Say a prayer for me tonight, they might not be heard tomorrow.

Make your wishes now; they might not be fulfilled morrow

Do your penance now, later there might only be time for sorrow.

Love me forever, but love me today, tomorrow is not ours to borrow.

Mummy and Me

They say that every man is still a child at heart and that the wives should cater to the needs of this inner child as much as she does to the man who is her husband. But what they don’t say usually is that the women too have a heart which craves to be a child again, to be cared for as though she was the only reason for somebody’s existence. She needs somebody who would get her a hot cup of tea to chase away her blues/cold or whatever it is that is troubling her. Just a gesture, to show that she is not alone.

When we were younger, every time we got a cold, Mom would warm us up with turmeric milk, hot mustard oil massage and a soothing head rub and Papa would go all out to buy a bottle or brandy (or was it rum?), mix it some warm water and ask us to gulp it down. I’m not sure what worked best, the alcohol or the head rub, but I’m sure I wasn’t as miserable as I feel now.

I got a cold last Saturday and immediately wanted to see my Mamma. As though just being with her would make me feel better. I miss her always, but most when I am down with an ailment or a heartache. I crave for her chukku-kappi (medicinal coffee), her tomato soup and her healing touch which is just so unique of my Mom. It has been three days since my cold started. Even though I’m popping pills left right and centre and drinking the customary chukka kappi, the gloomy feeling and the pounding headache just doesn’t go away. Hubby darling suggested I take the rum/brandy thingy but didn’t actually make it for me and I am too despondent at the moment to do it myself.

There was a time when I was working and living alone in BBSR and got Jaundice. I went to the doc and the tests on my own and got through a week before I felt it was too much to handle on my own. So I took the train back to Kolkata and remember sleeping through the entire 12 hour journey not even waking up to go to the loo. When Papa came to the station, he had to drag me out from my berth and take me home. His ashen face and my Mom’s fear showed me just how sick I was. The local Doc criticized them for letting me travel alone, but what he didn’t know and they didn’t know was that I was capable of doing everything on my own until I knew I had their backup. I had managed to stay up and about until the day I reached them and handed over myself to their care and support. But I felt better than what I did when I was alone, even though I was probably sicker.

Even now I call Mom and ask her to pray and send me reiki, for something as simple as Ryan’s PTM. Just knowing that she is aware of my situation, whatever it may be, and is praying for me and sending me positive energy is enough to get me through it.

Now I see Ryan following in my steps. He thinks I am around just to cater to his needs. According to him, Mom can kiss his boo-boo away and any pain/scratch/hurt can be cured, if I put some ice/cream and massage it for him. He embraces me, even if it was I who hurt him in the first place. I wish I could be there for him forever and that I could kiss his boo-boo and his hurt away whenever he needs me .But more than that I wish he would become like me, able to cope and stand proud through all his hurts and heartaches, even when I am not around to hold him and soothe him. He would know, just like I do in my heart, that Mom is always praying for me that no matter how bad things look like, there will always be a happy ending.

Mom you are the oasis of my life and my world expands a bit every day Ryan, with the baby steps you take.

Forever and more

 This is not a work of fiction and any resemblance to anybody's life is purely intentional !

Forever and More

I want to fall in love again. Just to feel my heart flutter again, which has fallen into a rhythm, as monotonous as the ticking of the clock. To feel the rush of emotions, that erupted every time your eyes seeked me out rather than being vexed about ‘what now’ when you call out for me. To feel the coyness of being a new bride rather than the bashfulness that comes with too much familiarity. To rediscover everything that excited you and everything about you that excited me, rather than just being hopeful of your approving nod. To try and make everything perfect for us instead of trying to find what the optimum compromise would be that we would both agree. To walk hand in hand instead of worrying about who has the bunch of keys. To stroll in the park, looking at nothing yet admiring everything. To wake with a smile instead of the ‘already X AM’ frown .To able to laugh wholeheartedly at the most outrageous jokes instead of mentally running it through the PG certification guidelines first. To be up and about in spite of an exhausting day, just because we decided to, instead of finding reasons to be grounded until the next sun up. To feel beautiful and desired instead of only thinking ‘do I look fat in this dress”? To recreate the magic that once filled our lives and completed us. I want to fall in love again with you, to prove to myself that love is not over rated.




