tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68630961979309358272024-03-13T11:27:10.230-07:00BangaloremomA blog about raising a child in Bangalore..and living and working amidst the chaos....BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-76317173736985253842011-07-22T02:39:00.000-07:002011-07-26T21:44:03.703-07:00What kind of mother are you?It's been a few months since I quit my job to experience the stay-at-home bliss at my new home. A lot of women in my new complex have decided to quit their jobs to take care of their kids and I am living in a kind of suburban bubble. It has also, for the first time, given me an opportunity to talk to and mix with a lot of women from my complex and from my old circle of friends, many of whom I had lost touch with. <br /><br />While the world, very broadly, generalises mothers as working and non-working, I have begun to see so many sub classes in between. Just a light-hearted look at a few kinds off the top of my head:<br /><br />*The perfectionist: Hers are the kids who always go to school with sparkling white canvas shoes. Their lunches are always packed with nutritious food and their homeworks are always done. If they have to get a project finished, she starts working on it from day one and makes sure they get it right! She inspires other moms and also scares them a little bit.<br /><br />*The fun mommy: She is the mommy every child wants. Always full of life and exciting things to do, she is every child's hero. She makes even work fun and interesting and is not averse to a late week night every now and then. She is also the kind who, very spontaneously, will take the kids out to the zoo or the park on weekends. <br /><br />*The strict officer: Her kids, quite literally, piss out of fear in her presence. She rules the household and the kids with an iron hand and kids and husband scamper away in fear at her slightest sign of displeasure.<br /><br />*The lost soul: These moms are bored out of their skulls in their avatar and are constantly wishing they were someplace else. Motherhood really does not come naturally to them and they look lost and scared most of the time, looking to someone else for guidance and deliverance.<br /><br />*The scatterbrain : This is the woman who runs down the stairs in her nightie chasing after her child with her homework. Or the one who is creating a ruckus in the mall after losing a kid. Or is up half the night designing a dress for the school play the next day and then forgets to send it.<br /><br />So, what kind of mommy do you think you are?BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-74865017154366523912011-07-17T22:04:00.000-07:002011-07-17T22:25:44.938-07:00The reading habitAnyone who has known me since childhood will have one enduring image in their mind - a dishevelled little girl with hair falling over her eyes and most often seen in a white petticoat, always, always holding a book under her nose. In fact, my earliest childhood memories are not from my life but from the images of a book I read as a little girl. I was a precocious kid, an only child often left to my own devices. Not being the athletic kind, books were my only method of passing time and my parents ensured that an endless supply of books was kept up. Sometimes, I wonder if I have read more than I have lived. To quote those beautiful, beutiful words of Meg Ryan from the movie 'You've got mail', 'So much of my life reminds me of a book I once read, when, in fact, should'nt it be the other way around?'. Such beautiful words that I go into raptures just thinking about that movie. Anyway, I digress.<br /><br />The point I am trying to make is, I inhale books. Quite literally. Magazines, newspapers, pop fiction, romance, chick flick, classics. Just about every genre that there is to read. And in my world, I cannot relate to people who do not read. I may still like them and be friends with them but a crucial, very enjoyable part of my relationship with a lot of people is to talk about what I have read and that part will definitely be missed.<br /><br />Thankfully, the husband also reads and during our pre-kuttan days, many a happy afternoon were spent companionably reading. Once kuttan was born, hyper mother that I am, I went on an overdrive. I started collecting books for him from the time he was 3 months old. And started reading to him just as soon. And, a year later, I was reading Dr.Seuss books and colour books and shape books. And was getting increasingly frustrated when my happy baby boy showed not the LEAST bit of inclination or interest or preference to books. <br /><br />Many nights would be spent with me shoving a book under his nose and him trying to wriggle away from me. As he passed the age of 4, things still hadnt improved and I lost interest. 2008 was a busy year in our household with the arrival of little princess and kuttan starting LKG. Somehow, I did not pay as much attention to him that year as I should have so I failed to notice that while other kids were slowly trying to read, my son was'nt even going beyond recognising the alphabet. All my pushing and prodding had put him off reading and he was digging his heels in mentally. I did not know any of this till I was called by his teacher last year who explained to me that kuttan was falling behind in the reading department. While other kids were able to read simple three letter words, my baby was refusing to even try. All my bullying had backfired badly. I came back sobbing and had a sleepless night were I envisioned a son who would not read books.<br /><br />The next day, I went to work on him. Kuttan is a bit of a techno freak and I decided to give him his bitter pill with a sugar coating. The first site I introduced him to was www.starfall.com. The first few days were met with fierce resistance of having to apply his mind to putting the letters together. But I persisted and he slowly, painstakingly learnt to read 2 and 3 letter words at the age of 5. I also invested in some reading books. The Disney series 'Let's read and understand' was wonderful because it combined easy exercises and and games with flash cards and sight words. Slowly, I saw an increase in interest in his eyes. For the first time, he would try to read the billboards from the car. When we went to shops, he would try to read the names of the labels and it was like a new world had opened for him for the first time. Amar chithra kathas are being devoured with regularity along with Magic pots.<br /><br />There was no looking back after that and my son proved to be quick and insatiable learner. Mornings during IPL season were spent with kuttan and the husband poring over the newspaper and kuttan reading off the sports page. Cricket and readinf. I was'nt complaining at all! But I truly, truly didnt realise how far he had come till last week. I had had a busy day with a lot of errands to run outside the house and returned late in the evening to a surprisingly quiet house. 'Where is kuttan', I asked amma. 'Must be playing in the room', she replied. As I tiptoed into his room, I found my 6 year old son nonchalantly sitting with my copy of R.K.Narayan's 'Swami and friends'. 'What are you doing kutta?', I asked. He looked up with a smile and said, 'This book is really cool amma...Rajam and Mani and Swami have so much fun!!!'<br /><br />Welcome to my world, son. Enjoy the beautiful journey. I am so happy you discovered the beauty and endless of magic and wonder of reading.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-45930592698704001732011-07-14T21:40:00.000-07:002011-07-14T21:44:18.197-07:00The little princess- a few glimpsesThe little princess turned 2 last month. The transformation has been nothing short of amazing. At the age of 2, kuttan was still struggling to say 'amma' and 'appa'. LP on the other hand has already started speaking sentences, quite effortlessly at that. A few moments to be stored for posterity:<br /><br />1. The LP is quite a mamma's girl, unlike kuttan who prefers to stick to the husband like glue, so much so, that she follows me even to the bathroom - the place I go to hide myself for a few minutes to get some respite from the madness that is my life. Really, she is that chipkoo.<br /><br />2. The princess and I provide entertainment galore to the people in the new apartment complex every evening. They see a little minx, nimble footed and slender, running so quick it seems her feet dont touch the ground, her laughter floating in the air, followed by a heavily overweight woman moving in a strangle mixture between a run and a waddle screaming her name, threatening to fall into an ignominous heap any minute.