If I wrote a children's' book

I would write a book for the people who are contemplating on the contemplation of kids. It would be succinct and would be about the following:

• spending time with parents with kids of differing ages before actually beginning the process of parenting oneself [ the real time fun, angst, swearing, laughing and desire to use sedatives by the parents on the children are quite the eye-opener!]
• changing one nappy, potty preferably.
• feeding a child who has gained mobility. Something that is semi-solid and has a color that can and will stain a light-colored clothing; again preferably yours.
• bathing a child who is mobile and can lift himself/herself out of the tub. Whether the said child loves the water or hates it the result is the same- you will be drenched. Count on it.
• putting a child to sleep. Just once. One realizes that there's a gamut of things to explore starting from tussling the hair, patting the back, singing, cooing, walking, bouncing and yes, ultimately threatening too before the much-desired semi-conscious state is attained by the child.
• taking the child out to the park or any area where the following things excite the tot who has mobility- dogs, cats, birds, cars, PEOPLE...anything actually. Mine once watched a half-crushed slug for 20 minutes and clapped sporadically. So really, it can be ANYTHING.
• taking the kid to the supermarket for the first time. In an aisle which is particularly colorful and bright. And then what happens is no mystery...everything ends up in your cart.
• refusing the child something he or she really wants but you most certainly do not! What follows is the most intricate turns, bends, foot stomps and yelling- and that's just by you. What the child will do is anyone's guess...especially yours.
• watching a child sleep. The peace exuded by the child is so pervasive that you will just drop down and snooze on the spot. Amongst god knows what all. Yes. You will.
• hearing a child laugh. Everyday there's a new pitch, a new gurgle and a new tinkling sound that comes through. It's quite an art form actually. Especially one where it's not practised knowingly so au naturelle will bring out the best.

After all this has been indulged along with a few bites, nibbles, drools, spit-ups, hurling sessions most likely one will take the decision that I did- ride it out.

Everyday's beautiful and exhaustingly so. But then again, who knows how they view us...but that's another post. I have to rush...my lil cherub is yelling his head off and trying to hit new keys to show his impatience with his absent mother.

Salut!

To Grin&Bear it..

The dictionary of idioms defines "to grin and bear it" as thus-to endure something unpleasant in good humor.
But if we remember the original humors, this idiom could just as well end up being a veneer for a choleric individual aiming for phlegmatic.
Truth be told, I seldom have been able to do just that. It usually becomes a case of grinning and baring it. The fangs that it. While the mind takes its own course of exactly who'll be the last one laughing (or in this case, grinning) by the time doomsday arrives.

I suppose good humor does deflect or even diminish a lot of the stresses in life. But it doesn't diminish the stressor(s). Those things/people/situations that turn people into malcontents.

Am I a malcontent? I suppose so. In bits. Sporadically. But I do grin and bear a lot of things that come my way. Either because the eventual payoff's worth it or enduring stress for the "greater good" will also tell of good things to come. Or ultimately because I've got special someones to go and spew bile to.

What really gets my goat is that things/people/situations that cause annoyance on an irritatingly regular basis usually are exempted from learning of the impact their behavior or even mere existence causes another. Ergo grinning and bearing may not always be the best policy all the time.

So till the time a perfect approach to managing stress for malcontents is discovered I'll just take a twist of lime, some tonic and GIN& bear it. So either Tanqueray it or go the Beefeater way...it'll be a lot easier to handle from the other end of the hic hic spectrum.

The gamut of a child's comprehension..

ranges from the minuscule to the gigantic! They can take a concept and keep it compartmentalized or apply it to whatever seems to come close to it.
The end result may end up being funny or border on annoyance depending on which time of day your offspring decides to spew forth his understanding of concepts taught.

Case in point- the toilet training of my son. It's been a long while in the offing. I initially tried after he learnt to sit. Got him a cute turtle potty which was fun to play with. The little man was made to sit on it with and without diapers so to get used to the funda of sitting somewhere for a bit (yes, that's right. He doesn't linger much. ANYWHERE!!) and all he'd do was sit on it and rock away. He'd learnt to control his poop and pee because he'd NEVER go in the potty. He'd wait till the diaper was off or on and do the deeds :)

When he began to understand instructions more, I used to try to get him to sit but he'd end up braking his feet like the Looney Tunes characters and getting him to sit became a task worthy of the Olympics!

I grumbled and nagged Red (who did not help much by saying, "It's time to potty train him you know.") You think?!! I spoke to pals who had baby boys specifically and asked their help (and bitched) and they said let him learn on his own. It'll happen. I said, "from your mouth to God's ears." and waited patiently.

And now the glorious hours are dawning. Potty is being done. Averaging one a day in the potty. Sometimes none at all and others, 2-3 in a day. But the concept has been learnt. The monkey keeps chanting, "mamma, mamma, mamma" when he needs to go. And also when he's done the deed and wants to be cleaned up. He's also learnt that potty= chhee-chhee.

So now the scope of the "chhee" has been widened to include the butt, the training potty, any part of the body where the chhee touches, the wipes, the mug with which chhee's washed, the dirty diapers and all kinds of spots and blemishes that he might come across. Anywhere!!

This morning when Red spilled some coffee, the monkey kept chanting chheee and pointing at the coffee spill till Red got some towels and mopped it up! Again when he kicked some fruit mush out of the bowl and it got onto his highchair, he told me with a lot of solemnity,"Mamma CHHEEE-CHHEE.

But when the actual chhee is done in the desired place, one must clap (loudly), say he's a good boy and be generous with the kissy-kissy. For then and only then can he be prevailed upon for a repeat performance. Else one must be prevailed upon to be flagged down from whatever activity one was indulging in, sniff the ripeness of the diaper, lay him down, take off the diaper to be told in what can only be labelled as a DUH! tone- mamma chhee-chhee :) And be prepared to see a non-diapered lil monkey scamper off the bed and run off to do whatever he wants; minus the chhee-chhee :D

To Ferberize or Not to Ferberize..

