This I believe

Cant shop with(out) them!!

2012-01-15T20:00:00.001-05:00

Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.
Can’t shop with them, can’t shop without them!!

To the husband community-wife loves to shop, you don’t. Wife loves to look around and ponder and mentally mix-and-match the items-under-consideration with her existing wardrobe and then select and then try things on before buying. That - stretches your patience and endurance beyond the realm of elasticity because you are a rational person who believes in three simple steps- pick, pay and get out!!

You want me to buy what the mannequins are wearing so we don’t spend your precious time looking but you don’t realize that that’s the newest arrival with the hottest price and I would wait for it to be not-so-new and available at a lukewarm price so that I can buy two things for the price of one.Your answer to this color or that is always- take both, they’re both good and if you do pick one color, it’s almost always the exact hue that I have. Whatever style I pick looks worn-out or not-worth-it to you. When I try clothes on, you microscopically find flaws with all of them-whats special about this, this is so beat-up etc etc.

Whenever I insist on going to a store which has a SALE going on, you expertly say that it’s a scam. If I spend more than 15 minutes in a store, your belly starts growling and your blood glucose levels falls to a point where we have to rush to a restaurant for instant resuscitation.

At times, I like to go all by myself and go around shopping and hopping but then I need you to reach out that appealing stuff in the higher shelves or I need you to bug the salesperson for the color/size I want. Sometimes I secretly want you to talk me out of buying some stuff.

Plus, I want you to hold the umbrella while I store hop when its raining outside. I need you to find the closest parking spot when its snowing.

And I need you to carry my shopping bags because remember- you are the strong one!

Is that too much to ask for?

Birthday tremors

2011-12-30T17:39:00.002-05:00

So-my big,strong hubby could not take the tsunamic pressure of my birthday and started shaking and trembling like a leaf.
And no one can blame me bcoz I didnt even get a chance to throw my weight around and make any majestic demands.

We got him to the emergency room to get him fixed before he collapsed on us but big machinery takes big time and effort to get back on track.He's pretty solid and reliable mostly,but chooses to malfunction at the wrongest time.

It was my day to enjoy and relax and be pampered,when he's sound asleep,probably in the 7th level of dreams while I sit by his bedside admiring the clarity and pitch of his snores,with Ishaan nudging me sheepishly and whispering- "He's snoring in front of the pretty nurses,this is so embarassing!!"
Happy birthday to me.....

Parenting Challenge 2011

2011-10-30T14:42:00.021-04:00

"Mama, I am doing really good on the math challenge.You think I could be among the top 100 in the country or the best in my school"- Ishaan said, on the first day of the American Math Challenge, when I was driving him home, in the evening.
"Of course not,you are not that smart.Its a two-day event,so others will catch up to you by tomorrow." - I said.
"If you think I'm not smart,why don’t you teach me." – Ishaan
"I can only teach you but I can’t get into your head when you are doing the problems,I can't stop your hand that time when you are making the mistakes."- I said.
"You never trust me to do good.", he said with a tearful voice and slammed the car door shut with the loudest bang I've ever heard.

And thank God, I did not enter his head at the time of the challenge for he finshed 26th out of hundreds of thousands of students who participated from all over the country and the first in his school.
He is in the Hall of Fame of American Math Challenge 2011 for being among the top 100!!
And I enter the infamous Parenting Hall of Disgrace!!

Can somebody lend me a leaf of their parenting book please or better still email/Fedex me the entire book!!

http://www.mathletics.com/americanmathchallenge/

Mangoes and Rooh-afza

2011-08-05T12:36:00.007-04:00

What are we, but memories – of places visited, people met, and times relished or languished- of laughter shared or sneaked, tears shed or swallowed- of sunshine and rain and fog. Memories provide the muscle and tendon that holds together the bare bones of our existence.

Each season brings back its own unique sweet and sour reminiscences. My favorite summer memories are of Indian mangoes and rooh-afza.

Mangoes were a big deal in summer – starting from buying to devouring.There was a plethora of choices to pick from – langda,dussehri,chausa,totapari and their smell was the best indicator of how sweet and delicious they would be.Then, there was the timing of the day you hit the fruit-mandi to buy them – if you go toward the end of the day, the vendors slashed the prices on the residual stock, so you got more for your money.

The mangoes had to be soaked in a bucket of water to wash away any chemicals used to ripen them.I’m not sure if its a myth or fact but eating mangoes without soaking them in water would cause boils and blisters on skin,which were rampant in summer.

Then, came the crucial decision-how you want to eat them.The options were – to slice it with a knife or to just suck the flesh and juice in it by taking off its top.Each of them was a totally different experience- the civilized way was of picking each slice and scrape away all the flesh with the teeth.Cleaning the center pit was another enjoyable task, you had to consume every trace of the flesh by combing the hair of the seed carefully with your teeth.Could not afford to waste the tiniest bit of it!!The other option involved sucking the mango top by turning the mango round and round with your hands till the pulp was loosened from the skin and then devour the heavenly juice mixed with pulp.

Also the summer storms and the hot afternoon winds would shake the trees in the neighborhood causing them to magnanimously shed the ripe/raw mangoes and the kids would go around collecting the booty, looking under the bushes and leaves- a truly rewarding scavenger hunt. Seriously, who ever cared or even thought about the slaps of hot wind , dust,sweat, sunburns, UV rays or skin cancer??

The raw mangoes had their own charm and usage.They could be ground into chutney or cooked with daal or vegetables or slaughtered to make the annual pickle aam-ka-achaar in big jars which would last one whole year.And oh the aroma of that variety of achaars – the regular achaar, the hing achaar and the sweet one with vinegar!

Rooh-afza means something that refreshes the soul and it was the only cold drink known at that time, besides lassi and lemonade.The Coca-Cola/Thumbs-ups were too expensive and arrogant and involved returning the glass bottles after consuming the content.So, that was strictly on a very special occasion or a very special guest basis.

Roof afza is the dark red sugary syrup concentrate that you can add to ice and water to make a refreshing drink.Or you could add it to cold milk and ice to make a pretty pink sweaty glass of bliss. But you had to be careful keeping the outside of the bottle clean for the ants loved to cling to it and savor the tiniest drop hanging under the lid.

Then, ice was a prized possession too!There were no ice-makers in the fridge,we just had two aluminium ice trays with slots in them to form ice cubes.Those trays had to be refilled with water each time the ice was consumed.So, what if we just used the ice and the next batch is in the process of freezing and a guest rings the doorbell?There was no way a guest could leave without having roof-afza!!So, we the kids, used to run to the neighbors to borrow a tray of ice and the beauty of it was that the neighbors were always expected to be home, any time of the day.Where would they go anyway?

After a few years, the drink rasna was introduced and the fridge ice trays were made in plastic instead of aluminium and after several years, Pepsi/cokes were available in plastic bottles, which you didn’t have to return to the shopkeeper.

But ,a cold beverage still means rooh-afza as a hot beverage means tea to millions of Indians. It provides relief and succor to the parched soul of India.

Boys without names

2011-04-22T10:23:00.001-04:00

I love reading Indian authors as it physically transports me to the country I grew up in. I can relate to the roads, the people, the culture, the odor, the food, the heartbeat of that land better than I could relate to any other place on Earth.

Last month I came across this book ‘Boys without Names’ by Kashmira Sheth.The story is about a kid whose family moves from a village to Mumbai, in search of a better life.But the big city leads him into a trap and he ends up being locked up in a small, dingy room with 5-6 other kids, who are forced to work on making beaded picture frames under the most inhuman conditions by a tyrannical master.They are fed just enough to keep their hearts pumping. They are not allowed to reveal their names or even talk to each other. They are never let out of the cage and are deprived of fresh air, sunlight, rain and open sky. Any small deviation from obedience or expectation is punished by insolent beatings.

This story brought my heart to my mouth. Any parent, whenever they hear of atrocities against children is thankful that their child is safe and silently prays that this never happens to their child.

Since this novel was just a story, it is allowed to have a happy ending. In this case, our protagonist, the village boy could read and write. So he wrote out a message to a shopkeeper to whose shop he was sent to by the master for a one-time errand. And the shopkeeper took action and brought police to raid this sweatshop. And thus these kids were rescued and reunited with their families. It brought tears of joy to my eyes.

But only yesterday, I read on ndtv.com about Moin.Here was the real-life version of that book.Moin was the name in Boys Without names.And alas, this was not a story. This is life and life is not penned by an author, or directed by a movie director, who is hopeful and triumphant. Life is cold, cruel and ruthless and poor Moin could not escape it. He was mercilessly beaten to death by the master of the bindi factory.

Did no one know what’s going on in the bindi factories? Sure, somebody knew but the way we are, we can be blind and deaf as long as nothing touches our lives. There are so many evils going around us that we just don’t want to have anything to do with others evil business. We just try to lead straight lives where we don’t hurt others and protect ourselves from being in harm’s way.

And we all know Moin because he is all over the press but there would be so many others whose lives are just as worthless and unnoticeable as the peanut shells which are crushed and ground under anybody’s feet.

Whatsoever you do....

2010-12-31T18:10:00.005-05:00

Its time to give back .....in whatever little way you can,in this New Year.
Let’s try to do something for someone in need, somewhere.

These are the lyrics of the prayer song that blasted out of the loudspeakers at my school during morning assembly.This has been ringing in my mind for sometime now.

Its simple but very meaningful:

Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me.
When I was hungry, you gave me to eat;
When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink.
Now enter into the home of My Father.

Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me.
When I was homeless, you opened your door;
When I was naked, you gave me your coat.
Now enter into the home of My Father.

Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me.
When I was weary, you helped me find rest.
When I was anxious, you calmed all my fears.
Now enter into the home of My Father.

Wish everybody a ver happy 2011!!

Bardaasht is the word!!

2010-12-26T12:32:00.001-05:00

While I was in India, we were going in a cab and it was a little hot inside the car, so I asked the driver to switch on the AC.
‘Bardaasht karna seekho’, my mom snapped.So, the AC wasn’t switched on and just getting rid of the sweater fixed the problem.

But that bardaasht (tolerance) stuck in my mind. Aren’t tolerance and adjustment two of the most significant yarns that weave the fabric we are made of? Being born and raised in India means being exposed to the ground realities of life and learning to live with them. I believe that’s one of the things that make us the survivors.

And the course of time, having lived in the pampered, protected environment for long is eroding the steel our guts are made of. Living in heated/cooled homes and offices, having our bottoms warmed up in heated car seats is taking a toll on that resistance, that strength we had.

We endure and we persist in difficult situations.Isn’t that one of the reasons we are the most sought-after and the relied -upon workers. Our upbringing is why we have a lion’s heart in our lamb’s frames.

We are the ones who rode our bicycles without helmets and knee pads and nursed our bruises and cuts ourselves, if at all, without the tetanus shots.We are the ones who sweated the hot July summer nights with no power and no breeze. We were always the walking feasts for mosquitoes and flies and did we get rashes and bumps-NO!!We were cohabitants with roaches and lizards and mice for a major part of our lives. We drank before water started to be bottled or milk started to be pasteurized.

We adjusted with passengers in the non-AC general compartment.We drank from the taps and devoured the imlis and raw mangoes from the neighborhood trees.We adjusted with sleeping in the midst of distant relatives in crowded wedding parties ;often sharing the blankets with them too! We adjusted to the sweats and odors, not to forget that we didn’t have exhausts in the restrooms.

We take care of our dead until they leave for their final destination. We know that death and dead bodies are real and we can deal with it.We don’t ship our dead to funeral homes and have unknown people prep them and even break their bones if needed to fit the casket.We hug and we mourn and we pray for them and not just dress up in our best creased suits to offer handshakes and eat the goodies.

Unlike the fragile people in offices, who plug their nostrils with cotton as they can’t tolerate a colleague’s cologne that is not even adjacent to them, but sitting cubes away from them?Collegaues' cell phone ring tones gives them migraines. Small work tensions cause them to pop sleeping pills at night.

The omnipresent sanitizers and the disinfectant wipes cannot uproot the virus /flu and the allergies, however hard they may try.The posturepedic mattresses and the ergonomic chairs don’t diminish the need for pain relievers and chiropractors.

Our tolerance goes a long way in making our relationships last and grow stronger. We don’t divorce the person we took vows with just because we can’t tolerate their snores and farts.We don’t bid goodbye just because he/she didn’t smile and honey me when I got home from work.

I do love the comforts of life and I am thankful for them but I am glad I have experienced the tougher life that would sound strange and incomprehendable to many. I am lucky to have seen both the faces of the coin.

Every experience has some learning, some insight that contributes to the evolution of a person -YOU.

Just do it!!

2010-09-26T17:19:00.005-04:00

So, Ishaan and my shoe sizes are just the same now!!At eight years of age, he is upto my ears now! Thanks to his dad’s genes, I am soon gonna have two towers walking around the house and I’m gonna have one more pair of giant shoes to curse and trip and fall on!!

I have the tiniest feet in the world…which is by the way a sign of beauty!!!Did you know in ancient China, girls were forced to bind their feet up in layers of cloth to contain them , to stop them from growing bigger. And the Chinese men used to look at the girls feet- the smaller the feet, the more marriageable she was.

Thanks to my mom’s genes, I didn’t have to tie them, but they just didn’t grow beyond size 5, except that I wasn’t born in China in the 1800s.

Coming back to the home setting, Ishaan tried on my dark blue canvas shoes and they fit him perfectly. And these shoes are not gender-biased….they are the perfect unisex shoes.

Dad: So, Ishaan you don’t need to buy new shoes as you can wear mama’s.
Ishaan: But mama doesn’t have Nikes??

So, we did buy him Nikes and I am eyeing them and waiting for an opportunity to sneak into them next time I go for my solitary walks.And I have no hych against wearing kids' shoes because kids aisle is where I shop for adult-looking kids' shoes!

And he did wear my blue canvas shoes to his summer camp and kids do notice things!! His friends complimented him on my shoes. And the simple and naïve kid that he his, he told them – These are my mom’s shoes.
Damage done.
I told him – Ishaan, don’t tell your friends these are your mom’s shoes. They’ll laugh at you because that’s what kids your age do.
But why do I have to lie about this?
Remember what Nike says -Just do it!!

Life's getting me

2010-08-21T09:26:00.004-04:00

How can such petty things hold the center stage of life- there's not a single potato left in the kitchen, the coffeemaker is leaking gallons of water, much more than it can hold. Have to buy a new one ASAP!!

Why can't I leave the trivia behind and focus on larger issues or think about I don't know - inflation,recession,oil spills in the Gulf of Mexico, or the Mayan prediction for 2012?????

Or 180 degrees turn -at least think about making it an easier journey for those who live with me...how do they even put up with me, forever holding shields and armors in preparation for an attack!!!!

Love or tolerance or empathy?????

Sounds funny, but it isn't!!

He says,hi,whats up
Just waiting to blow up.
He says, meet at lunch?
No sir,thanks a bunch.
He says, how about a movie?
You both go,just let me be.
He says, a cup of hot coffee?
Not even if you make it for me.
He says, lets go for a walk?
If you promise not to talk.

Comfort Food

2010-07-28T21:09:00.007-04:00

Friends and family are urging me to post something…it’s been ages!!Well, life is just zipping past, with the same old - going to work, getting back, cooking dinner, reading something and sleeping to wake up to a new morning with the same old things lined up.

In that case, I do need to write something!

Out of the whole monotony, cooking is something which has something worth writing.(Work, I will never talk about once I leave the premises!!)Because there’s this whole process of taking mental stock of inventory and leftovers, thinking of something delicious and innovative if possible, and then materializing the whole plan and waiting for the resulting success or fiasco.

With work being increasingly demanding for both of us, sporadically for me, but constantly for him, a fulfilling and comforting dinner provides some solace.And I find great satisfaction and comfort in burning hot rice.

Here’s what I cooked yesterday and actually managed to take a picture of!!
It was hot,spicy curried potato-tomato sabzi with coconut-milk zeera rice and homemade yogurt. The spice of the sabzi went very well with the mild coconut milk flavored rice.And the yogurt seasoned with salt and fresh zeera-powder provided the cooling factor to the hot summer evening.

India is so rich in cuisines and flavors that a little fusion of North with South, just a little twist here and there, yields gastronomical results! I added some coconut milk while cooking zeera rice and it raised it to a new worshippable dimension, altogether!It made the rice aromatic,flavorful and soft enough to just melt in the mouth!!And I added some yogurt to the aloo tamatar sabzi which gave it a rich,creamy texture!!!

The new taste got a thumbs up from me and both my clients.Something I am going to try again, definitely!!

It doesn’t matter!

2010-06-25T18:33:00.001-04:00

When you look at life in the rearview mirror, you see so many tears, worry lines and sleepless nights caused by things that don’t matter any more and you find yourself thinking – Why did I waste so much time and energy on those trivial things. Those things that were of paramount importance at that time and your life depended on them are faded and erased, already!

When you look in the side mirrors, a faster car shakes you for just a moment, but its past before you know it. So, the key is to let the faster ones go and not let them waver your hand at the wheel.

Umpteen things that you fret and worry about mend themselves. What if it happens? Eventually, it does not happen!

Why are we stuck in the vicious circle of insignificant worries, apprehensions?
And if life’s all about learning from mistakes, why am I not learning?

Venus vs. Mars

2010-05-24T21:43:00.002-04:00

"Men are incapable of growth, change and progress. For men self improvement ends at toilet training."
(Source: Gerard Butler starrer movie ‘The Ugly Truth’ ,on why a woman should not waste her life trying to change the man.)

"Women are Angels...And when someone breaks their wings...they simply continue to fly....on a broomstick..."
(Source: A forwarded e-mail by some bewitched man!)

Love you,friends

2010-04-20T20:50:00.003-04:00

The phone rang at 10 in the night.....let it be, whoever it is,I’ll get back to them,tomorrow. I was under the covers, drugged by anti-allergy medicines and deep asleep. Then, it rang again. So,someone really needs to talk to me!
And here was someone,calling me and asking me to guess who she was!!And this voice, was so familiar,so close that I could touch it,this voice that sounded like I talked to her everyday, was my dear school friend Roli’s. Yes, Roli,with the infectious laughter and the never-ending spunk and spirit.
How happy, I was to hear you talk after all these years,almost eternity.It brought back my childhood, my school to me....the starched saris of the K3 teachers(Kapoor,Kohli,Ketkar),the aroma of the lunchboxes, the whites of the P.T. shoes, the maroon of the blazer, the exhausts from the army school bus, the moral science of the sisters,the morning assemblies,the march pasts and all!!
And I so wish, I’d known before, that you were in this country and we could have met.And I so envy you both,Sumita and you,the two from our 5-girl gang,that you could meet up and chat and laugh, only if, for a small time.
And,thanks Sumita for calling me up and that’s the best call I got woken up by, in a long,long time.