<br /><br />3. Did I tell you one of the main reasons I wanted a girl was so that I could dress her up? Yes, that's how shallow I am. Now, however, having got one, it turns out she has a mind of her own and prefers to be dressed in her brother's hand-me-down pants and t-shirts rather than any of the fluffy frocks and frilly dresses I have painstakingly collected for her. We have major stand-offs whenever clips, hair bands or any embellishments of hair are to be worn and the entire household is involved in keeping her distracted while I pin those contraptions on her, which of course, are pulled off summarily the minute she figures out are there.<br /><br />4. The kuttan is constantly embarrassed by his sister's antics and the poor guy is dreading the day when she will join him in school next year. When she monkeys around the playground and other children laugh at her, he comes and furiously whispers to me, 'Take her away!'. When that doesnt work, he goes and tries to draw the other children's attention away from her. It always, always ends up with him furiously stomping off homeward, muttering to himself, near tears.<br /><br />5. The princess is turning to be as much of a fussy eater as that brother of hers - I am destined to struggle over meal plates with both my children I guess. The only difference is that she LOOOVEES sweets and can have any number of sweets at any time of the day. On days when nothing else works, I let her.<br /><br />And so, that, in brief, is little princess at 2. Affectionate, naughty, impish, spirited, joyful, our own little minx. Our sunshine girl.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-46098918198073315252011-07-13T05:17:00.000-07:002011-07-13T05:45:32.495-07:005 things that motherhood taught me...<a href="http://advaithandyukta.blogspot.com/">Aparna</a> tagged me aeons ago to write about 5 things motherhood taught me. Sloth that I am, it took me this long to actually sit down and type it out though I have been mentally making a post of it for weeks. Anyways, here goes. It is none of the usual things you would expect but at least its honest.<br /><br />1. It made me a more patient person.<br /><br />One trait that I am constantly in short supply of. Dealing with existential questions such as 'Where is God?' when you are stuck in the middle of the MOTHER of all traffic jams. NEVER being able to finish a phone-call. Having your baby daughter follow you to the bathroom...all these vignettes of motherhood need an inexhaustible supply of patience.<br /><br />2. It made me a more socially aware person.<br /><br />When I read about the little kid that was electrocuted by a live-wire in the playground, the playground for chrissakes, you feel the pain more when you have children of your own. Everytime you hear news of school-shootouts or any tragedy that involves young children, you heart actually squeezes in pain. Before motherhood, I was able to read it all with a degree of distance. Now, I feel it.<br /><br />3. It made me realise that there is life beyond a career.<br /><br />I never thought I would be a full-time stay at home mom. And yet, that is exactly the choice I made when it came right down to it. I realised that nothing, NOTHING in the world can compensate for the joy in your child's face when he walks into the house after school. Not even the joy of making CEO. Not that there was any danger of that happening with me anyway.<br /><br />4. It has made less judgemental of other women's choices.<br /><br />Before kids, I was quick to judge and slow to understand. When I saw a toddler screaming in a restaurant, I would give the parents quelling looks. When I heard of a woman who gave up a great career to stay home with her kids, I would make scathing remarks. After motherhood, I have realised that life is a very long, very beautiful journey with inexplicable twists and turns. Now it is MY daughter who is rolling on the floor throwing a tantrum. It is I who has given up a career to be with my kids. And when someone gives me an uncomprehending look, I just smile quietly. <br /><br />5. It has made me realise my parents worth.<br /><br />Every time I grit my teeth in anger at something my kids do, I realise how much my parents went through and how nuch harder it was for them. And yet, I always grew up believing I was the center of their existence, the only reason for their happiness. If I can give my children half the sense of security that my parents gave me, I think my job is well done.<br /><br />And then there are myriad other ones such as eyeing the dresses in the mall with one eye and your extremely flighty two year old with the other, eating in a fancy restaurant in 5 minutes flat and getting OUT of there. But that's fodder for another post.<br /><br />I was tagged so long ago, its almost embarrassing. But <a href="http://jottingsmine.blogspot.com">JLT</a> and <a href="http://amateurabe.blogspot.com">Abha</a>. Would love to hear what you have to say.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-46568869508514382362011-03-16T22:21:00.000-07:002011-03-16T23:06:43.702-07:00The Gentleman and The BansheeHe is suave and cultured. She is hot and fiery. He quietly charms friends and foes alike with an easy smile and practiced grace. She spits fire at anyone trying to get too close. He is a hot favorite among anyone who knows him. She...well, let's just say diplomatically that....she inspires mixed feelings. <br /><br />No, I am not talking about the lead pair in some fanciful Mills&Boon novel but about my own two children. It never ceases to amaze me that two human beings, both spawned by me and both brought up in near similar conditions can be so completely different. I have seen it with other people. The husband himself, born the youngest of three, is completely different from the other two. And yet, this phenomenon among my own kids, so young at that, always fascinates me.<br /><br />Kuttan was a much easier child. To take care of, to manage, to take out on vacations, to put to sleep, to love. The princess on the other hand, has taken it upon herself to make this parenting gig as difficult for me as possible. She screams at any alleged opposition and, quite literally, spits on people's faces. The other small kids in the apartment have taken to hiding from her as she unleashes her fury dispassionately on all. Disciplining by stern words, a teeeeny bit of spanking or ignoring have, so far, only seemed to aggravate the problem. The husband swears she needs to go to school pronto and have some discipline beaten into her. I, on the other hand, hesitate, loath to snuff out that glorious spirit of hers. <br /><br />And yet, it seems as though nature has given me its own version on Yin and Yang- a perfect harmony in my two kids. When I am being too harsh with kuttan during study time, as his gentle eyes cloud with tears, his own Banshee comes screaming at me waving her chubby little arms and speaking furious gibberish. It saves me from my uncontrollable rage and makes kuttan smile again. When she misbehaves in the playground, beats up too many kids and is being cornered by older kids, still standing defiantly, with UTTER disregard to her size, very close to being beaten up, I see kuttan walking up to her and gently leading her by the arm off the scene. Nobody else, not even the husband or I, can calm the princess in situations such as these. And so the days pass, with me being a spectator witnessing the shaping of two adults. I hope their love for each other grows and stands strong all through their lives. Love you me babies!! You make my life so much richer!BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-54651379477065240552010-12-11T04:23:00.000-08:002010-12-11T04:34:17.907-08:00The age of innocenceKuttan and a friend A are playing outside in the balcony of our apartment on the 2nd floor. Scooter, a car and cycle are strewn around. A is riding the cycle and kuttan goes up to him after a while and says, 'let's change'. A refuses. An argument breaks out and A sulkily says, 'I won't be your friend.' 'Dont be..whats my problem', says kuttan. 'I am going to go and bring my cycle', says A...'let's see you do it', challenges kuttan, while I silently witness the drama unfolding without wanting to get in.<br /><br />'See him amma, as though he can carry his cycle all the way. Let me see him do it.', kuttan says to me furiously while A storms off and I wisely bury my head back into the laptop. 5 minutes of silence. I look out to see kuttan missing. 'Kutta', I call out, 'where are you?'. 'I am here', floats a voice from the ground floor. 