It hurts to part..

 The feeling of emptiness when an enriching, warm, long-running engagement ends is so depressing. I finished Pachinko today - my first book of this year, and I am already missing it so bad. It was a long book and I have spent many wonderful hours with it. Some experiences have this quality of haunting you long after they get over. I am thinking of some other times when it hurt to part. 

1. Books: Atlas Shrugged, Totto chan, A suitable boy. 

2. TV series: Big Bang theory, Friends

3. Places:  Most places where I have spent a considerable time - my two homes in Allahabad, my apartment in Joka, my home for 4 years in Bangalore, my apartment in Hyderabad. Strangely, the 8 days spent in Udaipur + neighbouring places continue to haunt me. 

4. Workplaces: I only felt this for my last software company, Yodlee(now Envestnet) and my last company, Medtronic. Of course, I spent my longest time working in these two. And my school which I had attended for 14 years. Didn't feel much for either colleges. 

These are just off the top of my head, and heavily tainted with recency bias. Starting a new book tonight to ease the misery. So long!

Of exceptional muscle memory..

I am a naturally lean person, averse to any physical activity. I would, therefore, imagine myself having very little muscle mass. Irrespective, my muscle memory appears to be really active and sharp. Every muscle remembers every ache, every workout long after I have forgotten the routine and the gym instructor has forgotten my name. I know that I really need to do something about my creaking joints and stiffening limbs if I intend to rely on them for the second half of my life, the question is how!

Of modesty and saving the family's honor..

Cousin E is visiting. We pick her from the airport and on the way back home agree that the weather is far too pleasant to be spent indoors. And so we decide to spend the day shopping - in a mall, where else! Allow me to skip the irony of it all. We reach home, drop the bags and E gets dressed. She swaps her travel clothes -  t-shirt, trousers and jacket for a ripped jeans and an off-shoulder + cold-shoulder crop top. Pari is scandalised, to say the least. She makes a big hue and cry about the dress. We try to calm her down while hyperventilating ourselves. A compromise is struck - the ripped jeans is exchanged for a normal untorn albeit skinny alternative, but the crop top stays. Pari wonders aloud as to what keeps it from falling off, and evaluates at length, the chances and consequences of such a malfunction. Thats when I start getting worried, but E assures us that the top is held firmly in place by her contours and trustworthy elastic.

As soon as we step out of the car, and even before we can enter the mall, Pari is overwhelmed with shame and concern for E mausi. In a futile effort to cover E's exposed belly, she starts pulling down the by now famous crop top, subjecting E to a real danger of undress should the elastic give way. We take great pains to explain to her that it is alright to expose some belly, and even Nani does it when she wears a Sari. I think more than the explanation, what forces her to let go is the sight of many more women wearing similar or worse clothes - ripped jeans and crop top does seem to be the flavor of the season. We are in the Zara store when Pari whispers to me, pretty loudly for a whisper - 'Mumma, this woman's jeans is even more torn than E's!' Fortunately, many women in the store are wearing torn jeans and are too busy shopping for more distressed clothes to  pay attention to a child's honest opinion.

The following day is a lot of fun - E dresses appropriately in shirt and shorts, eats pasta and plays house and monopoly with Pari all day. She leaves in the evening. As we tidy up the house and get ready for bed, Pari walks up to me.
P: Mumma, I will never ever wear clothes like E.
Moi: Hmm.. alright.
P: Torn clothes are so disgusting.
M: OK
P: (Still hurt and needing to vent) E wears such clothes, other people can see her organs!
M: (Aghast! She is taking it just too far)Organs?? Which organs did you see? You can see her skin, but you can't see her organs unless you have an X-ray vision.
P: Yes, skin is our largest organ.
M: (Appropriately quietened.. thinking of a response which just doesn't come! Finally, I manage to mutter under my breath) Baby.. I only hope you keep thinking like that through the next 20 years!

This post is recorded for training purposes and future use. It will be pulled out for reference the moment I see Pari wearing anything that can potentially expose any of her organs.

Letting go..

At some point in life, we all learn to let go of things, loosen our hold on stuff.. it is 'when we learn' that makes all the difference. For some it comes naturally, a lesson learned early in life, while for others the wisdom dawns a tad late. There exists a third set too, the unfortunate ones who go before they get to let go. And then there are people who learn their lessons, forget them and then learn again, only to forget again, very conveniently at the slightest temptation. I belong to the incorrigible lot.