There's no question..Ferberize!!

When my son was quite a bit younger and Red and I were still patrolling our room like night watchmen, we were advised to Ferberize him and Ferberize him good!

It was less to do with my being maternal and more to do with a child who didn't understand much of what was going on around him and his two main supports just up and leaving him to cry. So we decided against it and it's only of late that we've felt that the decision was largely an emotional one and not a logical one.

Now that the offspring can practically run around and has given into his intrinsic urge to climb everything climbable, he detests being restrained in any manner unless he's assured of perpetual motion and entertainment. Yeah right! What do I have? Cirque du Soleil in my livingroom? Pshaw!

Anyhow, in order to go and do anything at all these days means having him as my shadow. Normally I wouldn't mind a shadow as cute as him and neither would I mind the constant babble an irritant, but the reaching of his often extends to things harmful for him and a refusal leads to feet stamping and whining.

I can't stand whiny kids. I cant stand mine a tad bit more because he's the cutest most aww le mummum baby in the whole wide world. But even then it's really pushing it when it goes on beyond a point.

So today I left him in his cot and walked around doing some stuff around the house and ignored him. When he started to screech and get red in the face I walked out of the room and half closed the door behind me. He retaliated by gagging himself. When that didn't work ( I peeked to make sure he wasn't throwing up) he finally pulled out the Brahmastra! he called to me plaintively and said "Mamma"...damn that kid! He's good. But I'm better...marginally.

I took him out of his cot expecting to be hugged and exchange kisses and clean his runny nose, when Lo and Behold! The lil dumpling laughed through his tears and clapped his hands.

Now, in time every kid learns that you shouldn't mess with the Mommy person. And so did my kid. But being the ace that he is, am sure that particular point will have to be reinforced daily for the next 2 weeks, at least!

I promptly put him back in the cot, picked up a novel and sat right in front of him reading and oh! did I mention I got myself some tea to add insult to the injury?

So there I was, sipping, reading and ignoring to my heart's content.

He stamped his feet, held his breath, banged his chin against the cot rails and then quietened down and played with his toys till he really got sleepy. Tiny arms were then held out and truce was declared and the Geneva Convention between mother and son was signed.

He now sleepeth and I am left, yet again, marveling at how far ahead kids can think!

But it's like I told Red later, if the kid's old enough to plot how to bamboozle, then he's jolly well old enough to be hoisted on his own petard!

But on a less vengeful note, it makes sense I think for a child to be able to self-soothe. Not because I'm not going to be around or because if I nurture him now it'll spoil him for life. No. The earlier he can self-soothe the faster his own comfort occurs he's a happy baby again. It never hurts to be able to take care of yourself. Even from the cradle onwards.

Now lemme go cry to my mommy about the hard knocks in my life ;)

at the end of the day..

the smiles, the dimples win over the other things combined!

Whether it is a nice, long scratch on the nose (like the one I'm sporting) or a few bites marks (some out of love and some out of anger), the smiles and wiles of a child will triumph over the odds and let them romp home victorious.

My child has a very fixed personal space. His is moderately large (how is that for vague?) and is activated by human triggers more than anything else.
And he's very, very alert. He'll be slouched in his high chair finishing his milk when a movement near the door (10 odd feet away and seemingly away from his line of vision) will have him sit up straight and start off his interrogation in the best baby cop talk ever!

My house, being spacey, has spoiled him a bit because his concept of space is an area where no more than 2 people are present at a time, and even if there are more, they are the ones who are permitted to witness his antics. So during this week, while getting some work (plumbing and carpentry) done at home I saw a different side of him emerge that made me realize that he is really selective about the people around him.

He LOVES to wave at all and sundry but not everyone's allowed near him. Even the ones he goes running after, may not be accorded hugs and kisses. And just because he's dependent on me for everything doesn't mean that he won't aim his kicks at me at the first sight of any discomfort when his space's invaded.

But after some time when the workers leave and the house is restored to it's regular glorious messy ways, it's a jubilant and vibrant child gamboling about as if the ire vented on the inhabitants of the house was a thing of fantasy :o)

Just some time back, after facing some sulks and some stuff being thrown about, I was subjected to lavish kisses and bites on the nose as a mark of all being right with the world.

I really wonder how this one will fare in school...either there'll be regular reports of bites on other children or little girls and dogs being chased as if there was no tomorrow.
Either way it'll be a dandy and there'll always be a share of the bites, nibbles, drools, hugs and sloppy kisses for me alone.

Not a bad note to end on at all.

A duh moment..

is what I've been having for a while now...and today was a maha 3 stooges moment! Minus the boinky music.

I had a face pack on and the offspring was trying to either lick it or touch it or basically just ascertain if it was mommy under the funny color. Anyhoo, suffice to say it that he did not get any of the stuff on his lil stubby fingers. But among the stuff in his path to reaching my face was a comb.

I promptly put it out of reach and forgot about it. Now it would be prudent to mention here that am blind as a bat and without glasses I was batty all the way!
By the time the war paint came off I realized that the comb was stuck behind my ponytail and it was THAT particular item that the son and heir was making a beeline for.

Quite a DOH! moment all in all but I guess banta hai...after gadzillions of subterfuges to hide things from him I keep finding those things all over the place. when I least expect it. 

The one thing they NEVER tell you about being preggers and after is that it addles your noggin like nothing else ever! And if you're anyhow lost somewhere between diaperland and baby mush then the addling is just insult to injury.

But my expression of surprise at seeing the comb perched in my own hair was a wonderful tribute to all that is dumb and Larry, Curly and Moe!

Back again...

