its the season to be merry eh?

so i can't concentrate on work, coz hello! Its Christmas time. Have you any idea how gorgeous Bandra, Hill road would be just about now?
They would have stalls upon stalls full of christmas decorations and trees ...
Stars and Angels and Shiny disco balls :)

They would have plum cake and marzipans and those milky chocolate thingies...

There would be people shopping and laughing and having fun ...

And then, when your feet beg for mercy, you could halt by that udupi joint there and have garma-garam pav bhaji or walk down to band-stand and have chana jor garam.

And listen to the sea.

sigh*

Its the season to be merry...
so have bought myself a tree
and some fancy decorations
a length of tassels
a bit of candy
some friends
with the promise of wine
have hired a cook
for some chole puri
Its the season to be merry
and so, i am going to be.

aatiiiishooo.

tip toe
past the door
they had some cases
1...2...3..4...

hush hush
don't say it loud
it is catching
you'll join the crowd

clean clean
cover your face
wash your hand
don't breathe in my space

paranoia
like diarrhoea
is a stupid thing.

swine flu giving me the whine flu.

Advantages of being a mumbaikar - 1

most mumbaikars know about a lot of festivals, whom it is celebrated by and more often then not, they participate in them all.

it must because of the bhel-puri that exists there...

but being the capital and all, shouldnt they celebrate or atleast understand them? most people here don't get gudi-padwa or an easter or pongal or pateti ... kya flop people hai I tell you.

Time flies

ankita will be 2 tomorrow.
she can talk (oh man, can she talk), she can sulk (for hours) and she knows what clothes she wants to wear.
How did my little baby morph into a teen so quickly?

her first joke

was giving ita a bath this morning and she points to these tiny mural-like things in the bathroom tiles and asks me, "amma, yeh kya hai?"
i say, "pots."

she looks at the pots for a while and smiles and says, "pots ... pots ... potty pots..." and laughs out loud.

what joy it is to know your child is going to have same to same nonsense sense of humour as you.

Confusion

There is this thing that has been bothering me for a while now. I just can't seem to come to a logical conclusion, therefore, if there is anyone out there who understands these kinds of things, do explain.

Hindus believe in rebirth, right? So what is this having shraadhs for the departed souls (years and years after they have departed?)
I have heard that when a soul leaves the body, it moves on to higher spheres based on the karma it has managed to accrue. This journey takes a long long time. But does this long long time mean it takes decades before a soul is brought up for judgment before Chandragupta? Does that then mean that a soul is in a state of limbo where it cannot come back and it cannot go up either?

Also, what happens to the theory that the soul is actually a body of energy?
If several thousands of souls are in the waiting line, how can new births happen? Because as we know (or at least have by-hearted in school) that energy can neither be created nor destroyed ... and that it can only come back in another form?

the questions may sound absurd, stupid even ... but they are there and i really wish someone could help me understand them.

you know it is time when

... you write in your head
and then every single thought vanishes the minute you sit down to type it down.

you know it is time then,
to retire and ask someone nice to give you pension.

Terrible twos

the dreaded tantrum phase is here.
and i am ready to tear my hair out.

i have always been proud of the way ita has been 2 steps ahead of schedule ... just hadn't bargained at the terrible twos starting 4 months early.

Jai Hind

just that.

i do not know why i love india so much.
i just do.
probably more than anything in this world.

must be some past life thing.
must have been major kraantikaari types.
who knows.

cheerio~

i am my mother

the other day was this lakshmi pooja at home. the vaadyaar came early and generally harried us till we sat down for the pooja.
post pooja, amma asked if i wanted to go and visit this old granny types and take ashirwaad.
i said yes and left with amma, amma's friend and ankita.

it was when i got there and removed my slippers that i realised that i had worn my ghar ka chappals.

all my life i have never understood madrasi maamis wearing lovely silk sarees, beautiful bangles with gajra in their hair wearing hawai chappals.
and there i was, in ditto ditto position.

verdict schmerdict...

i don't watch tv, usually. this evening i had the misfortune of having both time and remote at hand.
was generally surfing through the news channel and mentally patting myself on the back for avoiding nonsense serials and even worse news reports when i stopped to hear one report. this one was about a young girl who was raped in the home she was staying in. this girl is mentally challenged. apparently, the courts have deemed that she be allowed to keep the baby conceived during the rape.
some people were hailing this as the specially-abled people's right to motherhood.

how nice. take punch.