When did I let go? Lot of times actually. I had let go when I decided to have Pari. Again, when I quit my job to bring her up. I had let go when I finally put her in a daycare. And when I left my home and my family to come to Joka. Letting go doesn't come easily to me. But I have done it so many times.. I can certainly do it once again. I just wish it doesn't hurt so much. Actually, it shouldn't. After all, letting go of one thing is the only way to free ourselves to catch hold of something else.. something new and more meaningful, hopefully happier too.

New year revolution

I am a compulsive procrastinator. Things have come to the point where I am not even ashamed of admitting this because I have stopped considering it as my fault. It is just who I am, a part of my constitution. It is embedded in my DNA, though we are yet to discover another existing family member lethargic to this extent. For all we know, this gene could've skipped a couple of generations and finally emerged as the dominant one in my being. Procrastination is the eternal bane of my life.
The ever-growing list of posts in my drafts contrasts sharply with the miniscule number that manages to see the light of the day, and is a testimony to this. That said, my last ditch effort to revive this blog is here. I am going to post here once daily until the end of the month. Just to prove to myself that I can! Like Pari says- this could be my new year 'revolution'. To her, one cannot make a resolution in the middle of the year, it is always on new year's day. Perhaps because that is when the earth completes a revolution of the sun, making it an optimal time for us to make a 'revolution' too!

ps. Pari has 'revolved' to not poke her nose in to others' business. Unfortunately, 'others' doesn't seem to include us and the rest of the family, but otherwise, the decision seems to be working well for her, particularly in school. 

Joka Diary - 10

One week. That is all the time I have left in Joka. Come Thursday and I'll be packing my bags to leave for home. It is a strange feeling. Actually, I should be able to identify with it now, I always feel this way when it is time to say my good-byes. Most people here are extremely thrilled about being reunited with their families, or going back to the corporate world if they are already placed. Others are busy hunting for jobs. I am also looking forward to seeing Pari and being with my family once again. But at the same time, I feel I am going to miss this place and my student life. The uncertainties ahead do nothing to ease my anxiety. And so, I am trying not to think of my life after IIM. But then, what do I think about? The last term is almost over, we had our first exam today. Nobody cares for studies anymore and even less for exams.. I am no different. For now, we are all doing what we enjoy the most. The men are playing cricket, football, running and partying like there is no tomorrow. I am happily idling away my time downloading and watching loads of movies -- old, new, Hindi, English-- all kinds. The song in the last post is a testimony to that. I particularly like watching old, weepy, tragic movies, that suit my current disposition. When I get tired of movies and my eyes and head start hurting, I sleep. I call up home, friends and chat for long. At times, I even attend the classes. And of course, I intend to appear for all the exams. To me, this last lap appears really weird and lackadaisical. That is just not me. How I wish we could finish the race in style, on a high note!
p.s. In this post, I haven't ruminated on my life in Joka during the last 11 months. The last post in this diary, whenever it is done, is reserved for that!

My whole life flashed before me..

..just about 10 minutes back. And I had stopped breathing for close to 8 minutes. It is a miracle that I have survived to share the story and so share I will. I have to fill up a form as part of a job application where the compensations details for the previous job are required. So I go over to my drawer, pull out my files and start looking for the old salary slips, if there are any. I anyways, hopefully, have them in the emails, so not a big worry really. As I go through the 3 files, I do not see the salary slips.. more importantly, I do not see any work-experience related documents. No relieving/joining/appraisal letters! I go through the files again and then again. I start going through the huge stack of papers in the lower cabinet. My study table has 2 drawers, which I use to keep my files of important papers(certificates, mark sheets, IT returns), passport, money, spectacles, pencils, chocolate wrappers, boarding passes, receipts for parlor visits, pizza deliveries & shopping, credit card/electricity bills, check-books, passbooks.. basically only the most important and the most useless stuff that I have. The lower half of the table has a cabinet, where I dump my old books, broken umbrella, camera, polythene bags and.. you get the drift. That is just about how organized and careful I am. Alright, my work-related documents-- I can't find them. And I kid you not, I feel so giddy and light-headed. I have already lost a couple of extra-curricular certificates after coming to Joka, probably during the verification process, and had to remove those from my as-it-is meager list of achievements. And now this.. it had to be a sabotage. Somebody is stealing my papers and trying to kill me slowly. I immediately feel like picking the phone and bawling off to the husband. However, I decide to sort through my papers again. This time by taking everything out of the files and thumbing through each leaf. After what looks like an eternity, I do find my relieving letters etc, but this short experience leaves me shaken and pensive. I think I am going to take multiple photocopies of all my stuff, and keep the originals in a nuclear-attack-resistant vault. Anybody who wishes to go through the originals will be taken to the vault, where he can stare at my papers for the longest time to his heart's content. But the certificates are not coming out of the vault, like ever.

