes me ecstatic, oneiric, lifts up the spirits. I wouldn’t go to a bath which is not what I want, to wash the stress off of my face after work or to brush my teeth at night, before bed.

To clean the 2 ½ bathrooms thoroughly takes me two hours on the weekend, from start to finish, which P feels but doesn’t say, could be utilized in making the weekend breakfast/brunch, as many man would like. But I can’t do that, because the baths beckon me and I have to attend to it. I don’t blame him because often he is at the end of questions like- why there’s toothpaste plopped in your basin? Do you wash your face or the mirror? Why can I still see granules of your facial hair in the sink after your shave?

And when we go grocery-shopping, I hand over to him the food items while I am in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking for new cleaning supplies.
And when we go out of town and book hotel rooms I don’t even look at the bed and the pillows, but rush to the bath to check out how appealing it is, if I can live with it .

Its difficult for Ishaan to aim and steer his stream into the toilet bowl and more often than not, he misses the target and sprays it here and there;its the male anatomy! And again I’m going crazy with the wipes and the sprays.

God is watching

I have never blogged about my driving. But here are hubby's views about my steering skills,in his words:
“Tumhein car chalani nahin aati,wo to apne aap chal jaati hai”(You don’t know how to drive, its just that the car goes all by itself)
I am not a novice driver, people would consider me seasoned, given that I have been driving for 9 years now.
But I don’t enjoy driving and I would not do it unless I really, really have to. And that amounts to driving to and from work each day. I am a very wary driver, always keeping enough distance between me and the vehicle in front and I am very prompt at hitting the brakes and I am ready to yield rather than overtake.
So, that fateful evening at 6:00 I was driving back home, as usual lost in my thoughts when I noticed the police car, lights ablaze, chasing me. I looked at the speedometer-okay I was speeding and that too brazenly. The speed limit was 45 and I was 67!!But I do that every single day and nobody pointed a finger at me.I pulled over and quickly thought of an excuse that I was running late for daycare pickup etc.
The officer walked up to me and I blurted out my excuse but to no avail.I guess you have to be prettier and softer to pull that off. Anyway he wrote a ticket for a $100 and asked me to be safe.
Back home, I narrated this to hubby,verbatim and he promptly put on his expert driver’s cap –"How could you not have seen the police car on that solitary road? And it’s strange that you got a speeding ticket only when you drive just till nukkad(corner)."
My drive is almost 8-9 miles one way and he has the audacity to call it nukkad? Anyway he drives 20+ miles one way, so let him keep that. I offered no counter opinion.
We paid the fine and after that incident-I am always on a lookout for cops more than the cops would be on a lookout for law-breakers.
Last weekend we were driving to Rockford and of course he was the official, designated driver. And once out on the country roads, he lauded himself for putting the car on cruise and driving at 85 constantly when the speed limit was 65.
Now,given the slightest chance,my tall one gets taller- he climbs the lecture podium and dons the preacher cap to bestow on me some sermon God has made him responsible for – “You know, when you are driving, you should keep one eye on the speedometer and one eye on the road scanning for cops cars.” I nod, though laughing to myself, that I am not squint-eyed to divide my vision into two angles.
And encouraged, he went on- "I don’t understand how someone can miss a police car and why did you not hit the brakes when you spotted him."
At that point,I don’t remember very well but maybe I had a very slight, silent wish that you will come to know only when that happens to you.
And within my 10 minutes of that conversation, when I was again drifting away in my thoughts,he calmly said-"I have to pull over, there’s police behind me".
What,where?
And I looked behind and there was the unmistakable blare of lights that had shown on me just a few days back.
We pulled over and the police officer very coolly signed him a ticket for $105 and wished us a Happy Weekend on top of it.
Once he left, I wanted to say something but he spoke-
"I know you have been praying all the way for me to get a speeding ticket."
"Of course not, but where was your squint look –one eye on the speedometer and other on the cop cars?"

My budding writer

Friends,visitors and family,
Here I present the link to my son's blog:
http://ishaanc.blogspot.com
I made him start this to encourage his writing and illustration skills.