Am a little older. Duh! Not much wiser. Duh again! But the happiness has been growing. Yay!

Happiness aka my child is nearly one and hasn't turned into one of those hellions that mothers warn you about. Sadly, only the middle-aged mothers who have sons dating girls unapproved by them warn you about male children being the spawn of the devil. Or something to that effect!

He has gone from a scrawny child to a dumpling and now has lengthened out just right and has a sparkling smile (for girls mainly) and knows just how to manipulate. That is childhood am told.

So from gently cradling his wobbly head, to inducing him to go potty in the lil turtle with the red hatchback, to bamboozling him into having his medicines, hogtying him to clean up his congested nose; we've traversed pretty far. His father and I that is.

And now on the brink of his 1st birthday, all I can remember is an infant dependent on me entirely and each milestone he's attained. Some funnily and some with difficulty.

Would I go down this road again? Ask me after he graduates summa cum laude from somewhere. Hopefully I should have some clarity by then. :p

e-HOW brings you."HOW TO MAKE A BABY LAUGH"

Step #1-You will need a baby, preferably. Else anyone with a less than requisite IQ for their age range will also suffice.

Step#2- Put baby on his/her back and facing you. If baby refuses to face you, move right into baby's face and make like a solar eclipse till all the baby can see is you.

Step#3- Let go of all inhibitions, sense of importance and any positions attained at the office.

Step#4- Prepare to open and close mouth like goldfish, make spluttering sounds, even farty ones and basically sound like a clown on uppers and downers all at once! If that allusion doesn't ring a bell, think of Darwin and emulate a simian. If holding a banana will help draw forth your inner monkey, go for it!

Step#5- Don't spare the baby, if need be tickle till they puke the formula!

Step#6- Take a hit from the oxygen cylinder kept handy (did I skip this step?) since all the shenanigans will invariably leave you forgetting to breathe. If a woman, fall back on Lamaze learnt during birthing classes.

Step#7- If all else fails and desired decibels of laughter aren't elicited from baby, move away and let the baby watch the ceiling fan rotate. Guaranteed to bring forth gummy smiles and the kind that make the tots go boinkers!

Out of the Mouths of Babes....

"The real menace in dealing with a five-year -old is that in no time at all you begin to sound like a five-year-old"

- Jean Kerr

And now imagine that the child in question isn't 5 but a bit over 1 and rapidly gurgling away in his own lingo. That's what Red's father discovered a few nights back...

I was blogging and overhead this conversation between the FIL and the offspring-

They were watching Animal Planet air a program on tigers. In Telugu tigers are called Puli and dogs are called Kukka. My son recognizes other animals well enough when he wants to, but watching them live or moving about on t.v. somehow makes everything a 'kukka' in his eyes.

So he exclaimed, KUKKA! The FIL said no no, PULI and the tug of war between KUKKA and PULI went on for some more time till FIL cried uncle and gave up.

So Kukkas ruled the day and the kid won.

I could've told my FIL that but why ruin the fun?

It's good to see someone else get licked by the human energizer bunny for a change!

Retribution...

“Vengeance is mine, and I will repay.”

Or something to that extent I imagine must have passed by an old chappie's lips when four loud, boisterous kids from his neighborhood would filch his precious stack of clothes pins and make them disappear day after day..

The more he complained to his neighbors (the parents of the brats) the more clips kept disappearing. They'd go off the clothes line and end up in the oddest places, like the water tank. Which after a point of time seemed to verily have more clips lying at the bottom than coins in the Trevi Fountain itself!

Anyhow, he'd rant and rave and often cuss at them, not that they gave a hoot! It was fun to see the crusty old man finally move his potato sack of a body off the swing and lumber after them. Else it was the swing where he sat, day after day and made it squeak,squeak and squeak as if it was his life's purpose.

The brats didn't know that the irritable man who always told on them was actually retired and wanted nothing more to sit on his swing and sip from his stainless steel glass of booze that would remain undetected in that wettest of dry lands. So the sight of children causing a ruckus put a cramp in his guzzling plans indeed!

And if he stayed compliant and ignored them, he would have to face the task of answering his not so little woman who would wonder about the regular disappearance of her clothes pins.

Cut to present day- one of the brats is grown up now. Somewhat. When she finished her laundry today and went to hang up the innumerable little things that her child grows through daily, she found that she wasYET AGAIN short of clipsies..!

How she gnashed her teeth and wished that for once her beloved dumpling would throw something else off the balcony or find other things to confiscate instead of the oh-so important clips...

And while seething and doubling up the clothes (since there weren't enough clips to go around) she thought of a curmudgeon whose clips she and her fine companions would to love to chuck into the water tank or use as marks to get badams off the tree.

And then it came home to her...what goes around definitely comes around. And there was plenty more coming her way...!

The hard and soft of it all..

Right from the time my son was born, I was struck by how delicate he was. I knew babies are vulnerable and helpless but this one seemed to embody those qualities and more.

He was a thin baby, weighing just on this side of an acceptable birth weight but he never lacked spunk.

That 'scrawny' baby's learnt to run now and also balance himself on his toes to reach heights hitherto out of his reach.

One thing that's absolute about children is that you NEVER know what they'll do next. If you think there's a line they haven't crossed yet, they always manage to cross it and then some! So if you threaten your kid with that 'last straw that breaks the camel's back', you'd better be prepared to have a whole herd of camels waiting out there. Your offspring will find plenty more straws and with it plenty of camels' backs too.

I used to think of little children (infant to toddler stage) as being fragile but it's us as parents who're fragile methinks. The kids are resilient and how! They fall, they bleed, they sprout bumps here, there and everywhere and they still keep going even after the tears have left tracks on their face.

