The bond of love

Growing up, I used to just about tolerate my sisters.  As the middle sister, I either had to match up to the elder one or be a good role model to the younger one. Not an easy task, I tell you. They had a tough time matching me, let me leave it at that :D

46 yes later, toleration has given way to mutual respect,  love and awe. Sisterhood has never been so fulfilling. We morph into our roles  of secret keeper,  advice giver, health checker, personal trainers, pj tellers, wardrobe exchanger and chai maker instinctively and effortlessly.

We lift the other up when down , we criticize,, we earnestly motivate,, we encourage, we hug, we nurture, we execute our aunt roles with pride and we clap the loudest when the other excels.

We are to each other, the smiles that drive away the frowns and the wild laughter that dries up the tears.

Growing up this festival had no meaning , but now to me, it signifies the recognition of the invisible bond of love and laughter that binds us sisters together.

Happy happy Raksha Bandhan, Shubha and Smita  may this bond get stronger and stronger and may we always have each others' back. Always!

Ps...Love this pic of us.

The Bond that binds!

Because  in spite of being the middle sister and invisible  to the rest of the world. :D,  I'm going to do my regular  job of adding color,  pep and tadka to your lives with my words.

Because  I'm the cheesiest cheez to bind you both (sorry couldn't resist)

Because you girls cook the best food and I will always show my appreciation by eating everything  you make, I promise.

Because our kids will always feel at home with each other (Nikhil we take full credit for the little goodness in you!)

Because we are to each other, the smiles that drive away the frowns and the laughter that dries up the tears

Because we laugh the loudest at each others'  jokes, that get sillier and funnier with every passing year

Because we lift each other up,  from the deepest dismal low and are each others' gentle critics and earnest motivators.

Because we understand each others' deepest fears and dreams so very well.

Because  it's Raksha  Bandhan
And friendship  day today,  tomorrow  and forever more ! :*

The Bench!

I am fascinated by benches. Especially  the lone ones.  I saw this weathered beauty near the waterside, in a little seaside town,  near Edinburgh.  I've rarely seen an empty bench in India, because most benches seem much in demand in space starved urban cites, occupied as they are by couples trying to grab some 'together' time and a whole lot of each other in the process.

This solitary bench  spoke to me. It whispered enticingly "Come, sit down, no one will gawk at you or disturb you. Come and watch the world go by."

and so I did, after shooing the boys to go far away, of course!

Have you ever done that, sitting down just by yourself and watching nothing go by?

That day,  I didn't have my book and so I sat there, surrounded by the perfectly blended gorgeous blue,  yellow and green colors of nature, staring  into the far horizon.

Have you ever done that? You must. 

At first,  you don't hear them,  but slowly they become audible enough and force you to pay attention to the numerous voices clamouring for the right to be heard first.

My worries, my hopes, my aspirations ,  my regrets, my memories, they all come gushing forward from the depths of my subconscious mind.

and I wait patiently for the cacophony to cease.  Slowly they sort themselves out in an orderly fashion and allow me the luxury of dwelling upon them with the attention they deserve and store them in their own unique space.

I think 'a what if' and feel regret. I blow those thoughts away because it is no use dwelling over a thing done and dusted with. I keep the learning from the experience and file it away in a folder in my mind, for later retrieval if ever needed. 

I think of roads taken and those ignored. I think about people I've met at every stage and the ones that have drifted away and the ones that have managed to stay on in my mind, in my memories,  in my life. I wonder about my journeys in the future and paths to be taken. I think of dreams and goals, of magical stories yet to be written and new terrains to be explored.

And then I take a deep breath, and sit back, feeling peaceful, content and strengthened. The chaos has now settled into a happy murmur and the day seems even more beautiful  and welcoming. The water is blue, the sky is dotted with little white cotton puffs,  the seagulls are energetically flying about, the air is crisp and cold  and the trees sway to a windy tune of their own. Everything seems the same as before,  yet something's changed.

I love an empty bench.

Because it helps me to get to know those voices in my head better.

Because it transports me to a place where Time stands still, for a wee while,just for me.

Because it helps me find my way back.

Bench Therapy rocks!

One day at the movies

Few days back, my son and I had decided to watch "The Guardians of The Galaxy". He got his mandatory bowl of popcorn, after confirming with me that I was not hungry and that I would not eat multiples of five popcorns at a time and eventually finish half his tub. He exaggerates, I have no clue where he gets that trait from!