'Helping A carry his cycle to the 2nd floor'!!!!??!!BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-27542504655228426582010-12-06T19:31:00.000-08:002010-12-06T20:12:35.588-08:00The age old debate......has been brough to focus again by <a href="http://mamasaysso.blogspot.com/2010/12/questions-for-judgemental.html">this</a> post. And I agree with all of Ro's observations - the smugness, the superiority, the feigned pity at the plight of the poor hapless kids who have the misfortune of being born to these power-crazy, money-crazy women. But, having been quite equally present on both sides of the fence, I have seen the other side of it too....the working women who give subtle pitying looks, the condescension, the raised eyebrows and the inevitable question 'Oh, but what do you <em>do</em> at home all day?'.<br /><br />And it's not only the women. It's the society on the whole. The husbands, the other men in the family, men who think women who work in the world outside know what they are talking about and the ones at home have it easy....The truth is, the world may love pulling down the 'working moms' (I hate all tags but this one definitely takes the cake!) but secretly many, many people envy them and are threatened by them and, most importantly, respect them. For the SAHM on the other hand, to be considered as a person with half a brain is entirely another challenge in itself. I work from home full-time and am seen around the house feeding the kids, playing with them and so on. And then someone comes along and says, 'hey cute kids...so you are a SAHM?'. And I say, 'well, I work from home and I work with #%$%^'. And I visibly see the new light entering their eyes. I have seen it happen so many times, when, in fact, it should'nt matter at all, should it?<br /><br />I wonder why women on both sides of the fence have it so tough. If this feels wrong and that feels wrong as well, what is right? I think there are no right answers and each one just follows his or her own compulsions, taking into consideration family, money and other factors. But I also wonder if all the judging and bitterness comes from people who are not entirely secure with the choices they have made themselves and just dont have the guts to admit it or do anything about it. The ones who are happy and confident about their place in the shade will surely understand other people's needs and compulsions and, if not supportive, will at least be peacably accepting about it.<br /><br />At the end of the day, it all boils down to this. Is there a single working woman who, deep down, has not ONCE felt, 'I wish I could have an easier life!' when she has to drag herself to work leaving behind a sick child, or miss a recital or play in school or has to steel herself against those soft eyes and small hands tugging at her hand and heart saying, 'mamma, dont go!'? Is there ONE exhausted SAHM who has never wistfully looked at her friends and colleagues from an earlier life whose lives suddenly look super glamorous now and thought for one fleeting second, 'what if?'? With so many unspoken desires and pressing needs, should'nt we be sympathetic with each other and go the extra mile to understand and support? Will it happen? What do you think?BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-8723385995775743032010-12-04T22:04:00.000-08:002010-12-04T23:09:56.552-08:00Where have I been?Well, I have been around....doing more of the same. Working a little, but mainly raising two kids, living each day as it comes, soaking up all the little moments...and some big ones too.<br /><br />The husband has finally finished his MBA program after two and a half long years. For the first time after two and a half years, I have him all to myself over the weekends. The feeling is yet to sink in and I am still exploring the myriad range of possibilities with this one ;)<br /><br />What started as a playful 'let's see if we can get in' kind of thing became much bigger than we could ever have imagined. Life has changed substantially from the June of 2008 when the husband first decided to get into the program. The loss of a parent, birth of a child, a job and house change. I doubt if anyone less level-headed than the husband could have handled it and made it look so easy. Still, I am glad it is over and hopefully, we can look forward to the next phase of our lives.<br /><br />I dont know what he learnt at IIM. But now, weekends are spent doing management-y and strategic things such as this.....<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/TPs6byanJmI/AAAAAAAAACQ/GkwGp7cIuiU/s1600/Photo0042.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/TPs6byanJmI/AAAAAAAAACQ/GkwGp7cIuiU/s320/Photo0042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547091615101167202" /></a>BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-70873488107495054982010-12-03T16:40:00.000-08:002010-12-03T16:48:10.852-08:00Yes I am still alive!!<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/TPmPvGdNqKI/AAAAAAAAACI/6-pZB_2njtw/s1600/37633_139620829391275_100000300767015_253215_5769339_n.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/TPmPvGdNqKI/AAAAAAAAACI/6-pZB_2njtw/s320/37633_139620829391275_100000300767015_253215_5769339_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5546622455433242786" /></a><br />I know, I know!! After the last break, I really do not deserve to be back at all...What can I say? We are all fine and everything is as good as can be. Attribute it to sheer madness of running a household with 2 kids, a hyper mother, an even more hyper grandmother and a poor sane voice of reason aka the husband struggling to be heard in all the shrillness.<br /><br />I intend to be impressively regular with my blogging from now on. And intend to put on more pictures - of the kids, of the house, stuff we see, things we do and so on....Promise!!<br /><br />As a little preview, here is a beautiful snap taken during lil princess's birthday last June...BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-19606325839978399462010-02-09T12:50:00.000-08:002010-02-09T13:30:24.701-08:00Night owls, anyone?Be very careful what you ask for, you might get it. How many times have you heard this? Countless...I know I have. And yet, I never learn. When I first heard about it, working from home seemed the coolest thing in the world. Imagine being able to have your kids around all the while working in the comfort of your own home. <br /><br />Imagine a world where you don't have to drop them off at daycare, crying and screaming, every morning. Imagine not having to trust your life in the hands of a maid while you drove off to work. Where you don't have to sit in your office at 5 in the evening, dying from the tension of whether your boss will let you leave on time today. Where your heart breaks at the thought of a small face looking out the jail-like windows at daycare as you get held up yet again because of some useless bug or issue. And yet, I went through all that trauma with kuttan. Left him with a maid. Left him at daycare. And in the process, I screwed up my career irrevocably too, taking breaks when things got too tough. Taking one too many breaks. <br /><br />When the princess was born, I was pretty sure I did not want to make the same mistakes I made with kuttan. This was my last chance to enjoy my children's growing up days and I was NOT going to relegate it to a maid or an impersonal daycare. I was all set to quit. And this time do it a little more gracefully.<br /><br />Then a well-meaning friend who I have known since high school got me into a project which allows me to work from home. Full time. I dont have to go to office. Ever. Imagine my joy. Paycheque coming into the bank every month while I stayed home with the kids and worked at the same time. It seemed like christmas, Diwali and every other festival had come together all at the same time. Aha, but there was a catch. The project required me to work nights. Till 3.30 AM to be precise.<br /><br />'No problem', I breezily told the husband when he looked doubtful. 'I can manage on very little sleep. This is what I have ALWAYS wanted', I fervently told him. And sure enough, it was dreamy in the beginning. I was new and there was very little work to do. Technically, I was online but went to sleep at a decent hour on most days and got a full night of uninterrupted sleep. 'See, this is easy peasey', I gleefully told the husband.<br /><br />And then the Gods laughed. And gave me work. While I would earlier login and be running all over the house in the evenings, I now had to sit and work. Or answer calls. Who would feed the princess? Who would help kuttan with his homework? Who would help amma with the dinner? The times when the husband's call timings clashed with mine were mayhem. And yet, somehow, the family managed. Pulled on. Kuttan was plonked in front of the TV. The princess was sent to amma's room to be looked after.