The Fairy GodMother

Dear Shobby,

By the time you are old enough to read this, you may not even have an iota of recollection about it. But the moment was too beautiful to ignore. I just had to write it down. I want you to read this and realize, that there is one person on this planet who is so tuned in to you, that your discomfort becomes her’s. Your pain becomes her’s. If you stop smiling, so does she.

No, its not me . Even though I do confess to being all the above, I know that another person beats me to it hollow. Your sister, your twin. Lui.

For the past few months, all I’ve seen you two do, is to bicker and fight. You yell at each other, steal each other’s candies, come running to us, tattling about the other and in short, doing your best to convince us to get rid of the other. We parents are having a hard time just maintaining peace around the house

Anyhow, on Sunday 27th Jan 2013, Lui woke up with a bad fever. We had to attend a wedding and your poor sister came along and didn’t create as much of a fuss as expected. We returned in the evening and both of you, for once, allowed me to get some shut-eye without screaming. You were a bundle of energy throughout the day, bouncing all over the wedding hall, getting in people’s way and just having a ball . Towards evening, I hoped you would tire and relax for a bit.

Fat chance!

You were in no mood to oblige and kept bouncing all over the house. In between, you came hopping to me on one leg, claiming you wanted to go to the loo. As is the case these days, I switched on the light of the loo and turned my back. You, my little skipper, hopped into the loo, on one leg. Now I needn’t say what happens when a bubbly little kid does a one-leg hop on the wet tiles of a loo. Within a fraction of a second, you had bumped both shins against the hard ledge of the step-up loo. You let out a yell that was so full of pain that I dropped the washed clothes I was hanging up to dry and rushed to you.

You were hurt, very badly….there were nasty bumps on both your shins. You cried fat tears and I did all I could to calm you down. After a brief check to see if any bones were broken (thankfully not), I applied iodex and wrapped your legs in crepe bandage. It was disheartening to see your earlier cheerful face reduced to a glum, morose one.

Lui took your fall really bad. She was upset and kept pestering me to press your legs (“Shooby ke paer dabao”). Even when you slept on the sofa, she rushed inside to get you a blanket which she tucked lovingly under your chin. When you complained that you couldn’t see the TV, she ran back inside and fetched you a pillow. As you lay there, wallowing in self-pity, she dragged me into the kitchen and forced me to prepare a glass of sherbet. When I handed her the glass, she took a spoon and then proceeded to feed you the sherbet spoon by spoon. Its a different matter that she spilled a lot and you got bored of it and finally, I had to take the glass away from her. I just want  you to know, that in those few moments, when she was mothering you, I had a lump the size of a fist lodged in my throat. I could have stretched my hand for my phone and clicked a few snaps, but the beauty of her actions left me immobile. I just wish and pray, that you are able to imagine and feel the love she showered on you that day. I want you to realize that even at the tender age of four years, your sister felt your pain and did everything she could, to relieve you. And all this while, she was running a high temperature herself!!Even if you cant remember, just close your eyes after reading this post.

You are lucky my boy….she is a gem of a sister. You can have your squabbles, but don’t forget to cherish her, pamper her, humour her. She has her tantrums but she also has the deep-seated love for you. She may yell at you, but she can’t bear us yelling at you. She may scream and accuse you of stealing all her candies, but she also wakes me up in the night to make sure that you haven’t kicked away your blanket. She’s a bundle of contradictions, but she’s also your best buddy and forever companion. Treasure her, make her feel as special as she makes you feel. Beat up the baddies for her as she beats them up for you. Fight for her, protect her, love her. Because she does all this and more for you.

Take care of her too, because she is not just your twin sister, she’s also your fairy Godmother.

Yours (and Lui’s too)

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For The Very First Time…..

….we made a trip with the kids to a …hold your breath…mall.

yup.

Thats right.

M-A-L-L.

We were skeptical and undecided, then finally, we gave in. It was just a matter of an hour or so. We thought about it and discussed at length. No, don’t get us wrong. The BF and I have a LOT of things to talk about, but taking the kids to a mall is a decision we’ve been putting off since the time they were born. Strolling through one is not really our idea of a good time, but the BF had visited one mall where he saw kids enjoying a few rides in the play area and immediately thought that our kids would love it too.

After a lot of pondering over, we decided to go just this one time, since we had an hour or so to kill before visiting a relative. Also, the twin’s birthday is around the corner and we became a little generous towards them

Anyhow, so it being a Sunday, we expected the place to be crowded. We took a quick stroll, looking for the play-area. Instead, we found an adorable toy-train which would take the kids around the floor. The per head cost of ticket was 100/- which gave me a cardiac. But since the train was super cute and the twins were super excited, I gave in.  Luckily, it wasn’t over-flowing, and we made our way around the floor. The BF didn’t join us, for obvious reasons .

Once the train ride was over (too quickly, if you ask me ), we went over to the play-area.  The rides which would cost 10/- anywhere else in the city, were billed at 40/- each. The worst part was that we just couldn’t pick any ride and be done with it! We had to purchase a card worth 220/- and then we could use any ride we wanted. This kind of flummoxed us and I was about to back out. My middle-class sensibilities reacted violently at this blatant loot. But the kids were already clambering into the toy helicopters and the BF just didn’t have the heart to ask them to come out. So we bought the cards and took the kids through the various rides.