1. does the girl even understand the enormity of the responsibility?
2. is it right to put her through the pain and trials of pregnancy and child birth?
3. does a mentally challenged girl have the ability to take care of a child?
4. if the child is to be put up for adoption... then does only giving birth mean motherhood?

i do not support abortion. in most cases.
i believe that -
if you have been stupid enough to forget protection, you deserve to be stuck with quadruplets.
if the protection fails, then you take a decision and i hope to god it is to let the baby live.

but if you are raped ... i don't see how a woman would like to keep seeing a reminder of the gruesome event for the rest of her life, not in the mirror, not in her eyes ... but in her child.

and to let a girl who possibly cannot think for herself through it is freaking atrocious.
if you really wish to fight for something, go find the guy responsible and castrate him. sick creep.

maybe i didnt hear all of the news and have not got all of the background right. but it irritated me so i had to type this down. it was that or take the shotgun to some innocent's head = the husband, my most likely/handy victim.

ok goodnight.

cirlce of life.

as i was washing ankita's clothes, i realised my mom still washes mine, whenever i go to mumbai.
amma, you are cool, but i hope ita doesn't harbour any hopes regarding me picking after her 20 years hence.

i got a new keyboard, one of those that make thak-thak-thak noises as you type. love them. totally love them. my first keyboard at rediff was like this one.

rahul razdan sent me an ibibo card that said "gaavaat naveen pakhru aalela distay" (literal translation with neelu phule twang = in the village new bird has arrived).
meera and mugdha and i used to maaro this line super lechorously if we happened to see any new girl/guy/generally long long ago.

it rained 2 days ago. my baby and i had a lot of fun getting drenched and dancing on the terrace. we used to do that sometimes in mumbai. i hope ita remembers to have fun.

Not quite but thanks anyway

my friends think i am stressed after reading the last post. i am not. well, maybe i am, but can't do much about it now can i? like sheetal says, if we talk like turtles, we ought to be shelled.

thanks for worrying though. it makes you want to fight back to know there are people who are backing you all the way.

meanwhile, ita says tars pretty confidently. that is stars for you. but i quite like the way she points out authoritatively and says, "amma, tars."

Because he is not ours anymore.

Why can’t they leave me alone? Why don’t they just take their fancy stuff and smart mouths and get the hell out of here? Why do they have to plague me thus? What have I done to deserve this? Save me … help me … someone, please …

Ravi, you hold his hands, Shyam… legs. His nails are too sharp, they need to go.

Ganging up on me are you? You think because you are three you will get away with anything? Come on you sons of bitches, let me show you what I am made of. I might go down, but I will go down fighting.

Oh man, that hurt! Hold his hand tightly will you. God, the fellow has a mean kick. Where did he learn to fight like that? Ravi, stay away from his head … he will head butt you all the way to Chennai and back. Steady now.

Take that… and that. Ha! Bet that one hurt. Hey, wait a minute, why are you covering my eyes? I can’t see. Why are you pulling at my clothes? Stop it. STOP IT. Help.

Quick, hand me the scrub. Look at all this filth. There must be layers and layers of it. Ugh. Pass me the water. Yeah, get me the towel. Steady now, I am not going to hurt you… relax, relax, re …OWW! I see stars! Pretty blue ones.

What is the world coming to? Why are you cutting me up? I have never ever hurt you guys … I have never even seen you before. Why are you helping that woman undress me? Oh the shame … oh the shame … fie on you people. A pox on you. May you burn in hell …

I have never heard such foul language from him before. By struggling so much he is only hurting himself. Why can he not understand that?

Because he can’t understand us Maya …

Damn it man … he is my father… he acts like he doesn’t know me anymore

That’s because he doesn’t. He is in his own little world now where none of us exist

Thank you so much Alzheimer’s … thank you so bloody much.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
First hand experience has taught me to be scared of this dreaded disease. Mortally completely scared.
Often, sri and i discuss about what would we do, if we found ourselves forgetting ourselves. And most often than not, we end with a pledge, which might not be the right one, but for us, it sounds fine.
The pledge to end it before the disease ends everything else.
I have never had a stand as far as mercy killing has been concerned. Now, I do.

Absolutely nothing

... makes me feel better than a cousin dropping by, who just happens to love food and books.

got gift = one graphic novel = yay.

ate food = at chocolat AND big chill = wow.

thank you god for the three best things on earth. blueberry cheese cakes, books and matching wavelengths.

why am i doing this?

wallowing
self pity
probably two words that i detest most in this world. i am not a kind person and i seldom mince words, not a trait i am particularly proud of, but that is what i am. so why am i expected to live amidst people who do exactly that and why the hell am i killing myself by being polite?

damned if i know.

polite.
it IS the word i hate.

someday soon the dam is going to burst and there is going to be a very bitter exchange of words. i can feel the pressure building. i just know it is going to be the beginning of the end. and i dread it. dread it because i know me. i know when i constrain and strive and struggle against my most basic instinct, i end up spewing venom. and it is driving me mad.

did i mention i hate polite? and kind. and good. oh boy, do i detest good or what. screw it. there is no point in this mindless ramble.

