Hues Around Me...

Black&Blue

Fuschias

Yellows

Blueish-Grey

Cerulean?

 Earthy

Fantasy

There's a trip (read numerous trips) that have been in the making for a few years. They exist on the huge, unending drawing board of my head and sometimes they come close to becoming tangible and at other times they are content to remain wisps of my imagination.

This is a glimpse of what they might've been (can be):

Tour De Romance

This would be a trip to Venice, Paris, Maldives and Napa Valley. This is how I visualize it up in the noggin-

 

The Fun (winks) Tour

This one's an out and out fun place with nightlife, laughs and just let-your-hair-down-kick-your-heels-up kinds. These are the places which feature here:

At this point my child came and dumped a big lump of dough on my lap and said he wanted to play NOW..I guess the travelling fantasies can be shelved for a little while longer...sighs..

Marking Territory

Everywhere I look, I sit the offspring's presence prevails.

The jar of Gummybears are usually within hand's reach although with the child-proof caps it's still a bit in our control when we want to hand the bears over.

There are clothes clips on the futon, tigers and lions (figures) under the sofa cushions and Play Doh and khakhra crumbs all along the path he's taken through the house. Very Hansel and Gretel and one can guess who the witch in this story is too :)

Point is- kids take over your life in toto! And when they sleep you reclaim it and the house which has their artwork all over the walls instead of the nice designs you and your husband picked out as newlyweds.

But then again they surprise you in the MOST UNEXPECTED manner. After a terribly taxing day when you've restrained yourself from leaving them on some unsuspecting person's doorstep they turn to you and execute a deep bow and say Thank You Very Much Ayu in the cutest manner ever and all's forgiven till the next transgression.

Damn! Check and mate to the offspring. Mommy's still figuring out her opening gambit!

Playing With The Hand You're Dealt...

Isn't that what it all boils down to in life? 
It isn't always celebrating the things that go well or in accordance with our plans or even making our peace with the things that don't. It's finally just existing with what IS.
Sometimes we are able to do it gracefully and other times it takes a lot of plodding and prodding to get through each day.

There's a saying by Oscar Wilde that people often smugly quote- " There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it."

I've found that while tragedy might be too strong a word for it, it does seem difficult to comprehend and accept ,what you sought out, opted for even isn't all that it's cut out to be or even worse...it's not what you want. Is inadequate.

So you shuffle the deck a few times and hope the next hand is better than the one that has you staring in bafflement.

Or you chuck the cards up in the air and don't care if they scatter all over; since it's mimicking life in doing so.

And some of us painstakingly make a house of cards. Trying to balance each card over the other and anxiously watching whether they stay up or come tumbling down.
In the end you either end up with a steady house you used up all your cards in making and are proud of or you decide to call it quits after you reach a plateau and are still left holding a few cards for later.

It's all about playing with the hand you were dealt.

The Perils of Taking a Fabulous Holiday

Perils? From a holiday? Can't be you say? But there are some..and they're the worst kind of perils.
You can't (read won't) get reintegrated in your pre-holiday life all too quick.

It's not quite so much as the feeling of getting back to a grind but it's the whole feeling of reluctance of having *that* time end.

This is why it's tough- 

• Time seems to stop. Actually it goes much faster than it usually does during your everyday routine :( 
• You end up doing things that you'll remember forever.
• Leisure is all around you. Leisure is in the air. It's in your pores and everything you do. Even when you hurry you do it in a relaxed manner. How's that for figure of speech culminating out of 3 years of English Litt?
• The calories from all the stuff you eat doesn't seem to count. It'll come back and settle happily on your hips and every other unwanted place but for now it's all good.
• The liquid nourishment you guzzle doesn't have to be rationed since there is no work to rush to the next morning.
• There are NO responsibilities.
• It's a sybaritic trip.
• You come back to normalcy and hit the ground with a thud!
• Cooks don't turn up.
• Maids come in late.
• There're a LOT of unread mails awaiting you.
• Your child clings to you and says don't go to work let's watch TV together and play on the seesaw. 
• Your spouse, who you left holding the fort, stops holding the fort now that you're back.
• You need to get into multitasking mode.
• Everything at home is running on empty- cars to groceries to drinking water.
• You are constantly daydreaming of the bygone days and sighing internally and smiling to yourself thinking of that oh-too-brief respite and hedonism.
• You realize you're already planning for the next time in your head.

Then the phone rings, the email pings, your child calls you and the doorbell chimes and you get up and begin tackling them all one by one.

That's normalcy. The trips are the anomalies. Good ones albeit.

But normalcy is more regular and easier to adjust to.

Still, all said and done...here's to:

Why Free Speech Isn't Entirely Free

One always has to pay for things in life. In cash, plastic or kind.

The video of Mallika Sherawat going viral and there being a backlash about her calling India regressive has rankled a lot of people. But what registered while I was watching the video clip was that she had picked up American tonalities and was basically promoting herself and her films rather than India-bashing in general.