The twins enjoyed all the rides, obviously

“Mumma, kitna mazza aa raha hai”, squealed Lui, as the toy boat swung up and down. Well, the happiness on the twin’s faces were worth every penny spent, I must say.

Once the rides were over, we went over to the food court. Now, this was a bad decision on all counts. For two adults and two toddlers, we shelled out nearly 1000/- . The fact that the food wasn’t worth the price grated on us. The only reason we ate there was because the kids were tired and hungry and it would have taken us time to go out somewhere else.

Anyhow, sharing a few pics from the evening . Getting Shobby to pose for a pic is the toughest task ever. Just when I’m ready to click, he turns his head right. Then left. And then, thankfully, he looks straight ahead. Luckily, no such problem with Lui .:-

Overall, it was a fun evening, but not something we would be doing again.

On their part, the kids totally erased the memory of the mall-trip the minute we reached home. They haven’t mentioned it or the rides since last week. It almost as if they never went there (we took them there last to last Sunday), which works just fine for us. Probably, the kids didn’t enjoy it as much to demand a second trip!

Hopefully, the next time they step into one, will be when they are much older and wiser

 

 





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Through Tears And Smiles

It is Dad’s fault.
He was the one who called me up early in the morning. On a Sunday!!
I spoke to him for a few minutes. It felt good. He sent me oodles of prayers and best wishes for the future. As I bid goodbye, I promised to call him up more often.
“So, how does it feel?”, the BF asked.
Thats when the dam burst.
I sobbed. I sobbed hard. The BF was shocked. He didn’t think I would take it this bad.
“Its okay sweetheart…you are just a year older”.
“Ish knwat that. I mish my pah-ents”, I muttered between sniffles.
“Lets ask them to come and settle in Pune”, he offered by way of help.
I would have thumped him with a pillow if I wasn’t already busy with drowning in my tears.
“Okay, why don’t you make a quick trip to B’lore next weekend”, he offered, in the way he knows which helps avoiding major conflicts.
“*sniff* *snort*”.
“Take the kids, spend some time with them”, he comforted.
“Cant. Much work. Tickets ‘spensive”.
“Well…you either gotta think about the money or about the family. Take your pick”.
Damn this guy!! He cant even let me wallow in pity on my own birthday!!

So friends, this is how I ushered in another year in my life. I was sad, upset and whiny. I wanted my Mumma and my Dad and I wanted to be the little girl I once was. For a few moments there, I was overwhelmed by it all, the kids, my job, the home, my responsibilities and my overall ineptitude. A part of me wanted to get out of it all. I don’t want to grow any older . Thirty Three done. Thirty Four Start. Whew!! Seems a count too many, doesn’t it.
But then, like Dad says, age is frame of mind (His frame is definitely the best teak out there, because he just seems to get better as the years pass by. Mine must be made of oak, rotting from the inside ).
Anyhow, the dark clouds didn’t linger too long over my head . By 9:30AM, I was happily making curries and whipping up cakes. Good cheer and sanity were restored. The kids were in a benevolent mood. There were no tantrums or howls of protest . They got to cut up cakes and blow out candles (in that order ). The BF and I managed to sneak in a couple of hours to go and watch a movie (Barfi. Good one). We bought some toys for the kids on our way back. Evening was spent with the family. We had a family dinner, followed by some more cake-cutting. The BF had to go out for some work and got delayed.He came back with another cake and a bunch of red roses *blush*
So we cut the last cake of the day at around 11 in the night. The kids were too full of sugar to feel sleepy and we had a nice story-telling session till late night.
As we finally said the prayers for the night, I thanked Allah for all the little bits of love and happiness that surrounds us.
And here’s hoping (and I really, really hope) that I mature up and have the courage to face whatever comes my way.
Brick or bouquets, I’m ready for both

Edited to Add : To everyone who called/messaged/emailed/walled/scrapped or did anything else to wish me, Thank You. You made it a great day for me





