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Archive for April, 2012

Terror.
A single word. A multitude of emotions.
Fear.Helplessness.Disbelief. Denial.
A feeling so overpowering, that at times, it robs one of their speech. You want to say something, but the words just don’t come out.
All you can feel is that numb shivering in your bones. The eyes dart about frantically. The heart beats so loud, you can’t hear anything else.
And in all this, you keep chanting, “this can’t really be happening”.
Well, it did happen.
Yesterday, I came a hair’s breadth close to losing my kids. Both of them.
I wonder now, how I’m still sane enough to come to work. How I can get about my regular routine when my entire world would have turned upside down in minutes!! Just recollecting it sends shivers up my spine, though frankly, a little practical sense nudges me into realizing that what happened yesterday was not a catastrophe.
But it could have been!!
And thats a difficult pill to swallow 😦

On Sunday, we attended a wedding at a neighbouring township, which is close to an hour’s drive from our place. After the wedding, we went to meet the BF’s aunt (FIL’s elder sister) who stays in that township.The twins had been here a couple of times before, but the last visit was well 7-8 months back. We were all exhausted, because it had been an insanely hot day!! The twins were sorely irritated by the heat and had made my life hell, clamouring to be taken back home or to be carried 😦 . At the aunt’s place, I took the opportunity to sit down and relax for a few minutes.

Little did I know what it could have cost me then!!

The aunt’s house has a back-door that opens into a tiny lane. The lane connects the houses on the entire stretch , meaning, all the houses on both sides of the lane have their back-door opening up to it. At one end of the lane is the tarred road. If you take a right from this road, it leads up to the heavy-traffic main road. The kids were playing by the back-door. I called out to them, warning them not to venture out further. Lui replied that they wouldn’t. I settled back once more but had an ear out for the kids..

It couldn’t have been more than a minute when I realized I couldn’t hear them. I asked the BF to have a look, but he was tired too nd loathe to get up. So I rushed out to the lane. The kids were nowhere to be seen. I first took a right on the lane to check if they had any other house by mistake, since all the houses looked alike.

They weren’t there.

Then I rushed out to the road and looked around. They were nowhere to be seen. This was when I felt the first rush of panic.

I ran back inside and told the family that the twins were nowhere to be found. Everyone scurried out , calling the twins by their names. There was no reply in return. Everyone fanned out on the different lanes. There were so many houses, so many lanes that looked the same. It would have been easy for the kids t o get easily confused and lost.

One man who saw us running here and there informed the MIL that he had seen aΒ  woman dragging a little girl with her. That terrified me. I felt this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach and I guess around this time, I lost my voice. I could run around the lanes, looking for my children, but I just couldnt call out to them. The aunt, her daughter and husband were distraught. The in-laws were more so. Everyone looked stricken.

The BF then noticed a tiny little spot close to the heavy-traffic road. He wasn’t sure, but since Shobby was wearing yellow, he ran along anyway, just to make sure.

It was Shobby. And Lui.

They were happily ambling on the road, barefoot, under the hot sun, totally obliviousΒ  to the grief they had caused us. I ran after the BF and grabbed Lui into a crushing hug. And then I felt a surge of anger welling up. I put her down and practically dragged her back to the aunt’s home. Within a few steps, Lui started screaming that her feet were hurting. So angry was I that I yelled back that why didn’t her feet hurt when she walked away in the first place. By this time, everyone had gathered back. One look at us and the twins knew they were in trouble. Both started bawling out loud. I confess I felt like slapping them both, but seeing how scared they were just then, I didn’t have the heart to 😦

We left the place shortly. The twins dozed off to sleep inΒ  the car. But we were far from relaxed.

Each one of us was wondering on the possibilities that could have occurred.

They could have been knocked down by a speeding vehicle.

They could have been abducted.

Lui could have been abducted for a very bad purpose.

Just thinking about it gives me the shivers 😐

Allah has been kind.