<br /><br />And then the calls got longer. There were calls at 1 in the night. At 2. At 3. And work to do before that. So while the husband worked on his MBA stuff, I work on my office stuff in the evenings. Kuttan wanders in looking like a lost soul into my office room and asks for something and gets soundly thrashed by amma and appa for his efforts. 'Why cant you cooperate? Look at all the stuff we bought you. Play with it and learn to amuse yourself', we say. Yes, we really say that!! And he goes away looking scared and heartbroken. Cerelac gets poured into the princess' mouth in a hurry to get back to work. <br /><br />The worst part is the time spent with the husband. I sleep at 4 in the morning and the husband leaves for work before I wake up. And in the evenings, I am logged on to the system long before he returns. Weekends are stolen by his MBA. 'Hey, what about, you know, time in the sack?', a friend asked. I smiled sadly. Libidos are down. Needless to say, tempers flare up. Angry glances and mutters are exchanged. Communication is limited to bare-minimum functional stuff like, 'pay kuttan's fees' or 'buy Princess' formula'.<br /><br />Health is deteriorating. The body cycle is completely altered so that I am unable to sleep during day or night. 'Stress', screams the doctor for everything from irregular periods to bronchitis. 'Quit' begs the mind. The ego refuses to let go. It is the easy way out, coward, whispers a scary voice inside. <br /><br />I got what I wanted. Now, how do I get myself out of this? As I type this post at 3 AM, any Wise owlish souls out there, to help me decide what to do? Suggestions are most welcome and desperately needed!BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-70831264165628825622010-01-20T04:08:00.000-08:002010-01-20T09:25:51.780-08:00Bedtime talesFirst it was just the two of us. Snuggling deep into the quilt and in the middle of the bed with a looot of space left over on both sides of the bed. Then kuttan arrived. Happy baby that he was, kuttan peacably slept for about a year in his crib after which he would try to get out of his crib in the middle of the night. <br /><br />It became too risky to let him continue in his crib after that and the queen size bed became too small for the 3 of us. So we moved the mattress to the floor and the cot to the guest bedroom. Made a cozy little mattress in the corner for kuttan with quilts and assorted sheets and thus it continued till the sight of dirty unmade beds and sheets on the floor got to us and we bought a HUGE king sized bed. The three of us settled down comfortably and there was actually place to spare.<br /><br />Out came the princess. Considering she is only 7 months old she has a few more months of crib life left in her, if she were anything like her brother. But the little firebrand that she is, she refuses to sleep in the crib and has deigned to move in with bag and baggage into our cot. So now we sleep breadthwise on the cot instead of lengthwise. Kuttan on the far end, alongside the headboard, princess next to him, me squashed in between and the husband on the other end. <br /><br />Making sure kuttan does not crush her, while at the same time not crushing her myself has led to serious sleep deprivation. Four crammed bodies into a small space does not make for a restive sleep. The husband cribs and threatens to evict both the kids out of the room every night. <br /><br />And yet, it does have its moments. Turning around in the dead of the night to find a small warm bundle sighing against me. A normally physically VERY undemonstrative kuttan waking up in the middle of the night to cuddle princess and go right back to sleep. A rushed school morning when we are all trying to SHOUT kuttan awake and the little princess wakes up and climbs softly over him waking him up with a smile. Four of us cuddling together on weekends under a blanket. A bigger bed? A separate room for the kids? Nah...I think I will live like this a little longer....BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-79464468342470238302009-12-11T06:52:00.000-08:002009-12-11T07:02:22.219-08:00Insightful conversationsWith my delightful first born. Conversations which amaze me, make me laugh, make me think and errr...make me want to bang my head against a brick wall sometimes. <br /><br /><strong>Conversation 1</strong><br />Kuttan and I have stopped at a traffic light. Kuttan is chattering a mile a minute. A beggar woman comes to my side of the window, her palm containing a few coins, stretched beseechingly. I shake my head saying 'no'. Kuttan watches wide-eyed as she waits and walks away.<br /><br />Kuttan: Amma, amma, why did'nt you take the money she was giving you??<br />Me: ????????<br /><br />How many of us have ever thought of something like that? Out of the box, isnt it? ;)<br /><br /><strong>Conversation 2</strong><br /><br />I am deep asleep on a cold saturday morning with kuttan next to me. <br /><br />Kuttan: Amma, amma (pokes me awake)<br />Me(sleepily): Hmmmm?<br />Kuttan: (pointing to his book lying on the edge of the bed) Will that book make a noise if I push it off the bed?<br />Me: Yes<br />Kuttan: Will the princess wake up because of the noise?<br />Me: Yes<br />Kuttan: Will you be angry with me if she wakes up because of the noise?<br />Me: Yes<br /><br />A pause while I drift to a dreamless sleep.<br /><br />Kuttan: Amma, can I push it off anyways??<br />Me: (Gritting my teeth and calling myself ten kinds of a fool for ever having had a kid and then compounding it by having another one) NO<br />Kuttan: (in a small voice) Why?<br />Me: #@$#$%#$%$%$^@@@!!BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-44737195858860792752009-11-17T21:00:00.000-08:002009-11-30T10:47:18.597-08:00Out with the old.....In with the new seems to be the order of the day, does’nt it? For everyone except me that is. Me, I cling to the old- tried, tested and comfortable-even after it ceases to be comfortable. And weep tears of sorrow when it is taken away from me.
<br />
<br />Circa 2003. One year after our marriage and 6 months into my first job, I got very, very tired of going around Bangalore without a vehicle. Since amma and appa flatly refused to let me ride my two-wheeler in ‘crazy Bangalore traffic’, there really was only one option. ‘Let’s buy a car baby’, I told the husband. ‘We have no money’, the man said succinctly. ‘No problem, let’s not buy anything fancy…something really basic would do’. And it was as basic as it got.
<br />
<br />Our first car was a second hand 3 year old Maruti 800. Appa came from Coimbatore to work out a loan for us (yes, yes, that’s how much broke we were. We had to take a loan to buy a second-hand M800 which we repaid over the next 3 years!!). But we had our own, our very own car! No more filching daddy’s car. We could do what we pleased with it.
<br />
<br />I did not even have a driver’s license when I started driving her. She was small, easy to manage and I had no fears or qualms about driving her anywhere. There is’nt a single road, lane or by-lane to which I have not taken my beloved car. She would dutifully oblige, turning and twisting and maneuvering herself into narrow parking lots and wait patiently under sun and shine, hail and storm as I went around.
<br />
<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SwN_qATtKnI/AAAAAAAAABs/mb52a7CNKZo/s1600/M800.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SwN_qATtKnI/AAAAAAAAABs/mb52a7CNKZo/s320/M800.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405304337388612210" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />When we first bought our car, we lived in a house which did not even have a parking lot. Three houses, each consecutively bigger, and 5 years later, we still drove the same car. This was the car kuttan came home in. This was the car which had sticky candy, gift wrapper and water bottles strewn all over the back seat. Where the seats contained scruff marks of tiny booted feet. And none of it bothered us too much because it was old and comfortable and we did not fuss too much about keeping it in tip-top shape.
<br />
<br />Our friends had moved on to snazzier, bigger cars and we were the object of much leg-pulling and laughter on account of the car we drove. We took it all in our stride but I stood firm. ‘No new car. This is doing just fine.’ When the husband would talk about some new car taking the market by the storm, I would hear him vaguely, my mind elsewhere, not really believing I would ever drive anything else.