Checked Chaddis and Unchecked Elastics

Ok, i am writing this post in lieu of my friend, lets call her Jugs (to protect her identity and all), as she cannot write about it as she is a very nice human being who does not laugh at other people's misfortune.
It is all essentially bull crap because the witch would laugh at her own flesh and blood given an opportunity. But still.

Jugs is very maako types, you know, the kinds that would rather climb mountains and kick ass than play dress up. So our Jugs is into this Jujitsu stuff where she gets to jump, punch and generally make people quiver. So the other day, one of her fellow students, who just happens to be a fortyish man, has some issues with his track pants. The firt time they slip, the instructor asks him very kindly to stop flashing his ahem, half moons to the class. So half moon man pulls his pants and everything goes back to normal. They learn new techniques to bash people. They have to practice these new moves. Jugs is looking for a sparring partner and thats when she noticed that the track pants had played truant again. She caught sight of some yellow and red checked chaddis* before she quickly turned and choked on her own laughter.

She called up to get it out of her system. I thought I would help by posting it here, to exorcise it completely. I am so considerate.
Now I hope one of her fellow students read this.

* colours changed to protect identity as well.

simply the best

you are light and nice
just spiced right
with a little bit of pickle
you are the best diet
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

on hot summer days
i crave for you
on stomach upset days
i'd kill for you
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

some say its boring
some say its typical
but the need for you
is very very physical
dear curd rice, dear curd rice ...

little kids to toothless aunts
thayir saadam fans, them all
no pizza, no pasta, no samosa pavs
gimme gimme, the only thing i wants
dear curd rice, my lovely curd rice...

- tambrahm girl.
ps: preferred pickle = vadumaangai.
ok bye.

aanan paanan aanan paanan

meera and i have this habit of absorbing retaining the most ridiculous of songs. and the songs have the annoying habit of taking over my head ever so often.
the one doing the rounds for the past couple of hours is:
"lekar tujhko jaaonga dulhan
aanan paanan aanan paanan
chand katola laaonga dulhan
aanan paanan aanan paanan..."

i have only met one other person who knows the songs we do, that would be tithir, gayatree's friend.
does anyone out there have this nonsense habit as well?

Very foul

a. pms
b. bad cold
c. horrid cough
d. tooth ache

so, if you have a death wish, disagree with me today.

Not so long ago

i used to be mortally scared of ghosts and such. ask mugs or prabha, they'd tell you what a fulltoo fattoo being i was. i would rather not drink water at night for the fear of having to getting up to pee in the night. i never ventured into dark corners, avoided places that to my mind, looked haunted, shat bricks after watching *****all serials like shh koi hai ...

but that was before. now i can do all of the above and not die of palpitations. because of ita. it has nothing to do with maternal urges or anything, just the thought that she is gonna pick on my nervousness and i am loathe to letting her grow up like that.

last evening, sri's driver was attacked by 4 armed hooligans. they hit him on head several times with the butt of a country made rifle and took off with his mobile, watch and wallet. the entire loss can be summed up to roughly 1,000 Rs.

the incident occured not 5 minutes walking distance from our house, in a crowded residential area at 9.15 P.M.

i am back to being scared.

why i love holi

I love holi. Absolutely, completely, totally, love it. Here is why:
Colours
Bura na maano holi hai attitude
Jalaoing Holika
All that water
Dancing to the tunes of the dhol
Bawdy songs, bawdier jokes
Everybody looks the same under all that goop
Warm bath after a round of thorough dunking is heavenly
Warm food is even better
A nap feels just right
Gujjias

and such good photo ops.
superk.
Happy Holi children.

i don't know what to say

... but baby, sometimes love just ain't enough.

... and sometimes long distance support ain't enough either.

Unwound.

i didn't climb a mountain
i didn't climb a tree
but i feel a lot better
i feel free

we didn't talk of troubles
we didn't go on a spree
but i feel lighter
i feel free

bring on the worries
bring on the woes
i am ready for the battle today
3 months down the lane, who knows ...

sometimes taking time out for doing nothing but eating junk, reading junk, venting and watching a tv serial for hours together with kindred souls can be more therapeutic than a week's vacation in an expensive place.

this one's for me.

after a long, long time ... i am going to do something utterly completely totally selfish.
i am going to take time off and do what i want.
money be damned.
for two days, i am going to be uma. just uma. no wife. no mother. no responsible adult.

yay.

Jai Mata Di

Went to Vaishno Devi and have just one word to say : OUCH.

Tagged... by Soo

I’ve been tagged by Soo to do the sixth picture meme, so here goes:



This picture was clicked on Bandstand, Bandra, Mumbai sometime in March'04.