But every time I look back, those tense moments remind me of the thin edge of reality we live in. My entire life, as I know it could have been obliterated. In case something had happened to the twins, I wouldn’t have known how to survive.

The BF was equally shaken up. We have a tough time discussing the What-Ifs. Its enough that we bow our heads in gratitude and thank Allah for giving us a new life. I have been given back my babies….without a scratch. No amount of gratitude is enough. Will ever be enough.

Really!!



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I love standing in a downpour.

(The BF thinks its creepy, but what does he know?? He’s the one who takes hot water baths in summer *Shudder*)

I’ve always loved the first few showers of the monsoon. After the first week, when washed clothes refuse to dry and the floor is forever damp and the hair lies limp on my head, the novelty of the rains fades away 😦
Reality strikes back and I get into addressing the more pressing issues of ironing clothes dry (pun unintended πŸ˜€ )and making sure the kids are safe from the sniffles!

But the first few days…Aaaahh!!!
The first rain on a hot, dry and dusty day is like a boon from the heavens above πŸ™‚
The air practically sizzles with the sound of water turning to vapour. The earth releases its secret aroma, a secret more sacred than the Coca Cola recipe πŸ˜‰ . The trees look suddenly greener, cleaner. Flowers turn a vivid hue of their original selves and people like me rush to the terrace to soak in the warm drops.

Last week, we had a slight shower just when the city was on the verge of becoming a melting pot.
I rushed out to the terrace and Lui came after me. She out-did me in her enthusiasm for the rain. At the first feel of raindrops, she giggled with delight and stuck her hands out from the railing, wanting to feel the drops on her hands. A part of me thought it prudent to send her back inside.
But another part begged me to let her have her fun πŸ™‚
So I picked her up and held her as the slight drizzle cooled us off. Lui, usually the hyper-energetic kid who cant stay in one position for long, clung on to me, cheek-to-cheek and sang the alphabet song πŸ˜€ . We swayed gently to her tune and she raised her face to the skies, wanting a more heavier rain.
Shobby stood near the door, calling out to us. I coaxed him to come out, but he’s gone on his father!! Not a drop of cold water is allowed to touch his warm body 😐 !! He just stood there, watching the rain!
Me and Lui stood looking out at the road for about 20 minutes.
20 of some of the best moments of my life!!

Sure, we got soaked, but not to the bone….the rain fizzled out after a while. After about fifteen minutes, the earth was dry once again 😐
I took Lui inside and toweled her hair dry.
“Mumma, hum kal phir baarish mein jayenge”, she declared.
“Sure”, I smiled.
“Lui!!! Baarish mein jaane se bukhar aati hai”, said Shobby the spoilsport.
Lui looked at me, questioning the wisdom of Shobby’s comment.
“We’ll go”, I gave my consent.
“Yaaaayyyy!!!” yelled my girl with the biggest, brightest smile on her pixie face.

Yaayy indeed πŸ˜€

Alas, it hasn’t rained since. Lui kept pestering me to bring in the rains (like Yeah, Momma can do anything!!)
The sky is clear. The sun is burning down and more than anything, I want that next shower to happen soon as possible.
SO looking forward to swaying in the rain, listening to the alphabet song πŸ˜€



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



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Weekend Updates

Hola people.

Its been simply ages since I narrated my weekend doings. Plenty of weekends went by with a lot of happening things and I forgot to post about them. But its never too late to write about what all happened this weekend (though I’m already midway to the next) and I’ll do it right here, right now πŸ™‚