The Morning Monster-Mom

The other day we,some friends,had some meaningful conversation (for a change)about how we fare as moms,each day.And though it was run-of-the-mill routine everyday stories of what happens at our homes,one thing was clear that we all deal with the same ordeal each day.
At so many instances ,I was like -"No this is me, this is what I say,what I do!!"
How could you know?
That is my story,too.Actually, we are all sailing in the same boat,over the same waters.And especially the morning saga is ditto, everywhere.

Each morning, getting ready for work with a target to be on time and getting Ishaan ready for school before the schoolbus time is a Herculean task.Each second is calculated and pre-determined, not a moment to waste.

And as I go to his room to wake him up, I am very gentle and tell myself that this morning I am not going to be mad at him before sending him off to school,come what may.I try to be very patient and calm in the beginning.

But as the hands of the clock continue their rhythm and I see him lingering on with his toothbrush,filling his mouth with water and spitting it out while continuously making silly faces and noises,I start losing it.Then after getting showered and dressed, when he sits with his bowl of cereal and two Power-ranger toys and concentrates more on the Power-rangers fight than the cereal, my tone turns into a warning.

And then he declares that he doesnt like the school lunch for today and wants a home-packed lunch, I quickly pack something while constantly reminding him to wear his shoes, wear his glasses and zip his jacket.But all these words fall flat on him with absolutely no effect and when its just 5 mins to 8:30 he has to go potty.

That drives the nail home and I end up shouting like a harridan and sometimes hit him too -in nervousness, in anticipation of missing the bus, then driving him to school and eventually reaching late to work.
Then quickly I wipe his tears and hug and kiss him, when he's still controlling his sobs.
That heaviness,that guilt burdens me all day,sometimes.
Again, next day,next morning, pledge to myself-I'll be a good mom!!

Who did it?

"They put all of them in a tumbler of water!!", declared Ishaan when I sent him to fetch a comb for his hair.The they referred to the couple whom we recently hired for doing our work, for cleaning our house and who had just left after doing their job.
"No, I soaked the combs in soapy water to clean them", I replied.Strange, I do that every now and then and nobody noticed till date but since there was a fourth person in the house, anything amiss or out of place was attributed to them, already.

"I can't find those maroon earrings", I shouted as usually I do when I'm getting ready.And although this call is mostly ignored by hubby, this time pat cam the reply -"Ask Amelia!".So, to clear the haze a little bit - Amelia is the name of the cleaning lady who has just been at our place twice and already has multiple fingere pointing at her and her husband.Minutes later, I found my earrings lurking in a drawer, where I'd tossed them carelessly.

And today as I threw away the Clorox disinfecting wipes box from the bathroom, I couldn't find the new box in the designated cabinet.And the thought did flash my mind -"Ameliaaaa!!" Again after a few seconds I found them in another cabinet.This was just me being careless and disorganised and another person was bearing the brunt of it.
I always preach to others that if the cleaning ladies steal from houses, who would give them business?But here its me, shamelessly grabbing the fisrt opportunity in the vicinity.

God, how petty we humans can be?In pre-Amelia days, we would search and search for a thing because no fourth person inhabited our place and now we stick a name to each missing/misplaced item.

We found a scapegoat and we started loading it like mule!!

"Start the search from within", some sage of a person definitely has said it sometime.I definitely can't be the first one saying it, but how true it is!!

Also read this one from one of my fav blogs Life Rules

Candid ones - before I forget

Ishaan is growing up and makes some very logical conclusions and observations and his deductions from events leave us nonplussed.We laugh at his words clandestinely - he gets really wild if we do it on his face.But this is how a child's brain works:

That morning I was really upset with dad-and-son for something they both were party to.In the evening, dad and son had a talk and dad suggested that we both go and say sorry to mommy.Ishaan didn't like the idea and said-
I dont need to say sorry, she'll forget about me.

Ishaan sleeps is his own room each night and that day he was insisting he sleep with us.We always lecture him that you are old enough to sleep by yourself, to which he said-
Thats not fair.You both are older than me and still you get to sleep with each other.

We are always after him to improve his eating habits-cocentrate on eating and finish dinner in time.That day we went out to dinner with family friends and Ishaan finished his dinner before their kid, so they had some good things to say about his responsible eating.Back at home, he admonished us-
How come,others give me compliments more than you two do?