Meera. Mugdha and I were meeting up after Mugdha's shaadi. She was visiting us from Hyderabad. And she had a new digi-cam. And all three of us wanted to be in the picture at the same time. We were drunk on the joy of being together, the sea, silliness.
The episode resulted in a whole series of absolutely mad pictures. This is the one where I have been almost completely elbowed out by Meera (in green and red).

I tag:
Mugs
Maddie
Sri
Austere
Andy
Gaya Tree

This is what you have to do:

1. pick the 6th picture from your 6th photo folder.
2. tell the story around it.
3. pass it onto 6 other people you like.

A huge blackboard

"its like your brain is a blackboard with lots of things chalked down on it ... and then, this giant hand with a giant duster just rubs it all out ..."

thats Alzheimer's for you.

bastard disease.

Ankita Puraan - 3

All my life (well almost all my life), one of the biggest issues I have had is with my hair.
I have grown them, I have had them trimmed, cut, coloured, massaged, streaked and so on and so forth ... but I have never ever been truly happy with them. They have always been too thick, too unruly, too nonsensical to be of any use to mankind. Ok, womankind. Oh alright, me.

It must be karma of some kind.
Ita has all of 7.5 hair on her head and she is almost 7 months old.

Now what do I do with all the cute clips I have bought?

Ankita Puraan -2

Dharam sankat situation has happened. We have 3 names and we like them all.
Meghna
Krita
Ankita

Both the grandmothers like Meghna. So does Kannan, the uncle-in-law.
Krita is different and both sri and I kind of like it.
Ankita is preferred by all three aunts and the maama. And us, of course.

We thought we still had days to decide as we sauntered into the lawyers office.

The adoption deed had to go in with the name.

And so, we had a grand total of 30 seconds to decide what she was going to be called.
Yes, the lawyer was very scary looking. Like Amrish Puri in Damini, minus the oily hair... and the bad guy part. So it was that we went to file our papers with our lawyer and came back with our daughter's name. Ankita.

I just hope she doesn't hate us for not calling her Krita or Meghna. Because now, after 3 months, I kind of like Meghna better than Ankita. Go figure.

All ours.

Today is a good day. Actually, a very, very good day. Special day. Nice day. You get the picture right?

The daughter is finally all ours. The court has granted us custody.

Till the time the lawyer's assistant came up and told us to collect the final deed, I hadn't realised that there was a vague nagging fear, a fear that ita would be taken away from us... didn't realise that at a sub-conscious level, I was scared to death. But thats all over now.

Ankita Sriram Iyer. My baby ... the bane of my existance, the love of my life is mine. All mine.
Ok, "ours" as sri would insist on me saying :))

Ankita puraan

I started keeping a diary (the old-fashioned kind) during my initiation period as a mother. This is one of the first write-ups…

7th April 2008

ANKITA – Empress, one with auspicious marks.
Our daughter… our hearts, as they say are forever destined to walk out of our bodies.

We brought her home on the 10th of March 2008 from Missionaries of Charity, Delhi. Today, she is already the apple of everyone’s eyes; the grandparents, the aunts, the assorted neighbours. Ankita or ‘ita’ as we call her, is an absolute joy, except when she is sleepy and doesn’t know how to go to sleep; then she is a cranky, pain in the backside.

As I write this, she lies here next to me in an outrageously big fluorescent green shirt, dreaming. I always wondered why parents dress their kids in such awful clothes … now I know.
It could either be because the child is being so squirmy/crabby/ touchy that the parent picks the first set that is within reach OR the child, very considerately throws up/does su-su/potty at the exact moment the parent has finished dressing it up and hence are forced to do a: A ill-fated fashion disaster or b: Resort to point 1 which is to grab the first thing available to sight. There is one other reason, probably the biggest one. Gifts.

The minute people hear about so and so having had a baby, there is an influx of clothes in said person’s place. Now there are a few sensible souls who send the parents thoughtful gifts, like vitamin tablets but the others … baby sets, booties, jackets, socks and so on … in colours they think are cute (or stereotyped by the cruel marketing focused fashion police) – pink for girls, blue for boys.

Do you have any clue how a pile of pink looks to someone who last slept Lord knows when, has a howling infant waiting for her bottle and the flask has played deserter again? YES … like a strip of digene.

So the parent does what anyone with frayed nerves would do. Forage for anything that is not in pink (or blue) – clips, shoes, bibs, nappies – and put them over the antacid representing apparel.

From now on, when you see babies dressed like they are from Saturn … do not blame the parents. Give them a smile, maybe even a pat on their back. Beget some good karma. When you have a kid of your own; you will need all of it.

I thought we were smart. The day before Ankita was to come home, we went and got her a bunch of clothes in blue. So, now when we take her out, she is either dressed like Britney Spears with dark hair or gets mistaken for a boy.