I want to fall in love again, forever and more…

Conversation with my 3 year old

They say that being a parent is a tough job. The first 5 years we try to teach the kid to walk and talk and the next 5 years to shut up and sit down.

I am now in the teaching to talk phase. The typical conversation with my toddler on a normal day goes like this.

7.30 AM Ryan is up before me and R.

Ryan –“Wakie wakie Mama…sun is high up in the sky.

Me- “Sleep for 5 minutes more Ryan. Mamma is still tired”.

Ryan- “Mamma gimme milk. I like milk Mamma.

8.15 AM

Milk and Coffee in the balcony overlooking a mountain.

Ryan-“Thanks Mamma. It’s very tasty”.

Ryan-“Mamma, can we go all over the mountain.”

Me –“Yes Ryan”

Ryan-“Now?”

Me –“No Ryan. We’ll go on Friday, when Papa is home. We’ll go in Papa’s car.

Ryan-“But where we’ll park Mamma?"

Me (ROFL)-“There’s a temple there with a parking lot. We can park there. OK?

9.15 AM I’m getting dressed to go to my Yoga class and convincing Ryan to be at home.

Me-“Ryan, Mamma has to go to yoga class ok...I’ll put cartoon for you. You can sit and watch it and have your food ok?

Ryan-“Don’t go Mamma… Please (with folded hands and puppy face).I like you. I want to be with you Mamma.”

Me-“I love you too baby. I’ll be back in an hour, ok? Don’t cry and eat your food ok baby”

10.40 AM I’m back from the yoga class. Ryan opens the door

Ryan-“Mamma… this baby didn’t cry…”

Me-“Good boy Ryan." I love you baby .You want to help Mamma water the plants?”

Ryan-“Yes Mamma. Plants are all shad (sad).I put water and they become happy. No Mamma?”

11 AM

Me-“Ryan, come Mamma will give you a bath”

Ryan- “Where this baby going?”(He takes a shower before school/summer camp. Hence presumes that I’m sending him somewhere after the shower.)

Me-“Nowhere Ryan." We’ll just be at home ok? No school today.”

Ryan-“Yeaaa…”

1 PM

Me-“Ryan come eat your food “

Ryan- “Yuck, what is theees (as pronounced by Ryan)?”

Me- “Its chicken Ryan." (Ryan’s staple lunch is ghee and rice… no veggies/meat. I know it’s not enough, but something is better than nothing)

Ryan –“But whaaayyyy?”

Me –“So that you become strong boy like Papa” (I’m hoping, not as big as him though ;-))

Ryan-“But I don’t like chicken Mamma”.

Me – “OK Ryan." Mamma will give you only Rice and ghee ok?”

Grumpy Ryan –“OKAY”.

And then I proceed to shred the chicken into the tiniest, unrecognizable pieces and feed it to him any way. A mother has got to do what she’s got to do.

Ryan-“I want water Mamma. Didi (to the maid), Mujhe Water chahiye. (He knows Mamma’s too lazy to get up once she sits).

3 PM .Ryan with a can of nuts in hand.

Ryan-“Didi, yeh open karo Na. Thanks”

After finishing the whole lot.

Ryan-“Mamma. I is strong boy Mamma. I finish all nuts. That’s why I is strong and big boy.”

Me-“Very good Ryan." Mamma’s proud of you, strong boy.” A kiss and hug.

Ryan-“Mamma, don’t hug me ok? "Cos is I is big boy now.”

Me-“Ok big boy”

4.30 PM

On the way to swimming classes.

Ryan-“Mamma, can you hug me (i.e. carry me to the pool)? I’m too tired Mamma”.

Me- “No Ryan. You are a big boy na? You have to walk to the pool.”

Any kid or dog he meets on the way to the pool is his friend.

Ryan-“Where my friend goving Mamma?”

Me-“He is going for his cricket/soccer/tennis classes Ryan.

Ryan-“I want to go also”

Me-“Mamma will send you when you a big boy ok? And we’ll buy a new bat/ball for you ok? “

Ryan-“But I already have it Mamma. (Referring to his plastic bat and rubber ball).

Me-“Ok Ryan." We are at the pool now. You have to wear your goggles all the time ok? Otherwise Mamma will take you out of the pool.

