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.