And doesn't she have a right to do so? She has an opinion about a country she grew up in, received some amount of adulation and also infamy in. Whether it was in good taste or even appropriate to speak about it in Cannes is the question, isn't it?

Well if you take away the fact that she's not really a very credible actor (I have seen her work and it's not inspiring) do her statements take anything away from India given how the prevailing situations in the country are? Not really.

Women *ARE* afraid to travel alone. Father, husbands, boyfriends are going all out to procure pepper  sprays and whatnots to keep them safer. Self-defense classes are on the rise. Women will wait longer after long hours at work so they can travel in a manner that seems physically safer and comfort is long forgotten,.

The spates of rapes, abuse and brutality has gone up exponentially across the country for anyone belonging to the female sex; age notwithstanding and the December 16th incident still is sub-judice so one can only hope it turns out with perpetrators getting punished for a change.

So why take of on Ms.Sherawat? Because she came across her what she usually does in my eyes- a little too eager to shoot off her mouth to promote herself. She could have said that "in my country the kind of roles I've done haven't been appreciated but living in LA I have options I never had before. It's not considered too risque and no one judges me for it". The word regressive wasn't required mainly because there was no context for it.

The topic was her role in a movie and she made a blanket statement about a country she is no longer living in. Was she justified? Probably not. Was she wrong? Not entirely, no. But there were other inconsistencies to her story too..she also labeled herself as a superstar. The last time I checked, barring the usual groupies and hanger-ons that celebs garner everywhere in the world, no on was elevating Ms.Sherawat to a superstar status.

Hopefully the time away from the "regressive" country will help her in polishing up her speech, teach her to pronounce 'biopic" properly and help her learn that even "superstars" need to understand how to pitch what they want to say at an appropriate target audience.

For the rest of us stuck in a country that has definitely seen better days where its women are concerned, we'll try to laud her superstardom and wade out the controversy her words have created. Because its only in India that we care...she's a speck in the Cannes' context and in the scope of cinema across the world. India is the only place that she matters in any manner whatsoever! Whether she gets featured in a movie or on the back of an auto.

And yet again, the adage is proved...there's no such thing as bad publicity. It got her on the news again when she was off the radar. 

Superstars can be pretty smart that way.

The Curse of the Bored Child

A bored child is a mother's worst nightmare. It's even worse than a child who is throwing a tantrum because at least a tantrum is directed at getting something or a result of something being denied.

A child who is bored is a dangerous element in nature and in his mother's life.

A child experiencing ennui will look at things differently and objects and ideas hitherto not in his scope of thinking will suddenly appear to him and make him do things that become the bane of his mother's existence and also put him in some amount of danger.

Take my very own bored child for example: He walks around half naked most of these because of the heat and suddenly took it upon himself to lash out at everything with his grandfather's belt. He liked the swoosh of the belt as it cut through the air and when I found him he was perilously close to whipping himself on his bare back with a belt that was being thrown about with a lot of energy and speed.

A bored child will also drape themselves over their mother in a manner that prohibits that poor woman from doing anything. I mean anything. A loo break becomes manna from the gods. A quick shower becomes a forbidden luxury. One that is disrupted every 2 minutes by a whine or a pounding on the door to give miscellaneous objects since the little emperor wants to be entertained.
All the while the bemused mother's busy trying to make sure the soap doesn't get into her eyes and hurrying so much that she almost ends up moisturizing with the conditioner in her haste.

When I see my son in these phases I am alarmed since I have NO CLUE how to keep him entertained. I think of cool, open meadows where he can gallop around like an unbridled horse or leap out of the ocean like a dolphin (make that a Great White with jaws agape after a hapless seal).

And I often feel sorry for myself because I sure as hell did NOT know WHAT I was getting myself into the day this chap was born.

It must be tough being a child, wanting to do so many things and yet having so many restrictions that the adults impose on the immediate environment; especially those which are inexplicable in a child's reckoning.

On the other hand, his demeanor and intensity makes me think he can make it big as a cage fighter. 
Maybe once he's in the cage I can finally put my feet up and read a book or sip an unhurried cuppa tea.

A mother can always dream.

Dawn Of a New Family Activity

The family that prays together stays together or was it the other way around? But the family that watches movies together has a lot of fun in the bargain!

For a very long time Red and I have abstained from taking MLM for any movies since we thought it might be too loud, over-stimulating et al. And the last person in the world that needs stimulation is my son!

Anyhoo, I'd been thinking that maybe Red and I were being too cautious with him and kind of things we opted to expose him to and the safest thing to do to start off on a new path would be to go to a movie.

The movie itself was a no-brainer. The child is OBSESSED with Chhota Bheem. And his friends. And his foes. The whole damn Green Gold merchandise! And with this having released recently we decided that the foray into the new frontier should be done without much delay.