We entered the audi, took our 3 D glasses and settled ourselves, cleaned the glasses with wipes, and got ready to watch Chris Pratt in action. and Baby Groot. (love that little creature,  rooted teeny soul that he is)

Few minutes into the movie, I was pretty disappointed by the quality of the print. The images were blurry and the print quite dark. I poked my son once or twice to ask if his 3 D glasses were okay. Figured out from his impatient nodding of the head, that they were. I took one look at the filled seats to my left and resigned myself to watch the movie with my defective glasses at least till intermission. When I couldn't take it any longer, I channeled my inner ' crouching tiger, hidden dragon'  spirit, muttered a series of "excuse me , so sorry", (who in the world booked our seats right in the middle of the row?) , and hobbled to the bored looking attendant, near the exit. Cornered him and in my perfect blend of an accusatory and a hurt, 'How could you fool me? ', tone, whispered,  "these glasses are spoilt, please replace them."

The guy peered at the glasses, and then at me and then said "Erm..Maam, you've been watching the movie through your sunglasses." 

Uhoh!  I touched my head and sure enough, found the ugly square rimmed 3D glasses, perched unapologetically on my head. I grabbed my sun glasses back from the 'trying very hard not to laugh" attendant,  and went hopping back sheepishly to my seat, with as much dignity as I could muster.

The son when he heard it , rolled his eyes and laughed : "Why am I not surprised, Amma?"

I've always been err, to put it politely, quite absentminded.  I married a guy who's equally so. He's misplaced 3 sun glares, one of which he placed on the roof of his car and then drove away. He used to forget which grades the kids were in (I NEVER forget that!!) We've forgotten flights and luggage and lived to tell the tale.

As the years pass us  by,  thankfully, he seems to have toned down a bit, thereby balancing the family sanity scale. I, on the other hand,  seem to be aiming for some doctorate in the science  of forgetfulness. 

There was this time when I opened the door of my parked car and sat down, only to see a stranger there. His jaw dropped. My eyes popped out. It happened to be someone else's car. He was too busy sweating(probably his wife was due back any minute) by which time I had made good my escape to my own car,  where my driver (a necessity since a car in my control is always out of control) was hyperventilating because he thought I had lost my mind!! In my defense, it was not my fault, it was a white car, it seemed the same size , I just hadn't noticed it was from a different company.

This syndrome seems to have rubbed off on my driver too. The other day, after buying the week's groceries, I walked back to the car, dumped my packets on the seat, and had barely walked to the other side, when the car lurched forward. A long 5 minutes and 500 metres later, the car slowly reverses back to a gaping me and a sheepish face pops out " I thought you were already sitting in the car".

Sigh,  he thinks too much. 

Three thoughts occurred to me.

1) So that's how it feels to be on the receiving end.

2) Goodness, could this absent mindedness be contagious?

3) Poor poor G!

What's in a name?

I get invited to join kitty parties or coffee morning groups, which is probably a good way to acquaint yourself with your neighbors or the community residents. Of course it would help if you are socially  inclined and you don't mind some gossip and general bitchiness. I end up declining most invitations,   because I'm not exactly an extrovert, I prefer small gatherings where there is more possibility of having a fabulous  conversation  and I happen to be quite possessive about my 'me time''. 

And so when I apologetically  decline,  they look at me as if I were an alien and whisper "But then what do you do, how do you spend your day?"

That question puts me in a dilemma. Do I give them an hour by hour analysis of my day or do I break it gently to them that I sit there and blink my eyes and 5 hours pass by just like that. Going by past experiences, and depending on how communicative I feel at that moment, I reply 

"Nothing" or "Something" (You cannot have teens in your life and not have their monosyllabic responses rub off on you)

There are times when I turn amnesiac and I animatedly answer " I love to crochet"

Which is the truth. After story writing, content writing, paper quilling, painting and blogging, crochet is my current passion and work. Creating trendy designs from colorful yarn fuels my creative energies and gives me immense satisfaction, not to mention the pleasure  I feel when people  send me pictures of them wearing my creations or using them. 

I get various reactions to this simple statement.

Reaction 1: " Blink, blink blink, and then a very knowledgeable " Aah,  you must mean knitting?"

I roll my eyes, heave a sigh and hiss ferociously  "NO, it's not knitting, knitting is different, DIFFERENT. You hear me,  DIFFERENT. This is called crochet, it uses a hook and yarn and have you heard of google....hello, come back I was talking?!"