Saturday was a hot day! Hot enough to have the earth sizzling steam when there was a slight downpour during late lunch hours. The drizzle wasn’t heavy enough to cool the earth and it made the already hot day worse by adding humidity to it! Thankfully, the humidity wasn’t as bad as I’ve experienced in Chennai and Kolkata. The first time I went to  Kolkata, I complained to Dad that I had difficulty breathing. The lungs just weren’t used to the thick, heavy air.Luckily, last Saturday wasn’t that bad. The humidity lasted just that evening, next day , the air was reasonably lighter πŸ™‚ .The one important thing I did do was hunt for mud/soil for the plants. Kind of funny that I had to pay 30/- for a plastic bag of soil. I mean, I’d never have thought that there would come a day when I couldn’t find a patch of land to dig the soil from. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined that the day had already come and gone. There was no open area near my place from where I could get a little mud. The empty plots had a line of barbed -wire fencing with ominous threats to trespassers. The plant nurseries quoted some really atrocious rates. I had to finally  buy the mud from a road-side plant seller. The boy who sold it was a mean little thing. He filled the measuring pot with large lumps and then swiped a hand across the top to flatten the surface. Those large lumps had stones in them, a fact I found out after reaching home 😦 . I was taken for a royal ride by a brat less than half my age!! Whoever said that with age comes wisdom??

*****************************************

I made a visit to the parlour. *Sigh* Sometimes, I just never learn 😦

After being inflicted with horrendous pain a million times, I still go there. What to do? Vanity calls out rather loudly.

But this time, I decided that for once,  For ONCE, I’ll be assertive. I’ll give that attendant a piece of my mind if I don’t like her service. Or her choice of songs. I was paying for that treatment and it better be according to my convenience!! So with all the indignation I could muster, I stormed into the parlour.

The attendant wasn’t there. She had left the job.

*Pffft*

(Thats my indignation balloon bursting, by the way)

Anyhow, the owner made up for the missing attendant.

“Your hair’s very dry. See how rough they are. You need some deep conditioning and a haircut.”

“Umm…I just wanted to trim my hair”.

“No no. That will not do. We’ll first wash it and then condition it. Then a little trimming and then wrap it up with a blow-dry”.

*mentally calculating the final amount I would have to shell out*

“Err no. Thank you. I just want a trim.”

The lady looked disappointed. She looked at me as if I was her child who had just returned with an ALL FAIL report card, after she had spent an entire year feeding me badam.

“Then why don’t you get your arms waxed. See what major growth you have”.

And once again, to the sound of drum-rolls, each and every head in that parlour turned to look at my arms. I once again learned how a guinea pig feels when all eyes are it just before a dissection.

Seriously, what is it with these morale-bursting parlours?!!

Anyway, I returned with just a haircut.

And some waxing 😦

I know, I know!! The flesh is weak. The heart, weaker 😦

I felt bad for not going in for the wash and shampoo and conditioning. So I shelled out for the waxing 😦

I’ll never learn!!

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I’m currently reading a book by one of my favourite authors, Dick Francis. Leaving the unfortunate name aside, the man has written some really good books on the world of horse-racing. Being an ex-jockey, he has in depth knowledge of all the wheels of the trade . The best part is how he weaves his stories (ALL OF THEM) around the horse business.

Anyhow, the BF had never heard of this author before. The first time he saw me reading the book, he just snorted in disbelief at the cover, which bore the author’s name. “Are you reading porn?” he queried.

When I threw a exasperated look at him, he just giggled and walked out with the comment, “Better not read such books when the kids are around”.

Gaaahh!!!

Why did I end up marrying a man who has no love for reading πŸ™„ ?!!!

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I made doughnuts. The fried ones, not the baked. And I made gujias. Its been ages since I did some senseless frying and what better time than a dull, hot, humid Saturday evening??

Yup! I LOVE standing in front of the gas-stove when the mercury inches towards the forties.

Could have kicked myself after straining out the first donut. But it was too late to back-out. So I suffered the heat for an hour longer. Worst part was that the donuts have to be fried on a low flame 😦

Anyhow, the end result was that the donuts and gujias disappeared by Monday morning πŸ˜€

(And by that, I meant that the family finished it off. This is just in case anyone was wondering if the elves visited us πŸ˜€ )

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Saw Paan Singh Tomar.

I really don’t have words to say about Irrfan Khan. A man standing on the verge of half-century can look /act like a youngster!! Who would have thunk it??

I cant think of any other actor of his age who could have pulled it off!!