But I WAS apprehensive. The sound systems being what they are in the multiplexes and Chhota Bheem and the shenanigans he's normally upto; the resulting noises were sure to be LOUD! And given MLM's proclivity for never letting the grass grow under his feet I wasn't sure if Red and I'd be chasing him down the aisles during the entire length of the movie either.

But your children have a way of surprising you. MLM fell asleep on the way to the multiplex and when he was awakened he was a bit cranky till he saw the huge images of the movie plastered all over the entrance. Suddenly he couldn't wait to shake off his grogginess and rush up the escalators to the hall. He did like a pro as if he'd been watching movies all his life.

But there's a bit of a naivete there that was quite endearing. The screen was the largest one he'd ever seen and the moment the ads came on he clapped and yelled "YAY". Seeing people in larger-than-life dimensions was good enough a start for him.

With the start of the movie he clapped his hands over his ears since it *was* pretty damn loud but he remembered his snacks quickly enough to take one hand and use it to sneak chips into his mouth while the other hand remained firmly clapped over an ear.

Eventually he got with the program. Cheered at the appropriate places, said " Oh NO" whenever the bad guys got away with something and once in his utter joy at seeing his hero do something fun he socked me right in the eye while he was waving his fists around! I was ruing the fact that I didn't have a handycam to record his expressions instead of gulping down my popcorn and watching the movie. His emotions were quick to surface and he held nothing back...joy, disappointment, exultation...everything was OUT THERE!

What I am QUITE proud of is his not getting frightened of the visuals that were definitely more intense that those he's ever seen. He took it in his stride and watched the scenes unfold with rapt attention.

We were one of the last people to leave, having stood around till the last credits rolled and the screen went dark.

The movie by itself was the best of the lot that the Chhota Bheem franchise has come up with so far. The characters are well-fleshed out, the locales authentically reproduced and the pace of the story never flags.

I was telling Red that we have another family activity to do together now that goes beyond getting KFC stuff from the drive-thru and going for long drives till the monkey conks off from sheer joy.

The only challenge that I anticipate is now there might be clamors for movies rather than the telly and that'd be a whole different kettle of fish altogether and a new series of blog posts too :)

But as far as it goes...this day's going into his memory book and in my memory bank for all time.

Take Me By The Hand Down Memory Lane....

There's a reason why I'll crib, rant and rave about the lack of space at home for all the books that I'll want to buy throughout my lifetime, but still never switch over to e-books for good.

Each book has a history. It goes beyond savoring the smell of a new book or sneezing from the dust of an old one. I've always inscribed my books and made people who gifted me books do the same. They might not be the book inscribing kind but even a few words scribbled has been mandatory for me.

Along with the date and the location that I find when I open an old book, I also rediscover myself from those days of yore.

Recently I re-read a book after a long while and found an inscription by my BFF2. It was given on the occasion of my birthday and a nickname was mentioned that'd fallen into disuse but used to be the norm years ago.

That's the magic of a book...it not only takes you places with what the author's words have woven but each book carries a piece of your history in it as well.

Red dislikes too many trips into nostalgia but it suits me just fine.

Sometimes nostalgia is the only thing that helps you get a grip on the present.

Over and out.

Nemo's Dad Was Right!

Of course the notion that am modeling myself or identifying with a cartoon character speaks volumes about my MQ (madness quotient) but there's no escaping it...am Nemo's dad through and through. I keep worrying about MLM's safety, other's safety when he's in full swing and also about what would happen if I were to look away for some time.

This evening Red and I took MLM to a play area nearby where the kiddy play site was actually overrun by the bigger kids. Am talking of the 8 years old and above. MLM'll be 4 soon but in the meanwhile he's quite naive. He's protected in school quite a bit..there's a good amount of segregation between the playgroup and nursery kids whereas in a play area open for all, there's a no-holds barred kind of unspoken rule.

Now I admire the fact that my child seems to know no fear. But it scares the crap out of me. He goes and stands in front of other kids swinging fast and high and thinks just the sight of him will make them stop. What he fails to realize is that he's going to get knocked straight off his feet and have boo-boos all over for a good amount to time and be wailing to the Heavens above when someone's foot connects with his face or head or any other part of his anatomy.

Also, the play area (which is nicely done up and basically is as kid-friendly as possible) has these tall posts on top of which are perched a rather large and colorful caterpillar, flowers et al. Now after a few days of going gaga over the swings and the slides et al, MLM suddenly decided that he wanted to conquer the Mt.Butterfly and Mt. Flowers to which there are actually no direct routes.
So he climbs atop the tunnel casing, slipping and losing his footing most of the times and then tries to be Spiderman and jump from one segment of the play area to the other so he can reach the structures on top.

So there I am flitting from pillar to post watching him do everything other kids are not and trying to be this human cushion as and when he falls. And I realize that it's not quite so much him and his curious nature. It's me and my problems with lack of control over situations and a fear of seeing him hurt.