Food for Thought

Ishaan was reading this book yesterday - Ben Franklin flies a kite.
He got it from the school library and it was a slightly long chapter book.
I have to be involved when he reads chapter stories so that he comprehends the meaning and holds on to the thread of events,else he loses interest
So this was the story of Benjamin Franklin, one of the founding fathers of America.I learnt a lot about his life and achievements and was absolutely impressed by his quotations and witty one-liners.

And this one at the end of the book is still lingering in my mind:

“If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing.”

There are hundreds of other quotes which we all have been hearing and reading since we learned to read and write, but I never knew the source of them until yesterday.So,teaching a child is a lesson to the parent,as well.Wonder if thats why its said -Chid is the father of man?.

Some of the other note-worthy ones by Mr Franklin are:

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Be slow in choosing a friend, slower in changing.

Glass, china, and reputation are easily cracked, and never well mended.

Beware of the young doctor and the old barber.

He that lieth down with dogs shall rise up with fleas.

Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do.

Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame.

To find out a girl’s faults, praise her to her girl friends.

He’s a fool who cannot conceal his wisdom.

What is the use of a new-born child? (When asked the use of a new invention)

A man wrapped up in himself makes a very small bundle.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

A place for everything, everything in its place.

A small leak can sink a great ship.

Fatigue is the best pillow.

Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.

Of wishing wells and wishing trees

“This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune — often the surfeits of our own behavior — we make guilty of our own disasters, the sun, the moon, and the stars.”
These are Shakespeare’s words, who else could have such insight!!
And these words just had my mind racing at how easily we blame things on stars.
I don’t say that all astrology and astronomy is farce, but to what extent some people go to appease the stars-remember the voices of shani ka daan mahadaan heard everywhere on the streets of Delhi and people did drop coins into those bowls/thaalis with a diya burning and some oil, lest they are subject to the wrath of Shani. And how we give up on things, resigning to the destiny or fortune or kismet,and how the palm-readers, the tarot-card readers always thrive-they are in business, and how the holy ones exploit the simple people in the name of sun and stars and how the simple people go out of their way and take loans beyond their means to hold havans and give dakshinas.

And, however upright, scientific and educated we claim to be - most of us think twice before treading on a street which a cat has just crossed. And we refrain from looking at ourselves into cracked mirrors. And as kids, if we accidentally banged heads with somebody we would do it one more time, on purpose ,lest the black dog bite us.
And if we notice a stray eyebrow hair on somebody’s face we restore it to the owner, who wishes upon it and blows it away. And everyone knows the myths and lores about wishing upon a broken star.

And we all tie strings or pieces of cloth to tree branches in hope of getting our prayers answered. So every tree outside a durgah or a temple is laden with colorful wish knots tied by millions of simple aspirants, representing collective hopes of every age and background , from birth of a baby-boy to the end of a war and restoring world peace.

And its not just us Indians, the concept of a wishing well has its roots in the West- a well where, traditionally, wishes were thought to be granted, especially if coins were dropped into the water. And its not just a well and I have seen this in the US and also in Europe, every single smallest water body has loads of coins at the bottom of it – be it a fish pond in the zoo or the smallest fountain in a mall.
So every single plant becomes a sublime wishing tree and every small puddle of clear water enjoys the status of reverend wishing well.
http://www.encyclopedia.com/doc/1P2-1182685.html

Its friendhip all the way -says SRK!!

Watched two SRK movies back to back-Luck by Chance and Billoo Barber.Well,Luck by Chance is not an SRK movie but loved his special appearance and the special message he conveyed - "Never forget those friends who were there for you when you were nothing."

And Billoo Barber is a tribute to friendship and though it might not have done good on the SRK box office scale, I liked it.And I can't thank God enough for giving me great friends,friends for life,who have stood by me,forever - friendships cultivated from every stage of life- school,grad college,post-grad college,work...

And this one goes to my old school friends.And Sumita,my oldest friend whom I have known since kindergarten or 1st grade.I remember when our hindi teacher asked us the meaning of our names, she would sweetly say -Sumita- means a good friend.I don't know if her parents knew what a great friend she would grow up to be or she lives upto her name?All I know is that some people are just born with a heart of gold...
We have known each other since we were little girls -hair in pigtails and wearing maroon sweaters and brown pinafores,whispering to each other and pointing to the bad girls who waxed their legs already and who read the dirty Mills&Boon novels..you see we were the good girls..who read Nancy Drew detective books!!