Ryan (Grumpus) –“Okay!”

In the pool

Me-“Ryan, where are your goggles? I want you to wear them now.

Ryan –“When Sir will come, I’ll wear it ok? Ok Mamma?

Me (rolling eyes and murmuring)-“(Whatever) Ok Ryan”

6.30 PM

Me-“Ryan, come out of the pool now. Let’s go home now.”

Ryan-“But my friends are still playing Mamma. Sir said, class not over.”

He’s the instructor’s pet so gets to go on the last solo lap with him. I’m fuming by now.

Me-“Ryan, if you don’t get out of the pool now, I’m leaving. Ok?

Ryan (squeaking) - “I’m coming Mamma”.

On the way back home

Me-“Ryan, please don’t pluck the flowers. It’s not a good habit.”

Ryan-“But, it’s very bootiful Mamma. I want to give it to Amachi (Grandma), that’s why I plucking it.”

Me-“Ok Ryan, just one, ok.”

Ryan-“Mamma. Can you hug me...please? I is very tired.”

ok. Ready get set go……”

Somehow we make it to the top and to home.

Ryan constipating...

Ryan-“Mamma, it’s not coming.”

Me-“Press your tummy in Baby. ‘IT’ will come.

Ryan- “Mamma, I too not well Mamma. I want to go to the Dotor”.

Me- “Ok, First finish your potty, and then we can go ok?”

Ryan (Grumpus)-“Ok .”

Dinner time

Me-“Ryan, come and eat your food baba.”

Ryan-“Baba Mamma, I want jam.aa aa.”

Me-“No Ryan, I’ll give it to you with chapatti ok baby?

Ryan-“Then this baby will become shad. This baby will go away? (Standing at the main door and threatening to walk out of the house!).I won’t ever ever anymore with you, gain, Mamma.”(I.e. I won’t talk with you anymore, ever again!)

Me-“Ok ok, come I’ll give it to you. Come.”

Ryan-“See Mamma, its night time .where’s my Papa?”

Me-“Papa is in the office no baba. He’ll come now ok.”

Ryan-“But why Papa go so much to office Mamma?”

Me-“To make money Ryan, so that we can buy your toys and chocolates.”

Ryan-“Okay !!”

8.30 PM R is home (Finally!!)

Ryan-“Papa, I bought some surprise for you!”

R- “Really? What is it Ryan?”

Picks up his biscuit packet form the kitchen.

Ryan-“This is your surprise Papa. Eat it. You can do it Papa. Mamma, I share some my biket with Papa. I is good boy.”

Me-“Yes baby. You are my darling .I love you baby.”

Ryan (happy face)- “Okay !”

Hence winds a happy, normal day in our lives.

This is just a sample .I wish I could record every second of his growing up years and cuddle him twice for every silly thing, because like he said himself, once he is a big boy, he won’t let me hug him anymore.

Yeh Zindagi hai kya?

Yeh zindagi kya hai?

Kisi ki dua hai,kisi ki saza

Kisi ki hansi hai,kisi ke aansu

Kisi ki khudgarzi hai,kisi ka baddappan

Kisi ki mohabbat hai,kisi ki chahat

Kisi ki aasha hai,kisi ka junoon

Kisi ka itihas hai,kisi ka anubhav

Kisi ka hadsa hai,kisi ka sanjog

kisi ki kamiyabi hai,kisi ki koshish

Kisi ki umeed hai,kisi ki khwaish

Kisi ke sapne hai,kisi ka sankalp

Turning 30

Yep I am turning thirty this year. Although most people might argue that it’s just a number and doesn’t really mean anything. I beg to differ. Just like after nineteen, nobody called me a teenager, exactly in the same way, after thirty, nobody is going to call me a young woman. I’ll be called middle aged. If I happen to have good skin and figure and hair, people might call me a ‘well maintained’ middle aged woman, or might say that I don’t look my age, but, obviously, there is no beating it.

Probably it’s just an Indian feature, where we have five year strategies from the time we are born.

Age 5- Grade 1

Age 10- Preparing for Puberty

Age 15 -Preparing for the crucial 10^th Board

Age 20 –Preparing to finish under grad and either start working or GMAT/CAT etc etc

Age 25- Good job, married (for women), bikes/cars (for men) (I am not sure who the pun is on here)

Age 30- Trotting 2 kids (for women), Married (for men). Again, no pun intended

So on and so forth…

 I definitely had a checklist for when I turned thirty.