Red was far more pragmatic about all this and said let him learn his boundaries...he'll fall, he'll get hurt and he'll learn. But it seems kinda mean to do that to a child who still doesn't know enough consequences and lives life mainly on the pleasure principle and through avid curiosity. As a parent I should know better...wouldn't it be great if he never had a scraped knee. I've had plenty. Even as an adult but I could understand it better then. As a child it never felt good. Or reasonable to have one.
Shouldn't childhood just be about giggles, good times and a total unawareness of every boo-boo that's awaiting you in the world out there?

The mother in me says so. The adult in me is still fighting it out with the mother.

Talk about growing pains! For us both!

Ode To A Team Lunch

Or what others might call...the Salt'n' Pepper Fiasco!

One of my colleagues is leaving Gymboree and we decided to have a nice leisurely team lunch today as a farewell for her. Yeah right!

MLM has summer camp and is back home just around the time that I get back from work in the afternoons. I came home, picked him up and freshened up a bit and went back to work with the iPad in tow since it's the panacea for all ills. Ever since I've joined Gymboree I've missed out on the team lunches for some or the other reason. Today being a farewell lunch I really couldn't avoid it although am pretty sure that after today, team lunches are something I won't have to be worried about being invited to.

The thing about having a hyperactive child is that if  they have something along the lines of ADHD its still understandable why they can't get their butt to stick on a particular surface for more than a second. But without an excuse of that sort it becomes very tough to understand WHY your child HAS to be THE ONE who's trampling over everything,everyone, emptying salt and pepper into the drinking glasses from the shakers and basically acting like he's a human demolition crew.

I'd like to think that in time he'll quieten down but till that day comes I'll be guzzling my food like it's the Last Supper and I'll perpetually be dodging waiters and other diners in search for that elusive munchkin who wants to peer into the food trays, other peoples' plates and seek out all the damn salt and pepper in the world so he can make them into piles and have his dastardly way with them.

In one word..AAAARRRRRGH!!

Sunny With A Chance of Hailstones

You'd think having a proper weekend with my family would be very good indeed. I work a 6-day week with a full day on Saturdays and that leaves only Sunday for quality time with the spouse and offspring.
 
Well today started out well enough- I got up at 10:30 am a rarest of rare luxuries. Of course I deprived Red of his extended sleep so he could keep an eye on mini hurricane and conked off and had a sybaritic pleasure of having the bed all to myself.
 
After that things still went according to the norm we follow- yell at MLM, put him on at least one time out, kiss and hug it out, bubble bath for MLM, feed him breakfast, bathe and manage to grab his snacks, change of clothes, his music CDs and then out the door for OUR stuff.

Now this is where the fun starts- we ate at a food court in a mall. That went surprisingly well with no major sprints after MLM. Give the child some popcorn chicken and his butt somehow sticks to whatever surface it's currently on.

Then Red went off to get some stuff for himself and MLM and I began to thrash it out over  whether it was right for him to bump into people with his dolphin balloon (oh yes, we bought him a balloon, one of the smaller necessary evils) while he did his 'running amok' routine. He tried to intimidate a toddler who was trying to make a grab for the toys he was playing with in the kiddie area, with his arms on his hips and everything. The kid's parents were looking askance at me, MLM was looking everywhere else but at me and I was looking skywards for divine intervention in the form of Mary Poppins carrying a cold brewski.

After the one rant and the sprint up and down the aisles of a bookstore with me huffing and puffing and MLM dodging me with agility hereto unseen, I finally cornered him and did my routine of bribing-cajoling-threatening-pleading and that did the trick after a while. Well that and my plastic got used up a bit more.

Long story short- after a few irate glances from supermarket salespeople who wondered what kind of mother let her kid open cookies and juice boxes without having paid for them first, the house key getting lost in the melee and the dolphin balloon having got stuck up on our ceiling, I can honestly say that this Sunday's had the power of a few Mondays packed into it and then some!
Cannot wait for the work week to begin.

Did I also mention that MLM also starts summer camp from tomorrow? Thank God for small mercies.

AMEN.

Letter To My Child

I plan to have MLM read this when he can link more than three words together and has attained the attention span of a human instead of a bee buzzing from flower to flower. So essentially I'll have to wait till he hits 30.