We used to sit together in most of the classes and though we were good students -she better than me,we used to make fun of teachers to no end by scribbling on our books with pencils with the slightest hand movement,lest we be caught,and pointing it to the other and then erasing it.Later we had a notebook dedicated to parodies and poems on every single teacher, with a cartoon of her.This was contributed to by many other friends too...we were a gang by then-Nidhi,Roli,Seema,Sumita and me...like five fingers of a hand!!
Still remember when our Kohli ma'm was teaching the hindi poem by the elite Harivansh Rai Bachhan-

Ho kahin bhi aag, lekin aag jalni chaahiye

We contorted it to say:
Ho gaye hain patte ikattha, inko jalana chahiye
Tere koodedaan mein nahin to mere mein sahi
Ho kahin bhi aag, lekin aag jalni chaahiye

And then when we fell in love with Aamir Khan when QSQT was released, cutting out every picture of his from every magazine,newspaper we could lay our hands on!!And then going ga-ga over him in dil hai ki manta nahin and pointing out how cutely he ate the melon in the title song.And then growing up a little more, how the Jagjit Singh and ghazal fever caught us!!We have never ending memories that go back years and decades .

So now this Thanksgiving Sumita and family visited us for 3 days and we were the crazy girls again.And talking about movies, I asked her -Did you watch Jaane Tu ya Jaane Na and she said - I am too old for that movie,its for the teenagers!!
Didn't expect this from you Sumita, you who is always so full of life and fervor, don't let it die...we are growing old no doubt,but lets keep pushing it a wee bit farther.And we are as old as we think we are!!

Blogging-not a hobby!!

IN BRIEF: Something that one likes to do for pleasure in ones spare time.

This is the definition of hobby I got from google…now the story what led me to google it. Recently we had a chance to meet some immensely talented people-which led us, both me and hubby, to introspect and search if we are really good at doing anything?? And is there something constructive we can do and we love to do when we have some spare time. Result –zero, zilch, nada…!!

So one of the talented people is a guy who is a painter- not the lady, mind you, but the Mr is a painter. And what collection he had to flaunt at his place!! It was simply unbelievable - and he says soon as he has sometime on his hands, he picks the brush and starts to paint. And it results in a work of art to adorn the walls of the house. Its an achievement to be lauded.

The other person is an excellent photographer- and not just point-and-shoot kind, but someone who pays attention to all the details and if he has a background color in mind, he goes and buys a fabric and dye and really dyes the fabric!! And he buys different lenses and has a mini-lab to adjust the lenses to his need. The result- masterpiece pictures – to keep forever.

These are examples of worthy and creative hobbies which result in something you can cherish forever. So we were discussing about what we do in spare time, we hobbyless good-for-nothings- just sit on the couch and watch some senselessmovie.

At this hubby pointed out that you blog and you can do that when you have time-that totally qualifies for a hobby.
NO!!- I think blogging is not something you can do when you find time. It is compulsive, it can be so dominating and demanding!! You get some idea in your head and your fingers start itching to type in-spare time or not, you have to do it.
It keeps on gnawing at you from within.
And its like a heavy rock you carry on yourselves and keep feeling the weight of it, unless its typed in and posted on the blog.

Hope fellow bloggers agree with me.