Ø  Married

Ø  2 Kids

Ø  Good Job (well paying, well appreciated and mid management)

Ø  Great figure (like Mom’s …she is 48 kgs since I remember)

Ø  Own House

Ø  Own Car

Ø  Holidays in good locations

These were the main ones, apart from other less significant ones.

 So how does the report card look, with less than 6 months to the D Day?

Ø  Married –A++ (Happily)

Ø  2 Kids –A+ (One son, who has the energy of three)

Ø  Good Job (& Blah Blah) -A+ (Quit just before I got there -or so I’d like to believe)

Ø  Great Figure -F (as in fail, not the ‘F’ word although that too applies because of the frustration)

Ø  Own House – NA (Waiting –ahem- for inheritance. Hope the parents are not listening)

Ø  Own Car- A++ (Thank banks for Auto Loans)

Ø  Holidays- A++ (in Forren Locations included)

So I set about rectifying all the ones that are not A++.Starting with the second child part. That’s when the gynae came in and advised that I should lose weight before I conceive again, to avoid any complications.

Jump to the ‘great figure’ point and I am thinking, if I do lose all that weight, I don’t want to gets preggers so soon, just to gain all of it again.

Anyways, I have started yoga and gyming and dieting -err not really, let’s just say I have reduced my portions. So hopefully I will reduce to a more regular size by October .In between I’ve got a tattoo and a nose pin, just to appease my wild side .And I did it now before I feel I’m too old for it. I know it’s all in my head, but this head is on my shoulders after all. I have to hear it out.

About the good job part, here’s what I realized. If you are a fresher, there are lots of jobs, if you are a well experienced person, there are lots of jobs. But if you want to dig into the mid-management level, there are lots of candidates. So I have decided to wait it out and maybe get a Masters in something before I join the rat race again.

In the meantime, I am spending quality time with Ryan, planning another baby, working out to get back into my pre-pregnancy clothes (which I have been saving for the last 4 years).And I am also planning my next vacation and R has just promised me Italy. So I am going to turn thirty is style.

And I have found a couple of good stores that sell beautiful plus size clothes, you know, just in case ;-)

Happy to be ME

With various social networking sites, the world today is a small place and I am now (online) friends with a lot of people who were mere acquaintance in the past. So now I have these people in my friend list, who probably couldn’t look me in the eye, without sweating their a** off, commenting about my weight on my best pictures. These are my happy pictures, mind you, the ones I have good memories about, which I want to share with my friends and relatives, in which, I think, I look fairly good. So except for the genuinely concerned people (read parents, siblings and true friends), who the heck are these others to comment on my weight?

Do we normally look at any not so good looking person and say,”OMG, look at you, you need a nose job”? unless  of course if you are the plastic surgeon. All the people who love to make nasty remarks on others’ weight issues; I want to ask them to take a good look at themselves. Do they look like Brad Pitt or Aishwarya Rai? Are they in the same league as Bill Gates or Mukesh Ambani or M S Dhoni? Probably not. We are all flawed in some way or the other; nobody is perfect. So who gave them the right to make fun of people on their pictures and moments which they have chosen to share with the world? Why don’t they try and look at the happy smiles and the moments of joy in others lives. And if they really can’t get over the unpleasant things to say, then maybe they should say it to their mirror image.

I might be having health issues and inconvenience due to my weight. But maybe I am not .May be I am happy the way I am. In any case, I am not going to call on these ‘friends’ to rub my swollen feet at the end of the day.  All I have to tell to such people is to ‘please try and be gracious with your comments and remarks, because here’s the deal, stay out of my weight issues or you’ll be out of my ‘circle of trust” or the ‘friend list’ like Zuckerburg calls it’.

Friends

A good friend is a connection to life - a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world.  ~ Lois Wyse

I’m an introvert .I do not make friends easily, but I’m happy to report, that when I do make friends, it’s usually for life. I have friends whom I can count on fingers and toes (and still have a few left to paint).Let me list them down here in the order that I made them. Nitu, Keya, Asha, Sudipta, Neeta, Jyotisikha, Debmitra, Neha, Tanzeem, Piku, Vidya, Pearl, Architha .and of course there’s my Mom Alice, my sister Sapna and off late my MIL Valsa too.