Ah,the connections

2010-03-15T18:49:00.003-04:00

Everything in the universe, dead or alive, ordinary or transcendental, serene or rambunctious is linked to a bigger system. Nothing in the world is standalone or a detached entity. The purpose of each tiny little block is to complete the jigsaw puzzle, knowingly or unknowingly, by will or by force.

And if any piece is missing or doesn’t fit anymore, it causes commotion and confusion and hurt.The human mind seeks solace in continuance of the old, although how much ever on tries to tell the other that change is the only thing permanent and change is the law of nature.

Every time I go back home to my hometown, I hope to see the same picture, the one I have etched and nurtured in my mind since I was a child. That picture gives me the feeling of coming back to where I left and the assurance that 'All is well'. But each time I go back home, there’s a gaping hole somewhere,which can never be filled, staring at your face, which reminds you of the divine intervention and the ultimate reality of death. And although I know that life runs it own course and your presence doesn’t stop the wheel from turning, still there’s that stab of guilt saying-'Look what happened when you were away'. But besides the family and friendship bond, which needs each member, hale and hearty, straight from that spectacle that I hold of them, there is also the link,that connection to distant people, objects and places.

I never knew that the shopkeeper in that kirana shop, which I don’t even go to ,was a part of my picture.Everytime I went to our little market, I saw him, grinning with his teeth bare all the time, nodding at customers or scribbling down and adding up each person’s total bill. But his presence there told me that life is still the same. And the old doctor, the Hakeem, who always sat in his clinic on the rug, with knees bent, and glancing at the street from not through his glasses, but from above them, he had been there forever. The fact that he wasn’t there this time, I wanted to somehow stop the time or slow it down from running so fast. Or that sugarcane juice waala, thriving by his small cart, by the side of the bridge. Or that chaatwaala. Or that school, I never studied in it or visited. But it was a landmark, a permanent fixture. And it being demolished for giving place to another big building, caused an ache somewhere in left of the ribcage.

Things, places and people which unknowingly have crept in your mind, have carved out a niche for themselves, which is there as long as you live.

Memory is the ache, for which, there is no cure.

V-day showdown

2010-02-14T12:31:00.003-05:00

I have to write this while I still have it top on my mind.So,today is V-day and I personally don't believe in one day to show your love to your loved ones.But P does what he feels like,don't know out of ritual or peer pressure or whatever may be the reason.

So,he got me a rose and a card - the regular,sugary ones that say To my wife.....etc.As I opened the card, it played a song which said 'You are so beautiful...'.It does feel good and I was flattered and fluttery but I told him that this was a lie and you don't really mean it.
Pat came the answer, "No,I mean from the inside.You know, looks are not that important, its the inner beauty of the person thats important".

Gosh, am I such a haggard, who has to be lectured on the beauty of heart and soul!!Wish I lived on the 12th floor of an apartment complex, so I could open the window and jump out and flay my innards out to display how beautiful they are!!

Fruity Resolution

2010-02-05T13:38:00.006-05:00

“You look so weak and tired!!Your face has lost all its glow and energy......you look drained out”, these were some of the compliments I received from my sisters this time I was back home. Sisters are the mirror you avoid seeing yourself....you might fool yourself but nothing misses the eyes of the sisters.

My eating habits which are very poor were brought into light.I would snack on a bag of chips rather than bite into an apple. The problem is like I like hot, salty and spicy food and fruits don’t qualify.I drink a lot of tea and coffee,but its been ages since I drank a cup of milk!So,they told me to focus on natural foods and not processed ones, the number one contender being apples,pears,oranges.

So,this year I have been buying a lot of fruits and trying to eat some everyday.Here’s the fruit bowl which is full upto the brim,reflecting my commitment.

But here’s the cake I baked and we sat down to eat it while watching a movie at night and the two lonely humble pieces left in the morning speak a lot about how ruthlessly we devoured their companions.

So,my darling sisters and mom,I can’t promise to give up my favorite unhealthy foods but I promise to include some healthy things too,as a routine.
And I am thankful to God for all the love and care my sisters shower on me.

Speaking of apples and oranges, here’s a joke:
Sir: What is difference between Orange and Apple?
Student: Color of Orange is ORANGE, but color of Apple is not APPLE

Confirmed Tickets

2010-01-29T09:10:00.005-05:00

Ever rolled up your sleeves upto the shoulder to defend your stand in public, and then realized that you were the one who was wrong and then you had to suck your words back in?Thank God I didn’t have to do it yet but here’s a funny and embarrassing incident, which leaves you thinking, what if it was me, it could have happened to me.

This time in India we had to take two long 14-hour long journeys after so many years and it was so much fun. Gulping down endless cups of tea/coffee with samosa/kachori/pakode /pohe on different platforms made it a culinary experience as well. Also when others open their packed meals,diffusing the aromas of parathas/pooris/achaar, you forget all manners and etiquettes and are forced to peek into their plates to ogle at what they are eating.And when finally people retire to sleep in their berths,there are the distinct,individual trains of snoring,which eventually lull you to sleep.

Coming to the story, as we boarded the train to Delhi,there was some commotion in the bogey.Since we had a lot of luggage to deal with,which wouldn’t fit under our berths, P had to ask people to move their bags a little bit here and there and they were all very nice people, happy to adjust.While on a train,the keywords are bhaisahab and adjust.
Koi nahin bhaisahab,adjust kar lenge.
So,after getting settled there was still half an hour for the train to leave,time to take off the shoes and put your feet up.

Then the argument rang loud and clear to all who were present.Two people were allotted the same berth for the long journey. One was an elderly gentleman, the uncleji,who claimed to be traveling by the same train for 30 years and there was no way he would get down and or be moved to a different seat.Also he had bought the confirmed ticket on tatkal reservation,so he had paid a premium price, which was another reason why he wouldn’t budge.

The other was a young man who had another confirmed ticket.He was also irked by the situation and kept blaming the reservation software.Everything is computerized,still they make such huge mistakes!
Who do they get to write the damn software?

And the onlookers would nod understandingly and narrate incidents when similar thing happened to their relatives/friends.And everyone gave the assurance that once the TTE is there,it will get resolved.

The uncleji kept demanding to see the young man’s ticket to check if was confirmed and not waitlisted/RAC,but he wouldn’t oblige.Finally someone suggested to look at the reservation chart.Turned out that the uncleji’s name was there and again he was on a high.The young man tried to calm him down but then he also lost his temper and marched out to look for the TTE.(There were still 15 mins for the train to leave.)

After 5 mins the young man came inside running,pulled out his bag from under the berth and started running madly toward the door.What happened,uncleji asked.
“Meri ticket 6th ki hai ,aaj to 5th hai”is all he could say before disappearing into the crowd at the platform.

All is well that ends well but we had to endure uncleji’s long lecture on how careless,absent-minded and disrespectful, the young are these days!

Manzil na de, chiraag na de, honsla to de

2009-12-17T09:59:00.005-05:00

Soot, dust and cobwebs galore! This is the shabby state of my blog and that’s the reason I didn’t look at it for so long, just delaying to look at its sorry state. Well, you cannot write if you want to write; it just has to come to you. Its just like love,it catches you unaware!

And I had a lot of time on my hands in the last days. And I spent a lot of it browsing and exploring each shelf of the library, reading the newspaper at Starbucks, walking all around our community,nagging him 24*7, cooking, cleaning the house of course, shopping a lot, volunteering at school, educating Ishaan to boredom, listening to Jagjit and Chitra, watching a lot of meaningful movies, some of them -great foreign language movies. I just cannot not mention the movie ‘Children of heaven’, a Persian or Iranian movie, I got from the library and it’s a must watch.

I know a lot about the elderly of the country, now.I see them walking slowly with their walking aids to the grocery stores,reaching out to the shelves with trembling hands and wobbly heads. I see them lining up outside the library at 9:45 AM, waiting for it to open at 10.One elderly gentleman was with a toddler grandchild, waiting for the doors to open, when the child said-'Grandpa, don’t you have the keys'?

Learning never ends. I mean, whats a woman who can’t shop for herself and others, who is so indecisive that she always needs a nod and a stamp of approval from the hubby before buying anything. Its just the habits, which take a long time to build and a longer time to break. And if you can’t get where you want to, if you’re dependent on someone to drive you always, you might consider getting yourself a wheelchair. So, I’ve been out, shopping and exploring, all on my own. And while driving, I’ve taken wrong exits, I’ve gone West instead of East, North instead of South, but I won’t forget those wrongs for a long time, now. I’ve locked myself outside the car, with the engine still running. Each mishap has a purpose and that is to avoid letting it happen again.

I don’t know the purpose and context of this post, but I have Jagjit’s 'Manzil na de,chiraag na de' playing on youtube and it just made me write. And I’m linking it here for all to listen and relate.

With the holiday cheer and lights, gifts and wishes, may the coming year be the harbinger of happiness and hope. May this year herald the beginning of a year full of smiles and health and prosperity.

Beauty in the times of recession

2009-11-09T22:20:00.010-05:00

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!

2009-10-21T09:19:00.003-04:00

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.
-------------------------------

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

2009-09-20T23:14:00.007-04:00

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

2009-09-16T09:24:00.002-04:00

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

2009-09-01T13:30:00.006-04:00

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

2009-08-18T10:26:00.010-04:00

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

2009-07-29T09:22:00.005-04:00

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

2009-07-17T07:25:00.002-04:00

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.....

2009-07-08T15:22:00.014-04:00

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

2009-07-04T16:13:00.006-04:00

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

2009-06-25T12:55:00.002-04:00

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

2009-06-17T14:41:00.008-04:00

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

2009-06-08T09:00:00.006-04:00

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

2009-05-29T09:41:00.004-04:00

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

2009-05-13T13:02:00.004-04:00

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

2009-05-11T21:58:00.007-04:00

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?

2009-04-12T18:56:00.031-04:00

"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

2009-03-20T10:16:00.006-04:00

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

2009-03-12T14:15:00.003-04:00

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

2009-03-06T14:54:00.005-05:00

“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!!

2009-02-20T21:21:00.007-05:00

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!!

2009-02-06T11:35:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-10T12:51:00.004-05:00

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

2009-01-02T11:58:00.003-05:00

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

2009-01-01T16:31:00.008-05:00

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!!

2008-12-29T10:22:00.002-05:00

“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

2008-12-12T09:08:00.001-05:00

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

2008-12-02T10:18:00.002-05:00

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

2008-11-21T11:51:00.006-05:00

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...

2008-11-05T10:57:00.008-05:00

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…

All prayers answered!!

2008-11-03T09:59:00.003-05:00

As the nation goes to election, every individual has hopes that things will change and dreams will come true. Strange how one person’s claim to the White House percolates to every person who wants some questions answered, some policies changed, some things to end or some things to commence.
I was listening to the radio this morning and was really intrigued by how the voting decisions are taken and how wonderful and diverse the mosaic of peoples’ opinions is. No matter what turn the election takes, the only speckle of hope is that these small hopes are not overruled and razed to the ground. May this election be the divine intervention each one seeks in their lives.

A woman is voting for A with the hope of getting her husband,a soldier, back from Iraq.
An elderly gentleman is voting for B so that the medical insurance becomes affordable and he can get his routine insulin shots.
A young man hopes to get his job back, so he gets the stove burning for his family dinner.
A young mom votes for the candidate with young kids so that he can do good for kids education and healthcare.
A woman votes for a woman so that she can feel empowered and not side-saddled.
An immigrant votes for B so that he can get the immigration process expedited and mitigate the agonizing wait.
A house owner votes so that he can retain the roof on his kids’ heads.
A retired woman votes to get better pension and social security benefits.
A man votes so that he and his race is looked upon with some respect.

No one knows what the new president’s pandora box holds for them, but each has the faith and the belief that there’ll be some treat for them.
They’ve been waiting for Santa!!

Tailor Promises!!

2008-10-26T19:06:00.008-04:00

Breaking a promise,going back on one's words always causes irreparable damage to someone, somewhere.And people just commit things without a thought,without weighing the consequences,because it doesn't affect them;they are not at the receiver end.After all ,kya farak padta hai?
And there is a special profession which is thriving on fake promises-that is tailoring.In India,specially for ladies Indian clothes,tailors are the messiahs, if not Gods.Because if you buy a saree, you need to get it hemmed and you need to get the blouse stitched and if you buy a stitched salwar-suit,there is a high probability that you will need to get it altered-even if its just a wee bit,1/2-1" here and there..after all we are women.
And ladies,if you are short of time and its a last minute purchase for some special occasion,then start fasting and praying to God with all that you have to save your skin because the tailor already has you doomed.
This wisdom struck me this time while on my India trip for my brother's wedding.Since I landed just 6 days before the wedding,I bought some things from Delhi to be altered in Roorkee.And this lady tailor had promised my mom that she would deliver on time.So it was peace of mind and the day I reached home I went to her and she promised to give it when I wanted.
That particular dress was for the haldi function and that evening I demand my dress and she says I had asked for the next day as I were a determined liar.I said what I could to her but then, I still had one dress for the mehendi function.So I made a mental calculation that I'll swap the two..so all was not lost.And she again promised in all eagerness to give it the next morning.Next afternoon was the mehendi function and I appear before her in the morning and she still hasn't done it because she had been sick and she was working on my blouse for the reception function in all her illness.I wanted to snatch it away from her and give to another tailor, but all the tailors in the town are busy for karva chauth dresses,so just wait patiently.Its always something with them tailors-Diwali,Eid,Raksha Bandhan,Karva Chauth :-(!!!!
So,I sulkily wear some old dress for the mehendi function.
In the end,she gave the blouse for the reception at least and I can't thank my stars enough for that.
OK..maybe lady tailors are unprofessional and things don't go wrong everytime.So this was after the wedding and there was ample time and I gave another two dresses to stitch to another reputed tailor,known to keep his word.He promised to deliver on 10/16 and I was to fly back on 10/18,so I had to be in Delhi on 10/17.So on the morning of 16th, I go to this guy's shop to pick up my stuff and he said- Wo doosre bhaiyya ko diya hoga aapne, aaj ke liye to kuchh nahin dena tha.
Ok ,so give it back to me unstitched..No can't be done..it was in some workshop already!!
This time I lost my cool and told him all blah,blah..why did you say yes if you could not and I am travelling out of town etc.And the amazing thing about these guys is that they keep listening and nodding and doing their job, all at the same time.
In the end of it,he said sheepishly-Madam,aur bhi kuchh kehna reh gaya kya?Kahan jaana hai aapko,agli baar aaoge to le lena.
Agli baar?
I told him I was leaving the country and not sure when will be the next visit.
Then he said-Are pehle kyun nahin bataya Amreeka jaana hai aapko,aaj dopahar tak le lena.
It seems I had to play the US card to get it done,something that I hate mentioning.Wish I had known that earlier,I still would have seeked Uncle Sam's help,against any principles.And finally I got my dresses that afternoon.
But I learnt the hard way that whatever your dressing plans are,tailor is the final arbitrator.
A woman proposes,the darzi disposes.

Too busy to pee!!

2008-09-24T13:58:00.005-04:00

The two top things kids hate spending their time on are going to the restroom and going to sleep. Life is too full of fun and adventure and promise to shut down the eyes or spend behind closed doors in the restroom. While for us adults ,shutting down against life-sleep is the greatest rejuvenation and respite. And attending the calls of nature is taking rest,that’s why its aptly called the Restroom.

Ishaan hates the mention of sleep, taking rest. Even if his eyelids give away and are too heavy to stay open, and his eyes are red and sore,he denies that he’s sleepy and keeps on convincing us desperately to let the lights in his room be on for just a few more minutes. Its like the biggest insult you can hurl upon him calling him tired and sleepy. And he tries hard to keep his eyes open and his mouth talking until sleep finally engulfs him and drifts him away gently, unknowingly.

And a visit to toilet is again a thing that has to be procrastinated and postponed until the very moment that the bladder gives away finally. His bladder is really under a stress test all the time. Till the time he is at school and daycare, those are precious moments with friends which cannot be missed at any cost. So moments after I pick him up, he starts pestering me to drive fast because he has to go.
And once home, he just can’t hold it till I unlock the door, screaming, pleading –“I’m almost peeing in my pants” and rushes to the restroom.
And the story doesn’t end here. On weekends he is busy playing at home, too busy to go. And the moment we land at any restaurant or any store, that’s the time he can afford to go pee. So,in all grocery stores that we frequent, all pharmacies, all malls or restaurants we go to, we know exactly where the restrooms are, so we are able to make it there before he wets his pants.
And last year at Delhi, Connaught Place when shopping at the otherwise shining and upmarket and expensive Allen Solly store, he comes down with his usual request. While I was thankful that at least they had a tiny restroom or we would have to rush outside in a mad search-to-no-avail, but he whines and complains about how small and dirty it is and the flush system doesn’t work. Not to mention that they couldn’t even spare the littlest restroom space to stack some posters, cartons, carry bags.
Attention to detail, people!! You’re doing business!!

Fun Fact:Heard on the radio that some department stores in Europe have their employees wear diapers in the busy holiday shopping season to save time on restroom breaks...ewwww!!

On a Top Blog List

2008-09-17T13:04:00.010-04:00

A friend of mine e-mailed me this morning to inform me that my blog was on the India Blogs list -Directory of Top Blogs in India and Most Widely Read Indian Bloggers.
http://www.labnol.org/india-blogs/indian-bloggers.html
Fully sceptical and feeling it-cant-be, I clicked on the above URL and then searched for my name..once I found Sara, I was again certain that the link would lead to some other Sara's blog.But no,it was unmistakably the humble sarasid.blogspot.com.I am listed under General,Everything Else

Yes,I am shocked but it feels great and I want to thank all the readers of this blog..those who comment and also those who read and leave silently on a tiptoe.
Thank you all for your clicks and spending your invaluable time on my blog.
I started this blog just to break from the monotony of life and to do something I feel happy about...just for myself.And I never knew I had so much to write about before I started;there are stories hidden and conspicuous everywhere just waiting to be narrated and given life.And after I started blogging, my mind is constantly occupied and building a frame/structure to build upon..this preoccupation often startles me when someone suddenly calls my name or walks up suddenly to start talking to me.
The fact that I am listed under General, Everything Else shows that I never thought of giving any direction or theme to my blog,it just goes with the flow. And honestly I do not advertize and publicize my blog too much or decorate and add frills to it,neither do I write about current topics and newsmakers to get some clicks.
I just write what I feel like and I am grateful to the people who like my sometimes boring and senseless ravings and rantings and musings.