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A Letter For Me

Somewhere in early 2000, I wrote my last letter to Mom. Parents were in Kolkata at that time, me, Bro and Bags were in Pune. For the first time in my sheltered life, we were living away from parents, from the comforts of a bustling household, from the aroma of fresh, tasty food, from the ignorance of managing a house and the many, many little things one needs to do to keep the home running.
Living alone brought along its hardships, right from washing utensils to clothes, sweeping, mopping, cooking, the works. Bro used to work long hours, Bags was in a management course and had ungodly hours at college. I was the free one, giving up a post-graduate seat because I didn’t want to pay for it and preparing for the admissions for the next year.
Since I was home throughout the day, looking after the house became my responsibility. It wasn’t easy, far from it. I had trouble deciding what to cook for the three different meals. I had to keep an inventory of the groceries needed so that Bro could buy them in one go. Luckily, he loved shopping for vegetables too, so that saved me some trouble
My routine comprised of cleaning up the house, washing clothes (in the washing machine ), washing utensils (by hand), cooking, folding dry clothes, sorting vegetables, folding laundry , etc. In the evenings, we usually sat down to do our studies, me and Bags. We didn’t have a television, so we either used to watch a movie on the desktop (which had a 2 MB hard disk *gasp* ) or simply listen to the radio (Aakashwani, since Radio Mirchi wasn’t born yet).
We used to call up parents regularly (thankfully, we had a land-line) and it was comforting to share our domestic tales with Mom.
One day, after a fight with Bro over making tea, I got fed-up of managing the house and instead of calling Mom, sat down to write a letter. A couple of drafts later, I realized how utterly juvenile my rants were. There was no need to worry Mom over such a trivial matter. So I just wrote a nice little letter, letting her know that all was well on our side and that we missed her.
I dont remember the date on which I wrote it, but it was definitely my last. I never wrote a letter after that
Till this date, I wonder why! Mom LOVES letters. She loves reading them more than writing them. By the way, the second thing she excels at (the first being cooking) is writing. She writes in Urdu and believe me, if you could read her, you would relaize what a fine writer she would make (if only she agreed to publish her diaries )
Many a times, Mom would gently remind us to write letters. We would say, yeah sure and then completely forget about it. As long as we could call her up and update her on our status, all seemed to go perfectly fine with us.
I went on to get a job and Dad gifted me my first mobile (Nokia 3315. Remember anyone??). Distances grew shorter. I could call parents anytime I wanted . I would send Dad a hundred messages, mostly irrelevant and he would message me back to shut up . Life was fun. But not for Mom. Even till recently, when she was in Pune, she said, “I’m not tech-savvy like your Dad. I can’t read mails…so why don’t you just write me a letter?”.
As usual, I assured her that I will. And I didn’t .
So imagine my surprise when I see this envelope waiting for me when I reached home yesterday! The address was in Dad’s handwriting, but the minute I opened it, I knew it was from her. She is the only one I know who has the capability to really fill a letter, if you know what I mean . There were two foolscap pages covered back-to back in her neat, tiny handwriting. I don’t have words to describe how it felt to receive a letter. Bikram does a much better job here
Needless to say, the letter was brimming with love and oozing concern and best wishes. I couldn’t get enough of it. I read it with a grin on my face, imagining Mom’s brows furrowed with worry as she wrote about how she worries and prays for me .
I LOVED it. I LOVED it LOVED it LOVED it
And now comes the difficult part. I haven’t written a letter in ages. 12 and a half years, to be precise. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to fill a page . But you know what?? I sure am going to try. And there’s only one reason why. Because no matter how many times you call or send an email….nothing and I mean nothing can match up to the thrill of holding those papers close to you as you read them out, or as you clutch them to your chest and feel the love pouring right into you.
Letter writing!
Can’t be so tough, can it?
I’m surely gonna try it out today.
Will let you know tomorrow

And oh, in case you want to try it out, write a little note to your loved one today. And see the difference

Cheers





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“Ek Par Ek Free” — Again!!

I think I’m the epitome of embarrassment.
There is something about me which begs embarrassment to come and hug me. Not only that, I’ve given the dear Em a place of permanent residence on my countenance.
The BF, aware of my predilection, choses to ignore it …well most of the time.
Other times, he’s busy bearing the brunt of it.
Once such incident, which came to my mind this morning will clarify my point further.
The year was 2005. Just a few months before, I had confessed to my parents about my undying love for the BF.

Actually, I didn’t. I just told them that I was ‘interested’ in marrying this guy, IF they approved
Mom put the onus of decision on Dad.
Dad, being dad ( ) had to say NO! I mean, what kind of a father gives a “Ja, Jee le apni zindagi” kind of approval when the daughter, the apple of his eye, the youngest of his off springs, drops in at his workplace one evening and drops the bombshell?? Tell,tell??
Anyhow, so Dad gave an outright NO. I realized I had some major brainwashing to do and decided to move to Bangalore, just so you know, I could be by his side and pester him into acceptance . It took time and I started seeing the first few signs of him thawing. Never the one to let an opportunity pass by, I rang up the BF and informed him about the update. The BF, bless his torn jeans, wasn’t really over the moon, but yeah, he cheered up a wee bit. Barely