All of them have been my anchors at some point or other in my life. Even though it sounds clichéd, my family is my support system. These people weren’t friends right from the beginning… I ,like every girl, have a gone through a phase in my life when I didn’t agree with my Mom on something even as monotonous as the school uniform, apart from  other,  more serious things. But eventually there came a time, (maybe once I was married or became a mom or maybe just became a more mature person) where I suddenly realized that my Mom is the most wonderful woman I know and I aspired to be like her. Now, I turn to her for advice and guidance. I believe in her prayers and in her faith in me. She has the ability to bring out the best in me, just like I thought she brought out my worst when I was 17.Now, she is my confidante, my friend.

I and my sister had a hate –love relation. There was a time when we’d invade each other’s space, drive each other away and fight about everything under the sun. I’m infamous for having fought with her for jasmine flowers to adorn on my almost bald head (pinning the flowers on to a ribbon) when I was three (Scorpios’ personality traits are evident from a very young age!).But then she went away to college and came back a reformed person .She was kind and caring, loving and giving (this part I absolutely loved).She became my fairy godmother. I in turn did my best to maintain the peace and took up her ironing and other stuff to show my affection. We got along well and loved each other more each day. Now there’s hardly a day where don’t speak to each other. We are each other’s punching bags and soaking sponge. Though she still disapproves of some of my wild ways (read hair color and love of cocktails), we are each others’ biggest supporters. We’d endorse each others’ work, home, hobby, decisions, mistakes and everything in between without a second thought. We love each others’ kids as our own .We are there for us, no matter what.

Though my relation with my MIL was almost always very cordial, we ever never really close, until a couple of month’s back, when I visited her sans R. Even though I’ve spent time with her alone earlier also, this trip kind of brought us closer. We went shopping, walking, visiting sightseeing etc. And I felt a connection beyond the ’in-law ‘ relations .We reached out and connected as two individuals, without any prejudice or reservation. Now we call each other up often and chat, very much like how I do with my Mom and Sis. I am one happy DIL and I hope Amma would say the same about me .R is definitely very pleased with this feat. He might argue that the shopping together part did me in; I think it was the tension free atmosphere (without worrying what to feed our husbands and sons!!) that brought us closer.

A good friend is cheaper than therapy ~ Author Unknown

I can give testimony to this statement through various incidents in my life, the latest being my debut as a blogger in the online world.

Recently I was going through a particularly annoying patch in life with nothing much to do, when Nitu decided to step in. She had a few brain storming telecon sessions with me and finally managed to remind me that I used to once write, fairly well (even if I’m saying so myself) and that I should take it up again .Hence the blogs. And if I be honest with myself, she has truly helped me, to free myself of my grouchiness and made me a happier person. She and I go a long way back. She has stood by me for over a couple of decades, been with me in my moments of joy and cried with me in my worst.

Architha and I were colleagues first, so it was sort of a surprise to everybody around us (in fact to us too), when we hit it off well. You know, it is rare that women working in the same unit are good friends. We were the lovers of all things food, fun and frolic. We discussed about everything under the sun, be it office politics, familial issues, weight loss ideas and what not. We were each other solace on most of the toughest days. We got along well, in spite of the fact that we were both very moody .We just knew when to give space and when to crowd in to each other’s lives .She made my work days in DB enjoyable and ensured that I got diamonds when I resigned. (Now you know why I love her so much.)

Vidu and Pearl (God bless their hearts) welcomed me wholeheartedly into their lives when we were (kind of) thrown together without our consents. Our hubbies being best buddies, we were expected to socialize with each other. What the hubbies least expected, perhaps, was us to grow so close to each other and become best friends ourselves.  There was an unfortunate time when R’s Dad was unwell and he had to travel a lot. I was pregnant with Ryan then and needless to say, it was a very stressful time for me. Vidu and Renjith (her husband) went out of their way to help me, took me to their place so that I didn’t be alone, came and lived with me when they realized I was travelling too much in my delicate condition and went a couple of  extra miles just to satisfy my pregnancy cravings. When R and I were too unhappy to celebrate our first anniversary because it was exactly a month after R’s dad had passed away, Vidu and Pearl came home with all our friends and a cake and the food so that we didn’t spend the day being depressed and miserable.