<br />
<br />Then, after 9 years of existence, 6 with us, the old girl started giving trouble. She would stop bang in the middle of the road. She would not start. The repair costs were mounting. And so, after a lot of thought, we gave away our first car and brought home a new car last month. I bade farewell sadly as they drove my beloved little car out the garage, knowing she gave me the kind of freedom and mobility that I would never experience again.
<br />
<br />Boys will be boys. And men will be boys too. The man and the boy in my life are totally taken with the sexy, bold woman in their lives. ‘Look at the alloy wheels. Look at the engine power and the pickup’, the man gushes. ‘Look at the windows rolling down on their own. Look at the beautiful seats, amma’, the boy squawks, clapping his hands with glee. I nod my head and smile sadly, all the while missing the comfort of my torn seats and the slow, steady sound she would make as she sleepily started.
<br />
<br />I refused to drive the new car for a month. Because I still missed my old car and because this one was too big, too new for my comfort. Finally, for practical reasons and urged and tormented endlessly by the husband, I drove her last week. Driving my old car felt like talking to my spinster aunt. She was slow, comforting, easily controlled. I could count on her never to want to run away from me. This new one was like a headstrong, sexy young girl. Sure of her powers and attraction and her place in my man’s heart. Taunting me, challenging me, chafing against the tight leash I put on her, wanting to release all the barely controlled energy and fly.
<br />
<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SwN_4WgGmnI/AAAAAAAAAB0/9swWQ4TFuAk/s1600/SX4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 113px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SwN_4WgGmnI/AAAAAAAAAB0/9swWQ4TFuAk/s320/SX4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405304583864359538" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br />I may become friends with my new car. She may gentle against my control with time and learn to take my instructions more obligingly. Maybe it’s just a matter of time…but till then, I don’t like her. I don’t like her at all.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-37101467123965315792009-11-09T10:57:00.000-08:002009-11-09T11:18:48.432-08:00Unrequited LoveAll of 4 years old, kuttan fell in love over the summer. 'She is so pretty amma', he said. 'I like her a LOOOT', he said, his eyes widening. He hid under my dupatta and blushed painfully when she smiled at him. 'Why don't you cut your hair like her amma?', he asked, looking down his nose at the few wisps of hair that still cling to my scalp after all the hair pulling. 'Why don't you wear sarees like her amma?'<br /><br />'She' is his class teacher. The love affair happened over the summer as he joined LKG and went to class, all apprehensive and nervous. June was a busy month for the Bangalore household with Kuttan's new school and little princess's arrival. I was worried about how kuttan would adjust to so many changes at once. As it turned out, I need'nt have. Ms.B smiled at him gently as I led him to class on the first day and kuttan took one look at her and I knew things would be ok, in school at least.<br /><br />He would come from school and sing Ms.B's praises. If I said anything contrary to her words, I would be summarily shot down. 'You dont know anything amma'. And when we went for the PTA I could see the feelings were entirely reciprocated. Kuttan seems to have shared all his feelings, his joy and sadness and fears with Ms.B. A cheerful, warm young woman who was sensitive to my baby boy's needs and knew just how to deal with all his childish fears and anxieties.<br /><br />Last week, kuttan came back from school and said 'Amma, I have 2 madams in class now.' The husband and I exchanged glances, fearing the worst. 'Maybe Ms.B is going to leave kanna', I suggested gently. 'No', came the explosive shout. I wisely kept quiet.<br /><br />Tonight the husband had a call from Ms.B who said she was leaving. She called because kuttan was so attached to her and she was worried about him, about how he would adapt. Could you please explain to him, she asked. What do I say, I thought to myself all the while thinking how graceful it was of her to call in the first place.<br /><br />Husband and I called kuttan and told him Ms.B was going away. When is she coming back, he asked innocently. She isnt baby, I told him. And watched realization slowly dawn. And tears fill those big, soft eyes of his. Call her amma, I will tell her not to leave, he begged. A long talk followed. About how people sometimes have to go away and new people come and we learn to love them as much. About the need to adjust to changes even though it may be difficult at times. At the end of it we ask, 'So are we ok honey? What are you going to tell Ms.B tomorrow?'<br /><br />Pat comes the reply, 'I am going to say I love you and don't cry too much when you leave me and go, ok?' Someday, my darling, you are going to find someone who cant resist that charm of yours and who will decide to stay back with you. Forever. Till that day, well, you have your mom and dad.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-34409960490678110722009-09-10T09:30:00.000-07:002009-09-10T10:49:05.390-07:00Three months with the princess<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/Sqk4Uh2VB5I/AAAAAAAAABU/LYIWbY1x80w/s1600-h/100_0743.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/Sqk4Uh2VB5I/AAAAAAAAABU/LYIWbY1x80w/s320/100_0743.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379893155205547922" /></a><br />Dear princess,<br /><br />It has been 3 months since you arrived. I cannot help thinking about how different your arrival and impact has been on us compared to your brother's. <br /><br />Kuttan walked into our hearts right royally the minute we came to know I was expecting. As the first baby in the family after a long time, his place as the unchallenged darling of the household was virtually guaranteed. We were young first-time parents rushing to the paed if he so much as sneezed. <br /><br />You, on the other hand came at a time when we are still coping with a major loss. But for all that,you have made a place for yourself in our home and our hearts. This is the way you have affected each one of our lives:<br /><br />The husband: I have to admit, this came as a surprise. First, this was a man who swore he would never have a second baby. A man's man. A guy who gets a LOT of pleasure kicking a ball around with his son. When we found out we were expecting, and I was going ballistic wanting a girl,I know he secretly hoped for a boy. Just so that I am hopelessly outnumbered at home. And so that they can all shake their head sadly when they think I am being crazy.<br /><br />And then you arrived. And your father turned into mush. And you wound him around your little finger, just like that! While kuttan was clearly a papa's boy from day one, you seem to show some allegiance to me, which I must admit, is gratifying. I see this man turn green with jealousy when you bestow one of your gummy smiles on me and do his damnedest to lure a smile out of you. I see the tenderness in his eyes when he rocks you to sleep and I thank God for giving me the wisdom to marry the man. <br /><br />Kuttan: This is a slightly more complicated relationship, for obvious reasons. He desperately wanted you out of my tummy when you were in it, and now that you are out, he wants you to go back inside! But for all that, he has been an amazing bg brother and you, young lady, are very lucky to have him. <br /><br />He is the one who comes tearing across the house when you cry. He is the one who commands, 'Check her nappy' or 'Feed her, she's hungry' if you cry for more than a few minutes. He endlessly sngs to you and you are a rapt audience which does wonders for his ego. He is also the one who pulls your feet a little too hard or kisses you on the mouth till you are choking but you seem to take it all in your stride and reserve all your best smiles for him. <br /><br />Me: For me this is my chance to right all the mistakes I made with kuttan, to relax a little bit, to just let you be while I watch you grow. Except for the first hellish month when you just WOULD'NT sleep through the night when I thought you would drive me out of my mind and I even suggested hiding you under the stairs at night so that I could get some sleep, you have been a remarkably unobtrusive baby and I thank you for that. I don't think we could have handled a new school, a new house, a new project and an overly demanding MBA otherwise. As I watch you budding into a little person with your own personality, I am looking forward to all the many milestones that are going to come.