In between, BFS dropped in to B’lore for a visit and we had a great week together. During one of our shopping expeditions at Pantaloons, I found this really cool offer where they were giving away two T-shirts for the price of one.
Ek par ek free!! (If you know me even a wee bit by now, you’d know its my life’s mantra!) I simply HAD to buy them shirts. Purchase done, I asked the cashier to gift-wrap one. Handing it over to BFS I asked her to personally deliver it to the love of my life. She hugged me and promised that she would do exactly that . Not hug the BF silly, hand over the T-shirt!
A few months went by. Dad had to make a trip to Pune, some stuff to be brought down to Pune for Bag’s wedding I suppose. I called up the BF and asked him to contact Dad on his arrival and be as much help as possible.
“I’m working, you know”, the BF lovingly informed me.
“Err yeah. Dad will be there this weekend. Make sure you take out some time for him”.
“Hmmphhh…the stuff I have to do for you….”!!
“Hey, it’s not as if you are sacrificing you weekend cricket match or your sleep?! Actually, you are, but what the hell! You love me no??” I wheedled.
Convinced that he had no option but to butter up the future pa-in-law, the BF got up early, shaved ( *gasp* on a weekend!!), put on his new shirt(gifted by his beloved) and went to do the needful.
*Ding Dong*
Dad opens the door.
“Hi-”
“Hi-”
Silence.
Silence.
The BF says it was a good 5 minutes that the two men stood there looking at each other. I’m sure he exaggerates. So what if both of them were wearing identical T-shirts?!! In my lah-di-dah way, I had gifted the other T-shirt to Dad, never assuming that there would be a day when he and the BF would end up wearing it in each other’s presence
It’s a good thing that Dad didn’t hate the BF or anything…..else, the situation could have taken a much worse turn. BF says he was never more mortified in his entire life!! Both he and my Dad were tongue-tied, not sure what to say to the other, since both of them were wearing the same shirt gifted by the one who loved them both. Me
In a way, I think it worked out for the best, maybe they both saw that they had something in common after all

The rest of the morning was rather awkward. Dad needed the BF’s help in moving some luggage around. Some relatives who had come to visit Dad commented on how he and the BF were wearing the same shirts. Neither the BF nor Dad bothered to reply to those comments (Somehow, I’m tickled pick just thinking about that scene )

But yeah, one of life’s lessons I’ve learned is that never ever buy the same coloured T-shirt if buying two for the price of one!

(As for ek-par-ek-free offers, go for it dude !!)

Saves one a lot of embarrassment in the long run

 





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Of Livers, Needles and Dilemmas!!!

A Long time back, before I had the twins, there was a time I was shuttling between the doctor’s clinics and pathology labs. For some unknown reason, I had difficulty retaining my pregnancies. Miscarriage after miscarriage had made me immune to pain.
I was advised to get various different blood tests done. I’m surprised at myself now that I actually got blood tests done worth 6-7K!!
So frequent were my visits that all the people at the lab recognised me on sight. Sometimes I would have to give blood from both the arms. The prick of the needle didnt hurt me anymore. There would be other people, men and women, who would either turn away their face, or yelp/gasp with pain.
I sat there silently, like a third party observing the pricking and prodding of MomOfRS.
By the way, all the reports were negative.
I got pregnant naturally and had the twins. There’s a long story about the universe conspiring to give you what you want. I had blogged about it here.
Anyway, the pathology lab was like a second home to me. Even after I became pregnant, I used to visit it atleast twice a month for the sonography. I know, its not required that frequently, but neither my doctor nor we, were willing to take any chances this time. Though under house-arrest (by the BF) most of the time, the only trips I made out were either to the labs or to the doctor.
Once the kids were out, I never ventured that side again .
Until yesterday. When I had to take my itty-bitty little son to have blood tests done, ranging from malaria to TB to goodness knows what all the doctor had prescribed.
He was suitably excited to be at a new place, plush sofa sets and a laaaarge TV, a waiter serving him water and offering a candy. Obviously, he was thrilled. That is, till he was strapped up for a blood sample retrieval. Thats when he recollected that a couple of weeks back, he had a similar blood sample taken (at a different lab) and that the needle hurts.
My son burst out crying even before the needle was inserted and it took three people, me, holding him in my lap, one attendant to hold his hand still and the third to insert the needle. Shobby bawled his heart out. But even in his bawling, he couldn’t help throwing curses at the attendants. So funny were his words that they had difficulty in keeping their hands steady as they laughed.
“Arre, kitna khoon le rahe. Abhi bas na!!”
“Inn dono ko police ke paas bhejenge”
“Mere Abu ko bulao. Woh aapki piti-piti karenge”.
“Kitnaaa sataa rahe hai sab mujhe. Kitnaaaa?!!!”
“Aap dono ko jungle mein chhodoon kya??”
Even I was smiling, because my son was visibly furious at being pricked and was throwing all the expletives he knew !
But it hurt deep down.
Because I couldn’t prevent causing him pain in the first place.
Shobby has developed a swelling on his liver which may or may not be serious. His hemoglobin is low and his weight has been dropping steadily for the past one month. Thats why the multitude of blood-tests.