If I can't have you

2008-09-12T08:57:00.008-04:00

A song can do wonders, at times and that too if you are bombarded with the same lyrics and tune day in and day out,morning till evening, and of course you also have to be half-crazy.This can-work-wonders song, an old one was among the playlists at my work for a long time last month and subconsciously kept on hammering me and bothering me...

If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby
If I can't have you... If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby
If I can't have you...

Compromise and settling in for what-you-get can arguably be a virtue,but at times you stare stark at yourself and question what you really want,and can you be adamant about it,and when exactly you need to keep your foot down.
And this song made me do that..but no I have not taken any pledges or made any life-changing decisions or earth-shaking achievements. But yes,all I have succeeded in is getting myself a handbag, the one that I love..
I am a very docile person when it comes to shopping and mostly hubby does the selections for me and I go by his choice.But this time,I wanted a handbag and I didn’t want a leather one..I wanted something different and I had my eyes fixed on the fabric quilted ones, which would be light to carry and different.
But the only and the most important arcanum was where to get it?So,we visited some stores and didn’t find that kind…the routine leather or canvas!!
Hubby did shortlist some nice regular ones for me and handed to me one by one while I tried them on….thats what I expect of him when we go shopping. But I didn’t like any of them but he had me cajoled and brainwashed into buying one-but once home it looked listless and I was not quite satisfied with it.It was a long weekend, so we went shopping again and the next day again he talked me into buying another on. We can always return it if you don’t like it at home-this was his argument and it works most of the times and there is no return- I just grow into liking my purchase, end of story, happy but compromised ending!!
But not this time and I went back to work after the weekend and it started..

If I can't have you
I don't want nobody, baby

What person am I if I can accept a second choice and give in so easily?
And I geared up and challenged myself into finding my coveted handbag.
And google didn’t help much this time…bet my query was inappropriate and I’m beginning to rely heavily on amazon these days.
And I typed in quilted handbag and voila!! I was already a step ahead, the bags were designed and sold under the label Vera Bradley.
So I was inching closer to my destination and next stop was verabradley.com and search for locations around us.
Yes, the bags were sold in speciality gift stores only and I found one moderately close to work, considering how I loathe driving. And I actually sneaked out at lunch for my clandestine mission and landed myself at this store which is a big achievement for me..those who know me can vouch for it..the lazy one that I am , I would normally wait for chauffeur-husband to drive me and wait on me while I shopped, if only it were not for….
If I can’t get you,I’ll have nobody baby…
And back home,dear hubby’s eyes almost popped out of the sockets when he saw my newest booty proudly on display on the kitchen-island with breathless when-where-how did you, how could you get this?

Times of Convenience

2008-09-02T15:05:00.004-04:00

.
Time and tide wait for no man, but a man is free manipulate the times in the clocks to suit him, as long as he can reach them.
This wisdom has dawned on me this morning when I was just about to have Ishaan miss his schoolbus, because I trusted this clock in the living room and it showed 8:15AM while it was actually 8:30AM.I sat on the couch relaxed and happy and proud that I had got him ready and dressed and fed 15mins ahead of time…so laze around a little bit and lecture Ishaan about being good at school and eating all of his lunch and be an attentive listener et al.
And then just in time,my eyes wandered to the kitchen and the gas stove displayed 8:30AM…my cellphone again 8:30…a momentary abulia…but two things can’t be wrong and I darted for Ishaan’s backpack and sandals. Somehow I helped his shoulders into the backpack and barely fastened his sandals and both of us just made it outside, just about one second before the bus….thank God ,just once, for late bus drivers. Otherwise, I would have to drop him to school and get to work later than I already amAfter the bus left I promptly called hubby to let him know that the particular clock is running slow and needs a battery replacement or repair, first thing in the evening.
“Which clock”, he says “TV ke upar waali… that’s OK….no, I mean I know that.”
So, that was it…I didn’t hear the rest of it and got the crux-it was not the clock but its location. Since its directly above the TV, it had been deliberately violated to suit the one who could reach it. It was strategic planning-so he could buy the precious 15 more mins of TV time, so when I start hollering that its getting late, almost 11, every night, he could say –Oh, its still quarter to 11.That was clever and I didn’t know for how long it was like this!!
And when I think of it, all clocks in our home show different times, the one in the bedroom is 10 minutes faster. The logic behind that is so that we can get up earlier…when its actually 7:00, it shows 7:10 and creates that urgency to jump off the bed as its past the hour.
The only ones that show accurate times are my kitchen microwave and gas stove LED displays…the kitchen ones are spared-partly because food should be on time,I guess,and partly because they are within my arms’ reach and I can adjust them back.
Tampering the clocks is one way of taking undue advantage of height,among thousand others.

Private Gold Mines

2008-08-14T11:49:00.004-04:00

Complexion-Fair
Height -5’4”
Weight- Before or After?
Seriously, these brides should be weighed before and after getting decked up to get the real idea. And in some cultures, like mine, the bride’s uncle is supposed to lift up the bride and seat her on the doli/decorated car when she leaves home, at vidaai after marriage.
The uncles should please practice with the after-weight, lest they end up with a broken backs and a heavy surprise…gosh, I didn’t expect this!!
Actually Kerala, now called, God’s won country should rightly be called Gold’s own country.I wonder if the rates of gold are evaluated and discussed there, per kg instead of per tolah or 10gms, a very conservative measure,like in every other part of India.

Every time a marriage is planned and arranged, the always shooting up rate of gold is the primary concern, and soon as it drops by a few bucks, people flock to the jewelers, threatening a stampede. Don’t ever forget, gold is the goal. Phones start ringing among relatives, instructing and advising to buy today, lest it climbs up again. What a gold rush!! After all, what is a wedding, without the glitter of gold?And even if no marriage is on the cards in the family, its for the future marriage of Guddi, which could be anywhere between 15-20 years or more.

As for Kerala, as my bachelor friends informed me, that Mallu girls are very beautiful, fair, educated and not ultra-modern and home-loving and docile. So they’ll be bound to home and hearth and their dads deliver them, most parts covered with gold!! What else can guys ask for?
So,all those yet to be harnessed and bound,young stallions,eligible bachelors-Kerala is the place,you all should start seeking, pronto and make it your state-in-law.
If you are born poor, its God’s fault….but if your dad-in-law is poor, its your fault, totally!!

With an iron will,he finds a way

2008-08-07T11:26:00.006-04:00

I saw this and thought of sharing...how very often we complain about not being able to do certain things..though we have two eyes,ears and four limbs.What we lack is the iron will and the flame within.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/29/sports/othersports/29wrestler.html?th&emc=th
A true hero,indeed!!

Thoda pyaar, thoda magic, bahut boring

2008-07-07T14:13:00.003-04:00

I never intended to write a movie review and that too for this movie, but it’s that same itching in the fingers to key in some rubbish….so here goes. And being unable to pen down a story of my own at this moment, let me just fling mud on someone else’s. There are a few movies that you really watch for yourself and majority of them are just thrust upon you...for family’s sake, like this one.
I am a mom but no, I don’t find all the kids cute and especially those ones in this movie are not convincing. There are four of them, each trying his/her own bit to amuse, move, entertain the audience, but not even one of them is genuine and believable at all.Not that I am against all child actors…. I liked the child in Taare Zameen Par and the one in Fanaa.
And Rishi Kapoor is playing God, for God’s sake, no!!This guy suddenly stops changing his sweaters(to conceal his tummy) and running around the trees with Juhi Chawla ,singing Bol Radha Bol and suddenly steps into being Kajol’s dad and now God, our Father in Heaven.And on top of it he tries to be a funny God, a God with a funny streak, a sense of humour, and he ruins it.
Raani Mukheji is a good actress, as always…and she is an angel from heaven…but that doesn’t mean she has to keep wearing the same dress all 2.5 hours of the movie.Angels are allowed change of clothes with other allowances, at least for the viewers’ sake..if not for the intellectual, elite ones ..but for mortal ones like me who love to see nice and colorful designer dresses.A movie is a getaway, so it better be colorful.
And Amisha Patel is trying hard to squeeze into her clothes.She could,in the least, have lost some weight if she were to do that cameo role.This is the business she is in -gain weight,lose weight,whatever the role demands!!Abhishek,Aishwarya,Hrithik, everybody does it...this shows her dedication!!And the Lazy Lamhe song is unbelievable…people complain about suggestive and double-meaning songs and dialogues..but the lyrics of this one just say it, loud and clear..after all, be explicit,be candid, so all can understand and that too in a movie meant for kids.
Saif is safe with his looks,lucky guy, despite the sulky expression he carries in the most part of the movie.
But all said and done, my son did enjoy the movie, giggling away when the dinosaurs come to life in one of the songs. And he commented on Rishi Kapoor, playing God in heaven -
Mom, this guy was alive in the Chanda Chamke movie (Fanaa), now he is dead and in heaven.

How could I.....forget

2008-06-12T10:18:00.005-04:00

Totally, absolutely sucks....driving to work in the morning with sleep still lingering on eyelashes and reaching there to find out,you left your laptop home!! What are you without your laptop-your armor, your shield, your weapon-all rolled into one.Its like going to the battlefield with no arms/ammunition, its suicide. So you do an about turn from the parking to sweet home again and speed all through the way and curse yourself/someone for the soup you are in....
God, this happened to me today and I was behind the wheel for 45 mins instead of the stipulated 15 mins!! And all through the way, I called hubby, the official punching bag and uttered all nasty things to my heart’s content to him,like how stressed and overworked and underslept I am.
Why do I forget? I brew a nice cup of coffee in the morning, pour it down into my travel mug and keep it in the car, to sip it while at my desk and it never makes it to my desk. I forget it in the car....and I am just so frustrated to go all the way to the parking again for that cuppa coffee. And when I know my son is home already, I still drive to the daycare to pick him up.And I absolutely 100% know the four-digit access code to the daycare and still I stand and stare at the keypad, trying to recollect the code.
Maybe this amnesia is the degeneration of brain cells- as in ageing? Its creepy and I amd not ready to accept that,yet.C'mon I can still climb the flight of stairs in one breath!!Or is it true that we become what we read and watch? Hubby would agree 100% on that, because he despises my shushing him when I am on a novel. I was till yesterday reading the book “Remember Me?”, by Sophie Kinsella. It is about a woman who meets an accident and forgets 3 years worth of her life. See, I read just any fiction!!Is that rubbing on to me?Also, maybe I am, in my subconscious, obsessed by Alzheimer's after the movie You, me and humm..
Anyway,here are some funny ones on amnesia/Alzheimer's;

The nice thing about Alzheimer's is you get to hide your own Easter eggs.

Irish Alzheimer's: you forget everything except the grudges

People think it's a terrible tragedy when somebody has Alzheimer's. But in my mother's case, it's different. My mother has been unhappy all her life. ... For the first time in her life, she's happy.”

These days I walk into a room full of people and the only name I can remember is "Alzheimer"

Alzheimer's advantage: New friends every day.

It happens only in India!!

2008-05-21T09:41:00.003-04:00

My husband’s parents are in town and yesterday while driving them around, a fire truck rushed past us with sirens wailing and as always all vehicles pulled up on both sides of the road to leave room for the fire vehicle.
Father-in-law commented as a matter-of-factedly about how the corrupt and self-important firemen and cops in India misuse their emergency sirens to make way for them in the packed traffic for their personal errands or for going for lunch and also,just to just zip past the traffic, people were getting such sirens in their personal vehicles.
My son did not comment that time and asked no questions(which was strange!!), but he had absorbed and processed the information overnight and this morning, he presented his hence-concluded hypothesis-
“Mummy, you know in India when the firemen sound the siren, means they are going to eat and when they don’t means there is a fire”.
I wonder next time when they talk about fire safety at school,he will pour out his new knowledge about fire rules in India and put my country to disgrace.
“Really?That’s weird!!” , that’s what I imagine, his teacher and classmates would say.

Rocked by waves

2008-05-16T09:31:00.010-04:00

We went to our first cruise vacation this March and I can’t believe I haven’t been able to put my thoughts together for a post, although I feel I could write volumes and paeans about it. I always wanted to take that adventure trip but we were toying with the idea for a while, when a dear friend of mine told me that they had just been on a cruise and its awesome. That just triggered it and finally we booked our trip from Miami to Bahamas.And only yesterday I watched this movie You, me aur humm…the cruise ship was exactly like the one we traveled in..maybe the same one.
Our ship, the Majesty of the Seas was truly majestic and I was held in awe by the sheer size of it!!It had 14 storeys and anything you could think of was in there. There was a huge open air swimming pool, basket ball court, mountain-climbing wall, table tennis, a fully-equipped gymn, saloon,spa , lounges, shops, world-class restaurants and theatres and auditoriums..you name it. Our room was of course not as big, but was organized and compact with a cute little bath with a tiny shower. There was a window to look at the ocean and my son loved climbing upto his loft bed!! We had food 24 hours and variety of food like a king’s buffet and free room service. And the best part was that all food was paid for in the cruise price, so we had a feast all times of the day, oblivious and unmindful of the calories and the pounds.
And the beaches at Bahamas,unlike other subfusc ones, were heavenly…. it was absolutely white sand with real turquoise waters- and that’s not an exaggeration at all. We all got tanned and itchy, despite the sunblocks we applied.And I did para-sailing for the first time in my life, my life hanging by that rope which held the parachute.That experience, I plan to write about later, sometime.But I must admit, more than the islands I enjoyed being in the ship, on the deck and just watching the waves rock us, hold us and take us places. The vastness of the ocean and the minuteness of us, humans as well as the big, mighty ship compared to the water, intrigued me all the time. And that breeze from the ocean was heavenly, instantly making you light-headed and free-spirited.
And we had this all-night dance party, an experience we had after a lot many years, the last ones being the dance parties at our college IMT, Ghaziabad. And I was amazed that the good old Macarena song still rocks the parties and we were nostalgic at that song, how everybody used to tease our fellow classmate geeky Bhalla with –“Bhalla to poora padh liya,Macarena”. And not to mention Daler Mehendi was there too once, with the DJ playing –“Bolo tara rara.” Yay, India!!
Oh, I could go on about that vacation, forever!! And they also had this supervised and organized kidscare with loads of kid activities where you could leave the kids if you wanted. And my son enjoyed being there occasionally with kids his age!! And we also caught some adult comedy shows, which I can write a little about or I would have to mark this blog as PG-13.There was this couple show, Battle of Sexes, where couples were picked randomly from the audience and asked questions separately about their spouses, to judge how well you know your partner. Men were asked if you had to buy you-know-what for your wife, what size would it be and their answers were announced in front of their wives and everybody else to check the correctness.90% of the men were wrong, because I guess, despite reality, guys always hold their fantasies near and dear. I thanked my stars that we were not picked for that game.
And the there was this fun-game Quest where there were numerous teams and the host called out from each team, people who qualified certain criteria to run to him, on stage.
Like anyone with any pills on them or a dog’s picture or a kid’s picture on them, rush to the stage. Since it was an adults-only game, many of the things were meant to have a lateral and double meaning and that made it all the more hilarious. One was that any man with a woman’s item on them, rush to the stage. And the host was an entertaining and funny fellow and he called out –
“People, you all could have simply exchanged a shoe or a ring, a bracelet, a necklace or a handbag. But you all are eager to drop your pants and wiggle out of your shirts. So, you all can see to what extent your fellow passengers can go for that petty prize key ring or coffee mug!!”

Who's Who

2008-05-13T14:47:00.003-04:00

Who’s the singer?Atif Aslam?
No, its Mustafa Zahid.
Actually no, its Kamran Ahmed.
But surely it’s a Pakistani singer!!
These young Pakistani singers are good…that touching, hurt, heart-rending tone in the voice sets them apart from our home-grown Udit Narayan, Abhiheet,Sonu Nigam and gang.I lost my heart to Atif Aslam,once I heard Tere bin main yun kaise jiya…kaise jiya tere bin. The texture of his voice seems so honest and forlorn and reaching out.
Actually, years ago, I had this secret young girl thing about the prince of my dreams, a guy who could sing well....it was the most romantic thing for me. Well, that dream didn’t come true as the package I got as my husband has no such attributes and he isn’t even tolerable when overheard singing in the bathroom.
Anyway what I wanted vs what I got , actually what I chose to get (can't blame anyone!!), deserves a separate blog post. For now, lemme stick to these singers.
At work, I listen to all the new hindi releases which are mentioned by someone or listed at ndtv.com or rediff.com. And my work place, office space,is not the typical serious, pin-drop silence kind of an atmosphere.Its more energetic, trendy, stimulating,brazen and what not and because of that I am blasted by this rock music or techno music whatever they like to call it at all times.And I have to take refuge under my ear plugs.
The thing is that our music directors, movie directors- Mr Bhat, Mr Pritam etc are introducing so many new voices that its difficult to discern who’s singing which song.And all these songs are so similar – the tune, the lilt, the pensive tone.
To me, a listener, songs that have Atif Aslam written all over them are actually rendered by Mustafa Zahid . So Mr Zahid’s identity in the song To phir aao… is shrouded by Atif’s while the newbie Kamran struggles to etch out a corner for himself with the song Judaai…. Its unfair to these singers and it’s a waste of talent if they seem interchangeable to the audience .So Bollywood bosses, just hold off introducing new voices for some time,please.