Dear Monkeyboy

1. When I sleep don't stick your fingers up my nose. I do that all by myself and in a far more efficient manner, thank you.
2. The moment I'm lying down don't assume I'm pretending to be a trampoline. The extra fat wasn't piled on keeping in mind your need to bounce.
3. If I bend down to retrieve my slippers or wipe the floor after you've trailed food on it; don't climb on my back thinking it's horsey time. It'll be time for a chiropractor if that continues my friend.
4. STAY ON YOUR SIDE OF THE BED or go in sleep your cot. This body was not meant to be squished into a tiny sliver of a space. If it was, my clothes would be marked XS instead of XL!
5. Don't beg and plead each time you want something. I grow immune. Learn to time your pleading...it's far more effective and you'll be surprised how far a sad face goes when it's used sporadically instead in a drop of a pin.
6. When I'm gesturing wildly on a phone call and don't sound all that perky, it is definitely not the best time to say, "Susu is coming." "Potty is coming is even worse". Use the loo by yourself as you are wont to do when you think am not watching.
7. When I ask you to go to the loo to do your business before we set out in the car, GO! Saying you need to go when am at a red light or in the midst of heavy traffic doesn't magically conjure up Port-a-potties all over the place.
8. Hugs and kisses are fine. In fact they are great! But when given after a calm and steady manner it's even better than attacking me like a herd of stampeding rhinos.
9. The powder either stays in the jar/bottle or goes on your body. Putting it all over the floor where I go careening all over the place is not what Johnson & Johnson made it for. If you really want me to go sliding off somewhere, ask your father to take us to Aspen.
10. You  biting me on the cheeks was fine when you were a drooly baby. Now with teeth like a barracuda, it hurts.
11. Don't chomp down on the toothbrush every time. I have to pry your teeth apart like I use the car's jack and while it gets the job done, I'm in danger of getting a tennis elbow without ever having lifted a racquet!
12. Your father and I like to watch the t.v every now and then you know. And that goes double for us using the iPad. Something about being able to enjoy the stuff we paid through our nose for.
13. My phone is mine. I give it to you when you're in the throes of a major meltdown but it's mine. You asserting ownership over it aint gonna help!
14. The sofas are for sitting on and their backs are not balancing bars. We'll put you in a gymnastics class once you're older. That goes for karate as well so stop chopping at me and swinging your toys like their nunchuks!
15. We have our taste in music when we drive. Dance Gymbo Dance looped for miles on end does nothing for us enjoying the long drive. 
16. The iPad charger, the laptop mouse are not pets. Stop dragging them around the house. We'll get you a pet once your allergies abate.
17. When I make the bed, for once forget the Parachute time from Gymboree. I can't fly the "parachute" for each bed I make.
18. What is this fascination for clothespins? I end up stepping on them or sitting on them at all odd places and can never find them when I'm hanging out the laundry. 
19. Watering the plants are fine. Drowning them is not. And no...they don't want to take a bath like you do for an extended time.
20. Don't take my gripes to heart. You're beautiful but try targeting more sleep time because when you sleep my world is a more serene place.

With Love Always,

Your Deranged Mother

Hold A Mirror Up to Me

Last night during dinner Red saw a side of MLM he hadn't seen before and till date has only heard me speak of. His adult side.

The offspring's speech isn't as clear as many of his peers and often in his hurry to say a lot of things he garbles sounds up and they sound funny.

On many occasions we ( he and I together) have a laugh about it but last night it turned out he was pretty darn serious about what he was trying to say and my laughing at that moment made him quite peeved.

He gave me the look that my mother, father and many a teacher have leveled at me over the years. It's a combination of when-will-you-grow-up-and-act-your-age+I-will-wait-till-you-stop-your-nonsense-and-then-continue-with-what-I-have-to-say-instead-of-lowering-myself-to-your-level.

He gazed at me in a manner so serious that I was actually taken aback and had a glimpse of him as an adult. If he had the vocabulary he'd have told me to stop acting juvenile!

Having the tables turned on me was not much fun. I realized I was being obnoxious- another word he'll eventually learn and that the balance of power had shifted from me to him in an instant.

Yikes!

Scintillating Slumber!

Every now and then things hit me afresh...the early morning chirping of birds, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the utter rejuvenation after a hot shower....it's really a delight to the senses.

I experienced another delight today. One I don't get to partake in too often. Sleep. Not mine. MLM's.
His sleep has been a bit off recently and he's been getting up almost 2 hours prior to his usual waking time and clambering all over Red and me. He whispers the names of the cartoons he wants to watch in my ears while I'm still in lala land somewhere in land of haziness and snores. He turns does gymnastics on the bed and  bribes us with kisses of giving him everything from milk to dosas- at 5 in the morning!

Well this little bloom of sunshine and joy who for the last few days has been getting the evil eye from his father and I first thing in the morning (well...who wants a bright and chirpy person around when you're still in your eyes wide shut stage?!) came home from school today and had his mandatory bubble bath. He played hide and seek with the soap. Ran about the whole house in his birthday suit and let out war whoops! 
He also played Angry Birds and jubilated over the destruction of the piggies over 4 different versions of the game and then just toppled over and slept! Just like that! He just plonked himself onto the bed and without so much as a word to me, he slept!

Now, while the sight of a child sleeping peacefully is always beautiful to behold today the ensuing silence was lovelier still.
After having my ears ringing with his whoops and hollers the sudden silence that prevailed in the whole house was beyond soothing. It was cathartic. I could hear the soft voices of the people walking downstairs. I heard birds cawing. I heard a plane! Imagine that!!