They made me a part of their house parties, took me shopping, encouraged my cooking, and pampered my child with their love and gifts. We became a sort of sorority sisters, organizing ladies night out & surprise birth day parties, shopping for each other, saving each other from the collective jibes of our husbands, and just being there for each other when we needed it most.

Piku and I met at work and became friends, just like that. She’s one of those few people whose frequency matches with mine to a T. She is a good listener and an empathetic speaker. She’s beautiful on the outside as well as inside .She’s who she is and lets me be who I am. No conditions apply.

My friends Kunu (Jyotisikha), Puchu (Debamitra), Neha (Niharika) and Tanzeem were the only ones in college who loved me, supported and accepted me the way I was. Without Kunu’s notes and my Mom’s prayers, I would have probably flunked at my BE finals. Neha was my personal beauty expert, Puchu was my friend and philosopher, and Tanzeem and I shared a tomboyish streak. We’d spend nights sitting on the terrace and contemplating our futures, doing planchet -invoking spirits ,dancing away to glory on each other’s birthdays ,after having smeared the cake on to our oh so beautiful faces. They made the most torturous four years of my life bearable, livable and fun.

My friends Keya, Asha, Sudipta and Neeta are like the rocks of my foundation. We hooked up from when we in our 5^th or 6^th grade. These are the people who can look into my eyes and say when I am wrong, without flinching. And if in spite of the warning, if I went ahead with my plans (stubborn that I am),they’d stand by me, not abandoning me ,to gather my broken and bruised pieces. They’d put me back together, brush off the pain and the dust and off we’d go on our next adventure. Now we are all grown women. Each of us have new lives and new friends, but we can still pick up our conversation (after months/years of not being in touch) from where we left it last. Even now when we talk, we start giggling like the teenagers we once were and we find that the little girls in us have not gone away completely. I for one am glad of that fact.

I am grateful to have been blessed with these wonderful women as my friends.

If you're alone, I'll be your shadow.  If you want to cry, I'll be your shoulder.  If you want a hug, I'll be your pillow.  If you need to be happy, I'll be your smile.  But anytime you need a friend, I'll just be me.  ~Author Unknown

The life in my Hand bag

The life in my Hand bag

 I love my hand bag...I guess most girls do. I have one in every hue & shape .One for any given occasion. I have a red leather bag made by the girls in Shantiniketan, a black leather one from Shoe Mart ,with  big chunky  chains, a classy white one in synthesized leather from Rampage which is a gift from R ,a tiny navy one from Leader Land which looks like my favorite jeans, a big tan one ,also from Leader Land which can probably hold 10kgs of chakki fresh whatever , an aqua blue-green one which is basically a zipper gone around in the shape of a bag ,a maroon one which reminds me of the bags which Mom used to take to work (teacher teacher), a fake Burberry which can hold just one phone, one credit card and one hair brush at any given time…maybe I could squeeze in my lip gloss in it too ,then there’s the golden clutch which is my latest acquisition and waiting for the perfect debut at a big fat Indian wedding/festival or a film premiere ! ( Where I’d arrive fashionably late, if I ever get to attend any of them. But I want to be prepared for when the opportunity comes knocking)...

Then there’s the red travel hand bag which is big enough to carry my three year old in like a sling bag and keep all his supplies too! And you know what the best feature of the bag is? It came absolutely free with a DKNY perfume. My current favorite is a potli bag .It’s made of the softest Italian leather in a shade that’s a cross between the colors in Indian army’s uniform. The best thing about this one is that it takes the shape of whatever is in it...If I need to carry just a wallet and a hairbrush, it’s small bag, if I need to carry my son’s swim wear and beach towel, it becomes a beach bag, if am carrying his water bottle , change of clothes, wet wipes, snacks, it becomes a baby bag, If am going for a movie with R carrying my sunglasses and gloss and pair it with a  few beads and some heels , it becomes a chic bag…You know what I mean? My bag reflects my mood, my existence, it shapes up according to the task I’m heading out to do.  