And speaking of tracks, while you may not need therapy to get over the minor cuts and nicks on your child; it definitely takes some doing to see your child hurt and you not being able to prevent it. And some things do stay with you. Whether it makes you a better parent or a hovering one is anyone's guess.

And by the time you're over the initial trauma and your monkey is again gallivanting off for newer places to fall down from; you tell them what's sure to become your motto in life- "Don't cry! You wanna cry? I'll give you something to cry about if you dare do something like this (fill in blank with your pet peeves about your kid) ever again!!!"

And you go on. Both of you...sometimes with one chipped tooth, a brief black and blue mark and you with a near-paranoid obsession for stuff your child could hurt yourself on again. But you do go on.

And before you know it, they're onto newer things, more things they could make hurtful for themselves and with you still trying to be their life-long safety net and catch them before they fall. But that's not to be...what is to be their ever-growing curiosity, activity and ability to bounce back each time.

Amen to that! The rest will keep I suppose :)

to meme or may-may?

Call me stupid (seriously, DON'T!) but my understanding and pronunciation of the word "meme" was derived from the the word "me" and that most of them seem to be personal and usually in the 1st person-or so I thought.

While making the offspring's breakfast this morning I happened to talk to Red about doing a meme for the monkey and he burst into gales of laughter and almost pranced about in happiness that he was able to get me on the wrong foot about the definition and pronunciation of a word. I AM a bit particular, I'll admit, about the way words are uttered and it's a source of irritation and amusement amongst my bunch of goofballs.

Anyhoo, Red told me with the right amount of condescension and amusement that the word way pronounced as "may- may" but not stretching out the "a" sound. A short one. And he told me that was NOT about a list of things circulated only about the self but pretty much about anything and anyone.

I love a challenge! Always have! So here we are, logged in and checked up on the meaning and pronunciation of the word. Only to find that it's "meem"! Whoda thunk it?

But as always, I need to have the last word even blogged as it were, and say that at least my mispronounced version was closer to the actual one that his was!

In your face geekboy!!

PS: My meem on my child will spew forth shortly. After I go and find out which other words I've been mispronouncing :) 

A Dreamy Epiphany...or...

I really don't know about other people but my dreams assume different formats. It's almost always audio-visual but sometimes it's so real I can nearly swear I had some tactile experience of sorts. And then some!

This morning I woke up with James Hetfield's voice rumbling about Turning the Page. I had to shake my head twice, vigorously to make him stop the chorus bit.

Now I may need to be medicated, but wasn't last night. I didn't sleep much again and have a head cold and am cantankerous to boot but the song came right at me...almost like a bat out of hell one might say.

I finally stumbled out of bed to find placid and disorganized domesticity scattered all around me. A more discordant image there couldn't be. Or could it?

My BFF1 or as someone once labelled us " emotional Siamese twins"; always believed strongly in Freudy boy's regurgitations on the Unconscious and Repression. And I too believe in them to a large extent, but only because it's happened often enough for me to know that the mind holds onto things with a scary adhesive quality and seldom lets things sieve through. Associations can be sparked within seconds and the even the most tenuous of links can lead to a chain reaction of thoughts, memories and result in a Technicolor explosion up in the ol' noggin.

But I do remember very clearly what I thought of when I first heard the song a while back- it seemed to just build up from a rumble to a full-throaty proclamation of simply turning the page. And what is the act of turning the page but moving onto something new, moving ahead? And a lot of moving on and sifting through clutter is required for periodical renewal of the self methinks.

I suppose our own preferred wiring lets the voice within range from metaphorical abstraction to literally the writing on the wall. Or in this case- Mr. Hetfield. But boy! Whatta way to wake up.
I don't want to repeat this one...but I guess it beats the 3 Tenors doing a jugalbandi and conveying the same message.
 That would've landed me in the nut house for sure!

Salut!

What's up Doc?

It's become evident that few people can go to the doctor for a simple, even non-clinical requirement and come back without feeling like they were modern-day Frankenstein's monsters or something to that extent.

I'd gone to the dentist over the weekend for a simple scaling. A scaling I tell ya, and I met with the most lachrymose-type doc I'd ever met. I was wondering if she'd starting weeping at the sight of my plaqued teeth or not. But Ye Funereal Teeth Cleaner Lady just told me with the right amount of doom in her voice, that I had an overbite and that my teeth were grinding against each other. 

When I asked her how my teeth could grind themselves without any help from me or my jaw, she looked even more melancholy and said my teeth would get shorter, but conversely with my gums receding my teeth would become more exposed (imagine me as all gleaming calcium caps on display peeps!) and in time they (the non-pearlies) would become lose, move (teeth migrated too huh?) and I might have to get them extracted- UNLESSS...

I wore braces!!

So she very glibly told me about her orthodontist friend who again, very conveniently also attends the clinic where I'd gone to. She then mistook my gobsmacked look to mean that I didn't know what an orthodontist was and proceeded to explain.

When I recovered from the experience of being told my mouth and teeth were on the highway to hell (dentally of course) I asked her if wearing braces would curb the problem for sure. Mrs. Dirgeful Mourning 2011 told me that nothing was for certain and that after atleast 1.5 to 2 years of wearing the braces we'd know then. 

I was feeling quite bummed out (mainly by her tone and demeanor and about braces which I've hated since I was a kid) and told her, "I never thought I'd have to wear braces at my age!" She promptly asked for my age and when I told her (you thought I'd mention it here, didn't you? Suckers!!) she told me with a lot of gloomy relish that it could happen to anyone but mine was in the initial stages so I should be happy.

After all that nonsense we finally got the damn teeth clean! Thankfully another doc did it. I wouldn't have opened my mouth for the sad freak ever!!

I kept thinking that I had no disease per se and the Angel of Doom was making such long pronouncements about it in her most sepulchral manner; what if she'd been another kind of doctor and had to tell the patient that something WAS seriously wrong with them? She'd probably have Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique playing in the background to give it the proper doomsday tone!! 