The doctor says that the swelling could also be because of the anti-biotics we’ve been giving him over the last one month. I believe that his core problem is low immunity, as he is easily prone to infections. The doctor also asked us if anyone in my family has a chronic problem of cold-cough. I shook my head in ‘No’, before I realized that there was indeed one person in my house who was mostly ill. The nanny.
The girl has a chronic problem and she’s been taking treatment for it too. But the fact remains that atleast 2 days in a week, she is definitely ill. If she takes a leave to visit her aunt, the next day she would be down with a terrible fever. If she goes out with her friends, she falls ill in the night. Its sad to say this, but the only time she is actually fit is when she comes for work regularly. She gets to eat home-made food and gets to sleep 3 hrs in the afternoon. Though I’ve asked her to take the kids to the park every evening, she takes them only once a week, because she’s not feeling well enough and cannot get up in the evening. There are times when the FIL/MIL come back in the evening and wake her up.
The doctor has advised me to replace her soon. My son has low immunity and until that improves , we need to keep him away from any source of infections.
The problem is, the nanny’s an orphan. We feel responsible for her and her health. But I also cannot compromise on my son’s health. That girl just cannot run around to different homes for work. What we pay her lets her live comfortably off without worries. If I get rid of her, I know for sure that her health will deteriorate. Even at 22, she doesn’t have the maturity to understand that unless she earns her living, she cannot go on. Unfortunately for her, her friends are all from a better background, ready to splurge at the movies or eating out. Since they have nothing better to do, they plan night-outs at her place, staying awake till early morning. She then wakes up at noon and then calls to inform that she isnt feeling well and cannot come. By then, either the MIL or I have taken a leave off work to stay back with the kids!! Every week, the friends expect her to join them for shopping expeditions. Mostly, she refuses, but then when she does relent, she ends up spending more than she earns .
We have spent thousands on her, though frankly, I’m now really doubtful as to what she has been doing with all the money . Removing her seems to be the only way to check if Shobby gets better. But I need to settle her someplace else. Unfortunately, she hasn’t got a very good work record for people to accept her immediately. Too many neighbours around who have visited our place, know of her sleeping habits
I’m really stuck in a hard place here. On one hand is my baby and on the other, a girl who lost her mother shortly after she started working for us. Not only me, but the others at home feel responsible for her too
Then there’s the option of day-care. I know hundreds of women put their kids in day-care and some of them are really good. Its just that my kids aren’t used to staying away from the house for more than 3-4 hours. They are used to the comforts of their home. Soemwhere deep inside, I’m feeling a tad upset that with no other option left, I’ll have to leave my kids in daycare
It doesn’t help my cause that the BF is strictly against day-care!
I’m sure there is a solution out there somewhere…its just that my mind is too jumbled with thoughts to come up with a workaround.
I’m not doing too good at work either, as I’m preoccupied with Shobby’s health issues all the time.

Hopefully, this too shall pass
I know its a phase. When bad times abound, the good times are just around the corner
So, keeping my fingers crossed for tomorrow (when I’ll get the reports).
Send your thoughts and prayer Shobby’s way. Please





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Twin Speak

Its been some time since I posted something on the twins. These past few months, since they completed 3 years of

age, the two of them have us either gaping in horror or gasping in delight at their talk. Though not all of it

makes sense, but when it does, it hits the roof. Literally!!
One of the key conversation points I insist on is respect, the usage of the words “aap” instead of the more common

“tu” or “tum”. From personal experience, I know that when we learn to address elders with respect, it becomes a

habit hard to get rid of. I talk to my friends in a downright impolite manner, but when it comes to elders, the

tone definitely changes.
My kids have not really cottoned on to the concept yet. Though they use “aap” at home and with each other (:roll:

), I usually find them slipping into using “tu” when annoyed or irritable.
Anyhow, since they’ve been talking nineteen to a dozen, its difficult for me to remember all those gems of one-

liners these two have been throwing around. But since memory hasn’t abandoned me yet, posting a few of those

precocious conversations here :-

Lui and Shobby are playing with their crayons.
Lui: SHHOOOOOBBBYYYY!!!
Shobs : Kya Lui??
Lui : Aap yeh green clayon lo.
Shobs : (looking puzzled) kyun?
Lui : Kyunki aap mujhe bahut achche lagte ho.
Shobs :
Me :
———————————————-

(I’m frolicking on the bed with the twins. Shobs clambers over my shoulder. I playfully turn him upside down).
Shobby : Bachaaaaaao. Bachaaaaaaaao. Arre koi to mujhe bachaaaaao.
Me : Huh ?? “Bachao” ?? Really Shobs?? Where did you pick that up??
Lui : Kal woh TV mein aunty chilla rahe the na?
Me :
And here I was, content that I was controlling how much TV these two watch!!
———————————————-

I come back home after a tiring day and the twins follow me to the bedroom. Lui holds on to her brother’s hand and

says,
Lui : Mummy, mujhe Shobby ke saath shaadi karna hai.
Me : …Er…umm….why baby??
Lui : (Cheerfully) Shobby Good boy hai…mujhe achcha lagta hai.
Me : Thats right…lekin woh aapka bhai hai. Bhai ke saath shaadi nahin karte!
Lui : (thinks it over and turns to Shobby) Shobby bhaiyya, aap Devashree didi (neighbor’s kid) ke saath shaadi

karo.
Shobs : (happily) Okay. Theek hai!
Me :
———————————————

Post dinner, I wrap up work in the kitchen. Shobby is calling out to me from his granny’s room. I decide to scare

him (I know, rotten mom I am!), so I stood still behind the kitchen door. Shobby started hunting for me, calling

out “Mumma…Mummaa…” in each room. Eventually he reached the kitchen, where I hopped out from behind the door

and yelled, “BOOO”.
Shobby stared at me. Hard.
Okay, so he didn’t get scared. One down on the mommy score
But what sucked the air right out of my burst bubble was this line …
Shobby : Mai kitni der se aapko ‘Mumma Mumma’ bula raha tha. Mujhe laga aap phir office chale gaye.
Me : …. … No baby….I … I…oh forget it, come here.
And I envelop him in the biggest hug ever……that is, till he squirms and runs away from his bat-shit crazy

mother!