And the running!! Boy, the sheer amount of running he did must have made him thin as a reed.

BTW, any idea what dialect was used in the movie??  It was awesome to see the sheer amount of expressiveness of that language. Loved it πŸ™‚ !!

And oh (spoiler alert) wasn’t it cute the way PST used to send his kids away to ‘eat lemon juice’ , whatever that means πŸ˜€ !!!

If you haven’t seen this gem of a movie, then please do!! Its totally worth your while.

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I fell off the bed.

As far as my living memory goes, this is possibly the FIRST such instance that I know of. I was more baffled, than hurt, wondering how I landed up on the hard floor. Luckily, the BF was snoring and didn’t feel the earth shaking as I dropped down.

By the way, it isn’t really my fault that I fell. It was Shobby’s fault.

My son has been driving me crazy with his sporadic illnesses. He’s up and running during the day and by evening, his little body  burn with fever. We’ve changed medications, had blood-tests done, tried home-remedies, nothing works. He is still under treatment, so hopefully, he’ll recover soon.

Anyhow, so my son has a cute habit of burrowing into the person he sleeps next to. He loves to stick close to the adult he sleeps with. So he’ll keep snuggling up to us and we, in our effort to not suffocate or squeeze him, withdraw a little away to give him space. So, because of  this burrowing and withdrawing activity last Sunday, I dropped out of bed. Because my little son kept nudging me towards the bed’s edge 😐

Thankfully, the cursed fat came to the rescue which just implies that whatever fat you have is there a reason. Apparently in my case, it is there to prevent breakage in case of dubious falls.

Ultimately, Aal izz well πŸ˜€

(Except Shobby, of course. He needs another round of diagnosis for his ill-health).

******************************************

Somehow, this last weekend was far less hectic than the others. The guests have gone, except the BF’s aunt. We’ve asked her to stay till t he MIL begins her summer vacations. Life is back to routine, except that the kids miss school and wonder why we aren’t dressing them up in their uniforms every morning.

I’m going crazy, trying to figure out how to keep the two occupied for the rest of summer. Summer camps hardly last 1-2 hrs and even then, there’s no one around to drop them and pick them up from there. Also, I’m not too keen on sending them out in the heat. Its far too hot! Alas, none of the kid’s summer camp activities are in the evening 😦 . The nanny herself isn’t keeping too well and she keeps the TV on the whole day for the kids. Its ruining whatever little control I had on their TV viewing habit, but she really isn’t able to keep the two occupied for longer than an hour or so.

I guess this is a possible indicator that I must retire soon 😦

*Sigh*

Drat the BF!!! He never has to worry about all these things 😦

The week’s going on superbly, by the way. Work’s good. The kids are slowly adjusting to their holidays and I’ll be meeting up with some old and new friends soon.

How was your weekend?? Let me know!



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( Phew!! Take a break. That title would have worn you out. Here then, take a sip of this water. Feeling better? Alright then, read on!)

Since I was a little kid, I loved those hindi songs more which were picturized on a moving car. If in a convertible, the heroine would be standing, holding on to the windshield, her scarf/dupatta fluttering inΒ  the wind and happiness writ large on her face. She would sing of love and devotion and clear skies with puffy clouds in the same breath and the hero would smirk on confidently. Sometimes, she would tire out and snuggle up to him on the front seat. She would coo up at him and he would be gentlemanly enough to give her an indulgent glance before focussing on more pressing needs such as driving the car in a straight line. If he felt more generous, he would quickly whip out a bunch of glass bangles from under the seat and hand it over to his lady love. She would giggle like a five year old who has just been given her first Barbie. He may croon a few loving words himself, aligning his heart with the fragility of those bangles and the heroine would just simper and snuggle up closer. She might even light up a cancer-stick for him!!