The best-laid plans..

..go awry. I am a big show-off. Yes, that is exactly what I am. Did I tell you I am supposed to head home today? Of course I would have told ya, because I have told half the world about it. I have been dreaming about the Dussera trip to home, even before returning from the previous trip, that was barely 10 days back. And I have been dreaming of the Bara Bangalia Durga Puja which I haven't seen since 2002. And obviously looking forward to spending time with Pari and the Husband. Being a loud mouth is acceptable, when you have a big brain to keep up with it. For bird-brains like me, it spells disaster and embarrassment.

I am not going home today, or any time soon. My train tickets were wait-listed, and they still are. The husband had got them for me almost 3 months back, and both of us had forgotten that they were in the waiting-list. Wait, hold on the urge to laugh. There is more entertainment coming. Like the mess had mutton-biryani in lunch today, and I ate very less despite it being my most-favorite dish. Yeah.. because I believe in 'traveling light'. And Oh, did I mention how cleverly I left my stuff at home on the last visit, 'abhi to 10 din me phir se aana hi hai'. Bah! Hold on, the best is yet to come. There are plenty of people forced to stay on the campus because they couldn't get their reservations. I generously offered to share my berth with them in case they could work it out with the TC. Not just that, yesterday I spent the entire evening downloading movies to watch on my way. You see, I like to really plan things in advance and prepare well for the travel. Now if only I had had the good sense to check the status of my tickets!

I am still trying to get tickets in Tatkal, for Monday if not earlier. The railway-booking website isn't working though. Luckily for Pari, the husband is reaching Alld. tonight. The poor child is waiting for us. And you know what, he got his tickets altered at the last moment, so that he could reach Alld. before me and receive me at the station. It was important, since Papa is not in town, and my train reaches past midnight. Have no doubts folks, we are good at planning!

Does every post need one - 'Title'?

I wake up, tired and listless after an almost 3 hour long struggle against sleeping wakefulness or wakeful sleeping, whichever way you choose to look at it. I have been delirious, oscillating seamlessly between my house in Allahabad, and my flat in Joka. I spend sometime in my dream, talking to my mom, she asking me to get ready for a family event, my sister already dressed up in a saree. I wonder aloud, why are these kids so crazy about donning a saree? These are the same girls who would grow up to be women scorning at sarees, complaining how difficult it is to move around in one, when they are married and wearing saree is more of a social obligation than a choice. Sis gets miffed and walks out of the room. And I continue to tell my mom how I was just dreaming of her and the family event, and she smiles and confirms that it wasn't a dream. I really need to get ready for the event, and quickly since I have overslept already. Just as I feel reassured, for some weird reason, I force open my eyes, and find myself on my bed in Joka. Alright, so I have been hallucinating, and should jump out of the bed immediately to avoid further confusion. That doesn't happen. I go back to sleep and get transported to the family event in Allahabad again. This vicious circle, sleep->hallucinate->realize that it is a dream->try to wake up->go back to sleep->continues for the next 2 hours or so till I really get worked up and finally get out of the bed.

What is the first thing that you do after you wake up? I look in the mirror. As far as I can remember, I have always had a dressing table placed bang opposite to my bed, both in Allahabad, and in Bangalore. Here in Joka, the mirror is in the next room, but I am so used to looking at myself as the first thing after I wake up, that I actually sleep walk to the mirror. Today, I can see my skin glowing, not to the best of its ability, but definitely better than what it was in the morning. Which if you ask me, is not a good sign. My skin glows when I have a temperature. And the more sick I get, the more it glows. Believe me, kidding am I not! In fact, I have had some not-so-compassionate friends visit me during viral bouts, and comment that I didn't meet up their visual expectations of a sick person. The fever seriously makes me glow. Now why didn't I get fever on the day of my wedding, the world would have saved on a half-a-ton of makeup.

Whatever, I pop a crocin based on my interpretation of the symptoms. In any case I do not have a thermometer here. The husband wanted to buy me one when I was shopping for my stay here. I put forth an argument he couldn't refute -- 'I am going there to study, not to fall sick.' Now who can hold water against such razor sharp logic. And when a girl has such observation, intuition and a telltale skin, why waste on a thermometer?

If you can't make any sense out of this post, please do not blame your intellect, and don't as much as doubt my. I am, in all likeliness, still delirious..