——————————————–

One day, Lui wonders out aloud why she didn’t have a moochh (moustache).
Me : Only boys get a moochh dear (I didn’t want to scare the girl with images of hairy upper lips on women, so the

slight diversion from the truth ). See your dada, Abu, Chachu, they all have a moochh. When Shobby gets older

and bigger, he too will get a moochh.

Shobby : Haan mummy, jab mai aapke jaisa BIIIIG ho jaunga na, tab mujhe muchhi aayegi.
Me : Err…yes.
Shobby : (throwing his arms wide) Jab mai aapke jaise fat-fat, round-round ho jaunga na, tab mujhe muchhi ayegi.
Me : Okay, I got it. Now quit.
Shobby : Nahin mummy…jab mera tummy aapke jaise BIIIIG ho jayega na…tab mujhe muchhi ayegi.
Me : Arre Bas!! Enough of that.
Shobby : (grinning wildly with the naughtiest look in his eyes) Parr mummy, mera bhi jab big-big bum ho jayega

aapke jaisa, tab….
(here I had to clamp my hand over the brat’s mouth)
Clearly, the bugger has picked up his taunting skills from his pater

——————————————–

The BF was grappling with Shobby one morning. Shobby sqeals loud and yells, “Abu, aap mujhe bewajah mat pakdo”.
BF :

I was scolding Shobby for running his crayon on the sofa. Lui immediately comes to her brother’s rescue. With one had on her hip and the other waggling a finger at me, she yells,
“Khabardar kisi ne Shobby ko gussa kiya to. Mera bhai ha na woh!!”

Umm..so yeah. “Bewajah” and “Khabardar” are the words their mom uses often. Just didnt realize that the kids knew where to use it themselves !!

Note : The formatting on this page is totally wonky. Kindly excuse

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The Night Light

Imagine this , you are sleeping, or trying to sleep. Someone peels back your eye-lids and shines a torch on your face. How would you feel? Would your retina scream in pain as the light rays hit it bang-on?! Would you scramble and fight to shut your eyes? Would you drag a pillow over your face to block out the light?
Probably, yes.
I would do the same too. That is, if my eyes weren’t already closed

Problem is, I’m awfully sensitive to light. I cannot sleep unless it is pitch dark. And even then, I wake up if the neighbor in the next building switches on the light in the room facing my bedroom. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been using a cotton dupatta to wrap tightly around my eyes. I’ve never used night-lights and now, even the kids cant sleep unless its dark all around. This has been going around for as long as I can remember. So imagine my surprise when a couple of nights back, I switched off the lights in my bedroom.
“SWITCH IT ON”, boomed the BF.
“Huh?”!, I stuttered.
“SWITCH THE DAMN LIGHTS ON!!”, he yelled for added measure.
I flung myself at the switchboard and pressed the button. When I turned around, there sat the BF, cross-legged on the bed, punching his pillow for all he was worth.
“What happened?”, I quivered.
“I JUST CANT take this darkness anymore”, he said, shaking his head in his typical Taurean bullish way (warning signal, if you ask me). “I HATE the darkness. I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT”.
“Ummm….really??”, I blinked hard, trying my best to recollect if he’d ever shown his dislike for the darkness ever before.
“Yes!! And you never noticed”
*Gulp* . I’m surely guilty of that, me thought.
“Tomorrow I’ll buy a night light and for God’s sake, PLEASE DON’T SHUT IT OFF”.
“Sure…whatever your heart desires m’lord”, says I.
So the next day as I get the kids ready for bed, the BF asks me to switch on the night light. Mildly amused, I do his bidding. To stand back in shock as my room is flooded with an eerie orange-red glow in which my husband and kids look no better than ghouls.
“Err….couldn’t you get any other colour?” I croaked.
“Why? Whats wrong with this?”, he quipped.
“Nothing”, I was clearer now, “Its just that this room looks like the Chandini bar and you look like chandni”.
“WHA-?!”, yelled the BF before hurling a pillow at me.
Me, I took flight like a wise woman would.

But then coming back to the light – the twins hate it more than I do . They yell at the BF to turn it off, preferring the darkness over the red-ness . The BF is a stubborn bull and will not bow down so soon. I’ve asked him to change the colour of the bulb at least. A cool blue or light yellow would do just fine, thank you.
As for me, I’ll simply have to staple the eye-lids together each night. First I sacrifise the fan and now this!! . The woes of a married woman, I tell you, they never end





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Turbulence

I’ve been away for some time now. Not because I didn’t have the time, but more because even when I did, the fingers just wouldn’t cooperate enough to jot down what the mind rambles. The twin’s birthday went by, I couldn’t do a post. A lot is happening on the project release front, I couldn’t speak about it. The children are getting smarter and sneakier by the day, but I wouldn’t mention it. Every morning, I would open my blog and just stare at it, wondering what to write. I had loads of things to write about,  but the inclination just left me. It is not writer’s block, for I’m no writer and I’m NEVER short of stuff to write about.