When I was working, my bag was like a mini home + mini office .It had my keys (car, house ,locker, cabinet !!!), sunglasses, my makeup (cos I never dress up for work unless I had a meeting or going shopping after that ;-)) ,my pain killers( cos you never know when  that migraine /acidity will strike again),my towels and napkins(for obvious purposes),post its and pens ( to take the most important notes on the move or to make the shopping list when bored at work),my son’s pic (cos I  missed him all the time) ,R’s pic (to be prepared if ever I had to fill up a form/application and yeah I missed him too sometimes),all the money I ever got as Vishu Kayi Neetum  (money given by elders  as a good luck charm during the Mallu New Year ),my rosary and mini prayer book( again for obvious purposes) and of course it had my wallet with the money and the credit cards and the doctors’ visiting cards and finally the most important gadget in the human life today ,the ‘Mobile Phone with its headset’.

When I  go out with my son, it becomes the baby bag (I detest the pink and blue baby bags, they are just so boring),with his change of clothes, snacks, milk,  water, wipes and until a while ago, pull up diapers too. These were obviously accompanied by the sunglasses, rosary, wallet, other necessary toiletries, keys and the mobile.

When I and R go out without Junior, (it’s a usually the classy white or the fake Burberry) good enough to hold the glasses, mobile, keys, wallet and gloss

When I am traveling , my bag is a combo pack of my work bag and baby bag and it also takes up the role of the jewelry bag and the passport holder . The poor bag ends up holding the liquor and chocolates from duty free too because dude, when you are travelling with a hyper active kid, there’s only so many bags you can carry!!!

Most men tend to find women’s bag cluttered and cumbersome, what they don’t know is that the bag usually represents the state of mind of the lady you are with. If it is small and uncluttered, it probably means she is relaxed, if it’s a big and messy, it probably means she’s had a long and hard day and couldn’t find her keys at the end of the day. If she’s carrying a big classy bag with only a few things in it, it probably means that she is enjoying herself, her freedom and her style, she’s just happy being herself .if she’s with a kid, no points for guessing the contents of her bag or her state of mind…both are full of baby stuff.

So lovelies out there, invest in your handbags, it’s what you are, usually. And for the men in the life of these lovelies, you could learn a lot about their moods if you have a good look into the state and contents of her bag…

 

As for me, my hand bag has a life, my life, my world.

PS: I have (sort of) inherited the love of bags from my sister who also happens to be the sponsor of most of the best bags i've owned.Love u Chech...this one's for you. 

Mysteries of my confused mind

Somebody recently  pointed out that I was frustrated .Believe me, I knew that statement to be a fact of my life, but when an unknown person pointed it out, it got me thinking, a little more than I was already, about my state.

Why am I frustrated? I mean, I have it all –an amorous family, a loving, faithful and supportive husband who is also(touchwood) doing very well ,( get the drift?) , an adorable son who keeps me on my toes, a maid who does the dishes and the dusting, decent education  ( I mean my parents would probably  have sent me to the moon to study, if I was so inclined ,but they settled for engineering since I was not into astronomy) and  until a couple of months, a very well paying job ,which I quit on my own terms and whole heartedly to move to my home country to be close to the afore mentioned family, to live with my well-to-do, lovey-dovey hubby and bouncy  baby  in a luxurious apartment, maintained by the afore said  maid ,in a beautiful city in India.

So why am I frustrated?  At the risk of calling myself a hypocrite, I’ll tell u this. I am confused, about most things in my humble life. When I got married, gratefully I was not confused...I was somehow sure that this is what I wanted and this is the guy with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life...But then the confusions began….I was working for a reputed company at that point from which I promptly resigned, because hey, I was getting married and obviously I wanted to be where my hubby was..But when my father heard of this, he was upset, am not sure why, but it sure got me thinking if I did make a mistake of quitting so fast from a great job with a great future. That’s where the confusion began, but the deed was done, so off I went to live with my ‘new family’. It took me almost six months to get a job there and it was  sales job…now I want to make something very clear…I cannot sell the benefits of veggies to my 3 year old son, so how the heck was I supposed to sell the god forbidden products? Grrr.