Dhal gaya din...ho gayee raat

Just a few days back,we friends,were laughing at how our bottom-heavy old hindi film actresses like Asha Parikh used to dress up in tight-to-the-skin churidaar-kurta suits and dance and twist and somebody mentioned even playing badminton in the song Dhal gaya din...
Dhal gaya din...tik
ho gayee raat ..tik
This song I very well remember as a regular feature of Topaz Chitrahaar, every Wednesaday on our Crown Black-and-White TV,which had real shutters,which you had to open to switch on the TV and my mother had stitched a blue velvet cover to further protect it from dust.
So this song must be the only song choreographed over a badmiton game...with our very own Jeetendra in his patent tight-white pants and white shoes and also pictured in a white shirt here!!
The song begins by him trying to kiss the lady through the badminton net and never stops chasing her till the end..our old hero/heroines were damn innocent.And our hero pulls our sorts of shots with his racket(or racquet?) including hitting the shuttle from under his leg, to impress the lady.
And look at the dance after the game...she tugs at his elbow and threatens to run off with his arm and then he emulates.She falls down on the ground and then he falls down and then they both get up,circle around a little bit and then fall down together and then start hopping like frogs.Then getting up,some more chasing and finally he grabs her leg, never to let go.
It is really funny..but I can vouch for Jeetendra..he as a person would have found it inane and foolish..but look how our actors/actresses play along to amuse the audience, even if they end up looking like clowns, many a times.
Watch this soing as a tribute to our old hindi cinema..

Something New-Sabudana Vada

I had been thinking of making it, for days now ..actually since last year –since Dec13th 2007, hubby’s birthday. The reason – it’s a typical dish from his family and he loves it. And for me, the greatest way to relive a birthday or a festival is to do things like my mom did, the way it was done in my family.
So, wanted to surprise him with something straight from mon-in-law’s ktchen-but,last year I forgot to soak the sabudana, so didn’t work out.This year, I remembered to do it, but no luck-the sabudana box stared at me ,blank and empty, in the pantry..okay whatever God wishes!!
Jo hota hai ache ke liye hota hai.
So, for New Year, I specially went and bought it and soaked it. Now, the bigger piece of the conundrum-how to proceed, next?
I was about to Google, when he called mom-in-law for wishing the Happy New Year, of course….so there it was!! It was my turn to wish the New Year and before the question was asked –so what special are you cooking-I planted my question, which was -What are the steps to cook sabudana vada.
So two birds killed with the same stone-
1.I don’t have to google the recipe, because this was personalized,expert offsore cooking help.
2.Earned a little good entry in the daughter-in-law log, that she is cooking something special!!Believe me these small entries or post-its in that journal go a long way-these are small investments which can reap potential profits in the long run.

The result- the sabudana vadas were near perfection –crunchy and delectable.
So, I asked hubby matter-of-factedly –
“Do they taste like they did back home?”
“I don’t know about back home but this is my home and they taste perfect!!”

I was bowled over and touched by this unexpectedly sweet answer.

Happy New Year 2009

New Year - resolution??

Weight - don't have to lose anymore!!
Height - can't get more!!
Personality - can't change now!!

So the motto is -Don't worry....
just take rest and leave the rest!!
And the words that aptly describe what I want to do this year is:

kis kis ko yaad kijiye, kis kis ko roiyye
aaraam badi cheez hai, munh dhak kar soiyye

zzzz...

Moustache is family property!!

“This is the first tune I learnt on guitar”, remarked hubby, referring to the song ‘Ek hasina thi…ek deewana tha’, playing in the car. This was the nasal, distorted rendition of the melodious song, delivered by the great Himesh Reshamaiyya.
When did you play guitar?, I asked.
“That was in some year B.S., in the B.S. –Before Sara era”, he says.
And by the way “Girls go ga-ga over guitar”- this is the maximum-g-sentence, he’s ever said.
“Okay so why don’t you take up the guitar like Shahrukh Khan took up dancing in Rab ne bana di jodi,to woo his wife."
Yes sure, also I can color my hair funky and shave off my moonchh so you won’t recognize me.
Shaving off the moustache-that’s a risky proposition..don’t know how you will look...for me, you were born with the moustache, can’t picture you without it!!
But I can regrow them, if its not alright!!
At this moment, sensing that the events were going out of control,Ishaan butted in.
Usually he sits in the backseat and keeps listening to our conversation like a silent audience and intrudes when things start taking a serious turn and he can’t hold back.
“No!!you are not going to cut your moonchh”, he said in a voice suggestive of tears following.
Why?? I asked , that’s not going to hurt him.
Usually he prevents us from doing things which can cause the slightest physical harm.
“bcoz he will look horrible and he won’t be my dad anymore.”
So,sir you just can’t follow your whim and erase your moonchh, somebody is really possessive about it.You are accountable to him, now.