Am I going back to see the orthodontist? No way Jose! If they have a problem with that I got something to tell them- Bite ME!

Meme# I've Lost Count :D

• I love my time alone at home. Well am technically not alone. But in a way I am. Booga Booga Booga!
• I love making up silly songs for my kid. Most of them are recycled tunes but the words are FRESHAA!
• My ideal job would be where someone paid me to read the books that I want.
• I love bean bags.
• There's no food like Chinese food. Even the kind the street vendor sells.
• I always apologize to my kid (when he's asleep) for having yelled at him or spanked his bumbum.
• I am inherently lazy. I act busy to confuse others :)
• If I could, I would travel and read all my life long. 
• I am getting addicted to online shopping. Or for now, online cart-filling.
• I buy bubble wands et al saying it's for my kid, but I'm the one blowing bubbles all day long :)
• I am a bit of a snob for brands but it's under control now. I think. I hope. Erm...not really.
• AND...I am narcissistic enough to go back and re-read this meme even after I post it here and cross-post it on FB and Twitter :)

aww jeez...

I was worried that I'll be fanning my ignorance quite a bit by forgoing the newspapers altogether but a quick glance at them has assured me am not really missing much.

It's not quite so much as news as an announcement of the end being near. Take a look all around- honor killings up, scams are in they heyday, political parties are the jokers with the Indian Government providing the 3 ring circus. What does get the space in the papers are announcements of the Fresh Faces in the city colleges where self-proclaimed celebs go and shake a leg and lecture impressionable young'uns on personality and grooming. While their grooming and personality (or lack thereof) is highly suspect or airbrushed for the print media :)

I sometimes read my papers a day late since my son loves to paper our house and Red always takes off with the Sport pages first thing in the morning. While gathering the papers from last night's yay-ness I came across a news feature of a German porn star who died after her 6th boob job went bust! Literally and please don't excuse the pun. Hmm...that did grab my attention because the girl in question really was just a girl and 23 years old.

Hell at 23 if a person can generate that kind of income, why not live it up? What good would 800 gms boobs (each 800 gms mind you) do to a person except make them more susceptible to gravity a WHOLE lot more? And now she's dead. Fatal beauty anyone?

This isn't a homily on the evils of x,y,z. It's been so long since I read the papers and found something genuinely informative. And felt up to date on the happenings around me.

It's either the verbal skirmishes between the politicos in A.P that make the front page or the Naxals or the scams...and honestly all they make me think of is that people are inept. They do just enough to show that they have Johnsons and then they back off.
I get it, the machinery moves slowly. But for everything? The people who have the most influence and the potential to actually act seem to be mainly posturing and and everything is just for show.

Want to get something done, throw down and the gauntlet and see where that takes you and stand your ground! Things aren't that stable anyhow whether it's in the state or the central government. Or for that matter for most things.

The last few 'newsworthy' things I remember reading about my city and state either involve political fluctuations, political gripes, suicides, dogs mauling infants, slums, citizens grievances against the local governing bodies. And the list bloody keeps going on and on.

And it's the same thing the next day. It's a template of sorts if you will.

Small wonder then that I play escapist and read the comics, smirk at page 3 and get right back to my books.

Cynical but it works. 

Curveballs...

There are times (unfortunately they come around waaay too often) that curveballs get chucked your way.

Whether you've stepped up to plate or intend to play or not, a curveball comes whizzing along.

Now you can either duck or play it but I guess you can only duck so often. It's your best bet to try your hand at it at least once. Strangely enough these curveballs are vested with the genetic make-up of heat seeking missiles and tend to follow you around till they go KABLOOOEY! on your or another target. But a KABOOM's a given!

I know it seems tres cryptic but there are times when vagaries keep rattling in your head and it would take too much effort, history and detail to explain it to another individual. So a mysterious blog post kind of takes the edge of the whirly-gig that's been sent after you.

Or the oddity of the prose here could arise from zip, zero, zilch sleep and not nearly enough of stimulants in my blood on this fine and chilly Saturday morning.

Naah...vagaries are better. Vagaries of madcaps are even better sounding.

But I'll be damned if it doesn't feel good to get this stuff out of my head.

PS: On an entirely unrelated note and in my usual digressing fashion-books will take the cake over their movie counterparts any day. A person's prose and thoughts sometimes ought not to be portrayed over the visual medium...the grizzliness gets diluted. It's better in the recesses of the mind where things fester more under the mortar and pestle of our thoughts...

Here endeth the lesson

The Genesis of Coffee in my life...

Just got to sit down with a cuppa. The FIL and the offspring are watching something Hindi on t.v. I know the t.v.'s on because my son's occasionally clapping during the ads and because he doesn't need me right now :)

Of course with other people around he seldom does need me within sight. Also, the tummy's fed with creamy, apple mush so he's a happy camper.

Oh yes, coffee...I first tasted coffee when my piano teacher made me drink a sip of her burning hot black coffee during a particularly cold winter day. It was after school and it had snowed and my brain and fingers were both numbed. I kept skipping the beat on a piece of music and she got annoyed with me big time! When I told her I couldn't keep my eyes open she handed me her Styrofoam cup and told me to have a sip.

After that I not only kept the beat but picked up the tempo a bit alarmingly :)

I stayed up all night too...! My mother was livid! I was bouncing around too much for her good.

And it was coffee all the way after that. Everyday before going to school. It was the only way I'd have milk. And occasionally when Ma would have her stronger coffee, she'd give me a sip and augmented the taste even further.

During high school I used to need a sip of coffee before my eyes would open during the Rajasthan winters. And the fact that 12th was just around the corner didn't help my sleep cycle either. The more I slept, the farther it seemed.