The truth is that my heart just wasn’t in it.

Things have not been so rosy at home…..we are all getting through each day, the routine at once boring and yet comforting.
After the fiasco with the BIL’s prospective bride visit, things have been going downhill ever since. The BF fell ill seriously and then it was Lui. MIL and FIL had intermittent bouts of ill-health. The only bright spot was the twin’s birthday (which was a modest success) and GMIL’s extremely wonderful recovery. She has shunned the bedpan and made every visit to the bathroom herself.
But that was before she heard about he demise of her favourite nephew. The FIL’s elder cousin brother expired suddenly, leaving granny sobbing over her pillow all night….only to suffer a clot in the brain and a stroke the next day. All her positive recovery went down the drain when she ended up without the ability to speak or move, her right side getting partially paralyzed. Her tongue cannot move and she can make only make guttural sounds of pain.

The first few days were spent in iviting a plethora of doctors to visit her at home, reason being, her fractured left leg is still oozing fluids, and any mishandling in moving her could have had severe repercussions. It doesn’t help that she is herself in no state to tell us about her discomfort
We had to take turns initially, to stay by her side and tend to her. Thankfully, the nursing bureaus sent by Pallu helped and we now have a nurse to attend to granny during the day. The MIL tends to granny throughout the night and morning while I try to run the house (notice the emphasis on ‘try’). The men are cooperating for once (Alhamdulillah) and are not finicky about what comes on their plate in the name of meals . The twins are getting bossy and boisterous and bringing me within a hair’s width of thrashing them to tears. Thankfully, I’ve been able to control myself (and them) to a certain extent !
To top it all, I haven’t heard a thing about my project release, work-load at office is at its peak and a part of me wants to just dump everything and everyone and run off to Bangalore, where my parents are. BUT….rather than welcoming me with open arms, the parents are most likely to bundle me back to Pune with stern admonitions about shirking responsibility . So yeah, I dropped that line of thought ages back!
Anyhow, the reason I did this post was because a LOT of people got concerned and mailed/messaged/called me.
To all of you, I beg forgiveness, even as I marvel at the amount of concern shown by you all. In this vast world of web, I didn’t realize my absence would even be noticed, let alone, generate worry. I’m humbled. Thank you all for your kind wishes . Tai, Srihari, Mukund, Seema, AA_Mom, Pallu, G, Unmana, you’ve all made me feel loved and I feel myself filling up with crazy happiness . Thanks to you all once again

As for GMIL, I started her on a nerve-activation therapy by my family doctor. The FIL was initially skeptical, but 10 days down the line, granny can move her right wrist and shoulder once again. It is an improvement, however slight, and we all see hope. GMIL is a gutsy woman and I know she will cross this bridge too. Its her will-power alone that has brought her this far. The doctor has assured us complete recovery in a month’s time, without any kind of medication, and we believe him. He’s a good man and slowly but steadily, everyone at home looks forward to his visit in the evening. Things look stable for now, if not better.

Thats all from my side folks. I’ve been away for long and I have a LOT to catch up on. Give me this weekend…let me see what you all have been up to
Till then,
Ciao.





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Weekend Updates And The Like

Hello Hello Hello.

It’s a wonderful morning and I’m feeling chirpy today. But that’s just my mood. My hands and legs are a different story altogether. For the record, I have, hold your breath, commenced with my workouts from yesterday. Yes, folks, I’m now an official gym-go-er (I made that word up. You can tell ) . Equipped with some new tracks, a shirt borrowed from the BF (egads!! His T-shirt fit me!! *WAIL* ) and my forgotten Reeboks dug out from the dungeons they were resigned to, I headed to the gym last evening. Ten minutes on the treadmill later, I called myself fit enough to start the yoga class. Yes, I was fool, realized it 5 minutes into the session. But it was too late to back out. My pride was at stake! So doing the Surya Namaskar a thousand times later, as I collapsed on the floor, the instructor took pity on me and allowed me to bunk the Shirshasan (head-stand). I’m thoroughly grateful to her, right up to my creaking knuckles and buckling wrist! An hour later, when I finally crawled out of the gym and slithered to my bike, I realized with a jolt that I had to ride back home. Mustering up courage (with a few pleading prayers to the Almighty) I hopped on sped away. Once home, it took me a minute to put my bike on main-stand. Disconcerting it was. Also disconcerting was the look a neighbour’s kid gave me as  I wobbled my way up (see, even in pain, I refused to use the lift! When I get serious about working-out, I get VERY, VERY serious!  ). Once home, the twins, bless their little souls, were the epitome of love and concern and threw tantrums which lasted only till 12 in the night. We slept early yesterday .