Bollywood or Hollywood

We watched this movie Dil Kabaddi, it being Rahul Bose and all. But this is not a review what this movie was or was not about, but one thing that stuck to me was the Anerican lifestyle they were portraying in the movies.
Konkana Sen makes sure Rahul Khanna’s refrigerator is stocked up with necessities when he was undergoing a tough time and what were those things-broccoli, soy milk and and I forget the other things.But these were all firangi food items, not the common Indian khana. And soon as they visit Rahul-Konkana’s place,on asked what would they like, Irfan-Soha demand for wine to drink.
And in any movies that I see these days, there’s not even once that the leading ladies wear Indian clothes, only their moms do. And they can’t even speak a sentence in hindi.If it begins in hindi,it has to end with isn’t it?,don’t you think? , you know….
Or it has to begin with I’m gonna…,I wanna..not to forget all the hindi songs which revolve around a sentence in english..where’s the party tonight,shake your body now , et all!!And recently watched this movie Kidnap which has this song –mausam ye awesome bada..I mean since when did awesome become the most common word in our vocabulary,ever since Americans started calling everything they find slightly okay,awesome.
So all these movies portray is that it’s a country full of wannabes.
Maybe I am too middle class, but day by day what we are trying to achieve is to become more Americanized, lose our culture and embrace the foreign. And more and more movies are promoting extra-marital affairs and divorces for just trivial reasons, as if it were the most in thing because Americans do that. Come on, we Indians marry for life, in most cases!!There is always room for exception, but let not exception become the norm.
And I am not from the conservative-no-western club, but each time I land in Delhi, I realize its more westernized than last time. I mean, nobody attends you in the malls if you speak in hindi, its like you are ganwaar and not worth a dime.So, its just not the movies, that’s the turn the lifestyle is taking at a very fast pace.
But I really wonder if the social studies books and atlases should change-like I remember we had a sardarji and a salwar-clad lady depicting North Indian dress, they should change it to show jeans-T-shirt etc. And only yesterday Ishaan was reading the atlas where the Indian thali was shown as the Indian food, that should change to broccoli,cheese and soy milk.
And the national language should be changed to english with accent.
And all that Bollywood has done already, it’s a step ahead.

My country-is for them

Much has been said by many people about the Mumbai terror attacks and there’s nothing new I have to add to it. CNN was showing live coverage of the siege day and night and we were glued to the TV, it being Thanksgiving weekend.

Fellow American neighbors and colleagues are ensuring well-being of relatives and friends back home and in the same breath they are expressing their shock at how things had been handled. It was all on the TV, the way the injured were manhandled and somehow pushed into already filled cars and the sorry sight of a single firetruck trying to douse the flames at Taj. They wonder if there are no ambulances and fire departments in India. And also if the police force and the terrorism squad don’t have proper bullet-proof vests and guns etc.

I am irked, I cannot defend my country because my country has everything – but not for everybody!! There is everything for the politically and the theatrically and the industrially important – the netas and abhinetas and the anndatas.They are protected by the most sophisticated weapons and the stealthiest commandos.

But for the common man who works hard to pay taxes to fill the government treasury, there is nothing, his life has no meaning at all.

There is no infrastructure because those who matter are above the infrastructure.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder

Usually my son and his dad are at daggers drawn to each other to the extent that sometimes Ishaan says -Mom lets go and live in a separate house and leave dad alone. Thats mostly because the dad insists more on discipline and is less patient and keeps reminding the kid that he’s not a baby any more and is a big boy, which the child is ready to admit only when it suits him.
But our recent trip to India for 3 weeks without dad has brought dad listed in the good books.
Here is an example of the flowing love and affection, which makes me a little jealous.

If I were the president...

So, the election is over.The mandate is given and we witness history as Barack Obama, a man of color,as they say, is the President of United States. Amidst all the argument and debate about socialism and taxes of Joe the Plumber, stood up the promise of We need change.
And Joe the Plumber is a legend,now!!
Ishaan was all excited about the election and was glued to the TV last night when the poll results were coming in and went to sleep only with the promise that we’ll tell him the result first thing in the morning.
But his aspirations and amibitions if he were the president are not philanthropic and global,but self-centered are selfish.Here’s what he wrote in school…