I luxuriated in walking all over the house and seeing the signs of his existence stamped all over- in the building blocks that would undoubtedly poke me on the butt when I sat down on the couch. The cookie crumbs that felt gritty under my feet. The trail of books, the sticky prints on the door and course the overall look of El Nino having passed through my livingroom.

BUT there was still peace in my mind because there was peace in the house. It was pin drop silence! Even the maids and the security guards who play those god-awful songs at all odd times were content to let silence prevail.

So I did what came naturally...I reclaimed the iPad as my own. I played Angry Birds for the first time in ages without a preschooler using my back as a trampoline and loudly telling me to hit the pigs. I checked my mails without having to answer 10 times what I was doing. I caught up with a good friend after ages and just exchanged sms and still felt like I'd communicated something.

I listened to my music without having to barricade myself in a room or having a munchkin impose his choice of CDs over mine and I just revelled in the utter complete, unadulterated, so-beautiful-I-could-kiss-it silence!

And a few hours later, while I was typing out this blog post came the unmistakable signs of chaos and anarchy getting back into my world- in the nicest way possible of course! The slightly puzzled sound of a child who has just woken up from a nap floated into the living room and then started the questions...where are you? Give me juice. Give me milk. Want to wash (watch) t.v. Where Baba gone? Pick up Baba....

And while I greeted the little rabble rouser with hugs and kisses and opened the doors for peace to exit quietly but absolutely I celebrated the moments I'd experienced and looked at him fondly and in my mind sent up a wish for him to start up with his afternoon naps all over again.

AMEN.

The Little Joys Of Life...

During the end of 2012, when the nation was caught in the uproar and upheaval of the December 16th incident there was a little boy who brightened the cold and somber days.

He'd eat jam biscuits, chocolate Oreos and become a messy face and leave little sticky pug marks everywhere but be giggling like a loon and run all day long a bit like a gale.

He gave spontaneous hugs and kisses. Gave high fives when he did something he was happy with and just brightened up every part of the world he was in.

His mother did notice at the time. She was busy with other things and didn't particularly want crumbs, stickiness to be a part of her winter break. But today when he slept she realized exactly how much he adds to the fun factor of her life; even though she spanks him oftener than she would like to.

The best things in life are free...the wind beneath you while you soar higher and higher on a swing and the trust you put in your father who stands behind you to keep pushing you higher into the sky (or so it may seem to a child) and still makes sure you don't fall off your perch...too often.
Here are some facets of this little man full of mirth and unadulterated joy while playing in the park and basically being HIM.

A Music Lesson Turns Into A Lesson In Motherhood

When I was in high school we had an option of learning the sitar. I chose it as the lesser of two evils, CBSE Hindi being something I did NOT want to tangle in for my 12^th Boards.

Anyhow, my parents thought that my tinkering with the piano for a few years while I was younger would make it easier to learn the sitar for me. Erm. Yes and No. Western classical and Eastern classical being the individual behemoths that they are and piano and sitar being two entirely different types of instruments, the going wasn’t easy by a long. It was painfully funny. Wait…it was painful and funny.

Anyhow, that’s another blog post for another day. This is about the sudden recollection of a memory during a riyaaz with my music teacher eons ago. See, whenever I like something or discover I have even a minor aptitude for something; I need to do it faster and faster each time. Somewhere in my mind I equate speed with being better. But we all know the tortoise won in the end so...

Don’t mind my meandering. Somehow I think it adds a touch of my idiosyncrasies to my writing as well. My teacher, one of the best I've ever had in my life, was telling me not to fight for speed so much since it would take time for the arm muscles to get used to the new movements. She said if I sped up too often I’d sacrifice accuracy and cause my muscles to cramp. Right on both counts there. But I kept trying because I wanted to know how it felt to see my hands as a blur on the sitar and hear the tempo become rapid each time I played.

My teacher told me there’d be a time when the muscles on the right hand, just above the elbow would just freeze up and despite my trying my hardest it wouldn't budge. And then suddenly with a popping experience it would just become far more fluid- an obstacle would be crossed forever. That stiffness in the muscles and the fluidity thereafter would be like a bridge I would have crossed and wouldn't have to cross again and again.

Somehow today while coaxing the offspring to clear up the mess of his jigsaw pieces, his Noddy books, the chocolate wrappers and crayons I thought of me playing a sitar. The image came and went in a flash. Then I tried to relax with a cup of tea and sat on a clothes pin (which surprisingly turn up in odd places in my house all the time) and a building block and I just lost my cool. I was seething. The tea in the cup was sloshing and MLM was looking at me VERY warily. He might’ve wondered if his rear end was in for trouble or if he was going to have to spend an extended amount of time facing one of the well-used corners of the apartment.