<br /><br />Have a wonderful first year princess. I am looking forward to the months ahead.<br /><br />Love<br />Mom<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/Sqk7kLm_XoI/AAAAAAAAABc/Gan-VKcmLAw/s1600-h/kala-tika.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 119px; height: 70px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/Sqk7kLm_XoI/AAAAAAAAABc/Gan-VKcmLAw/s320/kala-tika.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379896722648424066" /></a>BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-54866024166624116122009-08-27T06:39:00.000-07:002009-08-27T07:16:08.772-07:00Home is where the heart is..Back after a long hiatus. There is always something very special about one's hometown is'nt it? A place which holds very special memories for you, a place where you leave behind some very special people. A place where more the things change, the more they remain the same. <br /><br />My earliest memories are of standing on the foot board of my father's trusted green Chetak scooter and driving along D.B.Road to go to my grandmother's house. A rambling old compound which had two big houses, a well an unused shed which held many 'treasures' for us and lots of space all around. Hall was referred to as 'koodam' and the dining place was referred to as 'chinna koodam'. <br /><br />The house itself was filled with people. People from all generations and from all different branches of the family. People with many different quirks and foibles with my grandmother indulging them all and holding the fort. A house which was home to any distant relative who happened to be passing through. A house that saw a lot of marriages, births and deaths. A house that held us all together even though we lived separately. <br /><br />Later, as I grew older and appa got transferred all over the country, Coimbatore was still home. The epicenter. The place we rushed back to during every vacation. A town which grew into a big city but retained all its familiarity for my father. And the old house was still overflowing with people. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grand aunts and grand uncles, random relatives.<br /><br />Appa was passionately in love with Cbe and remained that way right till the end. When appa took the first opportunity to come back to Cbe, both parents were relieved and happy. I was a pre-teen and started building my own bonds with the city. My parents settled and put down roots. Built a house. Made friends within the community. And by this time, the family exodus had begun and people had started moving out one by one till, at last, appa remained the last link to Cbe for the entire family.<br /><br />I went back to Coimbatore after a long time this week. I expected to feel pain and a sense of emptiness. A feeling of not belonging anymore. A feeling of having moved on. I did feel pain. From the moment I stepped off the train, there were overwhelmingly painful memories of appa all around. But there was also the feeling of warmth. Of having stepped into a comfortable, cozy spot after a long, tiring journey. Of finally having come home. <br /><br />Coimbatore, I guess, will always be home. A place where people refer to my 2 month old infant daughter respectfully as 'vaanga' because it is the norm of the land. A place where the water is so sweet, people fill bottles of it to take home when they leave. A place where my son gets to carry and play with goats and puppies on the road. Where if I just come out in the morning, people will make it a point to stop by and say a kind word or two. A place filled with memories. My old school. My old college. The place where I met my husband. A beautiful place still left with good, innocent folk. <br /><br />The heart yearns to leave behind this big city madness and go back into the warm, familiar lap of my city. My city. But will I ever dare to make the decision to opt out of the rat race? Even if I dont, and I grow old in this place, in my heart, I guess Coimbatore will always remain home.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-11086993640135975092009-06-16T00:56:00.000-07:002009-06-16T00:59:13.952-07:00It's a Girl!!!!!Little Princess arrived on the 11th of June<br /><br />Mom and baby are doing fine. <br /><br />Kuttan is thrilled<br /><br />Bangalore-dadBangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-43274009750748772542009-05-03T21:48:00.000-07:002009-05-03T21:59:50.558-07:00Mastering the AlphabetIt has now been almost a year since kuttan started attempting to master the alphabet. The capitals and the small letters and the cursive. I have not been taking it too seriously and have generally gone with the flow, just letting him learn as much as he does from school while occasionally asking him to read out from newspapers and billboards trying to understand how much he knew. Well the other day, as I went to pick him up from school, he bounded alongside me and burst out with great enthusiasm, 'Amma, E(who is his most bosom pal on earth) and I went to do susu together and were standing in the opposite ends and you know what?? We made an 'X' with our susu'!!!! Ewwww!!! The husband is still grinning looking mightily amused by this shockingly male bathroom behavior. I, on the other hand am going around still ewwwing about it. The fact that he CAN recognise 'X' in any form is scant comfort right now....God have mercy and give me a delicate daughter the next time around! On an aside, I have always wondered how men get to pee standing right next to each other without a trace of shame.....I mean, imagine casually talking shop with your boss over a urinal!! Ewwwwwwww!!!!!!BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-32809776554802635042009-04-05T21:11:00.000-07:002009-04-05T21:33:23.297-07:00The grass on the other sideSo I have been temporarily out of work for the last 6 months. A state of affairs which is likely to continue for another 6 months at the very least. Strangely, with each passing day, as this pregnancy stretches on interminably, tempers get shorter and the mercury inches upward and I find myself missing aspects about my working life more and more. Stuff which I miss the most:<br /><br />1. I miss getting up each day with a sense of purpose and urgency- of things that need to be planned, stuff that needs to be finished.<br />2. I miss the delicious 5 minutes of sleep I used to get after hitting the snooze button on my alarm one more time. Now, with no office to get ready to go, and amma to fill in for me to do the cooking, there is simply no motivation to get up in the morning...and hence no value for those last delicious 5 minutes of snuggling.<br />3. I miss this the most....getting dolled up to go to work. I never took my work for granted. Ever. Every single day that I could go to work was a blessing. And I made the most of it. I took my time out deciding which dress I would wear. Neatly ironed cotton salwar one day, trousers the next, crisp cotton sarees on thursdays, jeans on fridays and so on. I would have a competition with myself to see how long I can go without repeating the same outfit.<br />4. I miss listening to FM as I drove to work. Those few minutes of solitude where I felt comfortably alone, and yet a significant part of the rest of the world of people who were going somewhere and had important things to do.<br />5. I miss being the first one in my team to go to work and that tense anticipation as I checked my email, waiting for some bugs, some new issue to work, some weird problem that has cropped up overnight.<br />6. I miss the sigh of relief that came with knowing that everything is right in the world of code that I had written and the leisurely morning cuppa that came after an initial round of mail checking.<br />7. I miss being a part of the adult world and adult talk shop. The stale jokes, the office politics.<br />8. I miss feeling hungry by 12.30 and eagerly anticipating my dabba lunch.<br />9. I miss the rush of adrenaline as I rush to kuttan's daycare early in the evening and the look on his face as I pick him up and we snuggle.<br />10. I miss being able to talk shop with the husband. Nowadays, it sometimes feels like we are part of two different worlds, with nothing in common.<br />11. I miss the feeling of power and joy I used to get as I received that sms at the end of every month stating my salary has been credited into my account. There, briefly, it all seemed worth the trouble.