Surprisingly, though I imagined myself to be all stiff and sore in the morning, I wasn’t. In fact, apart from slight stiffness in the back I’m feeling rather peppy. Must be all that blood rushing all over the body . Exercising’s good for the mood, I guess!

Anyhow, I had a great weekend this time too (thanks to the art of Zen and self-taught-lessons on Happiness Unlimited ). Though I didn’t get to go anywhere, it was fun to spend time with the twins. I’ll just quickly wrap up the weekend updates in this post.

1) We had submitted documents for the twin’s passport in the passport office around 3 months back. Two kids, twins, same date, same parents. Yet, for some unknown reason, Lui’s passport gets processed and delivered at our place and Shobby’s papers are still awaiting verification. The authorities are not convinced that he’s our son, then one day, they aren’t sure if I am the mother, another day, they doubt the BF’s credentials. This Saturday, I had to visit the clinic where the twins were born and get a letter from my doctor, on her letterhead, claiming that the twins were indeed my children! And my son was indeed my flesh and blood, irrespective of my maiden name. I’ve been trying real hard to hang on to my name, but the government officials in Maharashtra insist that  a married woman MUST have her husband’s name for identification proof. Apparently, they don’t trust their own marriage certificates! The BF’s been running from pillar to post, trying his best to sort out the issues and sometimes, he wonders aloud why I just don’t change my name to make matters easier! I refuse to. Because there is no government rule that I must. But the invisible rule of the land decrees that I should ! It is ridiculous, I know, we’ve been fighting it and don’t seem to be winning any time soon

2) Saturday evening was special, because a wonderful friend from my company (and a loyal blog reader, Sheets) dropped by for a visit. It was SO wonderful to have her with me….we started chatting and time just flew. I wish she could have stayed longer….there was still so much to say and share . Thanks Sheets . The pudding you made was yummy ( And please don’t mind the dismal state of my room. I was foolish enough to give Lui an old mehendi cone which she then proceeded to generously slather over the walls and the bed. )

She also brought gifts for the twins, a pack of various blocks which could be fashioned into toys. Needless to say, me and the BF were pretty occupied throughout the night . And oh, for starters, I made the simplest toy possible, a dining table and chairs. Lui was very excited to see the chair and playfully suggested that she wanted to sit on it. Shobs, on hearing this, came running across the room yelling, “Lui…..aap woh chair par nahin baitho. aapka bum bahut bada hai”. In splits we were !

3) Sunday was a breeze, house-hold work, cooking (where I made some amazing kofta-curry and surprised myself !) and relaxing . SIL visited us in the evening, but couldn’t stay long as her younger son was suffering from a sore throat and was getting irritable by the minute . I quickly rustled up some fish-curry for her to take back home. Later that night, at dinner, I found out that I’d missed out on the salt !

4) Monday was an official off but I had some pending work to wrap up, so I came in by 11 AM. There were other team mates who had turned up too, but they came early and left early. I was the last to come in and it was pain, I tell you. The office does not have air-conditioning on weekends. So suffering the heat, I did the best I could and wrapped up by 1 pm. Made a quick visit to Big Bazaar (yes, I still look out for that boy, who is yet again absconding), bought a pair of jeans for Shobs (who finally, finally outgrew his first pair *sending prayers of gratitude to the One above* ) , a top for Lui and a towel for the FIL. Also bought a couple of CDs of nursery rhymes which the kids L-O-V-E to watch on my laptop. They are even decent enough to click only on the left-click button to go next (as I’ve instructed them to ).

5) Visited Aapa. There is one benefit of having an elder sister in town. You get to eat a wholesome, hot meal prepared with love by someone other than you . I stuffed myself silly, and then proceeded to settle down for a siesta on the divan and asked her to wake me up by 5:30pm. She was kind enough to do just that along with a cup of hot tea and slices of cake.

Elder sisters, I tell you……they take care of everything

6) Went to the gym for my first session (as explained above).

In all, I had a great weekend. I’ve finally made some concrete moves in the weight-reduction department and am raring to go full steam ahead. My target is to shed at least 3-4kgs by 4th Dec.It is a small, very small target, I know….but then, these initial kilos are the only thing I’ll be able to lose. The weight-plateau after that will take much longer to crack.

Before I forget, we got the twin’s report on Friday. We looked on in shock, horror and disbelief.

Disciplined!

Well-mannered!!

Always Cheerful!

Listens to Instructions!!

We at home, are still in denial. Me and the BF refuse to belive that the report cards belong to the twins! For once, we find it difficult to relate to even a single characteristic observed in school! Obviously, the teachers out there haven’t encountered Lui’s brash refusal to any request and Shobby’s bossy “nahin karunga” attitude. They haven’t heard the twins yelling late into the night or throwing tantrums because, “ussne mujhe dekha”! I sincerely wish the school agrees to keep the kids there for more than the current 3 hrs. Or let the teachers come here and stay with us. Either we’ll see an improvement in the twin’s behavior, OR the teacher’s will see the true side of the kids.

Whichever way, truth shall prevail

 




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