Reaction 2: "Blink blink blink" 

a pause 

and then "but I thought only old people do crochet"

I roll my eyes, and peer at the offending soul who has just realised what he/she has implied. Before I can get myself into sarcasm mode, the person has beaten a quick retreat, thanking her stars that her good sense has kicked in faster than my tongue. 

Reaction 3: "blink blink blink"" and an "Okayyy" accompanied by a "deer caught in the headlights" look which implies  "I have no clue what you are talking about"

That's when the fog of temporary amnesia lifts and I realise the futility of even trying.

So the last time I got asked this, I answered "I'm a yarn artist". After all, my eyes needed rest. Rolling those eyes can get quite tiring, besides there is only that much that they can roll back.

Reaction Magnifique : "WOW! Can I have your card? Do you have a website? What do you do? blah? blah?"

And just like that , with just two words. my image got a makeover. 

Sigh.

Just another day at the supermarket.

One day, I found myself at a super market. Actually a hyper market. You know, the kind of place where you go for 4 items and come out with 50, most of which you never needed in the first place. The vegetable and fruit weighing sections are generally the most crowded , with everyone clamoring to get their packets weighed and stamped, to be billed later.

So there I was , minding my business, selecting the vegetables and fruits, putting them into packets and throwing them into the cart. That's when I noticed, or rather, sensed him. A guy looking at me intently. I look at him too, and move away.

I wheel my cart over to the soap section, because as usual, there is stuff that needed to be bought a week back.  I see the same man again at the end of the lane, looking around as if searching for someone. "That's strange" I think to myself "Could he be following me?"

Taking tips from all those TV shows, I swerve through alternate lanes, when I see him again on the opposite end. He catches sight of me and walks purposefully towards me. Annoyed  and a bit alarmed by the unwelcome attention, I start walking to the billing counter,  when a thought strikes me and I stop midway.

"Hold on" I think to myself, "Why am I slinking away? He really needs to be put in his place. Some nerve he has, following me around."

I have enough practice, giving people a piece of my mind,  thanks to the teen brigade at home. Compared o them, this should be  a piece of cake.

So I turn around, just in time to see him approaching me. I put on my best scowl, and rehearse a few sharp sarcastic lines, and get ready to snap at him.

That's when he says " Ma'am, can I please have my cart back?!

Uhoh! His cart?!

 A perfect "Mother Earth please swallow me right now" moment.

I look at the cart and realise that I've left mine back at the vegetable section and have been wheeling his all over. I push his cart towards him. Red faced and sheepish, I manage to squeak out an "Ohhh I'm soooo sorryyy!" to no one in particular, considering that the annoyed gentleman is walking away as fast as he can. Of course he needn't have clutched the handle bar of his cart so tightly. As if I'd grab it now!

Ah well, it's been  just another day at the supermarket!

Oops, we did it again!

It is exam season here and I've been working extra hours in the kitchen to satisfy those "I'm hungry' cravings. Understandably, my mood's not that great. So yesterday was a holiday in between his exams and S was sleeping in. I was at my sudoku puzzle, sipping my tea and G, was busy doing what he does best , asking for the zillionth cup of tea. The point I'm trying hard to make here, is that Ive been working hard, very very hard, not hardly like certain people who I live with, would like you to think!

So there I was, listening to old Hindi numbers, and solving my Sudoku puzzle, when my mobile rang. Annoyed at the disturbance, I glanced at the number. Unknown! I generally avoid picking up calls from unknown numbers,because then I have to tell the caller who is generally peddling some scheme or other,  to go to hell, and I do not want to spoil his/her day and mine too.  But this call I did answer, probably because I was in the exam mood and hence jusified in wanting to give someone a piece of my mind. Besides, I've been working too hard for my own good.

Female Caller: "Mrs R?"

Me (in my gruffest tone, already annoyed at the audacity in presuming that I was a Mrs) : "Haan ji?"

Caller : "Mrs R, I wanted to know if S is coming to school today?"

Me(spluttering) : "erm..whaat?"

Caller, patiently " I'm T, his teacher"

Me,( in a total unrecognizable squeak)  :"Good Morning, Mrs. T. No, No, S doesn't have any exam" while my mind feverishly tries to recall his date sheet which he and I had glanced through two days back.

Mrs. T(really really patient) " erm..ma'am, he has his Art I, Paper today!"

Me: "Are you sure? oops, didnt know. Thank you for letting me know. Sending him right away".