Suddenly the analogy of the frozen elbow and the fluidity thereafter came to my mind and I just relaxed. I wasn't entirely calm but I wasn’t livid either. 

Call this intellectual masturbation but there is a similarity. Your mind gets stuck at certain junctures and it can’t go forward. You can’t progress from that point and going back isn't an option at all! 

Once you get over that obstacle, scale the wall, cross the hurdle, whatever! you’ll find you’re able to function with a clearer mind and find solutions or at least find space to think instead of reacting blindly.

A realization always brings something good in its wake- acting on it is what gets you the speed to get ahead.

Oh, and did I gain speed in playing the sitar? You betcha! I rocked at it- the tempo, the sounds, the whole shebang! I hope parallel analogies work out in both situations.

Fingers crossed!

The Hanging...

At the risk of a backlash from whoever it is that sits and watches for things to pounce upon, let me be very clear at the onset- I personally don't believe that an eye for an eye suits every situation but neither do I believe that consequences of a behavior can be avoided for long.

Whether that consequence comes in the form of an admonishment, a jail sentence or even a death sentence that was eventually carried out. 

among the books I've read on genocide  (Holocaust, WW I&II et al), movies I've seen, articles I've read; two of the movies I've seen really made me wonder and question human nature,rather specific scenes in the movies did. One was Sean Penn's breaking down and crying in Dead Man Walking while confessing his sins to Susan Sarandon and the other was Djimon Housou's utter disbelief at seeing his son as a part of a gun-wielding militia outfit in Blood Diamond. 

The reason I cite these two references is because in each case, something heinous had either happened or was going to happen and there were people who had been deeply affected by it and with precious little to do.

Going by the Blood Diamond example, it might be understandable how a boy with very little options in life, living in an impoverished (to what extent I don't honestly know) manner in a village of Faridkot can be a perfect candidate for indoctrination. But it's not indoctrination alone that controls a person's actions. There has to be something inherent which also contributes to the things a person is capable of. Or is a person's will so very pliable that anything that is impressive enough can bend it whichever way it chooses?

And when the strength of indoctrination proves too be too powerful to combat whatever inherent sense of right-wrong that a person possesses and they go off on a path that is morally, socially and legally wrong well...then they have to find themselves in the position that Kasab did.

Even if people do repent, it still doesn't make up entirely for the repercussions of their actions. It merely shows an intent to. 

Paroled convicts spend time doing community service, others become religious and have a different attitude about human life, human existence but the life's they've already impacted negatively doesn't get a chance to benefit from their actions. 

And it isn't always about making reparations to the injured either. Sometimes it all comes down to the punishment fitting the crime. And if in the process if people are being made examples of, hard line messages are being sent out to people of a particular ilk, of a certain bent of mind then that's just the fallout.

The main consideration is that someone committed a crime and paid for it according to the severity of their actions.

I hope this hanging at least stops other Kasabs in the making or even gives them pause before thinking of carrying out such an agenda. Look at what befell him. Dead at 25! He might have been poor in Faridkot but would have had a family around, an opportunity to do what all young people do at his age, might have had friends, had some semblance of a life.

Instead he's in an unmarked grave, dead in a truly horrific manner and he never got to live properly and every day since he was caught, he was the target to some of the worst vibes and maledictions from around the world and most certainly from the country and family of his victims.

All in all, doesn't really seem like he made the right choice by himself, does it?

Reality Bites! HARD!

There are some days when it dawns on you, "Damn! I'm really a parent! And one of those parents who I swore never to be like and never to find myself in situations like."

Till now I was relatively close-minded about jinxes. I knew they didn't exist. People told me not to divulge that I was preggers before I completed the 1st trimester; I did anyhow. 

People said don't talk about your child's weight and health because of mal ojo et al; I went right ahead and told everyone who inquired exactly how much he weighed, ate blah blah. 

Then I got screwed. BIG time! I used to always tell whoever was keen to hear out a rambling  mother about how her child does yada yada yada that for all his antics MLM had never thrown a fit at a toy store or a department store and demanded that he be bought a toy or else! Apparently I said it one too many times because last week he did exactly that- threw the mother or all fits and got into a tussle with a bigger boy over ( of all things *rolls eyes*) Play Doh!!

We were out shopping for some winter wear and I happened to have MLM with me while Red finished up some of his own things-to-do and there it happened! Both boys spotted the party pack of Play Doh in the store and the bigger boy reached it although MLM had called dibs on it in his own way. There ensued a battle of epic proportions with MLM chasing the other brat through the store and trying to give him other toys so he'd drop the desired item. 
Although to be fair to my son's tendencies, I think he was actually trying to knock out the box from the kid's hands when he hefted up the cricket bat (foam one folks. No anti-social tendencies; yet). Anyhoo, long story short, the kid ran off to his parents and MLM ran to me with a particularly odious whiny tone that makes me want to Fed-ex him off to a remote country asap! 
On being ignored by his one and only ally (yeah right!!) MLM promptly dropped to his knees and started howling- all fake by the way. The other kid came and pushed him and unfortunately gave MLM the opening to begin to cry in earnest. The drama queen that I gave birth to then plopped himself face down and cried his little eyes out and I was forced to give my 'angry mommy' glare to the other kid who I secretly suspect wanted MLM to shut up with his whining as much as I did!