During college days it was numerous cups of a bad-tempered Chechi's weak-ass coffee that I drank. My best friend would take a look at my face on certain days and straight away march me to the canteen before saying a word to me. At the paying guest accommodation I used to stay in, it was an understood thing between the Aunty and myself that whoever got up first would put the coffee in the filter. Usually we'd reach there at the same time.

Coffee has been a part of the most intense times in my life. Either I or the person/people I was with was chugging it with gusto.

It has been part of lovely mornings where there was no one around except me and the milkwala :)

It has been part of rainy days, evenings, it was one of the 1st things I begged my obstetrician to let me have when I was pregnant!

It was one of the 1st things I craved for once I began to have my usual diets post partum.

I even used to take coffee beans from the CCDs and Baristas I'd go to and keep them in my purse/wallets for the tang to hit me when I next opened it.

I've gone tipsy and barfed my guts out on coffee flavored liqueur as well. So I guess coffee and I have gone the distance :)

Sometimes the blacker and sharper the taste it got, the more it reflected my mood. Other times, the sweeter tasting Viennese, cinnamon lattes also found a place depending on the whimsies I was feeling.

I now find that when I have a break for myself I make a cuppa and just curl up somewhere and first take in the aroma of the coffee before taking a sip.

I guess it's become a part of my everyday...and now for the perfect closing to this blog...

*sips the coffee*

Turn of the Decade...

It's far more the 'done thing' to be in the turn of a century but decades arrive faster so here's how the last decade revolved for me..

• Stayed away from my folks for the 1st time and got to know independence to some extent.
• Finished my education (the ones which come with certificates that announce the conclusion of something- the actual one continues)
• Found my best friend+1.
• Worked and came to realize that education hadn't really prepared me for much. A lot of it was touch and go, touch and feel and just learn on the job types.
• Finally put down roots- in more ways than one.
• Had a kid.
• Found ambition.
• Let ambition take a back seat.
• Understood my parents. Just a bit more.
• Detested some things.
• Loved some more.
• Didn't travel much.
• Reconnected with the ones who mattered at the right time.
• Realized that some goodbyes are meant to be forever whereas others are transient at best.
• Learnt to slow down somewhat and smell and lot more than just roses.
• Let go of my caffeine dependence (YAY!!)
• Got to know myself a bit more via my child.
• Realized that some of the 7 deadly sins aren't really that deadly...just to be indulged in moderately.
• Began to dream again...about life, about me about tomorrow.

Babbling Conspiracies

Red went and got his lawn mowed.

The offspring stared at him for quite a while and then gave a tentative smile but smiled nonetheless. All the way back home he kept looking at his father to see if it really was the original big-headed guy :)

Everyone needs a change. Babies need a change from the person hugging them, husbands need a change from the wife's chatter and tune her out via t.v. and well wives changes in many ways.

I find that going shopping for myself and picking up stuff that's ostensibly from Red works for me just dandy!

The kiddo's communication skills have gone up notches. He met a lil compatriot from his Gymboree sessions and after the initial kissy-kissy, patty-patty both of them conspired to go and start rifling through the shelves at M&S. It happened quite suddenly. One moment they were advancing towards each other with arms open and 2 sets of parents all Ahh..Ohh-ing and then they changed course and the deos were under attack..

I wonder what it was they said but there's tremendous coordination amongst the babbling done by tots...ever since I saw Look Who's Talking and now seeing my own kid, I can't help but think they are way ahead of us in their interaction. Just because we don't get them doesn't mean it doesn't sense.

Understanding your kids is just the tip of the iceberg. Getting them to understand you? Well that's where the life time of blood, sweat and tears come in. Or so I've been told by my own parents.

Salut!

P.S: I live with 2 semi-baldies now...the laughter quotient of my life just went up exponentially!

The fussy in me..

My folks have always despaired of my impatience and the lack of sticktoittiveness, my father especially. The only thing he's found me doing consistently well is reading. Not the academic material. Perish the thought! Wonly books for pleasure thank you very much!

And Red wonders why my templates change so much. Rather he used to wonder, now he wonders how many nuts are there of my ilk in this world and tries to cater to this nuttiness in his work (you never know who your customers may end up being eh? *nudge nudge*)

So this is an oddity meme-

• The moment I start blogging I immediately start thinking about which user pic will be best with the current post.
• The moment I use a new phone (and I do it quite often unfortunately) I start with the customization of ringtones, pictures, labels yada yada and more yada.
• The wallpaper on the laptop's seldom the same week on week.
• Ditto for the mobile wallpaper.
• Double ditto on the mobile ringtone.
• The moment I get cheesed off at my BFF2 I change the nickname on my cell to something less than flattering (looking askance and sheepishly too).
• I change the template on my blog to reflect my mood at the moment or the type of blogs that seem to be getting generated AND...
• I can spend hours thinking about new knives to buy and actually searching for them.

The last one was totally out of the line up but hell! Oddity meme so the theme's gotta be adhered to.

What I've realized over the years is that while it may just be idiosyncratic to most, it's terribly important to me that things be totally personalized. Things that I come into regular contact with ought to be in a manner that looks good ergo makes me feel good or better. There's no logic behind it. It just is.

And why are some of you thinking OCD? Am not neurotic at all! Now I must go wash my hands 10 times before checking all the position of all the switches in the house!

Toodles!

The ahem ahem of the Lock..

Believe you me! Pope really didn't see this one coming :)

The offspring had a proper haircut yesterday.

When I say proper, it was proper in our eyes but it was HIGHLY improper for the cherub since his locks were shorn with utmost haste and he wasn't even consulted! High dudgeon people!

Initially he was quite the happy little man with his special kiddy chair and all the mirrors around. And then the guy cutting his hair made the cardinal sin of putting the apron on him. Now my son yanks off his bibs within nanoseconds of them being put around his neck. And here was a LONG apron which hid his hands from him to boot!