Weekend Reports

2008-05-07T10:28:00.003-04:00

I dread Mondays, not only because of the usual Monday blues and going back to work after the weekend, but also because Monday, my son has to write a weekend report of weekend activities he did with us. That means he has to paint a picture of our lives for Saturday and Sunday, in words and sketches, and publish it to friends and teachers. And we are private people, not ready to expose our lives from the eyes of an honest five-year old. We don’t want them to peek uninvited into our mess and we just can’t lead showcase lives for that report. And also the truth is that we are to the world, what our kids want us to be.
And this is what he wrote one of the weekends, of course with not so-correct spellings:
I watched my Power Ranger movie and then I got bored and I came down and watched some of their movie. I asked mom if she could play with me and she said No. Then I got tired and sleepy and they pulled a blanket on me and I went to sleep on the couch.
Along with it was a picture in a rectangle with us sitting and watching TV and in the right hand corner was him watching TV.I can't find it now or would have scanned it.
Shame and disgust engulfed me from all comprehensible nooks and corners. His teachers would be thinking we are the kind of parents who just let TV do all the talking and parenting and are not involved with our son. Maybe she would cite our example to others and who knows we could be recommended therapy!!
While the truth is, believe me, that we are OKAY parents, if not the best. We do entertain him and take him bowling and go-carting and we meet family friends so that he plays with the kids. We play basketball and darts at times. We take him bicycling and scooter riding. And we play Monopoly and Sorry and Uno and all board games-you name it! And we even let him win, though its difficult to do that for his dad. But one nudge from me does it.
The thing is that he forgets what all we did Friday evening, Saturday or Sunday daytime. He just remembers the end, the Sunday evening-that is what is fresh in his mind, and he spills that out. And Sunday evening, just when winding down the weekend, we are drained out and laze in front of the TV, and that’s what he writes, which is so not fair!! So now its a lesson for us to reserve the energy for funnest(in his words) activity for the last part of Sunday.
But somewhere deep inside I am also grateful for what he could write and portray but he didn’t, which would go like-
Mom said this to Dad. Dad said that back to mom. And then mom said she is not going to cook lunch. Then dad asked me if I was hungry and I said yes. Then he got pizza for them and chicken nuggets for me.

Not pointing a finger ....but

2008-04-17T09:46:00.006-04:00

A dear friend of mine, working in one of the largest and most reputed pharmaceutical company, narrated this incident to me. She was in the pantry area for a cup of coffee when she saw an Indian colleague who she didn’t know and hadn’t spoken to ever.This guy was washing and rinsing his coffee mug and seemed to be embarrassed to be seen by another Indian lady(my friend), caught in such a situation,doing such a menial job. And he was so ashamed of himself that he remarked, addressing my friend –“Here, in this office I have to do this. At home I don’t even fetch a glass of water myself.”
Great job….loud applause.

Another friend, working in an IT giant organization in Texas was talking about the new Indian guys shipped from India for some project. And they complained to the management that they were under ‘severe mental stress’ because they couldn’t readily get to eat sambhar and rice. Grow up guys, all daals and rice and masalas are available readily in Texas. Try boiling some of it with salt and laal mirch before escalating the issue to the management.

A friend’s mother-in-law when visiting them from India –“My poor son has to touch the dirty dishes and clean up after dinner.”She was mad and hurt about her son having to rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher.
This is a do-it-yourself country,ma’am!!
And this one is taken from the novel I am reading currently, Desirable Daughters by Bharati Mukherjee. In this plot, some people are talking about the efficacy of the metro train system in Calcutta. The argument, one guy gave was that people could reach home earlier in order to spend some more quality time with family.
“Quality time?” a woman retorted.
“That man who downs tens of cups of tea at work is able to reach home 15 minutes earlier to lift up a lazy leg to the couch and order more.”

Call Centres-yikes!!

2008-04-07T13:39:00.007-04:00

So, what did you do Friday night?
Friday evening ,after work, is the most relaxing time, knowing for the next two mornings, we don’t have to curse the alarm and rush with eyes half-open to the shower and run the rest of the marathon.
And wouldn’t you want to strangle a guy who is hellbent on spoiling your evening because he just wouldn’t start listening and stop talking,endlessly rehearsing the lines he’s learnt.
What I’m talking here is trying to book an air ticket on the phone and getting a desi guy, with nascent-English skills and no common-sense or IQ at all, on the phone!!
The story goes like this…we had to book tickets from India to US for my parents-in-laws’ upcoming visit, this summer. My husband was browsing fervently for a couple of days to get good deals, but its summer so forget about good deals, the airfares are skyhigh!!
Anyway he promised he’d finish booking that Friday evening and we would head out for dinner, it had to be done this Friday. And he finally got the best possible with our desired no of stops, layover times etc at orbitz.com. And he was about to book it online, when I popped in-“Why don’t you call them up once to know the change/cancellation policies?”
I had this look on,which translated to-‘Its our hard-earned money, just so you know!!’
And wish he hadn’t like always, but this time he decided to pay heed to my advice, though he claimed he knew the answers, just to avoid seeing my blown-up-as-a-balloon face on a Friday, he dialed the 1-866- number...?.
So the one-sided unperturbed conversation was on – “This is Anil sir, how may I help you” and soon “sir” changed to a heavily accented “Pharaag” for “Parag” ,and not affected at all by any trials of interruptions, started the saga of best deals et al, like a 1st-grader would recite the rote table of 4.
My husband was thouroughly irked and giving me the look of –‘Why do you put me through all this’, but anyway he did succeed to intercept and say ‘Cancellation policy’, when phat came another one like a table of 5 –‘Its $50 fee for the airline and $30 for our services for any change’.This conversation was on the speaker phone,so I wrote out on a paper, like the wise one-
Q1. What if we have to cancel?
Q2.Till when is the ticket valid?
But that guy, soon as he would hear the keyword ‘Cancel/cancellation’, it would trigger him to rattle off with ‘ $50$+$30, that’s $80’.
I had to barge in then and I shouted at him in the most acerbic tone –‘Listen, I understand and remember by heart that $50 + $30 story, but I have a different question.’
This time he got a little intimidated and said he would forward the call to his superior. And we were on an endless hold. And thankfully the superior did answer the questions and we were spared of the patience-test.
But by the time the final booking was done, the evening was over!!
All hopes of Chinese or Italian cuisine were razed to the ground and I had the cooker shouting and announcing the humble ‘arhar daal’ ready and the rice cooker saying COOKED. And to top it all, all this talk was on the kitchen phone,so I had to periodically shush and cajole the Hawkins cooker’s whistle throughout,with hubby’s glowering eyes on the poor thing, as if the cooker were the monster in this ordeal!! Next time dear, you plan to call 1-800 number, don’t you dare do it in the kitchen - lesson generated, hope its learnt!!

So much for Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus

2008-03-13T10:03:00.006-04:00

“My tooth is wiggly”, my son declared emerging from the bathroom, soon after finishing his toothbrush-and-toilet ritual that night with his dad. “What did you do to him, did you brush his teeth too hard”, was my instant reaction, directed towards the dad. The nightly protocol of brushing-and-toilet is strictly enforced by me, so mostly I get that done, just to ensure that its not conveniently skipped.
“I didn’t do anything”, my husband was obdurate, defensive.
And then I asked the kiddo to open his mouth wide in a ‘AAAAAAA’ and peeked into it, to estimate the damage. And, behind the wiggly tooth was a sharp white thing emerging, like the tip of an iceberg. It was the new tooth that was pushing out the old one!!
So, it was time for him to loose his teeth and for the permanent ones to come.
“Google, is that okay?” and Google told me that its between 5 to 7 years that children loose their teeth, so not to worry.
Then finally after a couple of days, the loose one came out and I assumed it would be a little painful for him, but he squealed in delight, “Now the tooth fairy will give me a gift.”
Tooth Fairy, what the heck is that!! There are no tooth fairies in our country where we lost our teeth. So, again our savior Google told us that you have to keep the tooth under the pillow at night and the tooth fairy replaces it with money or a gift. Not again!! Christmas has just gone by when we spent a fortune on buying him toys and the old fat Santa Claus took all the credit. And now again, burn a hole in your pocket and let the Tooth Fairy get away with it!! We are targets of a cabal plotted by these characters. Undoubtedly, all these elves and fairies are just robbers in disguise, who fill their bulging goody bags from the parents’ pockets.
Anyway, we did put the tooth under the pillow and sneaked in later in the night, to replace it with some cash and the kid was sure delighted in the morning, though he doesn’t do any cash transactions yet, neither buying something, nor selling our stuff .
The second tooth he lost when we are sailing on the ship on our cruise vacation. And he applied all his logic and wisdom and came up with this – “We can’t put the tooth under the pillow tonight because the tooth fairy doesn’t know that we are on the ship, she can’t find us, lets save the tooth till we reach home.” And we did that.
But that’s just not the end of it, we are also subject to questions about what the tooth fairy does with the all the teeth. I was trying my tiny little wits, and I was thinking more like a woman, that she colors them and makes jewelry out of them and does good business, but thankfully his dad told him that she gives the teeth to other kids who need them, who have gaping holes in their mouths.
So much has that tooth fairy occupied his brain, that last night he told us that we, the parents, have tooth fairies at work, who give us the money when we go to work.
How I wish that were true, I would give my tooth and nail and limb, if someone could just sneak the booty under my pillow, without me toiling for it.

Friends Forever

2008-03-11T13:41:00.004-04:00

I have always believed that the best things happen to you unplanned, without a notice.It just so happened that while returning from Miami, our connecting flight to Columbus was from New York. And God bless the winters of Ohio, Columbus was in the midst of a snow blizzard and no flights could go in or out of Columbus. So, there we were, tired after the vacation, stranded at the airport with long faces and droopy eyelids. What next? was written all over our faces.
And then we thought of visting our friends at a two-hour drive from New York and called them up. They insisted we come to their place right away, without thinking about anything.And hence, we just crashlanded on them in the middle of the night. God gave us relatives; thank God we can choose our friends.
Though we were seeing each other after years, it didn’t feel like it at all and that’s what my friend said that it seems like we keep meeting each other every other day. Such was our comfort level and rapport. And it was just like coming home for us. And we spent late nights, just laughing at nothing and everything.
And naturally when two old friends meet, the husbands are the natural targets. And I must appreciate how the two men took everything so sportingly, and readily, joining in all the fun, even if it was at their expense.
And as my friend rightly said, distance doesn’t change anything in friendship. I agree with her that time and distance are no challenge for friendship,if there's honesty and open hearts.And I believe that
Friendship is all about picking up from where we left off last, anytime, and yet feeling that we never left off, ever.

Comb Stealing - can kill !!

2008-02-29T08:45:00.009-05:00

I love my things-old, ugly, torn however they are, they belong to me.And they should be exactly in the same position, exactly in the same state and the exact same spot where I leave them, as I leave them because again, they belong to me. Sometimes hubby tells me that I love these inanimate things more than living beings who actually live with me. Maybe its insane but I just don’t like to share my small, worthless things with just anybody and these would be things like hair brushes, skin lotions –all trivial stuff. I can share my feelings ,my life, my heart ,my thoughts, but not these little things.
And though I completely agree that spouses should complement each other for harmonious co-existence, but extreme complementing is also disastrous. The more I want to reserve my ‘things’ for myself, the more he pounces on any new stuff I buy, just for his love of novelty, for trying new things. And I always encourage him to buy new stuff for him whenever I buy for me, just to avoid the clash and the crash, but those encouragements are met with a very humble ‘No I don’t need anything’.
So, it happened that just this Sunday I bought a hair brush for myself-nothing fancy, just a regular ,most ordinary one. And I announced that no one should touch it because I can deal with pulling out the long hair from the bristles to keep it clean. But the messy entanglement of small hair of the dad and son is impossible to clean and I hate those pertinacious little strands on my brush. So, for the past three mornings, namely, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I combed my hair, copacetic and content with the clean brush and the fact that no one else had touched it.
And, today, this morning the lightning struck me and its the courtesy of my son that I am aware of what goes on behind my back. If it were not for these innocent tongues, I don’t know how many culprits and miscreants would have gotten away with just anything. So, today as I was getting him ready for school, when I came to combing the hair part with one hand firmly holding his chain, the child screamed-‘ I don’t like this comb, I like the one daddy combs my hair with.’
‘Which one?’, I asked, with my heart jumping in my mouth.
‘The new one that you just bought.’
There it was, my worst fear come true!!My own personal hairbrush had already been bestowed upon the honour of being the Family Hairbrush.
Its common news these days – Man kills wife, wife plots to kill husband – for money, for Mr/Ms X, for other reasons. For the money part, I am sure we never will have that much bounty that leads to a kill. As for Mr/Ms X, I am again sure that handling and dealing with one Mr/Ms is a handful, actually armsful for both of us. As for the third category, other reasons, comb stealing is a good enough reason for me to kill!!

Marriage and Carriage and Train Tracks

2008-02-27T11:01:00.006-05:00

This is the caveat that everybody must have heard umpteen times and elderly ladies-aunts, moms-in-law, relatives love to reiterate every now and then -
“Marriage is a carriage with husband and wife being the two pairs of wheels on each side, so for it to move forward, both the pairs of wheels must move together in harmony.”
So this is some thing etched in my mind that marriage is about wheels and motion.Thats a good way to look at it, though it fills me with ennui due to the sheer repetition.
And recently I was reading the novel The Zahir by Paulo Coelho of The Alchemist fame.The book on the whole is not as interesting and involving as the Alchemist, but there are some excellent insights and philosophies that catch your thoughts.This one about marriage being like train tracks is a really interesting one. Though it may be called too general or temerarious, but its worth a thought.
Here is a brief excerpt from The Zahir:

"I went to a train station today and learned that the distance between railway tracks is always 143.5 centimeters or 4 feet and 8.5 inches. Why this absurd measurement? I asked my girlfriend to find out and this is what she discovered. When they built the first train carriage, they used the same tools as they had for building hors-drawn carriages. And why that distance between the wheels on carriages? Because that was the width of the old roads along which the carriages had to travel. And who decided that roads should be that width? Well, suddenly we are plunged back into the distant past. It was the Romans, the first great road-builders, who decided to make their roads that width. And why? Because their war chariots were pulled by two horses, and when placed side by side, the horses they used at the time took up 143.5 centimeters.

But has all this have to do with marriage?

It has everything to do with marriage and with the two stories we have just heard. At some point in history, someone turned up and said: when two people get married, they must stay frozen like that for the rest of their lives. You will move along side by side like two tracks, keeping always that same distance apart. Even if sometimes one of you needs to be a little further away or a little closer, that is against the rules. The rules say: be sensible, think of the future, think of your children. You can't change, you must be like two railway tracks that remain the same distance apart all the way from their point of departure to their destination. The rules don't allow for love to change, or to grow at the start and diminish halfway through - it's too dangerous. And so, after the enthusiasm of the first few years, they maintain the same distance, the same solidity, the same functional nature. Your purpose is to allow the train bearing the survival of the species to head off into the future: your children will only be happy if you stay just as you were - 143.5 centimeters apart. If you're not happy with something that never changes, think of them, think of the children you brought into the world.

Think of your neighbors. Show them that you're happy, eat roast beef on Sundays, watch television, help the community. Think of society: dress in such a way that everyone knows you're in perfect harmony. Never glance to the side, someone might be watching you, and that could bring temptation, it could mean divorce, crisis, depression.

Smile in all the photos. Put the photos in the living room, so that everyone can see them. Cut the grass, practice a sport - oh, yes, you must practice a sport in order to stay frozen in time. When sport isn't enough, have plastic surgery. But never forget, these rules were established long ago and must be respected. Who established these rules? That doesn't matter. Don't question them, because they will always apply, even if you don't agree with them."

Koi Samjhega Kya

2008-02-04T13:05:00.000-05:00

Keeping up my promise to myself to listen to more meaningful and introspective music, I am listening to ghazals ..reviving that exhilaration.And the last one that touched my heart is from the unparalleled album of Jagjit and Chitra, Someone Somewhere –

Koi samjhega kya raaz-e-gulshan
Jab tak uljhe na kaanton mein daaman

How true these lines are…experience is the only real thing in life.Being in the thick of something,undergoing something, living through something , and seeing your loved ones going through something …those tough but real times teach us so much about life and things we never think about in normal conditions.Its doesn’t have to be a huge revelation but just being aware of one small thing that we see, hear,read each day and yet discard as irrevelant.
But again,its too bad that we forget the lessons once the time takes a leap forward --camouflaging,fading and finally erasing those memories. One thing that comes to my mind in this context is my awakening towards blood donation.My husband had always been a Red Cross member and an active blood donator, but I could never relate to it ,though I never stopped or discouraged him from doing it.
And then one day a dear relative of mine was struggling for life and needed more blood than was available for his blood group.And the blood banks didn’t sell blood, they exchanged one bag for another.All of us, friends, relatives gave blood to exchange for the right blood type. And that was the first time, the selfish me did that. And God is great, so he was saved and the importance of donating blood got etched in my mind.
And soon after that there was a blood donation drive at my workplace. I who was always passive and dormant at such events always, but that time, I was a vehement protagonist, the enlightenment just fresh in me.I urged all my colleagues to go ahead and donate, even women who were afraid of the needle prick, I told them that one needle prick can amount to saving a life and was able to persuade, not hundreds, but at least a couple.
That experience didn’t make me a messiah or philanthropist, but just made me feel the pulse and made me aware.

Cant think of a topic

2008-01-16T09:39:00.000-05:00

The new year is here and I thought I should post something at least in January, just to give a good start to my blog in this year – some superstition I believe in, like keeping away from the kitchen on the first day of the year.Of course the logical me tells me what has a day or a month got to do with whats going to happen rest of the year, but nevertheless, dil ke khush rakhne ko Ghalib ye khayaal accha hai.So I don’t know where this post will lead to, its an aimless,thoughtless, messageless,storyless babble.
People make resolutions, try to stick to them and if doesn’t work out, they forget about it.Weight management,time management,giving up smoking, drinking,punctuality –the usual neverending list.I don’t make a resolution for the fear of keeping it.come what may.I am afraid if I make one, I will stick to it because in some things like promises and discipline,I take myself seriously.And it makes it difficult for people living with me, and I dont want to make it worse for them, than it already is.
Anyway, I tell friends that perfection needs no improvement, said by Aamir Khan in Dil Chahta hai, so no resolution for me.But keeping in touch with friends is a to-do, if not a resolution.I don’t call up friends often but however busy life may get, a chitchat with a good friend, always perks me up.However different we girls might have been, we are all in the same boat now –inseparable from home and hearth, raising kids, managing time between work and family.
Though starting from late 2007 and well into 2008, all I have been doing is watching movies , name it, I’ve seen it.What I’ve been doing fervently is redoing hubby’s list of Netflix movies-substituting all his action-packed ones with sugary romantic ones and his protests are dealt with a dose of –So everything is yours, Netflix, TV,DVD player, I’m just a domestic worker in this house.This sentimental potion always works.
Anyway so the romantic that I am, watched some severly romantic ones like The Notebook and Love Story. Feels good to watch someone feeling for someone,after a long time.And also the book I’m reading slowly is Love in the time of Cholera-again the same category.
And then hindi movies,watched all- some good ones like Taare Zameen par and all faaltu ones like Welcome,Cash et all –so,less reading, more watching –how does that sound for a resolution?Pretty dumb and ambitionless-will have to work on a better one.