The front seat in those days permitted such close movements. Drat you Maruti for bringing in the bucket seats πŸ‘Ώ . And even if the world at large knew that the car was standing still in some studio while the background moved around crazily, the hero would rarely, rarely take his eyes off the road. No siree…he may be in love and all that jazz, but he knew the traffic rule book . No amount of female adulation would make him lose his focus. He had to keep his car on the road and damn those silly hormones ringing in his ears.

*Sigh* Those were the days…………..

Nowadays we have heroines in skimpy attires woo-ing their men in moving vehicles while the men ogle unashamedly and sometimes, when them hormones ring seriously loud, even stop at a lonely stretch. What he whips out may not resemble glass bangles by any stretch of imagination and what proceeds next is best hidden behind a bunch of flowers. Or scarves. Or dupattas.But the point is, men rarely encourage seduction when the car is in motion.
What hasn’t really changed from then and now, is how men treat their women. And how men treat their women in their cars . They may give their woman fleeting attention, but if she wants more, the car has to stop.It would take a few more generations for women to realize that when weighed on the same scale, cars always, always score higher. They are allowed to weigh more. They are allowed to cost more. They are allowed to have the widest hips available. They are permitted sky-high maintenance. But any man worth his windshield sprinklers will confide (under an ebriated state, of course. Thats when the truth comes out) that given a choice, he would always choose his car over his girl.

Being a veteran of the “Do-You-Prefer-The-Car-Or-Me” brigade and weathering many a frosty,air-conditioned storms, I’ve come to the conclusion that when a man is driving, you just let him be. Let him caress the steering and stroke those gears. Let him play footsie with the clutch/brake/accelerator and croon sweet nothings at the dashboard. Leave him to steal glances at his own reflection in the reirview mirrors. A wise woman is one who doesn’t attempt to come between the man and his car. A wise woman carries along a book for the long distances and carries her longing for the short ones. A wise woman nods in agreement with every praise the man throws his car’s way. If he says, “look at the way she purrs”, you don’t turn your head towards your window and growl. Firstly, purring doesnt equal growling. Secondly, he didnt mean you. Being a wise woman, you ought to reply sweetly, “Just like a cat” and see him puffing up with pride. I dare say he may even feel a tad more affectionate towards you.

Being a wise woman myself, I now propose all the in-the-car seducing tricks that a middle-aged woman with kids should desist from (heck! I guess ALL women should desist from), if she wants to retain her dignity and the front passenger seat.
So all you middle-aged mommies out there, yeah, you who’s loyal to her post-partum weight even after 10 years, listen up. Here are a few tips on seduction stuff you shouldn’t try in a car.

Note : If you are a woman, single, unmarried, child-free, under twenty-five and weigh less than 52kgs, GET OUT!! Scram. Shoo. Vacate this space asap. This post is so NOT for you!!

(Aaaah….felt good to take that out of my system)

So without much ado, here’s the list :-

1) leggy-lass lacks leg-space : Remember that scene from Jism where John Abraham’s character drives his jeep along some tree-shaded route and Ms Basu’s character props up her healthy legs on the windshield?
Yeah?


Well, erase thisΒ  memory. Its a no brainer. Firstly , because we rarely have convertibles/jeeps being driven around. Try that trick inΒ  your enclosed car and you’ll probably be begging the good doctor for an euthanasia rather than having a spine replacement job done.
Secondly, be honest, where exactly do you think your tummy disappears off to when you try and raise your legs high, huh?
And oh! Don’t ever try it out if you have thighs spilling from the sides of your bucket seats. And if you are the type of middle-aged woman who’s still slim as a willow, I HATE YOU already!!!

2) Tickle-me-not : You may have seen movies where a heroine slides a finger down the sides of the hero’s face. She then traces it down to his neck. The hero looks on stoically and it is a testimony to his acting skills that he doesn’t just yelp/squeal and drive the car off the road and crash into a fire hydrant.
Truth is, men are ticklish. They may swear they are made of sterner stuff, but look deeper and each man has his sensitive points (usually the are near the ears, towards the neck). If you know your man’s funny-bone, keep away fromΒ  it!! Miles away.Because your man isn’t an actor. He wouldn’t be able to control himself and will probably bill you for all the expenses he’ll have to incur later.