Mrs. T (In a very relieved tone) : "Yes, Im sure, Thank you," 

She kept the phone down before I could utter a syllable more. Yes, she is a very impatient lady.  I thought so too.

Knowing S would be  shocked, I sprinted off to wake him up, resolving to break the news to him gently.

Threw his bed sheet cover off and shook him, (whaat? that's as gentle as I can be) screaming "Get up, get up, get up, you have your Art paper today"

S : "Amma, don't joke, let me sleep"

"Seriously", I think to myself, " this child has chosen the wrong day and time to be like me!" 

Shook him some more till he got up, still in disbelief that we had forgotten about an exam. Both he and I were convinced that surely his teacher was mistaken. We pored over the date sheet intently and then looked at each other.  Oops, we had looked at next week's schedule. In our defence, who puts Art in between heavy duty subjects like Chemistry and Geography. Who?! It's all the school's fault. Always!

I pushed S to the washroom and sprinted  to the other room and barked at G : "S has an exam today, get the car out"

His eyes popping out assured me that he had heard and I sprinted back to the kitchen to make a sandwich for the boy. And then sprinted back to S and then to G again.

10 minutes later, they were on their way to school, and I heaved a sigh, partly from relief and mostly from all that sprinting. Thought for the day, sprinting in the morning is injurious to breathing. Please don't try it. 

Then I remembered this, and this (click on the links) and I chuckled. Nothing had changed much since then, and the Apple hadn't fallen too far, from this tree either!

I then practiced  a suitably chastened and apologetic expression to face G, when he returned from the impromptu school run.  He should be happy though, both S and I are not likely to forget an exam ever. I have it all planned out. We just need to print the date sheet in bigger fonts. Maybe color codes will help too.

Yes, that should work!

Yes, poor G, indeed!

The Nostalgia Toast

Nostalgia on a toast!

I loved my summers, which we spent at my grandparents' place in Bangalore. My cousins from Bombay and Coimbatore, my two sisters, and I would spend a few lazy weeks, playing elastic, Hopscotch, bouncing a ball from a pillar and counting till we missed, playing hide and seek, and solving the crossword puzzle of the Deccan Herald and eating!

That crossword puzzle must have started it all. My cousin, and I particularly would compete to see who would get the paper first and solve the crossword. We would try to get up as early as we could, take a shower, gulp down our milk and wait for the newspaper man. Which was a good thing. The not so good thing was, in our eagerness to be the first, we sometimes woke up before 5am, and though my granny never showed it, I'm quite sure those tears i saw were not so much from happiness, but from despair. She must have thought "Oh no the brats are up, couldn't they wait till I had one tiny sip of filter kaapi couldn't they?

And ofcourse, being a grandmom who equated love with food, she had to think of a quick and filling pre- breakfast meal which would please us and yet not distract her from the cooking of the actual breakfast. I remember her in the kitchen, smearing slices from two jumbo loaves of bread, with homemade butter and chutney powder. While they would be toasting on the tawa, she would be washing the grinding stone for the chutney and setting the pressure cooker up. We would be given the very important task of getting the toasted bread to the table. The towers of bread slices would vanish in no time, and each one of us would be in a corner, eating, talking, fighting or reading and of course one of us would be solving the crossword puzzle while the other one would sulk and resolve to get up even more earlier the next morning.

Every once in a while, I make this, not just because I like it but because it takes me back to a world only I know about. My happy place! Today I made it almost the way my doddamma would make it, I curled up on the chair and I savored nostalgia with every bite I took. and Time actually stood still for a wee while.

This is a memory that uniquely binds the seven of us even though we are all in different parts of the world and I'm so glad for it. If this had a happiness quotient that i could rate, I would give it a perfect 100.

Grannies are the best, always!

Precisely, if you please !

I looked at her, she looked at me. She came towards me, with a very determined look. I cringed knowing that I would goof up again. Was I sweating? I hoped not!

Was it going to be on the left or the right, left or right?

She inched towards my left while i inched towards her right.

So intent was I on getting it perfect,

that I never realised when she changed directions!

Clash!!! splat!!
*$#& a bruised cheek, an even more bruised ego!!!

Many years back, I had written this after a cheek to cheek air kiss greeting went amiss.  A hello seemed to require a lot of precision and grace, just to safely connect.

Last evening, at the gettogether at my apartment complex, I realised not much seems to have changed with me, since then. Atleast with the ones I didn't know well.