Nightmares

As I grow older and the world around me changes, my dreams or shall I call them nightmares, also appear to graduate to higher levels. Now that I have lived long enough to witness a couple of technological revolutions -- the internet & cellphones, and slept enough hours to get a pattern in those nightmares, I can actually trace the advancement, in my nightmares that is. My nightmares are almost always spun out of my fears. Like my fear of getting lost -- I have spent several nights trying to find my way out of some maze or trying very hard to reach some obscure place -- always in vain, and waking up in the morning really tired after all the struggle. Or my fear of absolute darkness. Growing up in Allahabad, electricity failures were a pretty regular feature in the evenings. And we did not have a generator/invertor for almost the entire first decade of my life. My nightmares then comprised of trying to grab a hand, of parents, grandparents, aunts-- just anybody from the family in the pitch darkness. However, now that I have been living away from family for quite sometime now, even the subconscious me doesn't turn to the family for support. I have just had a dream where I was stranded in the dark, feeling very very scared, and fumbling endlessly with my phone to turn on the torch in it, obviously with little success. I have bought this cellphone with the torch feature only two months back, and looks like my subconscious has already registered the update! Just curious, is it only me or has that happened to you too?

Joka Diary - 5

Time flies.. even when you are living away from family, pining for your home, buried under piles of books and subjected to a constant threat of exams and evaluations! To be fair, you also have the great company of fellow sufferers to alleviate your distress, partly at least. There are 43 other souls in the throes of the examination, burning the midnight oil, facebooking away to glory while the elusive nirvana lies somewhere in the powerpoint presentations that the faculty so graciously provides. It happens to me all the time, I open the laptop to look at the presentations, but unknowingly and invariably end up on facebook. Seriously, I hate facebook, so much that I am contemplating joining the 'I hate Facebook' group on facebook. Anyhow, the first term is over, and we are now in the second week of the second term. The classes are already running on full steam. However, people are occupied with other important things, viz. internship, study tour, placements, lattice and such. As for me, I am my usual lethargic self, trying to have a good time while sitting firmly on my lazy butt. Before coming to Joka, I had great plans of working on my personal development, and using this one year to come up with a better and improved me. I don't see any of it happening though. I remain as wasteful, non-committed and useless as ever. Alright, to give myself some credit, I have finally started cycling. For the other activities, we still have 6 terms left. Lets see.. tomorrow is a new day.

Joka Diary - 4

I graduated from college in 2003, almost 8 yrs back. Coming back to college after such a long break is not easy, and especially for a rigorous course like this. I am having trouble sitting in the classroom for long hours, attending lectures from morning to evening and focussing on the discussions. No matter how hard I try, my mind tends to wander after half an hour of lecture, and by the time it returns, the discussion has already gone too far and I am unable to follow. I am not new to this, it happened all the time in school, college, even office meetings but I was able to join back whenever I chose to concentrate. However, the classes here are really fast-paced. Its like watching your first English movie, after years of watching Indian television serials. You have no previous experience to help you comprehend, you struggle with the thick foreign accent and by the time you get a hang of the thing, the movie gets over. I still can't watch English movies without subtitles, while for most Hindi movies, I think I wouldn't miss anything even if the volume is turned off.

Back to studies, apart from listening skills, it seems I need to re-develop my writing skills as well. I have simply not written anything except for my name on some bank papers in the last so many years. Writing in ruled notebooks is a major challenge, I am not able to stick to the bottom line and my letters just fly all over the page. Also, my handwriting is not what it used to be, and I keep making mistakes while taking notes. I think we can ask the instructor to be allowed to take notes on the laptop, but then it might not give me the feel of actually studying, which I so like. For now, I am giving it a decent try, but the examiner is going to have a tough time when he/she marks my answersheet. On a slightly different note, it has made me realise how difficult it is for Pari to write in a 4 line notebook when she has started writing just a couple of months back. I feel really guilty about all the times I have scolded her for not writing neatly.

Coming to Pari, I am really missing her now. There are a number of students, all of them obviously men who have come to the campus with their families. Strangely, most of them have daughters, and the children are always running around the hostel when we return from the classes. When I mentioned Pari to one of my classmates, he said what I am doing is commendable. I heard it as condemnable. Probably because thats what I think of leaving my daughter behind.

Joka Diary - 3

The title is getting boring, isn't it? And to think that I am about to spend the next entire year here-- 350 days, there is scope for around 50 more entries to the diary. Should I continue with the name, or should I be more creative? On second thoughts, I would rather spend time writing the journal than thinking about new titles. So the name sticks, at least for the time being.