<br /><br />I think the heat and the pregnancy and the lack of purpose are making me a very crabby person. Does anyone know how to beat the summer blues?BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-19765225457278178442009-03-22T21:17:00.000-07:002009-03-22T21:44:36.633-07:00I am back!!Not to sound like Shwarzenegger in Terminator but - I am back!! I could say I have been terribly busy with career and home,have been travelling around the world, have been sweating it out besides the husband in his quest for knowledge a.k.a his ill-timed MBA but none of it would be true. <br /><br />The truth was I was <br />a. too much of a lazy ass to actually sit down and type.<br />b. I was licking my wounds in private and was too chicken to reach out to anyone.<br />c. I can't be too sure but I think it also has a little to do with the condition I am in.<br /><br />Life is funny. Yes, yes I know you have all heard it from me before but I cannot say it enough. A year back my biggest dilemma and bone of contention was whether or not to have another baby and the fact that we couldn't watch Friday night movies anymore because of the husband's MBA. Then 6 months back my world came crashing around my ears quite literally as appa passed away. When they took him away, I sat down and begged him for a sign, any sign, that things are going to be ok. My mind refused to comprehend that the man who had just a few hours ago been gently teasing me and laughing with me was gone forever. That I would have to do without him for all eternity. That he could slip away in front of my eyes and I could do nothing. I begged appa to show me a sign that he is still around somewhere, watching over us. That there is hope that there will be a hint of normalcy in my life again. <br /><br />Everyday I would get up and look around the house, go through his stuff looking for anything that could be construed as a sign that he was trying to tell me something. None were forthcoming. We moved back to Bangalore with amma and things went from bad to worse as she fell into great depths of depression and had to be hospitalised, not once but twice. I was in serious danger of losing both my parents. I was at the edge of the abyss and knew it will only be a matter of time before I went over.<br /><br />And then our miracle happened and I found out I was pregnant again. And just like that, I got the sign I was looking for. The baby is due in June and I am thrilled. I cannot help comparing the two pregnancies. When I found out I was pregnant with kuttan, I was probably the most fussed over mom in this side of the continent. Amma and appa immediately travelled to Bangalore loaded with goodies. I went off to Cbe during the 7th month of my pregnancy and spent the rest of the time goofing around. Things are quieter this time. More subdued and sober. I am busier and have more responsibilities weighing on my mind.<br /><br />But, for all that, this baby is no less a miracle than the last one. While kuttan's pregnancy was all saccharine sweet, this has a bittersweet feel to it. This baby has come to tell us that life goes on and as old members leave, new members join the fold. A vaccum is created but a new space in your heart is lit up with love...and hope. My father's sisters were sure it was my father coming back. 'I told you', said my aunt. 'He can't go anywhere that fast...he couldn't leave us like that'. It gives them great comfort to believe that and I get some happiness from that. But for myself, I see appa sitting somewhere up there, looking down at us, and pulling all the strings, just to give me a sign that things are going to be ok.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-67503759719093657742009-01-11T21:37:00.000-08:002009-01-12T20:09:26.217-08:00Rest in peace, DaddyDear daddy<br /><br />I have been trying to come up with a clever, light and witty post to kick start the new year. Something that will bring a smile on one's face for a few minutes. But everytime I sat down to write it, I had a vague feeling of being dishonest with myself. All I really want to do is talk about you, appa. I am finally ready to do it. And I will not be able to do anything else till I get it off my chest. All of my memories - the good, bad and ugly ones. The good ones that I try to cling to, in fear that I may forget, which would mean I have nothing left of you. The bad and terrible ones which continue to haunt my dreams in the night, making me wake up in tears even now - 4 months after you are gone.<br /><br />If I had to find one word to describe you, it probably would be - optimism. Boundless, endless optimism which helped you claw your way back out of so many tough situations. Foolish optimism which made you believe you were invincible despite all those deadly cigarettes you smoked. I dont know what you were thinking, poppech. <br /><br />My earliest memories are of sleepy mornings when I would wake up from bed and find you sitting on the kitchen floor reading your Hindu and drinking that all important brew- coffee. How many cups of coffee did you drink in a day, poppech? 10? 12? All the fights between you and amma when she would get all dolled up to go somewhere and you would say, .<em>'oru vaai kaapi thayen'</em>. And she would need to go to the kitchen again and she hated it. <br /><br />I remember how much your amazing sense of humour and your utter irreverence against everyone and everything. About how everyone from the postman to rangi to the poor, hapless vadhyar had to succumb to your razor sharp wit. About how your sisters and mother pretended to hate the way you teased people but always ended up bursting out laughing. The utterly tasteless bathroom jokes you shared with your nephew which used to make the rest of us want to puke, but used to give the two of you such great mirth.<br /><br />I remember how big your dreams for me were. And yet, how gracefully you let me be the person I wanted to be. I wonder at your big-heartedness which allowed you to never, ever superimpose your expectations over me. <br /><br />You were, and still are, the best husband I have ever seen. Unfailingly devoted. Extremely supportive. Sensitive to amma's smallest needs. Proud of her tiniest accomplishment. Indulgent. Generous to her family. A great giver. When we first found out amma was diabetic, you were so devastated. And when amma lost her mother, you thought she would never, ever get over the grief and worried endlessly over her. And, how disturbed you were about her health in the last few years and, now that I come to think of it, it used to be our sole topic of conversation the last few years.<br /><br />You shared a great rapport with the husband, daddy. It was a bond that went beyond the usual FIL and Son-in-law bond and something that I was so proud of. You welcomed him with grace and generosity into our tight-knit family which made the transition seem so effortless. You treated him like a long lost son sometimes and a buddy some other times. You loved it that you had one more male who can rib the ladies of the house with you and treated him to all insider information of our famous shopping gaffes and family jokes and soon it felt like he had grown up right alongside me. Now when I talk about athai patti or Achuppa who passed away many, many years before he even entered the picture, he still gets it. And that's because of you. You used to give him endless advice on the stock market. You were, in many ways, our financial mentor and I used to be so proud that the husband used to consult you before making any major decisions - not as a father-in-law but as a man whose financial judgement he respected. You took us by our fingers and taught us to walk the path, gently and one step at a time. You used to pack our stuff for us, filling countless jars with pickles and sweets and murukku and chips everytime we came to Cbe as though we were two underfed children incapable of feeding ourselves. And you used to fill covers with amma's various podis and label them carefully as 'Rasa podi' and 'Sambhar podi' because you knew I did not know the difference between the two. <br /><br />You were the most indulgent grandfather a child could ever have known or hoped for. Indulgent to a fault. You spoilt kuttan till it drove me nuts. You used to make your most important clients listen to his endless gibberish on the phone without a trace of embarrassment. 'If they don't like it, I dont do business with them', you told me when I tried to take him away. You allowed him to write with his crayons on freshly painted walls and even amma, who is no less an indulgent grandparent than you, was forced to put her foot down. I remember your excitement at the idea of picking us up from the station everytime we would make the trip from Bangalore to Cbe. Of how you used to wait at the station from 6 am for a train that did not come before 7. Of how you used to fight with mummy to be the first one to lift kuttan out of my arms. Of how you used to drive home all the while glancing at kuttan, till the husband would laughingly tell you to pull over and offer to drive himself.