You wouldn’t want to pay up for that now, would you??

3) Go Wordy On Me : Not. Are you the types who loves reading out passages from your novel to your loved one? Do you like poetry and quote Wordsworth or Ogden Nash as your car cruises by the landscape? Do you try to make him understand the beauty of a Byron or a Yeats?
Well, take a break. A permanent one. The only poetry your man understands would be the smooth motion of his car, the sheer comfort of his bucket seat, the boisterous honking of the horn, the demure dipping of its headlights. Get real girl. Yeats is no match for a turbocharged 3.8ltr V6 Engine.

You may try engaging him in a map though. Men LOVE maps 😐

4) Perfume(d) : Seduction by olfactory?! Err…not unless you want to hide the fact that you haven’t really taken a bath for a couple of days 😐 . Dab a drop more than needed and see him feverishly pulling down the windows and making sure that he sticks his head out of his window throughout!
You see, when inside a car, he likes to breathe in the leather, the dust of the foot-mats and the gentle fragrance of ambi-pur. Your thousands worth CK or Davidoff don’t matter!! They never did 😦 . You may be at your sexiest best, but he may end up looking like this :-

5) The Before and After : So you just had some…..umm.. good time in the car. You’ve reached your place. Its time to get off. You want to have some more fun at home. You drop him a hint.
Chances are, he’ll take the hint ONLY if at your exit, his car’s in the same state as ‘before fun’. If he finds your seat completely reclined, the foot-mat hanging half out of the door, the car-freshner lies on the floor and his favourite Tarzan car-toy is missing a vital piece of clothing, then you better lock the door and tuck yourself in. He isn’t gonna come back for you. Ever!!

If this is what the car looks like when you get off…..be prepared to go home alone 😐

Thats some pearl-of-wisdom there. Feel free to add to the list.

And don’t forget to have a rocking weekend πŸ™‚

Ciao.

 

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I’m making food in my kitchen. Chopping onions and potatoes. A colleague runs in and says, “Dont make lunch. We have a client visit today. After that we’ll all go out for team lunch”.
Yay!!
So I drop the knife and hurry out to meet the clients.
The client is an NRI woman who is dressed in a yellow sari with loads of gold jewellery. Apart from necklaces and gold bangles, she has also worn a maang-tika and gold arm-bands.
Nothing seems out of the ordinary to our team mates. She is slightly snooty and makes it clear that she’s doing a favour by taking us out. She does not want anyone to accompany her in her car.
The team mates decide to go to the lunch venue by their own vehicles.
I hurriedly go to my desk to hunt for my helmet. Its not there. I cannot take the bike out of the parking unless I have my helmet. I ask a friend about it. She doesnt know where it is, but agrees to help me out nevertheless. We run down to the next building, which is the client office I used to work at earlier. The only difference being, the place is still under construction and has a lot of rubble lying around. The lift doesnt work. We run up the stairs, heaving badly by the time we reach the top floor. A frantic hunt later, we find the helmet under someone’s desk. I thank my friend and run of the place. Reaching my office, I now need to find my bike in the parking lot. The parking attendant hands me a token to search for my bike. The parking is a big labyrinth of a place with multiple turns and crevasses. To my consternation, I find that 90% of the parking area is the place where they dump the new joinees. Its a refugee camp for freshers who haven’t been assigned a desk yet. There are multiple beds in a row and some of them have to sleep on mattresses. Its a sad plight.
But my heart is thudding because I cant find my bike.
The remaining 10% of the parking area is a huge depot. There are garages around the perimeter and numerous bikes are piled high…some are squashed beyond recognition. I use the token to find the location of my bike. It is safe. I feel happy and elated. After a few kicks, the bike purrs to life and try to find my way out of the parking. The freshers leap at me, begging me to give them a project. I’m petrified and screech my bike out of the place. Once outside the building, I find that it is dusk. Lunch hour went by. I didnt have anything since morning.
I’m hungry, irritated, annoyed. I have this seething anger in me that I didn’t cook food believing that I will egt lunch and now I’ll have to go back and cook. I dont want to go back and cook. I jump into my bed and sleep. I force myself to sleep. I’ll never wake up, I swear to myself.