Soni vs Sony TV

2007-12-20T11:47:00.000-05:00

Speaking and understanding our national language Hindi is one thing, but understanding the hindi song lyrics is a different skill altogether.It seems simple to us as we have grown with bollywood songs clogging our ears all the time and are accustomed to sanam,sajna,saawariya,soniye,deewama,mukhda,zulfein and what not.
But try looking at this unending and ever-growing song vocabulary from the eyes of a 5-year old who has spent major part of his life in the US, and he,who has to switch to hindi soon as he opens his eyes in the morning (I assume that he dreams in english) and switch to english soon as he leaves the house for school and then switch back to hindi , soon as he is picked up from school.This is the bi-lingual ordeal that my kiddo deals with each day and he handles it so deftly that I am surprised at that.
But to top it all, there is the hindi music that is thrust upon him in the car, in the hindi movies that we watch.Only hindi songs play in my car and everytime while in the car he ends up asking questions-
Mummy what is rootha and sanam as in ‘tu rootha to main ro dungi sanam’.
This simple one line is too complex for him.
And another teaser – ‘kaali naagin ke jaisi zulfein teri kaali kaali’
What is naagin and what is zulfein.
And he loves the song from Dil Chahta hai –koi kahe kehta rahe,ktina bhi humko deewana.What on earth is deewaana, now?
And one day he was singing this song along with the CD with –‘ koi kahe kehta rahe kitna bhi humko deewana,hum login ki cooker mein hai ye zamaana’, just conveniently substituting cooker for thokar.I didn’t correct him and didn’t want to because of the utter cuteness in it.
And recently after our visit to India, his most favorite song is ‘Soni de nakhre sone lagde’ from Govinda’s movie Partner.He has learnt how to hop like Govinda from the cool Hindi new-release Indian channels, and that is funny and cute.
And everytime his dad touches the laptop, he demands for the song ‘Soni de nakhre’ to be played on YouTube umpteen times.Pestered and thoroughly irritated that dad was, one day he questioned –Whats with this song, tujhe matlab bhi pata hai Soni ka?
And innocently without wasting a moment, pat came reply – Soni means Sony TV.
Both of us parents just looked each other in the eye and smiled as he gets offended if we laugh out loud on him.

Apni marzi se….

2007-12-05T14:20:00.000-05:00

Jagjit Singh is great and so is urdu poetry, ghazals and nazms….a friend sent me this clip from youtube and made me nostalgic and sent me down the path in life about a decade earlier ....when I was a die-hard Jagjit Singh fan and used to exchange his latest releases with friends and spent hours discussing about them.
His voice is so soothing and honest…coming from deep within;its not from the human larynx, its divine.And his collections with Chitra Singh were just romance personified, dunked in romance , totally. Those are the unparalleled love sagas..even the simple ones which everybody I am sure has heard-from movie Saath Saath…tumko dekha to ye khayal aaya ..and the other one honthon se choo lo tum.. are so touching that it sends shivers down the spine anytime you listen to it.And in my opinion, if a guy wants to woo a girl, Jagjit Singh’s ghazals are a sure-shot, anytime!! Not that they were used on me..but I know they have that potential..to drive the nail on the head.
When romance in life gradually faded out and monotony started sinking in; I turned towards more peppy Bollywoody or soft pop music.I enjoy that too, but Jagjit Singh is the first and the true love, if one talks about music.And today after listening to this ghazal,I have decided to revive my lost favorite hobby of listening ghazals.And with youtube and zillion other sites providing mp3, its not a very daunting pledge to keep.

And to think about just the two lines of this ghazal,
Apni marzi se kahan apne safar ke hum hain,
Rukh hawaaaon ka jidhar ka hai , udhar ke hum hain!!
Now, having crossed so many stages, having lived through many phases of life, these lines ring so true.Its like staring stark at yourself in the mirror and asking- Did you really want that, was that your marzi…or everything in life just jumped upon you at arm’s reach and you grabbed it.. just sailed with the wind or did you prop on your toes and reach your arms a little higher.Do we introspect often and ask ourselves what we really, truly, actually want to do next?I don’t and mostly go with the flow.
This is what ghazals do to you..force you to think about you, which every person must do..

The pressure is on them

2007-11-19T16:12:00.000-05:00

These days mahila sangeet, ladies sangeet is not the prerogative of the Eves anymore and when it comes to the dance part of the sangeet – the boys of today, the tweens want their space on the centrstage too.This I learned this time in India on the mahila sangeet ceremony of my sister’s wedding. The saga started with the traditional dholak and the wedding songs which were flouted by the tweens who were eager to stop that raving and usher in the DJ who was waiting for the GO sign.
In the yesteryears as I remember, the sangeet was privy to the ladies and girls only, but now you can’t hector the guys away. They are waiting for their turn to display their gesticulation and dancing skills.And once they took the stage they wouldn’t leave it,lest the girls grab it!! And some of the dance performances by these young boys were truly impressive –with well-coordinated hands and feet and the face expressions too. Maybe Indian Idol, Nach Baliye and such TV programs are the motivating force behind that, that’s my guess.And Shahrukh’s Om Shanti Om six pack abs are the motivation behind all boys going to the gym and eating right. So now a wedding is not about Chandni’s Sridevi like divas, waiting for Chandni to happen, who dazzle and dress up to the extent that you have trouble pointing to the bride, but its also about dancing Greek God like guys.
So, dance mein hum kisi se kum nahin and appearance mein bhi competition hai.The times have changed drastically;earlier women were hellbent on proving – we can drive, we can work, we can earn, we can learn,we can smoke, we can drink et al but all that needs no reiteration and reinforcement; its proved, done and over. The pressure has been lifted from there and that pressure to perform is on them- I can dance, I can be slim-n-trim and drop-dead gorgeous and I can expose.
The last one comes from Saawariya’s chocolate boy Ranbir Kapoor who was on the TV in the movie’s promos all the time – struggling hard to hold on to the little towel he had on and sashaying with it all over the screen. I haven’t seen the movie but heard he gets to drop the towel ultimately. Yes, guys you can do it, go for it!!

Sweet Revenge

2007-10-02T11:26:00.000-04:00

When someone pesters you beyond tolerance or keeps on treading on your nerves, don’t you get this feeling to give it straight back to him in the quickest way possible.
But civilized social beings that we are we have to bridle that impulse and let it go back to slumber. And that refraining to do that something, results in a mental pother and an itching,unquenched urge.How I wish we could vent it out right then, right there and I don’t mean going on a killing spree but any innocuous, silly little thing which just lets it flow out.
Thats what my son does, he has found out something that irks his dad but I think that gives him immense peace-thank God he has never directed towards me.The first time he did that was when he was four –enroute to India,aboard the neverending flight-he was thoroughly fed up of his dad’ s continuously flowing instructions-don’t fiddle with the TV screen, don’t unbuckle the seatbelt,don’t kick the chair of the person in front, don’t lean over to watch the ones sitting behind, et al.He was simmering with all this I’m sure, so as soon as the attendant poured coffee for dad,the kiddo overturned the food tray-resulting in spilling coffee all over dad’s jeans.He was not burnt but had to rush to change them-thankfully he was carrying one extra pair!!As a repercussion, my son got a fine imprint of hubby’s palm on his cheek , he cried over it but I am sure he was satisfied at having done his bit.Again in a marriage party, when we were in our best attire and best possible behaviour and best possible plastic smiles-kiddo was not allowed to run around too much and stick around us, which he hated and he was just about to kick hubby’s overfilled plate when his reflexes just worked and he managed to save it from toppling over his clothes.
And sometimes when we are getting over his nerves with our don’t-dos, he harmlessly, very subtly, just ever so gently that it seems like an accident,shakes the hand that holds the glass of water that it spills a little. Whatever reprimand he gets after this, I think he doesn’t mind as he is free from that burden of not doing it, he has vented it out.Though I don’t encourage this behaviour a wee bit and get mad at him but if I think about it, how delightful that moment it would be for him. And I wish I could do that freely whenever I wanted –that moment of happiness- how it would feel to assault the offender right away, to pay off the debt instantly.That would require gumption which I have yet to discover, if I have that much.

I have the mantra-any takers?

2007-09-20T11:14:00.000-04:00

'Lets do it all over again',hubby declared one day.Living in this country and watching all the Hollywood movies,where the most dreaded but most used one-lne is-'Its not working, its not you, its me',is all it takes to break-up,something rang a bell inside my head-was it happening to me?
Thankfully he was talking about us dating again -me and him and not him and Z.And real dates-not grocery-shopping ones.Everyday life, monotonous chores, loads of responsibility somehow slowly has gnawed into the feeling we once had.The sea of time has doused the flame that once exsited.And now every weekend when we both are at home together, is a challenge and a thin rope to tread on - not to get mad at something or the other, to hold our tongues and restrain our bellicose facades.
'Well,thats possible of we live apart and not end up under the same roof at the end of the day',I said.Yes, that sounds like a plan - just meet for dinner thats it.Togetherness is what makes us take each other for granted.A little solitude, being left alone so that you crave for company-can cure it and make you realize that the other person is not fungible.And if the separation starts turning maudlin, you are good for another year.
So,rent a hotel,where the spouse lives in and get back together when you really miss each other and rekindle the fire.This looks like a recipe,a mantra.

Grow up, dads

2007-09-05T14:02:00.000-04:00

Just look at the two pictures closely..the ice-cream popsicle's life outside the freezer starts in the kid's hand and ends in his dad's.And this happens inevitably each time dad buys an ice-cream or a chocolate bar for the son...soon as the younger one starts digging his teeth in the sweetness, the older one keeps an expectant eye on it, just waiting for the junior to say -I'm full,I don't want more, so he can jump in and get the catch.And unfortunately that doesn't happen, then the big one uses his grown-up health and dental awareness to impress on the little one how detrimental sweets are for the teeth and how germs can crawl upto his teeth and dig big cavities in them and then the dentist will have to pull them out and it will be extremely painful.This enormous health knowledge lies dormant when I ask him to get the kiddo ready for bed,to get him to brush his teeth in the night.That time its - He's too tired, ek din se kya farak padta hai.But dare he eat the whole ice-cream,its dangerous for his teeth!!Strange how knowledge surfaces at the opportune moments.
Another sane reason is that the junior is not so fast in licking it and the ice-cream was melting away on his clothes, making them dirty,the stains could be permanent you never know what color they use these days in food items, so I just helped in clearing away the loose melting part, leaving the other intact.And believe me, a couple of those big tongue lashes sweeps away at least half of the treat.So much for protecting the clothes and saving water and detergent.
And it is also for a very important issue, to inculcate a virtue-to teach the child to share, not to be selfish!!What better time to teach him that great value and then take the candy stick and make a big dent in it; commencing the onset of-'Mummy, daddy has taken a big bite like a monster'.How I wish, they could each buy one and be satisfied with it, the family budget will not dwindle with one extra chocolate bar.But I guess dad wants to assert his dad-ness to us and to himself that he is buying kiddie stuff for the kid,that he is grown up.Or to portray his magnanimity and selflessness.
And this is not just the case with my family-once with family friends who have a son about the same age-both the kids were enjoying their strawberry ice-cream popsicles under the dads' continously coveting gaze,when all of a sudden both of them decided to trash it, just for fun-in a split second, the ice-creams were garbage.The dads' expressions changed - was it anger for the waste of money and display of irresponsibility;but it was more than that-the guys were shattered,heart-broken,crestfallen and synchronously muttered- Nahin khani thi to mujhe de deta.

Pudin Hara jaisi koi nahin

2007-08-30T10:18:00.000-04:00

I guess everybody who has a stomach would know this feeling of being woken up in the middle of the night with a queasy stomach-with loud growling noises coming from within,clouds rumbling inside your gut,heartburn,nausea.That is one of the worst moments any mortal in normal circumstances leading a normal life can face.
Speaking about stomach its such a vital part of your existence that you cannot tolerate its emptiness and cannot tolerate its overfill.I thought about this last night after overeating at the Dosa Corner – samosa,masala vada, dosa and mango lassi is a sacful given the stomach is a small bag.And then waking at 3 AM with stomach cramps.That is the evidence of my love for South Indian food, not love I would say, greed!!But thank the Almighty for pudin hara.
If the belly is happy and stable, the world goes round on its axis, else its turned upside down.Acceptance for spouse, love for kids , ambition, purpose-everything is at its place if the stomach is healthy.But there is one minute green thing which has the power to turn it around and that is Pudin Hara pearls by our own home-grown Dabur.One of the few things that I remember of my MBA days is that Dabur is named after the founder Doctor Burman , hence resulting in Dabur and I think since that part of memory is intact tull now, it might last forever.I am not a great fan of other Dabur products like Dabur Amla oil or Dabur Chyawanprash or Dabur Hajmola, but hats and coats off to Pudin Hara, its got what it takes!!
My association with Pudin Hara can be traced back to the days when pudin hara came as a green bitter liquid in a glass bottle with a mint leaf on it and पुदीन हरा written in hindi.Those were the halycon school summer vacation days when we were an unruly bunch of kids, sneaking out in the unforgiving June-July sun, eating rubbish candies and imlis and jamuns and green raw mangoes-we used to carry salt and pepper in small paper packets to open and eat with the green raw mangoes-I don’t remember ever caring to wash the hands or what was in the hands before it goes to the mouth.Those mangos gave boils all over the body which dad drenched with a purple color medicine. And mom’s biryani combined with those mangos and imlis and jamuns played havoc with the poor stomach-so to wake up mom with retching sounds and she would immediately dilute the green pudin hara liquid with water;but that bitter taste would not be drowned by any amount of water and that led to more puking.But in the end, it worked and gave a restful rest of the night.
And it still works!!And thankfully the liquid is in the form of green pearls which slides easily through the food tube and gives instant relief.And to date,although I am out of the country I stock up my pudin hara everytime I go back home and I swear I have never had to tread the stomach/digestion aisles of these firangi pharmacies.
As for other medicines, I must admit that I have switched my loyalties - from Crocin to Tylenol, Brufen to Advil, Moov to Bengay,Cetrizine to Claritin but I never ever would gulp any other pill for stomach ailment, other than pudin hara.
Another Godsend brand is Nestle’s Maggi- which is irreplaceable and my son has to pick up the biggest yellow pack on every visit to the Indian grocer and anytime his answer to what he wants to eat is -Maggi.
And that is brand success.Every brand’s success is a story good to be read and heard but real success is pudin hara’s success which can be felt so wonderfully, which touches you down to the gut.Well that’s the beauty of the FMCG industry-fast moving consumer goods-vow I remember that too!! Well Ferrari.Mercerdes would be great cars, but I might get to own just 1-2, max 3 cars in my lifetime and Ferrari might not be one of them.So I can’t relate to that.
Anyway that’s enough brand mutter for now, but the bottom line is pudin hara rocks-पुदीन हरा जैसी कोई नहीं

Sorry biryani

2007-08-12T23:50:00.000-04:00

Had cooking only been a matter of getting hold of recipes and emulating the steps, there would have been zillions of good cooks but the very fact that everybody cannot be good at this art means that 'nakal mein bhi akal chahiye'.Well, the story goes like this-last weekend a dear friend coooked chicken biryani and invited us over-I was bowled by that perfect blend of rice and spices and decided to take the steps from her and try it this time I called some friends over for dinner.So,she explained to me all the steps with all her patience and I was confident I could do it.
The recipe involved cooking chicken and rice separately and then layering them to create the marvel.I considered myself an expert at cooking rice till yesterday and this is just not self opinion. My method of cooking rice was passed on to me by my sister-its only for sisters that the world is a place fit to live in.And this method was endorsed by my mother-in-law's kitchen, which in my eyes is the highest level a kitchen could ever reach.And she changed her way of cooking rice after mine, this is the medal I was proud of, but only till yesterday.
So the dinner plan was drinks and barbeque chicken for starters - courtesy Mr Hubby ,main course-chicken biryani by me and dessert-ice cream -courtesy grocery stores,God bless them.While I was cooking biryani I just wanted the chicken to be perfect, rice I was confident of.So once hubby confirmed that the chicken was smelling good, I thought I might recreate the magic my friend had created.But alas, the quantity of rice was huge and the microwave just didn't cook it well enough within the tested time estimate.So I increased the time and it resulted in ovecooking them.And the clock was ticking away fast, no time to redo the process.Hubby consoled me that it will turn out OK once we bake it a litle, which was the final step.I nodded agreemnt as there was no choice but I knew I had messed the main course!!
Finally friends arrived and hubby handled the barbecue and mocktails really well,it was commendable.At times like this I realise that he is a prize catch,and how could he land in my life and stick by me, but I coneveniently forget it the next day.I wanted to prolong the moment forever when I had to unveil the main course and was preoccupied by that thought all the time.But everyone was pretty full with the barbecue and they were not expecting another course.I could not even get myself to say that its biryani because in all honesty and least modesty, it looked like a non-veg khichadi.The rice was soggy and mushy and all the adjectives like that.Thankfully the barebecue sufficed , otherwise my friends would have had to hit the take-outs on their way back home.It was a poor sorry biryani!!
Today morning,first thing,I wanted to trash it all when hubby said he would eat it at lunch, I think he takes his commitment to keep me pacified seriously.And then my dear friend who gave me the recipe called to find out how it turned out.Horrible, bad, it was a fiasco ,I said,imagining I had a shoulder to lean on,which was extended to me through the telephone.'All you need is a rice cooker,for perfect rice', she said.Sensing my frustration she called us for lunch and asked me to get some of my biryani for them.And she actually surprised me with a new rice cooker,which she bought just then,after our teleconversation!!Again I realize how many lovely people there are in my life, touching my life,straightening it out for me and I thank them who manage to stick by me-if its not for them, the world would be a pot of wet,teary,weepy biryani.
And friends, all those who endured the khichadi-biryani, now I have a rice cooker, so I 'll try to make up for that dinner.The silver lining to the tale is that I am a proud owner of a rice cooker.Getting Bollywoody via Ek Challis ki Local (minus Abhay Deol,of course)- 'Wo kehte hain na jo hota hai achhe ke liye hota hai, theek kehte hain'.