<br /><br />I never, ever imagined what a life without you will be like. It all happened so suddenly and took us all by storm that I barely had time to breathe. People tell me you had the best possible death. That you were hospitalised for those 2 weeks only so that we could spend time with you and then you came home and were able to die peacefully with your family around you. Maybe its true. But all I can think of is those last few minutes and the look in your eyes as they quietly closed. One minute you were lying there, laughing, joking, still weak from the hospital but incredibly strong willed, and the next minute you were gone. Just like that. And I dont think it is a coinidence that your last words to me were, 'I'm very comfortable'. <br /><br />The memories continue to haunt me. And I am left with the need to be strong, both for kuttan and amma's sake. Life continues relentlessly, stopping for no one. I, in the meantime, am reduced to tears at the merest hint of a memory. Life has become an endless conversation of, 'appa would have said this' or 'appa would have done that'.<br /><br />My biggest challenge would be to keep your memories alive for my son. To make him know that he was the recipient of a love greater than anything else, from a man who was willing to give him the world on a platter. I have big shoes to fill. But the responsibility of being your daughter is one that I do not take lightly. <br /><br />Rest in peace, daddy. You were the greatest husband, father and the most magnificient grandfather I have seen. And you did a fine job of living and loving. I am honoured to be your daughter. Love you.<br /><br />Yours forever,<br />Your daughterBangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-54977544494188979312009-01-07T04:40:00.000-08:002009-01-07T04:50:32.880-08:00My first award....comes at a time when my blogging frequency has been at an all-time low. Thanks <a href="http://wondernoon.blogspot.com">Noonie</a> for this award. Good to know that something I started on a lark has reached out and brought me a bunch of friends from around the globe.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SWSjxV1AzNI/AAAAAAAAABM/8DaAHPYhGHQ/s1600-h/Award.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 190px; height: 153px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_B1fv5j78XFU/SWSjxV1AzNI/AAAAAAAAABM/8DaAHPYhGHQ/s320/Award.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5288531930508217554" /></a><br /><br /><i>These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to more bloggers who must choose more and include this text into the body of their award.</i><br /><br />There are so many people in the blogosphere whom I want to pass on this award to. But here are some of my favorites.<br /><br /><a href="http://jottingsmine.blogspot.com">JLT</a><br /><a href="http://amateurabe.blogspot.com">Abha and her amazing CubbyR</a><br /><a href="http://babiesanon.wordpress.com">Poppins</a><br /><br />Just a few names that came to my head first. There are loads and loads of bloggers I love to read and get that warm, fuzzy feeling like we have been friends forever whenever I read them.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-19340660098371866502008-12-03T03:47:00.000-08:002008-12-03T04:03:23.519-08:00Tales of puppy loveLet it be recorded here for posterity that kuttan has had his first taste of puppy love. Meaning to say that he has just found an ardent, faithful and extremely beautiful admirer in the opposite sex from his own class - let's call her S.<br /><br />The conversation between us went like this...<br /><br />Me: So what did you do in school today baby?<br />K: I played with S...<br />(Pauses)<br />Amma, <em>andha S enna chumma chumma kiss panra..</em> (S keeps kissing me)<br /><br />The husband, deeply engrossed in the 'Classified' section of 'The Hindu' (we really, really believe in getting our money's worth) removes his nose out of the paper for the first time with a glimmer of interest in his eyes. <br /><br />Me: Really? Why?<br />K: I don't know.<br /><br />And the conversation is forgotten soon afterwards.<br /><br />I went to pick him up from school in the afternoon and sure enough, as we get ready to leave, I see S hovering adoringly around him while my stupid, tasteless son is busy monkeying around with another boy. And then as we are just leaving, she helps him put on his shoes!! ( Whoa girl! Lesson one: Never, ever wear your heart on your sleeve.) Kuttan looks at me with the long suffering look of someone who's enduring something with great difficulty while I take in the sheer cuteness of the scene. And then she says bye with a nice, sweet kiss. My heart just melted and was in danger of puddling around my feet and what does my son do? Grimaces and wipes his face and nonchalantly walks off with me!!<br /><br />The boy shows every sign of following in his father's footsteps...ah, well, another long story and one that I will probably never tell..:DBangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-46564015452261857942008-11-30T21:05:00.000-08:002008-11-30T21:12:58.708-08:00Why I was away...Its ironic that I wrote about how unpredictable life can be only a few posts ago....It seems like a million light years ago since that time, a different era and it feels like I was a different person then. <br /><br />I lost my father to a massive heart attack nearly 3 months back, 5th of September to be precise. Its been almost 3 months since life changes irrevocably, never to be the same again. I have stayed away from blogging because, somehow, even now it seems like putting it in words will make it too real, too permanent. The wound is still too raw and the pain is still too fresh for me to write anything coherent about daddy just now.<br /><br />I will probably write about it sometime. But for now, I will continue to write posts about regular normal stuff...and go on pretending that all I need to do is press the beloved Coimbatore number to hear that beautiful voice pick up the phone and say, 'Enna kanne?'. I need to continue fooling myself. Just for a little while longer.BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6863096197930935827.post-47665091194912684982008-07-31T01:43:00.000-07:002008-07-31T01:59:57.306-07:00A few tips for men.......on how to treat their wives after a visit to the parlour.<br /><br />* After your wife comes back from half a day spent in the beauty parlor while you pulled your hair out in desperation at being left alone with the progeny, she is watching you for your reaction every step of the way from the minute she gets down from the auto. <br /><br />* At all points in time, keep looking at her face adoringly and with wonder as though all your adult male fantasies have come true in her. Do NOT try to do something as unimportant as taking your son to the bathroom as he hops urgently from one foot to the other. This move of yours may be misconstrued as lack of interest on her part.<br /><br />* In the interest of your peace and happiness ever after, please PAY ATTENTION as she discusses what she is going to be doing at the parlor BEFORE she leaves home. There will be questions when she gets back and I know that its not in your genes to be able to tell when she got a manicure with colorless nail varnish and if you had just paid attention to what she said, you may be able to suitably admire and ooh and aah over her nails.<br /><br />* Do not even blink or miss a beat when she asks you how her hair color looks. Whether it is a garish baby pink or the exact same shade as she always had, always, always say with great enthusiasm, 'Awesome baby!! I love it..'<br /><br />* If you do not like her haircut and both of you have an open and honest relationship where you discuss everything, well, this just aint one of them...You just have to zip up till the hair grows back...<br /><br />* She has spent the best part of the day wincing as her body hair got pulled off her legs and arms and eyebrows and upper lip....believe me when I tell you, its bloody painful. Do NOT tell her how boring shaving is and how lucky women are to be able to wax body hair off...You just may find your legs getting waxed as you sleep one of these days.<br /><br />* Do not ask blanch, or show any negative emotion at the amount of money she spent at the parlour, if, for some perverse reason, you need to ask at all. <br /><br />* And last, but not the least, do not commit the <strong>cardinal sin</strong>. As she looks at you expectantly after getting her uber-cool haircut which her stylist assures her will make her look like a bomb, if you do not want grievious bodily injury and loss to preoperty, do not innocently ask her, 'What, no haircut????'BangaloreMomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13563621780931589842noreply@blogger.com15