And I didn’t. At least, not till 2 hours after my alarm rang. I didn’t wake up in time to make the FIL’s dabba 😦
Not sure what the MIL gave him. I was too apprehensive to ask her !!

This was an early morning dream. I’ve heard that morning dreams come true.
Looking back at my dream, I wonder, what are the chances?!!!

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Going Green

The last month before the GMIL’s demise was a very busy one, both at work and at home. So much so that our meager collection of plants suffered from drought because we forgot to water them, out-door plants wilted under the harsh sun and flowering plants burned down to a cinder. Post granny’s funeral, when we looked at our terrace, it shocked us to see that barring the aloe-vera, almost all our plants were near extinction. The realization hurt bad because I had taken the responsibility of tending to them since the GMIL was bed-ridden. I thought I was doing fine….until I saw those brown stumps 😐

The GMIL herself lacks a green thumb and it is not surprising that the thought of watering them plants never occurred to her. In fact, why blame her alone? None of the other members gave them a second look. We were all collectively guilty 😦

So I’ve been struggling with going green again. I replanted some of  those plants which had a little life left in them. Moved the indoor ones indoors and the ones that required sunshine were set in places where they got all the sun that they needed, yet, had plenty of shade for the rest of the day. Regular watering, a little digging up and some natural manure later, the plants are beginning to revive. The brown stumps have started sprouting new leaves and though it may sound silly, I’m filled with with a happiness that I had last reserved while birthing the twins πŸ˜€

I’m waiting for the leaves to grow a little more before I can take snaps and proudly display them here. Other than tending to the almost-dead plants, I also planted a few veggies, just to try out if I have it in me to grow my own produce. So I bought these troughs, mud, manure and seeds. I planted ridge-gourd, gawar and methi (fenugreek). These are the starter vegetables because I was assured by the man selling seeds that ridge-gourd and gawar are low-maintenance plants. We just have to provide supports for the ridge-gourd and it would do all the climbing and growing by itself.

The plants have come up well (MashaAllah) and though they have not produced any fruits yet, I’m glad to see that they are growing real fast (at least the ridge-gourd is). Here are a few pics of the sprouts as they sprung out of the soil . Needless to say, I was a mass of giggles and happiness just to see those teeny-tiny green leaves in my pots πŸ™‚

Here is the ridge-gourd. As the seed-seller said, this one took a while to sprout, but once out, it grew at an exponential rate compared to the others. There is one lonely onion that was dug in by the nanny. Truth is, the ridge-gourd has taken over the onion. RIP onion 😐

Turai sprouts

The easiest to plant were the methi seeds. I just sprinkled some in the trough and they came up promptly in a couple of day’s time. Looking forward to a good harvest πŸ™‚

Methi sprouts

The ‘gawar’ took a long time to sprout and it is the one which is growing at the slowest pace. I have no idea what a grown gawar plant looks like and waiting for the ones to grow in my pots is like watching milk boil. Only difference being that milk boils quicker 😐

These pics were clicked a couple of weeks back. The plants are much bigger now πŸ™‚ . I will post those snaps along with the other plants that have been reborn :D.

I know I’m not too inclined towards gardening, but somehow, tending to these plants and watering them brings with it a sense of peace. The twins love watering them too and often fight over whose chance it is.  The sight of a new tender leaf or a bud sprouting in the mogra or hibiscus is enough to send Lui into a trance. She looks on incredulously and I wonder what thoughts go on in her mind as she gazes at them. Shobby is happy to do the watering and then back to other important businesses like breaking the head of one of Lui’s dolls πŸ™„

Slowly, but surely, we are getting back to normal, I guess πŸ™‚

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