I seem to have confused quite a few, when I decided to change mid track and offered my hand instead of my cheek. I'm sure kissing my hand was not the greeting they had in mind.

So that's why you see all my enthusiasm in my smiles, while I buy seconds and tick all the criteria in my mind : do i know him/her? distance of a cm, an inch, a foot? side hug, full hug, bone-crushing hug? right cheek, left cheek, no cheek?

Aargh!

I'm kidding. I love you all. And you will be patient with me while I make up my mind, wont you? I'm  still perfecting the precise art of saying hello! 

It's hard to say goodbye!

              For the past few weeks, I've woken up with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. The 'before exam' feeling. A myriad of emotions consuming me the entire day, surprising me. I can detect feelings of dread, anxiety, selfishness, happiness, wistfulness, pride and hopefulness. 

               I remember a moment from 18 yrs ago, pacing in the labour room of the hospital, trying to be brave. Trying not to curse all the ones who had raved about babies and conveniently forgotten to mention how excruciating the pain would be. It is a pain that knocks the socks off you and makes you want to punch everyone around you. There's a nurse somewhere who's lived to tell the tale. At one point after a painful spasm, I got up, and told my mom "I can't do this, let's go home". Mom's  fiercest "Have you gone mad?" look and the next spasm sent me crawling back on that bed. It was a long moment of weakness and after 4 hours I managed to deliver a scrawny looking baby boy. That, then, was the bravest thing I had done. Or so I thought. 5 years later I did a repeat performance and had my second son. Proved one thing to me that TIME played its part in dulling the intensity of the "I'm going to kill someone if this doesn't stop" kind of pain and makes you focus more on the "Oooh, look he smiled, he walked, he burped" moments. 

             I had many similar moments of breaking down, recently. Of giving up midway between packing stuff for my 18yrold, who would be leaving home to study in another country. His bags did get packed eventually. And he did leave. And I did smile through it all.

Everyone asks me "So how does it feel, How are you? "

" I miss him", I answer truthfully. 

They console me in various ways:

"At least you have another kid to distract you", they say

"With time, it will pass" they say

"Be happy and proud, he will do well"  they say

"At least you had him this long, mine left at 16", they say


           I am grateful, I'm really proud of him and my mind knows it.  My mind rationalizes with its predictable logic : "It's a good learning experience, he's worked hard for it, You knew this day would arrive eventually. Be happy. It's just a temporary good bye, and he will be home during vacation time." 

That's what everyone says, don't they? 

But how do I convince my heart about it? 
How do i make it understand that things will no longer be the same? 
That 18 years of being together cannot be taken care of with a goodbye and a hug. 
That I will spend the next 4 years and possibly more with a prayer on my lips, of sending positive vibes into the universe, of thinking nonstop: "Please be nice to him, please let him make sweet friends, please let him not fall sick, please this.. please that". 
That it will take time for me to see his empty room and not feel the wistfulness. 
Of seeing his favorite food and not think of him. 
Of cooking meals for three instead of four.
Of having silly conversations
Of troubling him just because I can


          Seeing my 18 yrold off to college, on his way to an independant responsible adulthood, is a 'hard to describe' feeling. You feel immense joy, you feel pain, you want to hold onto the past a bit longer yet you want your boy to blaze ahead.

Once upon a time, all I needed, were my arms to keep him safe, NOW, all I can hope for, is the shelter of an unseen hand over him. 

Does it hurt? It does.  Would I have it any other way? Probably not. 

There are so many things that i have taken for granted. There are so many things that I will have to say my goodbye to. And that takes time.

His "whats for lunch today, Amma, hope it's something good?".
His music. 
His dry humor. 
His quiet ways. 
His infuriating habit of leaving his wardrobe doors open because he's conserving his energy! 
His cheekiness. 
His absent minded antics. 
His shrug and his monosyllabic ways. 
His rolling eyes at some 'lame' joke I crack
Those little moments of a day which mean so much to me.
The new stuff he tells me about
The lovely change in the relationship between us

How do i say goodbye to all this and so much more? 

Everyone has their way of handling themselves till their heart and mind speak the same language. My sister never entered her son's room for weeks after he left home for college. Another would spend hours looking at pictures. My younger son is digging through his brother's desk and unearthing treasures. As for me, I write.