Coffee and a book

2007-07-15T19:11:00.000-04:00

I need so little to be happy – coffee and a book and some solitude!! And the most appropriate term that comes to my mind for this concoction is –food for the spirits. There is food for the body, food for thought but I now understand that the most desired and the most ignored and the least obvious and the least available one, is the food for your spirits. Speaking of the trio - coffee, book and solitude- each one of them in is easy within your palm’s reach but to get but a combination-all three at the same time is not that easy.
My love for coffee has crossed the ‘just simple love’ boundaries to become an addiction now and that aroma anywhere just pulls me in that direction with unseen strings. Well, caffeine is not a good thing to fall for but when are good things worth falling for in life? Had Adam not tasted the apple, would we all be there? Speaking of books I am not a very literary person but I love books because they make me lose myself in a different world – the world of characters sketched by the author- unseen yet so palpable and real. And for that reason I read just fiction – no educational, no factual books. Though I read my story at night but I am so deep into the book I am reading that at times during the day I find myself wondering what would X have done in this situation. Movies don’t have that effect on me, unless its too engrossing-my mind is still wandering away while my eyes watch the screen. Movies don’t have the power of tying down my brain. So, I am not a TV person. Speaking of solitude, the more mechanical and lined-up life gets – do 1, do 2, do 3 …do 100, I feel a need to gather my thoughts together, to reconnect with myself and as life runs fast, as years add in -the count no more able to fit in the rungs of fingers – I feel that need even more-to reconnect with myself, to isolate and insulate.
So at bedtime, every night after do 100 is done, I try to snatch those some minutes to get lost in someone else’s story – someone unreal, whom I can empathize with , or criticize if I want to. But before my turn, its my son’s bedtime stories and by the time he is done, my eyelids are heavy with sleep. And if his dad is reading to him, the duo are too distracting with their whys and becauses or whys and I-don’t-knows, leaving me unable to concentrate and drift away. And sometimes if the kiddo is already out and snoring, hubby unable to sleep because of the light, will toss and turn in bed till I switch off the lamp and I am too lazy and worn out to go to another room, so I just give up.Sometimes it gets upsetting not being able to pin down that window of time, for myself.Weird as it may seem but at times, I have lied down in the empty soaking tub of our attached bath with my book – not turning on the water because I don’t want to be careful not to wet the pages and I don’t want to wake the sleeping with running water.
And then this day arrived- one day that I realized what I need-last Saturday, I was out to the library to return some books when the aroma of the Starbucks beckoned me and normally I would have just picked up the coffee on my way back home, but that day it occurred to me and I sat in the corner chair with the coffee and a piece of cake and the newspaper- and I was in lovc with the newspaper, the same paper I would have shrugged and tossed away at home –looked so impressive and interesting and all the news so relevant. Within moments I was refreshed from within, feeling light and I walked to the library almost weightless, walking on air, with my coffee and there again I flipped through some magazines. And by the time I was ready to go home, it was a happier me, a different me, with uplifted spirits. And though all this lasted for not more than an hour, I had what I wanted from my weekend and I drove back- elated, content, ready to give and be available.

That one thing

2007-07-11T09:24:00.000-04:00

I don’t know if this thing is peculiar with me but sometimes that one thing that’s missing or unavailable or broken - occupies the center of your mind and takes hold of it so much that everything else looks worthless and meaningless. It is just these small things that if you don’t notice their absence, you probably wouldn’t miss them but since you know that they are not there, there is a lacuna that needs to be filled, your entire life seems to depend on them. All powers of ratiocination fall flat at that time.

Like when I go shopping – its just that shirt, in that particular color , that design -which is not available in my size is the only appropriate shirt for me , in fact the only shirt worth buying, the rest of the store is just worthless enough to be burnt down to ashes. That day I noticed that that lipstick is missing from my collection and every morning that gaping hole drills into my mood - and my eyes long for a miracle to happen, for it to appear and salvage my day. Why did I even buy and store all the others which should be trashed this very moment, when that was the only one, close to my heart. And those earrings which I can’t find, which will be lurking in some pocket or drawer somewhere, are the ones I want to wear today and every other day to come till they are found. And that one eye pencil that is broken was my most cherished one. I wonder if that one was my favorite or its absence made it my favorite. That one audio CD which is probably shying under the car seat is the one with all the nice songs on the earth. That friend whose phone number I can’t locate is the one whom I want to pour my heart to today. And then that yellow daal whose jar is empty is the one I want to cook today and can’t wait to refill it till the weekend to go for grocery shopping. And once bought I might not look at that jar for weeks but at that moment a sudden sense of urgency prevails and all the thoughts come back to it until its done.

I think these small everyday things reflect the human nature of never being content with what you have and always yearning for something that’s beyond reach, always being restless and attaching undue importance to trivial things which don’t even matter after sometime. And the didactic one of not realizing the importance of things and people while they are with you and then longing to see the same,once they are no more there.

Anniversary Thoughts

2007-07-03T11:47:00.000-04:00

It is our eighth marriage anniversary- 8 years of being together!!Hard to believe how time flies.My husband, whom I met as a fellow student at college was a different person to me before our marriage.In fact, before I met him, my entire perspective about men was different. So he was a big, tall guy – more than 6 ft in height, broad-built, everything so macho and supermanly about him -considering I am a small person, barely 5 ft above the ground. He looked so strong to me that I thought that he could never get physically hurt and how could anyone ever hurt him, as in mugging or looting him. Inane as it may seem, but I could never even imagine him getting overpowered by another human or by any illness. How could a headache or a sore throat bother this big guy, he could easily brush it off.
And the day after I married him, he was a different man, he appeared so vulnerable and real and human, as opposed to the superhero fantasies that I had of him. I remember, I had to be out of the country for some days, immediately after our marriage for work obligations and I was trying to call him. He did not pick up that night and I was trying desperately. I couldn’t sleep all night and I wept inconsolably as I was scared that something bad had happened to him, maybe he was in an accident and needed help, maybe somebody had him at gunpoint. Anyway, that lesson I learnt much later, after living with him that once he is sound asleep, you beat drums on his head and he wouldn’t wake up.
Before marriage I was in love with his cool driving, the way he could adroitly zigzag his bike through busy and dangerous Delhi streets in rain or fog or smog. But after marrying him those streets looked like deathtraps to me and the first thing I started pestering him with was to get rid of the Yamaha bike and buy a four-wheeler and every morning he used to go for work I asked him to drive safe and not talk on the cell phone while driving and there was no rush to reach home. And although before I had this silly idea that he was just above all disease, I was surprised that I forced him to visit the doctor when he had a minor cold or a sore throat as it might be a serious infection or anything, although he kept on saying its just nothing, always. This big guy was almost like a child to me now, needing help, care and nurturing. Yes and about the nurturing part, I have written enough tales about it and it needs no further mention now.
So relation changes things. I realize that once a person is related to you -you own him/her and he/she becomes a part of your life, your possession, you become protective of him/her.

Picture Mania

2007-06-20T14:31:00.000-04:00

The mirror is a liar, but the paper isn’t. The mirror shows the stark truth while paper misleads and hides the flaws but who wants to know the truth – the truest truth about truth is that it sucks. The camera’s eye is far more reliable than the mortal eye. Apart from keeping memories forever and capturing- precious- moments appeal of family photography, it also satisfies a simmering under-the-surface desire to appear beautiful. And the camera helps , it is a good friend- it evens out the complexion and vanishes the skin blemishes and pimples to a great extent.
And thanks to digital cameras with their practically unlimited storage (carry extra memory sticks) and their ease of use that eliminates the expense and inconvenience of buying and changing the film and getting the film developed, everybody is taking pictures like maniacs- everywhere and everytime. And the people who use the cameras to the fullest extent possible are none other than - us the eager Indians. And everything I say here , honestly, includes me to every inch and iota. Well, there’s that intent to share pictures with folks back home, but at times we exploit our right to aim and shoot to the extent of causing annoyance to others.
And this thought struck me on our last vacation to the Smoky Mountains National Park. It was a long weekend in summer and the place was full of tourists, and we desis never miss an opportunity to get out and visit places and so black eyes and black hair and brown skin were all over the place and there were spaoradic big clusters too- desi familes in groups. It was comforting to smell the picnics of paratha and aam ka achhar and to catch pieces of - idhar dekho, ruko,beta araam se,haath pakdo, dheere chalo, paani laaye? , arre khatam ho gaya, nahin bas bahut kha liya, thoda aur lijiye.But what was pestering was the reluctance to leave a scenic spot till the whole group had pictures taken in all permutations and combinations- two families with kids, two familes without kids, wives sitting in the front with hubbes standing behind- hands on her shoulders, hands around the waist, or hands all over in an embrace- repeat with both spouses sitting – three families and the same routine- or just the women – all with sunglasses propped on the head, all with sunglasses on the eyes, all with hair pulled on the right side, or just the men holding the kids, or the men minus the kids, all men with handkerchief tied around the neck, Shahrukh-Don style you know. In the husband –wife combos, the love and affection hidden in the hearts should ooze out and flow out into the picture, wish the love was colored and had a distinctive smell instead of being colorless and odorless- in that case they would’nt have to try so hard, it would make itself conspicuous, show itself .Or if it could be tested on litmus or like a pregnancy-test kit.
Coming back from chemistry and biology to the pictures- Say cheese, but wait a minute , I just blinked ,I was scratching my chin , I was smoothing my hair!! Oh no, I did not hold my breath and I did not suck in my tummy. Never mind, try again and I’ll take another one, that’s the beauty of the digital camera. Here, I must confess we also have a family pose which is hubby’s contribution – the plan is always that he will point out to a distant virtual object with his arm and all have to look in that direction. Its more like a ritual and none of our photo sessions is ever done without that picture, that adds completeness to it.
Coming back to the Smokies, to reach the waterfalls , we had to do some hiking, so this tedious walk uphill was supposed to be to see the beautiful waterfall, a marvel of nature, but who wants to see that with the naked eye, there’s not even time enough to see it from the camera’s eye- so hurry go ahead, roll up the pants, to the knees , clamber up the rocks, get into the water and start splashing water and let me click you then you run back and click me and I will splash till all of us are safely captured in the digital memory. Who wants to see the majestic fall of water, the brilliant white cascade and who wants to hear the soothing sound of water in that serenity and who wants to relish the feel of cool water under the soles, around the ankles. There is no need to capture and save all those tokens of nature in the sanctum of the senses, that job is delegated to this gadget and once it does its job, just don’t spend any precious minutes there, move to the next spot and again put the toy to task.

Corn Cobs and....

2007-06-06T10:12:00.000-04:00

What did our ancestors use for their daily needs before all this sophisticated stuff we are using today was invented. Sometimes small insights into the primitive life force you to think how innovative the homo sapiens has been –constantly creating, inventing things to improvise every single function of life,be it eating, sleeping, washing,cooking, cleaning, just name anything that we do rhetorically ,using our modern day things and equipment - but so may things had been invented, used and obsoleted before we reached here.
I think thats enough for the epilogue.Coming to the actual story, we were on vacation to Smoky Mountains Tennesee and we came across a museum of old farmhouses dated back to the earlier centuries, frankly I did not care to read the notes provided as I hate being educated, so I don’t want to throw in any figure just for the sake of it.Its just that they were primitive houses of farmers, who were earlier generations of Adam and Eve. They were well planned houses with primitive fireplaces, wood logs for dining table etc. There were separate rooms for storing apples after the apple season I believe, this must be the time when refrigeration was not even conceived in some intelligent mind.There was a slaughter house where huge pieces of artifical meat were hanging, there were chicken houses for rearing poultry, egg houses to store eggs - full of straw to provide cushion to the eggs.I mean it was really well-planned and you could think of a reason for everything.
And there was a room tucked away out in the courtyard, a little away from the house.It was the toilet, restroom whatever you like to call it. And inside the door was a hole in the ground - that is imaginable as that was what it would have been before all the plumbing and toilet seats were invented. But what really was beyond me was that on each side of that hole were empty corn cobs with the corn all plucked out. They were what is left of the corn cob after you have eaten all the corn off it.So what were corn cobs doing in the toilet.Did people eat it while doing the thing, was it an instant laxative or something.Mr Hubby then told me that it was used as the toilet paper centuries ago.What, I don’t believe it!!But he chortled and pointed to the bundles of cobs on the left side and the right side. The ones on the left side were clean white ones and the ones on the right were soiled brown ones. My hand instantly reached my nose and I was about to run away when he said that of course its not the real thing on the dirty brown ones, its just to create the effect, to make it look real. I should have taken a picture of it but my basic problem is not doing the right thing at the right time and the right place. But that was an amazing discovery, a piece of knowledge.And subsequently at the adjacent tourist souvenir shop, they were selling packages of 2 brown and 1 white cob packaged with the incredible words -"First you use a brown one and then you use a white one to see if you need to use another brown one."
If he reads this one, hubby will be truly disgusted and surely ask me – Have you exhausted all stories of me and our kitchen and dining life that you are diversifying into such crappy areas. But dear friends, those who honor me by reading my absurd posts, I have no intentions of expanding my imagination in this area, so please don’t be discomfited and do come back.

Cannot share it

2007-06-04T11:25:00.000-04:00

In the opening line to his book Anna Karenina, Tolstoy writes, "Happy families are all alike. Every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." This novel, my husband got for me from the library -the guy has a tough time finding some stuff for me when he goes alone - and I was reluctant to read it , thinking it would be a heavy one with big words et al , but the first line really got me.
There are so many kinds of unhappiness in the world and if you think of it , it is so difficult to relate to others’ unhappiness, any happy thing you can understand – you be happy with someone’s happiness or you are jealous and you sulk, that depends on you and that person, but its palpable, its out there. Somebody got a promotion, they bought a new house, their son got an award, she delivered a healthy baby – its all great .
But when you meet families and hear of their problem, which is a big deal to them, you somehow try to justify to yourself that its not big a matter, that they are creating a mountain of a molehill, and it can be looked at from a different perspective or it has a easy workaround, which these guys are missing. Unless it’s a really serious problem like health or empty stomach , you cannot truly empathize or understand it.
Happy families are easy to picture – good money, good careers, good education, love and care and what not. But unhappiness has no bounds- there are different kinds – in fact, each unhappy person has his own private hell in which he or she burns – that may or may not be his doing but the outsider will dismiss it as just nothing to worry about. Only my own problem is a problem to me, others’ is just farce and I have a solution for everybody’s problem , except for mine.
Kids don’t listen – Oh all kids are like that, they will understand when the time comes!! Kids don’t eat well – they will be okay, every child is a picky eater!! Husband doesn’t care- so whats the big deal, you also stop caring , tit for tat, he will come back. Trying but cannot have kids- so adopt and do good to the world Tired of working – take a vacation, exhausted from household chores -hire some help. Spending too much, cannot save – that’s the case with everybody.
There’s no conspicuous love – that’s what marriage is about, wake up!! Fighting too much with spouse – everbody knows that it increases affection.
Every thing is easier said than done. But we are really incapable of sharing somebody’s cause of sorrow , its so incomprehensible, so beyond reach.

Way to his heart

2007-05-23T12:19:00.000-04:00

Surprise!! Jewelry, vacation, foot massage – too much of good things!! I should seriously get my blood sugar tested, too much of sugar intake makes me wary of diabetes.So he gave me a pretty diamond necklace and earrings just like that, I had to think – no, its not my birthday or wedding anniversary- no occasion that should be marked with a gift-wrapped box. Then he booked a vacation for the long weekend, without dropping a hint to me.Whats wrong with him and whats right with me.Why such sudden soaring spike in our constant graph of a line parallel to the x-axis and dipping sometimes, but this high rise had to set me thinking.
Looking back to a last couple of weeks, it occurred to me that it was all about food.Last days I was really innovative in the kitchen, trying out new things as I got fed up of cooking the same stuff over and over again.God bless google and God bless the recipe sites -sailusfood.com, mumbai-masala.com , khanakhazana.com etc and God bless all those good cyber samaritans who never shy away from sharing their recipes.And I was myself pleasantly shocked at the results, I hadn’t messed up any of it.
So spicing up the dinner had spiced up some other things as well.So, its really about customer satisfaction and customer delight.Getting his tummy just filled was the customer satisfaction but unveiling new dishes at the table was the delight factor.And voila- it works with amazing celerity on him, after all he’s just being a man!! The stomach juices in combination with the chettinad egg curry, tomato rice, dum aloo, stuffed baingan, Andhra khichadi is a magic potion, I can bet anything on it.
The kitchen air redolent with the aroma of spices creeps up to the unperturbed pockets of heart and emotion, it seems. There has to be a scientific explanation for this, but who cares!! Whoever said – ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’ – is (or was) the wisest human being ever to have walked the Earth and I hold high regard for that person. And its not only the way to his heart, but the sapid vibes emanating from the delighted belly reach the mind and the wallet too.
Yeah, and it takes real strong ones to reach this one’s because they have to travel a long distance because of his height, so the weak ones either get lost in the way or are significantly close to death before reaching the destination..

Whats new about you

2007-05-11T11:04:00.000-04:00

Summer is here and so is the shopping season. It feels so light and sprightly to be able to go out of the house without grabbing the coats and the feet are no more hidden in socks but can really see the light of the day.Although the start of all seasons is a time to lighten the wallet and stack up the wardrobe – come winter we are short of warm clothes and come summer , where are those whites and pastels. For me, shopping starts with the youngest member , my son,once his closet is touched up in the right places, the honor goes to the tall child, Mr Hubby and the last and the least comes me.And this is tactfully handled by him- C’mon you look dazzling in the old ones too, in anything you wear,just as beautiful skin needs no makeup - this is a tagline from one of the cosmetics line, I forget which, which is used adroitly to mollify me.
But I am not writing this one for me being the underprivileged , this is about something else, although my grudges just keep sneaking in, as always, however hard I try. So this Saturday, I shopped for my 4-year old – new sneakers and socks and underpants – the ones with The Reverend Mr Spiderman, His Highness Buzz Lightyear and Sir Bob the Builder.And Monday he was adorned in his new things, bouncing and ready for the day.Picking out his clothes for the day is a pleasure which I reserve for myself and would never want to share with his dad , partly because I love doing it and partly because he will miss something that’s important to me - like the warm undershirt on a cold day or the full-sleeves on a windy day or he would wear shorts all through mid-winter.I remember something from Indian 98.3 FM radio – ‘Sweater aisi cheez hai jo maan ko thand lage to bachhe ko pehna deti hai.’
This is one of the truest sayings I have come across and why not, whats wrong with doing that.
Digression, diversion - coming back to that Monday,we reached the preschool and soon as he entered the classroom, his teacher exclaimed-Ishaan, something is new about you, let me seeeeeeeeeeee(to add dramatic touch)- ‘Yeah , its your shoes, right’!!
Ishaan was happy at that singled-out attention from the teacher – the queen bee- and said – ‘You know what else is new about me –my underwear’ and he started pulling down his pants .
Stop, she doesn’t need to see that, I chided and the teacher took her hand to her wide-open mouth - in exclamation and embarrassment –‘ Never trust a boy’, she said.
And we winked at each other, while he was surly at not being able to flaunt his underpants.