After searching all over for his hands he finally realized that Mammoosh (tis I) was up to no good at all! And then the symphony of the haircutting began in full steam..

The crescendo of the scream clashed with the buzz of the razor and the rapidly falling locks scattered all over looking like black snowflakes!

Once the indignities were done with the little gentleman ran his hands over his head and over his sniffles did this.. "hee hee"

The touch of the brush-like hair that remained on his head made him laugh. So much so that he kept doing that for the next hour and laughing to himself.

Once he came home his grandfather, later his father, his best friend (already notified by email along with photographic evidence of the deed) were in turns hugely supportive of him, happy for him and rueful...but the person in question remained blissfully unaware.

The light headedness was evident for all! And once his favorite t.v. ads came on he damn near forgot all about all of us

!

P.S: the boy who cut his hair deserves a mention. He's due to go to Sabarimala shortly. Am SURE he'll pray for a change in profession post the cut!

From the OTHER side?

Early this morning my phone buzzed. Although I wouldn't have registered the buzzing since I sleep like the dead (remember the word dead here, it's key). IF some little boy hadn't kicked me at the exact same time I wouldn't have had a shock at 3 in the morning.

Of course it's a shock that would've hit irrespective of the time so I guess 3 am is as good as 3 pm. Except that at 3 am the believability of the thing that happened was more in my mind..yes yes, I'll stop beating about the bush..

A friend of mine died a while back. Very tragic and all that. Now, some jackass hacked into his account and started sending me IMs.
Now imagine me, groggy and not all that alert to begin with, and suddenly up pops the name of this dearly departed individual asking me if I'm busy or not!! Yikes!

I turned to Red and asked him in hushed voices. Now Red is a born pragmatist. Rather he knows what flies and what doesn't. So in his sleep-filled voice he told me the account must have been hacked and I ought to go back to sleep.

Well DUH! But imagine the jolt!
And now the brainiac hacker's been sending me pings all day long asking me to "get it on", "view his webcam" and even "give him some company since he's lonely" .
I can only imagine what  my reaction would've been had that last message been sent to me early this morning.

All those years of  watching paranormals would've borne fruit and I'd have gone WHOA baby! Get me a Ouija board or something..but seriously? The one thing jerk-off's managed to do is make me think of my friend in a fond way. A first since he passed away.

So for now the hacker's forgiven. But if he asks me to go cyber with him I'll...do something..

Lemme go think of bad things to do to people virtually..Freakshow!

T.I.M.E

Time is indeed fleet-footed, to use an archaism.

A little scrawny bundle grows from being immobile and with loose skin to a roundish little being who fairly rolls around like a ball.

A would be apartment grows from bamboo sticks jutting out to a room where memories are made and unmade.

A house grows into a home and back into a house again.

What was spacy yesterday is now cramped and what seemed like a few toys now are a mini store in one's home.

What seemed eons ago is now the present and the past is going further away. Though hovering close by if need be for recollection.

Those who seemed distant and surly have been revealed as shy and unable to break self-imposed barriers and many who were friendly have been found to have layer after layer of veneers and facades.

Time has revealed vulnerabilities, arrogance. Has pronounced people as falliable and also reliable beyond belief.
Time has shown the way, has misled as well.
It has taught and enlightenend and also cast into some darkness.

But there's never been a dull moment.
Time wins I guess..

"Time is gone
The song is over
Thought I'd have something more to say..."

Pune...

So we made it, not entirely helter-skelter and definitely not anguished and aggressive like holiday travellers, but fairly smoothly to Pune.
No it's not exotic but it's an oasis pour moi. 

The place is fairly lush green (when compared to the ever-dwindling) greenery around my home) and is quite cozy I must admit. Hell, after the 2x2 flying box that we spent an hour in with a struggling munchkins, anyplace that he can have space to turn around in is palatial.
Be as that may, it's definitely nice to be up in the morning, yup it's me talking, and see pigeons cooing. My sis' neighbors have placed a plate with water outside their terrace for the chirpy cheep cheeps to come have their fill in and a fair number have been descending there since morn.
There are shrubs, bushes, trees and just GREEN stuff all around as far as I can see and this seems like a very nice place for a child to grow up.

Our place, though spacious, lacks a park and with constuction growing full-tilt the birds, creepy crawlies and even street dogs have taken off for quieter or better pastures. Imagine the effect on a little boy who loves dogs SO much that he'll even look out the window of a plane while it's pitch black outside just because his Mommy said there's a kukka (Telugu for dog).
Space- that's another thing looming it's nearly ugly head. My place isn't out of Good Homes and Gardening definitely but boy! tis got enough room for a barrel of monkeys to be rolling this way and that!
And since I've given birth to a monkey who aspires for his own barrel, you can imagine his small-child claustrophobia when cramped into a plane or any other place which is not like his house.
Oh he'll grow out of it eventually. Once in playschool when he's bumping shoulders with cute lil girls he won't mind the 'cramped quarters' and as he grows am sure he'll like as much closeness to the opposite sex as possible. 
Speaking of which, the little man's a letch. BIIIG time. He LOIKES stewardesses. He keeps calling them, ogling them in their little skirts and will leap into their arms and play with their...ahem...will pins and scarves and what not.
So in flight entertainment aside, he's not averse to anything else. The ear-popping hasn't bugged him till date of which am profoundly thankful. He always finds a person in the front row to practise his percussion skills on and there is always another kid, juice packet, some colorful person on board so he's FIINE.
Now if only the plane could accomodate his scooter, his blocks, his high chair, his couches then- he'd have nirmal anand. Oh! I'd have to find a dog too of course but by the time I find such a plane am sure the dogs will be frequent flyers along with us so...