And as I listen to my boy's voice over the phone, hearing him talk about his dorm and college, I try to bring a smile into my voice, while a hundred things run through my mind, "He sounds so tired. Did he eat? Has he made a friend? Will he put a sheet on his bed (what?)? ".  Love is such a strange emotion. It makes you laugh and say all the right things, while your heart is breaking inside. 

Motherhood has trained me well. It also brings into perspective my parents' love. Of how hard it must have been for them to let each of us go. Letting my son go is no doubt the bravest thing I have done so far.

Time is magical. Just as it had dulled the pain of labour, so has it filtered my memories of his journey from a baby to adulthood. It has taken away the angst ridden days, and left me with so many happy moments. In a little while I will get used to a new way of living, using modern means of communication to interact with him. It won't be the same but it will be better than nothing. And soon I will be one of those who will console another parent with soothing words of advice.

And in 5 years, when the next one sets out,  saying goodbye will pain just as much. 

And life, from now on, will be a series of 'welcomes' and 'goodbyes', of visits with deadlines.

But then time helps you adjust. And I'm going to take all the time I need.

Because Time is my new best friend.

The pursuit of perfection.

As long as I can remember, there has been this need for perfection.

Sometimes this is a need in me, and at other times, more often than I like, it is how others would like me to be.

Perfection in an image, in perception, in love.

Perfect mothers, perfect friends, children, spouses .

Perfection even in expectations.

That's when things begin to distort themselves.

And things fail, one after the other.

Perhaps that's the moment to take a peek at the gorgeous butterfly and remember how that came into being.

And see the miracles that are found in everyday life.

And if you don't find that butterfly, maybe you should just close your eyes and take a deep breath. Mist that glass and clear the distorted images away.

and smile.

Because everything can be perfect if you only let it be.

Cards and more

This post is a long overdue one.

The 9yrold loves to create stuff. Sometimes he does it by himself in a creative spurt, and sometimes it is brought on by me.

In March, during their spring break, he had this brainwave to sell handmade cards. I sat down with him, and we drew, cut and pasted. I wanted to show him how we could up-cycle certain things available at home and create something useful out of it.

We made the card envelopes from the paper shopping bags  of most branded products. The cards were also made with existing bits and pieces of paper. Of course it was done in many sittings because his attention span and my back decided to play truant.

Once it was done, we had to decide on pricing. I was amused to hear him confidently declare to a potential customer, that his Minimum Retail Price was Rs. 15/-. He gave discounts to those who bought two or more and a special discount to his closest friend nearer home.

Thankfully the people who did buy were encouraging, and for quite some time, my son could be seen dreaming aloud about starting his own card business! He also has a backup plan. If the card business fails, he plans to sell my crocheted stuff.:))



Frolicking Fish

Frolicking Fish (his creation)

The bag envelope

A paper present

Flowers and colors

I love this very original creation :))

A card he made for me, 

Which ones did you like best? Do tell my budding childpreneur :)

a dash of color!

When we lived in singapore, I used to walk, as much as I could. From where I came from, paved footpaths and green grass is a rarity, so Singapore was a walker's paradise.

You suddenly chance upon a brightly painted building.

It instantly brightens up your mood.

These pictures brought back some fond memories.

Change of the right 'kind'

It was nearing the end of the academic year. My 9yrold son and his classmates were given work to do at home. They were asked to write little notes about each classmate on pieces of paper and bring it to class the next day. It was amusing and enlightening to see the 9yrold tackle this with great enthusiasm and dedication. Abhay was funny and nice while Saakshi ran well. Pranav was excellent in sports and Arjun was clever. He got stuck when he came to one particular classmate, U.

“I cannot write anything nice about him, Amma, In fact no one’s going to write anything good about him. He’s very very naughty.”

This boy U had been the subject of many a dinnertime discussion. How U refuses to listen to the teacher and how he troubles the children!

“Surely you can think of something” I prompted.

“No,no, he’s the same boy I’ve been complaining about. He troubles everyone, never listens, not even to ma’am. Ma’am has refused to talk to him so many times, but he just doesn’t change.”

“You will be very excited to see what everyone’s written about you tomorrow, I wonder how he will feel” I said, not wanting to push him, but feeling a little sad about U.

The next 15 minutes passed with him sighing loudly because he just didn't know what to write. Finally he wrote, “ I think you can really run fast if you want. And I know everyone would like you more if you really want them to’. 

The next day, my son came home with 31 colorful scraps of paper. His classmates had called him helpful, sweet, funny and kind. A few raved about his soccer moves. There were a few too who wanted him to speak softer (my ears thank you, lil ones).