Anyways, meanwhile I and hubby decided we wanted a baby .Yes, within three months of getting married. It was hilarious because I’d actually bought a year’s contraception supply even before the wedding. When I did get pregnant, it was during the time when I’d been to an interview which was for a job of my liking even though I had no hands on in the specific sector. The job confirmation and the pregnancy confirmation happened almost at the same time. So here I was confused again...is it a good time to be pregnant &/or to start a new job? The new boss of course was very supportive notwithstanding an ‘Oh Shit’ when she heard the preggers news. But she made me promise that I wouldn’t take a single day more than the allotted 45 days of maternity leave (You read right, there are places in the world where the mother is given 45 calendar days as maternity leave).I of course swore that I wouldn’t take a day more and I didn’t . But then I was already bored out of my mind resting at home, doing nothing productive apart from filling and emptying a certain little one’s tummy. So I was glad to go back to work…but then, in a week’s time the guilt started…I was leaving my month old baby at the mercy of a nanny and formula milk. How heartless was I? Jobless cousins with grown children had to point out that my son would never be close to me because I didn’t feed him enough (if you know what I mean).I consoled myself that I’m ensuring a better lifestyle and education for him .But the thought stuck at the back of my mind like a fish bone.

The years went by with recurrent feeling of guilt taken over by a sense of non-achievement (am not even sure if it’s a proper word, but I don’t want to call myself a loser because IAM NOT) both as a mom and as a career woman. There were days when I felt, what the heck am I doing still stuck at this job at lower management level while my mates from school and college are now Senior This and Manager That etc…The confusion got worse while hubby darling was touring the globe in his fabulous  job. So it was during one such tour that he calls me up asks “Babe, do you want to move back to India?” I jumped up at the opportunity and started preparing to move. I promptly informed my boss about my impending move, who promptly assumed that I was just throwing tantrums to bag a promotion/hike (rolling eyes here) .Finally I put in my papers with a month’s notice and bam -I become one of the most important resources of the unit .’ Business Critical’ –they called me. The top-guy gave me a pep talk about how well I have come up from being a novice to the industry to what I was on today and that if I’d been joining another organization in the same city he would never have let me go. So the new confusion began, was I a fool to be throwing it all away? Will I get a job that pays me so well and where I was ‘business critical’ to the organization? But it was too late even though my constant bickering did lead my hubby darling to almost withdraw the transfer papers. But I felt bad for putting him through the sting, so I stuck to the plan, quit and moved.

Three months down the line-no job yet, hubby touring, son at school, maid in the kitchen of the luxury apartment (because my hubby feels that since I gave up so much, I should live like a princess. Isn’t he the most adorable?)

Parents want me to start working again soon, in-laws want me to have another baby, hubby wants me to just stay occupied and be happy and ‘I’ don’t know what I want. Because I’m confused again and also frustrated, in spite of having the best of everything, here I am whining away to anyone who cares to listen. In between my son has become so attached to me that he wouldn’t even go to the loo without me. The other day, I told him that I had to go back to work (so I could buy toys for him). He promptly brought his piggy bank and said,” Mamma, I have money, I give you, ok?” .Now at least that’s heartening ;-).

Women In India

Marriage is like your insurance brochure, it has a glossy cover page, followed by very interesting plans for your future and also a lot of fine print. And no matter how carefully you read the subject document, before signing it, you’ll have a  number of days where you’ll find a new fine print &/or  a new offer which you had missed in the initial document…

Being a mom is like being a fireman…if you are not sirening off towards an emergency rescue; you are constantly preparing for one or cleaning up the mess after the previous one .but to b really honest, it’s more rewarding than the most successful rescue, more enjoyable than the most hilarious comedy, its more fulfilling than cooking, more exciting than seeing your garden bloom.

Being an Indian daughter-in-law is like being a waitress. You have to always serve the dish of the day with a smile on your face, even if it’s #1 on your personal hate list. Always look presentable, pleasing and approachable. Take orders with grace, serve with flourish, endure the occasional hurt with a considerate smile and take the tips proudly,’ cos hey you deserve every penny of it girl…

You would think that being a daughter would be the easiest of all relations for women...but honey you are in for a surprise…being daughter is like being a wife, a mom and a daughter in law at the same time…here’s how…the fine print changes as and when the parents feel like as do the offers…although you never prepare for a emergency rescue, you’ll often find yourself cleaning the mess of one that was maybe related to you at a -.01%. And no matter what, don’t lose that smile babes because that’s what keeps their BP in check...