Here's to idylls in Pune and hopefully a non-traumatised little man during Diwali.
Mudda! 

My Bong Adventures

Am asking the mommy-person to blog on my behalf since whenever I get close to a mobile it ends up in my mouth or I like to see how many times I have to throw it before that little thing comes out from the back. My mommy told me it's the battery and I must never think it's a biscuit.Anyhow, I've been brought to my mom's dad's place for the Puja. I think it's my first since I have to accept whatever am told. I do think I did something similar last year but I can't be sure you see. Being on a rocker addles your brains somewhat...all that rocking..Oye ve!

Like I was saying, my mommy's people are very loud, their drums are louder and they all have the same name- Ei. I think it's kinda funny and dumb but my mommy told me I have to be respectful towards all cultures even if they are all about rice, fish, politics and Sourav Ganguly.

Yes, where was I? Hmm..they are all into eating quite a bit and have nice tummies which I can lean back against. Even the aunties. And the other boys here (hardly any girls) are ok. They keep dancing and playing with their mobiles. I see my mommy do that a lot so I knew what they were upto :)Baba keeps me away from most of the noise but he can't keep me away from the mostitoes. They always know where I am and like to come and make me think it's vaccine day :(I miss my bed. My toys. There isn't much to throw here and my mommy's not all that chilled out here since it's hot and sweaty.

She gets bothered and keeps mumbling about a chilled glass of beevo. I don't know what that is but for God's sake give it to her because she's off in the deep end already and counting days till we reach home again.

But I liked this place. It's no Gymboree and there aren't any animals around but it's a zoo anyways (that's what my mommy said) so I guess there MUST be animals around somewhere.

Ok. I had my apple mush and bathed. I have to take my nap now so I can be rested up for the performance in front of guests-I have to show them where the fan is, how it goes round and round and how I can clap.Everyday it's the same thing. These people don't know basic stuff!

So D-UH!

Disclaimer: This writing contains idiomatic expressions. If any notions arise about any animals being in the family then let me clarify it at at the onset that no such creatures exist. Apart from being descended from apes, any other animals in the family are fictitious and their tails, horns and hooves (if they exist) are entirely invisible!

Dida

My mother informed me that today's her mom's death anniversary. Or death-day (as popularized by Nearly Headless Nick :p) and I brought in some amount of irreverence right at the onset because I'm not sad at all. I don't remember when and exactly how she died although I was in my 20s then, but I remember exactly how she lived and how she made having a grandparent such a delight!

She was a funky woman but very traditional. Home and hearth and husband above all else.

She was short (more than me which makes me love her more) and fat and very very squishy!
She had horrible eyesight and was reduced to making her way about the house almost through her knowledge of having lived there for over four decades.
She and her soda bottle glasses. Because of her tunnel vision she couldn't see me make faces at her while she was talking to other people.

She used to tie her hair with thin black ribbons and make a plait every night before going to bed. And whenever she'd laugh, which was often, her nose would go all flat and eyes would go into slits and she'd look quite the archetypal Oriental person from the comics.
She let me put a face pack on her once and got freaked out when I started to pull the dried stuff off her face...her 1st facial at 70+
She'd use a lotion we'd got for her when we'd gone abroad so sparingly that the damn thing reached it's expiry date. When I asked her why she didn't use it properly she said it was a gift from me and it was for special occasions...Go figure!

She used to be up at ungodly hours only because dawn arrives in Calcutta at an ungodly hour. And she'd nag me out of bed every day of the summer holidays that I'd spend there; making me drink the chocolate milk and eat at least one sandesh that my grandfather had got for us.

She's partly the reason I can write in Bangla (however erroneously) and why I like Inland letters so much. She used to insist on letters written in my mother tongue and each time we changed cities she'd inquire about all my friends and I think tried to be subtle about the number of Bongs that there never seemed to be enough of.

She of the beautiful old furniture- the four-poster bed that my cousin and I'd hide under, and the lovely mahogany (I think or maybe even rosewood) cupboard that seemed to house all the treasures that were hers.

She'd keep a diary of important dates and events and there was an old floor-model sewing machine that I managed to mess up, that a lot of my infant clothes had been made on.

Why am I not even wistful? Well because my son, in his gazillion gestures and nose-wrinkling smile, seems to be a pretty good copy of her. Sometimes I can almost see the imprint of her face on his.
Genetics being what they are, am still surprised how this kid could end up resembling a lady from two generations ago.

I wish she'd been able to see him. She'd have gone gaga over him because she used to dote on me and yet wonder how to get me to not be such a yakkety!

She really was a doll and a perfect embodiment of everything grandmoms are supposed to be because now her daughter and my mother has become the best grandmother a child could have. And i just need to see my son's smiles and joy to know that. Over and over again.

poTAYto poTAto

It all comes down to a matter of perspective you see...the pun is heavily intended here because it truly comes to a question of how we "see" things. Whether it's seeing-see or hearing-see or feeling-see. Doesn't make sense? Doesn't have to. My blog and my neologisms!

So let's start off!

I see hovering. You see protectiveness.
I see micromanaging. You see nurturing and care.
I see passivity. You see bidding the time.
I see fence sitting. You see decisiveness. Of a sort.

Now the I says-

I say grow up! You say reactiveness is your right.
I say emote and express. You say cool and calm's the way to be.
I say listen to me for God's sake! You say am listening and continue to work away by yourself.
I say it's important to me. You say over-involvement is not the way to do it.

The I feels-

I feel suffocated. You feel I condemn to hastily.
I feel regretful. You feel slighted.
I feel detachment. You feel cold shouldered.
I feel like a change. You feel abandoned.

Amounts to the same doesn't it? Same page but us reading different lines...

There's a metaphor in there somewhere but for the life of me it's elusive :o)

randomnesss

childhood ambitions...

scenes from the past