I loved this exercise that the kids had to do. It was not indicated what they could write, but almost everyone found it within themselves to think up a nice comment about the other. And if you looked hard enough, even the meanest person does have something worth liking. He may just not know it yet.

As if to drive the point in deeper, that evening, as I strolled near the play area, I overheard this conversation between two children. “ I wish people were more kind”.

And this is precisely what I think we need more of: Tolerance, kindness, graciousness, a spirit of Ubuntu! 

What is Ubuntu, you ask? It is a philosophy of African tribes that can be summed up, as "I am what I am because of who we all are." In simple words, it means that we cannot function as isolated humans individually and that we need to be interconnected.

And I cannot help feeling that displays of kindness, are getting increasingly hard to come across. Even the playground is a mini battlefield, with a lot of ego play and rage simmering. 

If I were to change something, I would alter the mental makeup of people. A little more kindness, a little more of compassion, cut back on the bitterness and rage and add generously the spirit of oneness.

A good starting point would be to do a kind gesture everyday, it could be helping the elderly neighbour carry her groceries to her doorstep, or listening to a friend's woes  or helping out the maid with her kid’s admission or going about your day with a smile and chirpy  hello! 


Go on now, pick up that phone and speak to a person you've been meaning to, and make them happy.  

Now that is very very doable, don’t you think? It's definitely a time for change. 

eye-openers

There was a tough month last year, where I was the designated nurse to everyone's pain, ranging from a near slip disc to a bad bout of viral.

Of course, since the Murphy guy was stalking me, I had to fall sick too, with a fever and the cold. Right in the middle of the14yr-old's final exams.

*PJ alert
Q: Why does the school schedule the final exams right before the christmas holidays?
A: That's to make sure we have truly truly deserved the holidays!
*Over 
:P

So I felt terrible, the cold had made me sound unintelligible and my vocal skills were being truly tested by the boys.

In frustration, I screamed (if you call that guttural noise which emanated from me a scream)

"I'm fed up. That's It! I'm going to the Himalayas"

"What did you say?" two voices screamed back in unision...

I hollered out again" You guys are troubling me so much, that i want to go to the himalayas"

The big boy, all of 14, came out from his study area and said in his trademark deadpan style "What? you are going to the Mallyas, YUCK, you should have better taste, amma!"

*Sigh

"Go back and put your nose back in your history books" I remember saying...hiding a smile.

It strikes me again, as it has been for the past few months, that this equation between us has changed tremendously. There is this ease between us, and it is a lovely change from the disciplining mode.Ofcourse he's 4inches taller than my 5.6 self and that by itself has tilted the balance in his favor. See, it makes it so difficult to see eye to eye with someone who is taller than you :/


There are times where we laugh at each other, and there are days when we are having a screaming match.

There are many times I have to remind myself that I am the parent here, there are days when it gets frustrating, especially when you feel like you are the only one talking, there are days when it gets scary, because you don't know whether what you are doing is the right thing or not, but most days it's pretty good.


And I wish to myself that even though some days seem too tough and disheartening to get by, the good moments far outnumber the sad ones and that we come out of it all, stronger and wiser from all that life doles out, in the name of teenage angst and parenting fundas.

Of course the wisest perspective sometimes comes from your very own miniature creations.

The nine yr. old recently consoled me with this gyan "Its okay amma, if I take AGES to do this, it is all part of the learning process!" *never mind that we were talking about homework here!

Once I picked up my jaw from the floor, I couldn't but nod vigorously in agreement.

Ting-Tong, Just for me!

My doorbell is the most used object in my house. Especially in the evening, when my 9yrold is at home. He opens the door, waltzes into the neighboring house to pat their dog, and then 5minutes later he's at my door ringing the doorbell, again, to be let in. And the whole thing repeats itself 15 minutes later!

I need to get skates, answering the doorbell would be such a rolling affair!

There are many times it rings in his absence and I find out that the person actually meant to ring the neighbor's doorbell. I H.A.T.E that.

The other day, I was quite busy and had done the doorbell answering routine a bit too often to my liking. A friend was over and we had just settled down to some filter kaapi, when ting tong, the doorbell beckoned me. 

And I fling open the door, and the mail guy meekly hands me this! OH!LOOK it has my name on it!!

                                            

and It's just for me!