Mother’s Day

2007-05-02T10:27:00.000-04:00

Thanks to the marketing and soliciting campaigns that flood my mailbox (not the email) everyday with flyers and pamphlets announcing Mother’s day specials, that I come to know that the day is fast approaching.
Send the most thoughtful gift to mom, most unsual gifts at unusual prices, tell her you love her, can’t decide what to buy- give her a gift card, we care for your mom and a neverending list of such promises.Also from my son’s daycare- we need to take a picture of you with your child, so please moms make sure to drop off your kids on this date etc.
So there is all ho-hum about mother’s day.Last year I enjoyed a pancake breakfast at my son’s daycare and then the honored moms left for work promptly , leaving behind tears and wails and I wished I hadn’t come. In times like this when I think of my motherhood , me as a mother and I think of my mom as a mother. And alas I find that her shoes are too gigantic for me to fill and I can never be able to hold a candle to that glorious sun.
My mom had her house full of kids and her hands full of all the chores and her mind full of questions from our homeworks, but how beautifully she handled all of it.I remember her chopping vergetables and boiling milk and correcting my maths equations – it should be x +3y not 2y. Had it been me, I would have spilled the milk or cut my fingers , for sure.I remember her rolling the heap of dough into rotis everyday, twice, sometimes thrice a day. She never had the luxury of take-out dinners or pizza delivery.I remember her sacrificing the dessert for a child. I remember her stitching clothes in the night after the kitchen work.I remember her fasting all 30 days and still cooking lunch for us.I remember her eyes full of tears when she came to see me off at the bus or train, leaving for my hostel.What I don’t remember is her relaxing and just taking rest, time off for herself.
Now I think that maybe her lean frame had extra bones, maybe she had a dozen hands, half a dozen ears and at least a quarter of a dozen ears and mouths. Maybe her day had 48 hours.
So, that’s what a real mother is and who deserves to be appreciated, not one like me.I left my kid in the care of others since he was an infant, I left for work although his forehead felt hot like a coil. I could not witness his first group stage performance because of work obligations.I drop him off for the good part of the day and when he gets home, I ask him not to nag me with his questions and play the cartoon movie for him, so I can cook peacefully. Although I cook dinner, but most of the time its accompanied with heated frozen breads.My mom even chided me for counting the rotis while cooking and she says she misses cooking that mound of the atta now that all of us siblings have left for our own homes and hearths.I have just the evenings with my son and still I am looking for a window of time to read my book or going out for a walk without him.On weekends, I am looking for a time to go shopping peacefully without him or both of us ask him to do some drawing or scribbling while we watch a movie.
So, just biologically giving birth to him doesn’t make me a mom , worthy of any mother’s day gifts or treats. I am a mother just because I carried him for 9 months, and that is because there was no short way out of it, but the real substance, I think, I lack.

Google-six letter word

2007-04-19T11:53:00.000-04:00

‘Mommy, google has six letters just like my name’ – said my 4-year old son one day while the always-there google.com idled on my laptop monitor. Thus, started his love-affair with google, the common ground being the six letters as in his name, Ishaan. I guess, living with ignorant and sceptical adults like us has taken its toll on him. Ignorant- because we seek so many answers always that it looks like we know so little and sceptical because of our distrust in each others’ li’l knowledge – are you sure they have a lunch buffet on weekends, let me double-check – are you sure the daylight savings come to effect this weekend, let me verify. So all streams of statements – monologues or dialogues, converge into google. And its most useful in the kitchen, we have guests coming in- how to make palak paneer, how to use the curry leaves you bought from the Indian grocer last Saturday.By the way, the Indian grocer you found on google last Friday is no good, search for another one.
And when we were househunting , all are searches were maneuvered by google. That time, the 6-letter word was on all the time. And while talking about it, the kiddo can read the floorplans better than me- whether it has 3 full baths or two full and one half-baths, whether the garage entry leads to the
foyer or to the kitchen, whether it has a full basement or not. So he could actually help us select or eliminate based on his child-instinct, untainted with any kind of bias. Anyway, that is how we lost in our own pursuits are bombarding this abecedarian with information, which he is imbibing by his observation - so, he keeps his eyes and ears on us all the time. They say like parents, like child. So a singer’s kid will be a singer , a painter’s kid would be a painter, but I am sure that is said for experts at their trait and not for the perpetually raw ones like us.
Coming back to google, it has made a special niche in this insatiable 4-year mind and soon as he reaches home he rushes to the desktop and brings up google.com and searches for superman, spiderman, Bob the builder but I dread the day these innocent searches graduate into what not, given the fact that he is a boy. And his most recent favorites are maps.google.com and googleearth where he searches for airports and train stations.
And my favorite respite of checking the mails-my personal legal excuse from the daunting chores- has also creeped to his mind. And yesterday , he told me- mom,how can I check my mails.So soon I will have to create a gmail account for him too. Wonder at what age I first heard the word computer, when I wrote my first e-mail.

I've messed up!

2007-04-12T09:33:00.000-04:00

I know for sure that I’ve messed it up real bad when-

- the kid asks him-Dad, what’s for dinner?
- he puts a palmful of salt in the curry before even tasting it.
- at evening pickup, the daycare teacher dismisses me with ‘Have a good night’ , but goes to lengths to describe the kid’s day when he picks up.
- I ask boss – how’d the testing go when I was away last two days and he says- when was that?
- Guests invited for dinner at our place ask him for recipes if they like something.
- I tell him I’m going shopping with a friend and he says- take your time.
- I rarely sit to watch TV and when I do, I just end up just flipping channels.
- I reach for my cellphone at the end of the weekend to discover only a missed morning alarm waiting for me.
- I go out for a walk and about turn if I faintly see a man walking an unleashed dog, heading my direction.
- I find myself trying to open the first white car in the parking lot with my car keys.
- I swipe my credit card the wrong way at grocery stores only to be told to turn it around.
- I have to insert my dollar into the vending machine thrice before succeeding.
- My shoe laces open within minutes of leaving home.
- I go to eat out at good restaurants and am fascinated by the kids menu.
- I find all my night shirts have a toothpaste stain in the front.
- My brother tells me that his lady project manager is old and grumpy – exactly like me.
- I start reading a book and decide within a chapter that I don’t like it but still read it to the end.
- He says –did you get your eyebrows done -when I am trying to display a new dress.
- I am done eating by the time he puts in the DVD to watch with dinner.
- He asks me to rush to the shower when I am already dressed and ready to go out.
- I unscrew parts of my son’s toy train, with a real screwdriver, to replace the batteries and he enters later – mom, you can just flip this cover open to replace, see, its easy.
- My son asks me for candy and then retreats- Don’t worry, I’ll ask daddy, you are too short to reach it.

Say Hi

2007-04-10T11:29:00.000-04:00

The problem is not with people I know or I work with or have ever worked with or ever spoken to –the dilemma, the uncertainty is with people I see everyday, maybe many times in a day, but never had to speak or exchange emails with them. What to do when you come across face to face with such people in the walkway, in the cafeteria, walking in/out the restrooms, at water dispensers ?Do you smile , say hi, or smile and nod your head slightly or just just look away to avoid eye contact ?Because, maybe if you smile, he/she might not acknowledge or might not remember seeing you somewhere. Whatever it is, the mutual understanding has to be established to avoid those dilly-dally hellos and almost inaudible last-minute how-are-yous.

I remember a colleague I worked with long back who started a reply to an email with hi only of the sender had written hi, if the sender had written his name followed by a comma, he would do just the same, if not, he would just come to the real thing, without any hi/hello or name salutation, and also he would write thanks/regards only if he had received one. I found that a little peculiar. Well, I am not saying that one should always put a hi or just the recipient’s name in each and every email and in all chains of emails , its not possible , but I don’t even notice what a particular person writes, I just write what I feel like, sometimes with hi/thanks or both, sometimes I just go straight to the business .I don’t mind emails, but personal encounters I do.

I believe that for us humans, all is measured in give and take. So, if somebody says hi and smiles , I would do the same , and I don’t hesitate to be the one to start that rapport, because I know how uncomfortable it becomes after some time, if it happens to be unsure glances. But so many looks,eye-contacts are just lost, when we are just not ready to smile and unwillingly ignore people and that little weight remains somewhere, which you want to unburden the next time you see that person, with a doubly emphatic hi, how are you doing.

But there are some pople, who although not totally unknown, who for reasons known better to them, always maintain a dour face and start to study the ground although nothing’s changed, when you pass them or seem to think so deeply at that moment, or are always calculating something, that they don’t seem to notice you walking right in front, and that happens every time. Those people I get perplexed with, I know you’re busy and important but you can sure see a known human form coming from the front- and everytime they do their part, I pledge to pay them back in the same coin and am determined to study the floor like a detective, next time. But I just can’t do that, I am not desperate for your smile or acknowledgemnet, but I know you , can’t you just say hi.

Pay it Forward

2007-03-22T10:47:00.000-04:00

This Saturday I stumbled on a beautiful movie, which I am glad I watched.
The best things in life I think are those we just land upon without planning, by chance.That is how we discover the best things - starting with the best restaurants, sometimes the best friends, the best jobs.The greatest things just run into you , instead of you running after them.
The movie Titanic was playing Saturday evening. I’ve watched enough of that expensively built ship , so I was lured by weekend chores. By the time things were done, it was quite late and this movie started- opening with children in a classroom at school. This was my stuff –so hubby packed up disappointed by the first sight- no guns or blood!!I decided to hang in for a while. But as the movie “Pay it Forward” unfolded, it had me stuck on it and it was not just for Kevin Spacey and Helen Hunt and Osment, the movie had substance. Its not a new movie but I wonder how come I never heard about it.Yeah, I know the answer thats because I spend time at work and at home with men who would never mention a movie without bloodshed, and these guys dissociate themselves from anything remotely emotional.
The movie was soft and unsassuming but it had a message that all of us can do our bit to do some good to the world. No, I am no philanthropist, I am a common, selfish mortal but watching some good things and thinking about it leaves you elated, makes you want to hope beyond all odds.
The movie is about a school-going kid who proposes a theory about doing good to 3 strangers and ask them to pay it forward to three more people instead of paying it back. This plan has the radioactive effect and loads of people start helping each other, expecting nothing in return.
The movie has a sad end and the song ‘Calling all angels’ in the end was so touching – it was made for the situation it seems and the song had tears trickling down my cheeks. Its a beautiful song and a movie worth-watching.

Freedom of speech

2007-03-16T16:50:00.000-04:00

Looking at our yapping tongues and unshuttable mouths, who would believe India was ever not an independent country- since time immemorial we have had an unhindered and boundless right to speak -other things I am not knowledgeable enough to comment on, but one thing we are really affluent with is the freedom to speak and indulge in others’ matters. And this fact hit me once again like a tornado while I was back home in India. Am I being a late reactor? Well, things take time to sink in my head , considering I had been there almost two months ago.
I am not sure about men, but all women – married or single, pretty or ugly (these are the classifications from a man’s point of view) meet these situations every other day. So every distant aunt, cousin, cousin’s mother-in-law , that mother-in-law’s friend, friend of mom’s friend, sister-in-law of that mom’s friend, aunt’s daughter-in-law, that daughter-in-law’s sister,neighbor’s neice , that neice’s father-in-law’s brother’s wife, that wife’s sister, et all –all have a birthright to question your weight gain/loss, your kids’ height, your fertility, your family plans, your income and your well-offness – after all, all women you see constitute a close-knit fraternity of which you are a part. So, there is no escape anywhere, those appendages are bound to clutch you from just nowhere and anywhere.And I find myself in a precarious and delicate condition- because if I retort it will be because of my snobbish amreeki attitude and a loss-of-roots culture. And silence is not taken as a hint to just end it but as an umbrage, so you have to also mumble acceptance and ‘theek baat hai’ and ‘sahi hai’ in between. But also the beauty of it is that you can be taciturn as you like, and without you making much effort, the conversation can still go on for hours.And today when I give it a serious that, I find that all through my trip,the only woman who did not ask me a personal question was my own mom.
So, soon as you see any of the inspectors belonging to the vast sea group I described above, there will be a head to toe inspection and I can read it before it comes out –“Kamzor ho gayee, pichhli baar achhi thi.” This I take as a compliment so I can fit into some of my old clothes, but for them it reads like – “Maybe you guys are not doing well enough to afford a bellyful of food.” Suggestions to the diet are to include desi ghee, badaam and home-made makkhan. Nodding affirmation all the time, I sluggishly attribute my sehat to work and family and questions arise about work hours , that lead to the indomitable axiom – “Teaching is best for women. Short working hours – good for family life.” I can’t beat that I know and I myself start harping about the benefits of being a teacher.
In the second episode enters my son, which looks to me like a whiff of fresh air in that stale atmosphere , but not for long. After assessment of the situation about his age and then skirting the issue with compliments about his growing height etc, comes the final blow- “So when are you planning the second child?”. I smile, I don’t know, I am not sure.But that does not satisfy the already kindled fire beneath and the wisdom and judgement is bubbling to ooze out.
So, there will be an inevitable tale about some neice’s sister-in-law who was trying to have a child and was helped by some Dr X to achieve the goals. And about some sister’s son who was lonesome and depressed because of being a single child of his parents. And if the reaction from me, the client, is not favorable enough , then comes – “Maybe after you settle down a little, when you can stay at home and look after the kids.” This surely reads as –“Your husband doesn’t make enough money, so you work to make both ends meet and that’s the reason you have just one child.”
So,all my life, my career goals, my bank balance, my son’s personality, my husband’s paycheck all are under scrutiny and observation and question for all and sundry. There lies the beauty of our open society and free-of-charge- totally personalized, customized -marriage counseling, career counseling, dietician’s recommendation, child psychology, family-planning advice- all rolled into a one-stop-shop. What more can one ask for?

Air Encounters

2007-03-12T14:10:00.000-04:00

Contrary to people who build relationships in travel, I hate talking on journeys- flights or train journeys are a time for sleeping or introspecting– well, I am a great fan of eye-shut and given the opportunity of some hours at a stretch, I jump to avail it , though I might not be sleeping all the time. I hate petty conversations with strangers and give cold looks and vague answers to those who try to talk to me. Even when with family, I take this as personal time and all attempts by people to talk, especially by hubby, fall flat.
Actually once the train starts or the flight takes off, a feeling of sudden lightness or hepllessness prevails on me, meaning that I am leaving behind things that I worry about knowing that at least for the next few hours I can’t do anything about- all worries about improving, stretching , adjusting things and matters just vanish because I am being swayed by the wheels or wings-my own feet are useless. Letting go gives tranquility and I don’t want any intrusion in that.
This time while in India, we were aboard the Jet airways flight from Indore to Delhi and I was on my shut-eye status, which I quickly escape into as soon as I fasten my seatbelt. Breakfast was served – some veggie sandwich which I devoured in the silent-don’t talk to me mode. After a while some voices snatched my attention.
My husband was speaking to the air-hostess, referring to our son -
‘Ma,m ,can you get something different for the kid, he’s not eating the sandwich.’
The pretty one , I assumed without looking, turned to my 4-year old and asked his likes and dislikes and he replied in his firang accent – ‘ I don’t wanna eat this. I kinda like the pineapple jam and not them- leaves and tomatoes’.
Guess she was impressed by his english or by my husband’s little preserved somewhat-good looks and she was –‘Sir, do you work for the Army or Airforce’.And there, he got to flaunt his NRI status. She left gracefully to be back with some bread and jam and as she was leaving, I half-opened an eye and sneaked a glance- well she was Ok , I mean for her job but didn’t look threatening I decided, considering I hold a high opinion of myself. So I decided to keep the mute on.
She was back with the dainty jam sandwich which I guess she made especially with her hands. Now my son was being addressed by his name – ‘So Ishaan , you happy now’. And once again the focus shifted to hubby-‘Sir is it difficult to get a job in the USA’ and his answer stumped me – ‘Wouldn’t be really difficult for a person with your skills!’ So, flirting was in the air and names were being exchanged and so forth. Tragically the flight was too short and landing was announced and she promised to see them(not me) again at the exit.And while we were disembarking, she was there with a huge bagful of Alpenliebe candies and a big smile. Thanks to a son with American accent and a what-he-should-not-be husband.
Once on the ground , hubby whispered to me –‘ Wo airhostess bahut line maar rahi thi.’ ‘Oh really, which one?’ , I said, nonplussed -awoken abruptly from my slumber.

That’s it!!