But 'angry mother glare has its benefits...other parents pick up on it and home into the signal like heat-seeking missiles. In this case, it was the other kid's mother who zeroed in on the situation and seeing my frown she promptly hauled her kid away, only stopping to snatch the Play-Doh from his hand and thrusting it into my brat's hands and gnashing her teeth at her's and saying, " SORRY CHEPPU!" (say you're sorry).

Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles- the waterworks from MLM's eyes dried up faster than water going down the drain of a bathtub the moment the plug's pulled. He managed a few pitiful sniffs while looking at his savior which led to his opponent getting dragged away faster to a harsher fate- his father being brought into the picture and yet another scolding and glare coming his way.

Now we get to the interesting part of the story- by the time I'd finished with my shopping and was at the payment counter, MLM was already handing over the hard-won prize to the cashier and telling him, "Give Sidaath this one." Of course the cashier was only too happy to ring up the purchase till the 'angry mother' glare was focused his way and he reluctantly stopped scanning the code. MLM thinking it was all done and dusted tried to walk out of the store with the box only to be accosted by his father who pulled a good-cop routine on him. 
Btw, personal experience tell me that good cops don't stand a chance with a kid on the brink of a tantrum. Bring out the bad cop and keep him there till the situation's under control or kid's in a straitjacket!!

So there we were, preparing to make a run for it like a bunch of shoplifters! Red picked up MLM and nearly ran to the car parking while I grabbed all our bags and ran out while telling the befuddled cashier that NO! I didn't want the Play-Doh!

The kicking and screaming continued till the car started and we reached the traffic lights and suddenly there was blessed peace. The monster was out cold.

We fist-bumped and decided that I would continue with my forays into online retail and avoid toy stores unless we definitely wanted to buy something!

Ah! the joys of spending quality time with the family!

Btw, lesson has been learnt- anything good that MLM will do shall NOT be shared in case he feels tempted to retract that behavior and turn into a parent's worst tantrumy nightmare,

Oopsie!

Forget Penelope Pitstop! The Perils of Lil Ol'Moi were sky high. Rather the results of my actions were. I am by nature a quasi-dreamer. Ahh...what the heck is a "quasi-dreamer" you ask?
 Well my father always said I did things halfway so I couldn't accomplish being a full time space cadet and dreamer and was relegated to being a quasi-one. 
I have a habit of thinking something and saying something else-often.It has gone beyond Spoonerism and made me think of getting a psych consult done. 
Knocking over glasses, cups, mugs- usually pretty full of liquids (hot and cold, I do not discriminate). Walking into things. HARD ones-VERY often. VERY ouch.And then I have the unfortunate habit of repeating the clash with hard objects all over again. As if the first impact wasn't fun enough. 

You can imagine my plight when I kept thinking of all the times I probably might drop my kid because I tripped on something or because I stubbed my toes- AGAIN! Saying Oops! when you drop an infant is kind of an anticlimax. Forget what kind of injury you might cause of the baby, it is a fact that kids don't bounce! Not that I repeatedly dropped my kid on various parts of his anatomy to empirically check the issue but each time I saw my kid fall or stumble I could see his surprise (and irritation) that he somehow did not magically pop back up!

Getting back to my rambling- I am also guilty of wide circular movements with my wrists when talking and when making presentations I outright resemble a windmill. Thank GOD Don Quixote did NOT see ME coming!

Imagine this scenario- A group of immaculately dressed individuals seated around a table in a proper conference room with the requisite subdued air that ensues during a presentation. A short, bespectacled, bouncy person who walks up and down the length of the white board and makes increasingly bolder and more forceful marks with the marker suddenly throws her hands out in a gesture of TA DA! post concluding a particularly energetic presentation!
 Aforementioned hand smacks one of aforementioned immaculately garbed individuals present and what happens? TA DA! moment goes up in the air! For all eternity! 

They tend to remember you as the crazy hands lady than the ideating woman. They treat you the way they do bag ladies in Central Park and expect a legion of cats mewling around your ankles.

Orr...maybe in far more realistic circles, they immediately roll their chairs 3 feet away from you at the table and make sure you never get up to make your point with those pretty bright markers and suggest that henceforth you merely mail your presentations and they could probably include you on-call; for everyone's safety.

Oh FISH!!

P.S: for those wondering how many times I dropped my baby or stubbed my toe while he was an infant- the answer is ZERO! I waited till he could walk all by himself, did not have to be carried at all and then promptly walked into the wall!