The only cards I get are the ones from my kids, and erm...theonein365daysfromG, so to say I was thrilled was an understatement. It was not totally a surprise, because i knew she was going to send me something, because she had asked for my mailing address a few days back. But to actually receive this beautiful quilled artwork and read the lovely message inside, truly made my day. 

Knowing that she has made out time to send out handmade cards, in the midst of a very hectic routine makes this even more special, and is quite humbling too.

In my excitement, I forgot to mention who the she is! Of course if you've read '34 Bubblegums and Candies' and her latest bestseller 'Life is what you make it", then you shouldn't be wondering at all. And if you haven't read them yet, then you should be reading them right now!

Thank you tons, Preeti, for the treasured message, for the warmth of the gesture and for the friendship it signifies. 

I should be writing more, but them words, they have a way of deserting me when I need them the most.

:))

Gasp....aack...Whaaaaaat? It's 2012? ALREADY?!!!!!!

Don't mind the histrionics, That was just my blog reviving to life every now and then.

Here's hoping 2012 sees more posts here, less status updates on Facebook, more news, less drama,  more ....whatever!

Like my 9yr young wise owl tells me not so subtly "Practice makes one perfect, Amma", I plan to take my own advice very seriously! *(btw that 'advice' was shot back at me when they proclaimed that my lasagna was not as good as my first attempt!!!! Priorities, I tell you)

This year, I hope to learn at least one new thing, and let go of something!

How about you guys?

and Yesss, Happy 2012 to all you readers :)

Of friends and friends...

Last Diwali, we had just moved back to India, specifically Delhi. It is hard to believe a year has already passed since then and here I am now in the last month of the year, still wondering how the months flew.


Settling back in India was not a breeze.  Sadly most things which i enjoyed, like blogging came to a standstill. My mind seemed always in a volatile mood and it was not easy to keep it still long enough and write my thoughts all down .


Then not so recently I got a lovely email from a college friend , L.


Among the many things she wrote, was "Are you going to give me lame excuses for not updating your blog or do you just want to spare yourself the trouble by posting something? "


erm...yeah, she can be very subtle :)


so here i am posting.


This post's for you, L, for always giving that wallop...erm..little nudge, when I need it. 


Funny thing is L and I were nothing but nodding acquaintances in college, and I sort of used to compete with her as far as English was concerned, *in my mind. I always used to think that she would become an author or something close to that.


After college, we went our separate ways, and were nothing but reminders of another age, another era, another world. 


Then years and years later, we both got 'facebooked' . It brought back college memories, past teachers and a lot of "wow, you look good" comments. 


I have this nice feeling about this developing friendship, not because she writes the nicest stuff about my writing but because I feel she is a lot like me. We are both nearing our forties, we have teenage sons and hence similar apprehensions and we don't write to each other much. 


It probably needs some nurturing, because we both are also erratic writers. I go through this phase of intense communication then suddenly i get into my 'hibernate' mode, because mostly i have nothing useful to say. I am a pathetic emailer and I guess she is too. 


Even then, I feel that if we were to spend a few days together, we would feel at home, reading books, just enjoying the silence, and talking because we needed to , not because we HAD to.


I remember in Dubai, I was quite content to keep to myself and indulge in things that I wanted to do. I had made up my mind that I had no time in investing in new friendships when I knew that I was not going to be in Dubai for ever. And yet I made two very good friends. It is the kind of friendship which I like best. Where we knew that we were there for each other when needed and we didn't keep tabs on who did what for whom.


I have this lovely friend in Delhi, who always makes me feel good about myself, and who never lets me put myself down. 


I've had an ex college mate landing up at my old house in Bangalore trying to find out where I was. These are surprises I love.


I've had people who thought that being friends meant also keeping tabs on favors. I wish I could let them understand that, when you don't a put a price on the friendship, you reap greater benefits. Sometimes, the person cannot return your favor, and it is not fair to make him/her feel guilty about that. It makes me value a home-cooked meal sent over when I'm unwell, that much more, when i know that it has not been recorded in a 'good favor' book to be recalled on a later day. 


I've been told that I come across as a very social person. Which I find uncomfortable, because I think I 'suck' at social talk. 


That is why perhaps, the internet is such a scarily comforting place to be in, you can be your worst, but none will ever know it.


Just goes to show that you can't plan friendships, they just happen. In perhaps the same way, this post happened unplanned!


Now I better go and shoo the Murphy guy away, he's proving to be too friendly for my good!