2007-03-07T12:15:00.000-05:00

So many times in a day I feel sick and tired of so many things that are persistent - won’t budge, won’t change- and decide – no more of it, that’s it!! I can’ t take any further. But again the next day or next minute or next week depending on the criticality of that event or situation, I erase the thought and bounce back my indefatigable self and am ready for more, thinking -what can’t be cured has to be endured. I wish the words that’s it would really mean that’s it.
Coming to my cooking abilities, it doesn’t come to me naturally but I just try. If the result is good, I give myself a pat on the back, if not I don’t like to be criticized. That is the bottomline but criticism or suggestions for betterment if you want to sugar-coat it are always there- thanks to a husband who can really cook and has been trying his hand at the stove and saucepans before I ever entered the kitchen. I was pushed into this cluttery nook of the house- thanks to holy matrimony.
So its been a good 7 years that I have been playing with spices and flour, and at times I try my hand at things exotic and beyond my reach and prowess. And festivals in this foreign land, awaken the surreptitious spirit of binding with the Indian roots and culture and that results in unasked-for fiascos. And considering our multi-faceted, multi-religional background, I always try to cook something special for Eid and Diwali. Eid is easier as its sewaiyan or sheer which is easy as the dear milk does it all by itself.I have seen mom multiplexing between dishes and all the attention that sheer ever required was an occasional stir so that it doesn’t stick at the bottom. The pure milk simmered for 60 minutes is rich and forgiving enough to camouflage any discrepancies. I thought that the creamy, consistent taste of it liberates the mind of any negative feeling about the sugar being a little in excess or the sewaiyan being a little overcooked. But still there is that darn suggestion from the connoisseur hubby – "Don’t put the whole elaichis, better powder it for the essence", because the whole ones have to be spitted out and isn’t gentlemantly enough to do that. The acrid reaction from me- “Never mind,don’t eat it, anyway I didn’t cook it for you.Thats it!!”
Diwali is another big challenge and a week before I am asking friends and sisters for recipes for sweets.My sister comes to my aide often and she e-mailed me the recipe for besan ke laddoo. It was too ambitious for me but I started the uphill mission –went grocery shopping for besan and ghee and started the project.I never knew that besan with ghee and sugar becomes so heavy to stir!! Had my dad seen his engineer-with-MBA daughter fighting with the besan, I can’t imagine how he would react. My parents believe strongly that I can’t cook because whatever time I have been with them, I just entered the kitchen for refilling my plate or for leaving the dirty dishes in the sink. So, coming back to the laddoos, the result was Ok for a first-timer- at least I thought so and rushed to give my son the taste of it. Building his laddoo background is his grandmother’s doing-she would always be ready with a generous box of laddoos, so my son was delighted to see the yellow sweet not-so-round balls .The hubby tasted it too though it wasn’t offered to him as I knoew he would immediately like to relive the taste of his mom’s laddoos, and I can never in my life offer any competition on that front. No immediate reaction from him!
Next morning , the first words I hear in my conscious state – “Besan is a little kachcha, a little under-cooked.”I don’t say a word but say to myself- thanks for the appreciation and the recipe for spoiling my day. I am not going to try anything fancy ever-that’s it.
And why only fancy stuff , day in and out, before eating he has to fetch for salt and 4 types of achaars to deal with it- so I will give up cooking altogether, I am not enjoined to do it and I don’t have the knack for it and I go on strike often- for a day or two. But wait a minute-what about my son, who although thinks, speaks and dreams in english, but eats only desi yellow daal and rice. So, strike comes to an end and I am determined to quit at the next least-offensive remark. Thats it.
Is that really it?

Those rainy days

2007-02-27T11:25:00.000-05:00

I was stuck at home for two days following a snow emergency with twelve inches of snow deposit and still falling. The roads were slippery and driving hazardous as rubber and ice don’t make a good combination. Every effort was being made by the townships to clear the roads but all the human equipment is rendered worthless against the inclemency of nature.
All schools were closed. Some offices were closed for half or full day, some were on come-on-your-own-risk status.I chose to stay in both days though my life might not be that worthwhile on this planet, but nevertheless.
That time I went down the memory lane, centuries ago when I went to school and sometimes the school was closed because of the rain.But closed or not, we had to get ready and get going -equipped with raincoats and umbrellas and plastic covers for book bags. My mom is a housewife but we never had an option to just sit back at home ,if not for illness. And if we did miss school for a day or two, mom would urge and nudge till we didn’t visit a classmate and catch up on the days’ work and notes. Much as we used to grumble at that time,I now realize that it was our parents way of emphasizing the importance of education and also that life is never going to be easy.
Being educated and brought up in a small town was a lot of fun. There were no school buses or auto-rickshaws. Children went to school riding bicycles and cycle-rickshaws with a dozen children loaded in one rickshaw pulled by a matchstick-thin but stong man -utilizing every nook of the vehicle, with lesser ones occupying back and front hard woodboards attached to it while the doyens occupied the real cushiony (hardly!!) seat.
We went to school riding bicycles and it was a big gang of neighborhood children calling on each other in the morning.And more often than not, one or two had a punctured flat tyre and someone had to doubleride-actually carry another person equal or more in weight than yourself while someone else took the burden of the extra schoolbag and the schoolbags were really stone-heavy. But noone shirked from that and exchanging bicycles was a real treat then
We used to go on all days- rain or shine.On pouring days, we were on a lookout for somebody going the reverse way, indicating that probably the school was off. And if children in other schools’ uniforms were seen going back, we burnt with envy and uttered curses against our principal who wouldn’t shut down.To go back home and eat from the packed lunchbox was the thought that evoked genuine pleasure and content.
And on those rainy days ,the raincoats and unmbrellas were a big show-off, who had which color, with flowers or stripes or just plain. So if it was not a holiday and it was raining real hard, the attendance would be thin which meant a day full of fun as the firm teachers would also be lax and unmindful of many things. Also the greatest part- the shoes!! The clothes were protected by raincoat but the shoes were drenched so we were allowed to take off the shoes and socks and roam barefoot in the corridors.To be allowed to do that in that school which was the apogee of discipline- where each item of uniform was duly checked each morning – tie around the neck, school and house badges in place etc., was unexplicable delight. And some of the lucky ones whose dress was soaked - got a change of clothes from the generous big-hearted but stone-faced sisters - that was the ultimate luxury, outside the ambit of imagination- arousing envy in all the others.
So even if school was not off , there were so many incentives of coming to school on rainy days and also of going back home. Small things in life gave big thrills- the roseate delight that cannot be put in words, but just the reminiscences of that leave me nostalgic and yearning.

Who is in charge?

2007-02-15T16:06:00.000-05:00

So many times I wonder, what is different?Why are they treated so nicely and pampered and cherished and praised and appreciated all the time? Why does the scale always tilt in their favor?And whats wrong with us?

And after pondering and reflecting and wrecking my brains, it seems the difference is their non-working housewife , stay-at-home mom status.I disagree with those who say that working, independent women are the most powerful. Of course leaving out those women stuck with lunatic male-chauvinistic husbands, I think non-working wives are the real women who hold the reins.
I guess the very fact that they are dependent makes the husbands go all mushy about them. Because my kid is dependent on me , I feel so protective about him, the same applies to men. We ,the bad working ones are those who neglect their prime responsibility of a woman- of waiting at home for them to return.Well I cook, clean , scrub,mop,wipe, bathe the kid , feed him, pack his lunch, do laundry and fold it and pick up things and put them back in place- I don’t want to go on a self-appreciation spree by increasing the list, though I think I should!!
But what I don’t do is sit and wait with the dinner ready, well I have the dinner ready but the most important aspect that they love is having someone sit and wait on them. That is the thing that has those men revolving around their little fingers. They have them running to stores at midnight to fetch one little thing , they have them plan outings on weekends, they have them buy expensive gifts for them, they have them babysit for kids on weekends.At the drop of a hat, at the blink of an eye, whatever you say madame.
They are the delicate ones , the real feminine while we have hardened into steel- yes I feel that the tendons and sinews are replaced with concrete and steel.So we don’t have a right to be tired.After all, the whole day we are donning a cap belonging to someone else, while the real befitting cap of a homemaker,caretaker is waiting at home-quickly change the cap and do what you are supposed to do. Take care of others while we are not to taken care of because we the strong ones can take care of ourselves.
And we are to blame for that. I have a backache but I got to get to work, so I will pop a pill and get going. We are adept at mending and repairing and recharging ourselves ,while they are the ones getting backrubs and what not. And “Oh, I have an headache” -“Don’t worry I will get the kids ready”.Or “My back hurts.” – “Don’t bother, we will order food.” These are the privileges enjoyed by them.While we have no respite since we are not used to letting out such complaints.
Those men go gaga over their wives , just give them a chance to unleash accolades for their wives.While there is no appreciation for anything we do.Because its not enough, nothing can compensate our going to work. Because it’s our choice, for men it is a must to work. So they have to relax on weekends after hectic work weeks , while we are supposed to catch up on our homely duties. We don’t need a break because work is supposed to be our break, as if we get a paycheck for playing golf.
Considering all this, sometimes I strongly feel I should quit work and enjoy being a woman as they do.

Racism, my foot!!

2007-02-01T13:19:00.000-05:00

Long time, no writing!! I had to really scrub and dust and grease this blog to galvanise it.
Better start scribbling something before words start shying away from me and my fingers start freezing.
So, I had an awesome time in India, totally cut off from the Internet world with ears purposely plugged against anything happening in the world. And back here, I see all the sites agog with the poor, cornered Shilpa Shetty.

Well what happened to her was definitely wrong but before pointing one finger at other countries and their people for being racist, we should point back three fingers to us, as a nation of racist people. Although India has been independent for 60 years now, but still each one of us is from head to toe imbued with discrimination – against race, religion, occupation, color and each single factor that makes two humans different. We breathe, we portray, we live in discrimination all the time against the likes of us, talk about other people who are actually different. We are such hypocrites, we are such people, racism runs in our nerves, a part of our DNA.

All those who are quoting homilies about equality and human rights, just sneak a peek into their homes and welcome to the pellucid facts. We all have a marathon of people working for us, doing jobs we hate to do or are lazy to do or are too busy to do and how do we treat those people.We hire people to clean, to cook, to do the dishes,to bathe our kids, to dress and feed them. But although she is the one who cooks your meals and washes the pots and pans , but for her tea there is a cup reserved in all the households- the one with the broken handle mostly or the one which is left alone out of the bunch of six or twelve, the one whose siblings have demised already. And they are given an old rug or a plastic stepstool which they can sit on inside the kitchen , just on that – every other corner is cordoned off.

Our infants sleep in her arms and she is supposed to tuck the baby in the bed but she should do it in such a manner that no part of her clothes or body ever wander on the bed. And if it does, she is adequately reprimanded.Just because these people do not have StarNews and XYZ News cameras following them,does not mean they are not discriminated against.Just because someone said something to somebody rich and famous, everyone has raised cudgels.That untouchablity has been abolished is the biggest cliché.I am certain that to date,all cannot share the water of the same well or lake in our villages.

And not only against poverty and occupation, we are prejudiced against people with different eating habits too. The strict vegetarian people will not eat anything or even drink water at a meat-eating household.As if all their pots and pans and spoons and bowls are tainted with meat, which cannot be sanitized. They despise meat eaters but given a chance, they or their family or cohorts steal opportunities to dig their teeth into veal.And the same people will order vegetarian food at a restaurant which uses the same dishes for vegan and non-vegetarian food. The guy at the back must have stirred your food with a meat-sauce laden spoon and you don’t even care enough to bat an eyelid.

There is not an iota of sense in all these small acts but we love to do it. Our self righteousness and self ascertained supremacy is all we are about. We love to differentiate and to place ourselves on self appointed thrones from where we can look done upon others who are different. So why all this khalbali over one remark.

What happened to fun?

2006-12-06T16:24:00.000-05:00

It is not common to hear a real hearty laugh these days, the one that comes from deep within. And if you hear a distant, galvanic one coming from someone, it makes you feel good and strangely light, lifts up your spirit and brings a smile to your lips. But also I wonder whats going on in that person’s life, what conversation is he/she having that makes him laugh so genuinely, so uninhibitedly and it forces an inspection of my inner self which is not all that exciting.

Its hard to recall the last time you laughed out loud like that, with that tinkling laughter. The almost mandatory conversational laughs and forced smiles aside , when was the last time you laughed out loud like a kid. And that does not count the ones evoked by comedy movies, that is laughter bought out of your pocket , almost like an over-the-counter medicine. The stress, the work, the physical and mental travails,the responsibility, the burden, the to-dos and the not-to-dos, this and that, him and her, them and us, theirs and ours - weigh down on us so heavily that the metallic chuckle and chatter has become extinct, leaving behind a vapid vacant slot, which stares at you everytime you hear someone else’s tinkle.

When did I have just pure fun with all the background mental processes shut down .I guess that was when I was dependent on my parents, a student , when assignments and exams were the only worries, when I could not afford that nice sweater and kept coveting it , but I used to laugh with all my heart and wish for today to come when I would be independent ,in charge, in control,to hold the reins. And now that today is here, after a long wait, when I can go ahead and buy anything I want to (within certain limits of course), the flowing laughter has skulked. That is the most precious thing we let slip away from between our fingers without even realizing it, leaving space for this unexplained grumpiness that supercedes the light and jovial part, pulling it down.
And now that life has become far too serious, I realize its time to take fun seriously!!

How honest??

2006-11-23T20:07:00.000-05:00

Is there a single relation you can be a 100% honest with? I guess thats not possible for a human,not for a mere mortal.For the astute matter inside the skull carefully selects and sieves and packs pertninent information into compartments –with walls seemingly porous, yet so unyeilding. But if you think, it is this sly isolation of information that keeps our zillions of relations breathing. Being a friend, acquaintance, co-worker, sub-ordinate,superior,sister, daughter,spouse,mother!!To be able to carry on all the roles, fetches have to be made to different regions of the grey matter-scan,filter,select/reject,present/archive.

What does the other person expect me to be,what knowledge does he/she expect me to have,what part of my personality should I present and what part should I mask?Amazing!!Someone might know me as a fun,cheerful person, while other might think I am a gloomy nerd.As the situation/person demanded or forced me to be.

So what are the things I should not bring up with this person. I should feign ignorance on such matters. I should strongly stand against things I love secretly. I should speak ill of those cheap brands though I know they are a blessing for my pocket. I should speak highly of an author/book though the first page caused me to take aspirin. That movie is a masterpiece, though it just kept tapping my head, but never got in. I should be totally in love with that cuisine/eating joint, though the mere mention of it makes my innards revolt. I should appear to be happy-go-lucky though my whole being shouts of toiling hard. So many genuine tears have to be indebted to a fake cold and sinus, for fear of being exposed. I should say I never think of some things though they occupy > 90% of my thoughts. I should pretend to forget certain things, turn a blind eye to some though they glare real hard. Such paltry, meaningless acts, confessions, swears that tie down a person all the time.

Oh, that’s so not me!! I am as you like it, cooked to your style till the time we decide to part ways.So it turns out that no one really knows the cores of the other, maybe not the person himself/herself. Sometimes I seem to understand the ancient hermits who climbed on top of a mountain and who closed their eyes to make an inward journey.In this blatant world, one starts to lose his/her own existence,all the surrounding space is invaded and polluted.

And then another thing is to keep all those that you hold dear in your life,insulated from each other.Something about a friend is never to be revealed , things about spouse should not leave the four walls.Things about sister/brother not to reach mom’s/dad’s ears.Things about mom-dad not to reach the spouse.But am I truly honest to anyone? So much precarious trust, millions of sworns of secrecy, do I have the tough gut for that?Things do leak out and dissipate and travel faster than you can imagine.Never mean to do it,but don’t our tongues at times have the procilivity to betray us, to profane the intangible sanctity.
How honest can you be in revealing yourself and concealing the others?

They are animals after all!!

2006-11-07T13:40:00.000-05:00

I am scared of all animals – anything that moves, creeps ,crawls -any time of the day – and unknown humans (males) after the sun sets.The only creatures I am somewhat Ok with are insects – ants,spiders upto the size of a cockroach – which I can kill confidently anytime.But anything beyond cockroach scares the breath out of me,with lizards topping the list- the way their discarded tail wiggles on its own makes my flesh creep and has the potential to make my heart stop.

So the problem is with me- I realize your pets are like your own children but the pointed conical white teeth inside their mouth make me freeze.I live in a pets allowed community and pets need to be taken out,I understand, but please put them in a leash always because that one time that you let the leash loose is the time they are going to bump into me. So, unconsciously when I am out on my feet, a part of me hears for the jingle,crackle of a leash,chain so I can be out of the way.But sometimes a tiny pup dashes out of nowhere followed by the owner shouting – “Get back Ginger,behave”.But the pup is already sniffing at me and its tongue tasting my skin.I am febrile and wan and rooted to the spot. “Oh, he is a friendly dog,he is harmless- get back Ginger.” Well,it must be harmless to you, but if he doesn’t like the taste of my skin,would he mind digging his teeth further inside?

I am unable to understand the motivation and pleasure that compel a person to keep 2-3 dogs/cats as pets and taking them out in freezing winters and picking up their poop after them.And once in a park,while playing with my son, I see a monster of a dog, almost as tall as me chasing a ball and running all over.Put it in a leash !!I screamed –we are scared. “What –you are scared of this darling”- the pretty lady demanded. Well my son is, I said in a tutelary capacity. “Actually he broke his leash’s collar, so he’s loose”,she explained.Madame, I don’t know just drag it out of here, I demanded looking at its gleaming white canines. She took it badly –“Why are you giving me a hard time?It you have a problem with your child, I would understand”.So there she was -comparing my child with her dog.Come on Ma’m, dogs bite and children don’t –is it too difficult to understand, I persisted. And no matter how well-behaved or innocent they might be, they are carnivorous and they can bite.So,finally she did leave stomping her feet and muttering.

But also in normal conversation with people, if you describe your child’s activities,likes,dislikes- some one is bound to bloviate – Yes ,my dog or cat does the same,it comes rushing to me when I get home etc etc. So the conversation gently steers from human children to dogs and cats.And if someone forwards a picture of their child with their dog or cat, the onlookers are spellbound by those sharp ears and the bushy tail,completely ignoring the poor child-while I am looking for sharp ears in the child which are probably hidden by his hair.And framed pictures of the dogs and cats which adorn peoples’ desks - sometimes I do ask what its name is and say its cute, although I can never say it’s a beauty or a treasure- and I can’t make out one dog from another if not for the size-so much for the sake of small talk!!

And if dogs and cats were not enough,pet lizards and alligators complete the picture of horror.Last year they arranged for pet reptiles to be brought to my son’s school and I signed the permission for him to participate.The next day they gave me a picture of him with a big lizard clinging to his shirt with the remark “Oh he was not at all scared!!”.All children had such pictures taken-touching a baby alligator, a baby snake.It was so repulsive and scary and I felt so guilty of putting him through the ordeal although he looked calm in the picture.So this year again when he brought the permission form home for captive reptiles ,I wrote a big “NO TOUCHING”.So he told me that the teacher told him he was not allowed to touch.Yes ,I don’t mind if he stands apart,if he is the odd one out, but I will not have him touch a creepy creature,just for the sake of participation.