It has been a pretty much uneventful weekend so far.. not that any excitement is expected during whatever is left of it, unless a frog jumps in my room. This has already happened once and I couldn't sleep the entire night, scared that the creature might just jump on my bed or worse still, on my head. My sister often caught frogs from our garden as a toddler, and brought them inside to show us -- 'Didi, dekho!'. I would dash out of the room very abruptly, leaving the child bewildered. I wonder if she is still that comfortable with frogs. Digression over, we visited the local market, aptly named 'Behaala' yesterday. The place was indeed 'behaal'.. buzzing with activity, and very crowded. We sighted a lot of ladies dressed in lovely, crisp cotton sarees, usually in white and off-white with pastel designs. It surprised me to see them dressed so immaculately for casual shopping. Whatever it is, I am so buying sarees before I leave Cal!

Today, the day was spent holed up in my flat except for the mandatory visits to the mess. I felt like catching up with the other girls but they were all in their respective flats, and I wasn't sure how welcome would I be. I think it is the same with the other girls, they probably wish to interact as well, but have their own apprehensions. Hopefully, we will be more comfortable knocking at each other's doors once we get to know the group better.

P.S. Just returned from dinner to find a frog jumping around the house. Wish I had mentioned Tom Cruise instead of the darn froggie, you never know...

Good bye Bangalore!

Its been around 2 days since I left Bangalore, and I am already missing it like hell. The thought that I might not go back there ever is killing me, and I am probably as miserable as I was when I left Allahabad for good. Bangalore was the only other home known to me. For all I know, I would have missed it even if I were shifting to Allahabad, the stuff that my dreams are spun of. As of now, I am going to a strange city among strange people to do something I have absolutely no clue about.. big consolation indeed! And for this noble cause, I have given up my home of 5 yrs, my husband of 5 yrs & best-friend of another 2 yrs, my daughter and lifeline of 4 yrs, all friends made over the last 8 yrs and my workplace of over 3 yrs. Most of it has obvious impact, except for the workplace which is why I need to elaborate on it. I loved my workplace, and it loved me right back. I did not make great career strides here, probably the most relaxed phase of my career till now, but it did allow me to balance my personal life and work without guilt. My daughter grew for an infant to a confident little girl during this time, and I cannot be any less grateful for that. Also, I met some amazing people here and forged bonds for life. To top it all, I was due for a considerable hike and a promotion. Tell me, which woman in her right mind would give up such a job? I did.

Time for thoughts on Bangalore. I love the city, the people and the culture. Unlike most people from north, who find everything wrong with the southern part, and like-minded southerners who look down on north, I really like Bangalore. And I know the city better than Allahabad, what with changing 5 houses and 5 companies. Also, I was a homing pigeon in Alld, content sitting at home by my window, reading and dreaming, secure in the warmth of my loving family. Bangalore was where I grew up from a naive young girl to an independent woman. It is here that I fell in love, got married, had a child and graduated from being a daughter to a mother. It is here that I learnt self-reliance away from my protective parents, and learnt to take care of myself, well almost. Taking care of myself meant marrying the man who took care of me, and then leaving it all to him.

Leaving a city that means so much to you is never easy, much less for a person who tends to get attached to stuff like me. I feel uprooted, and bruised. I feel disorientated and lonely. I want to cry my heart out, bawl my head off. It might be another week before I get to do that. For now, I just hope we win the world cup today. It might serve as a temporary distraction and save me at least some disappointment.

It is official now..

..the husband-man is cheating on me. Trust me, it was in the newspapers today. The highly-dependable Times of India has duly reported that a mole on the right cheek indicates a cheating husband. Ironically, it is not even the poor man's fault. I mean I have always had that mole on my right cheek, so no matter who I marry, the person is bound to cheat on me. Even if my old man were born an epitome of virtue and loyalty, he automatically transformed into a womaniser the day of the wedding, such is the power of the mole. What really amazes me is that the morphing happened in such a subtle fashion that even a smart girl like yours truly took 5 long years to realise it. Anyways, now that I know it for a fact that the man's crooked, I am leaving no stone unturned to uncover his misdemeanors. And considering that the effort started only around 10 am this morning, after I read the newspaper and finished my breakfast, I am rather proud of my progress so far, proud enough to share it with you here-

1. The man has always been very supportive of my travelling for work/study/fun. Immediately after the alliance, he insisted that I go for an onsite assignment. When I turned it down, he made arrangements for his own travel and flew to the US for almost 3 months, no less! Currently, he is pushing me for an MBA, though I am not willing to take the risk in view of the recent discovery.

2. He can never remember important dates, not even the anniversary when we are together.. however, once away he sends me the most clichéd gifts on all our special occasions and otherwise without miss. And poor me, I always thought it is in tune with the adage 'distance makes the heart grow fonder'. Now I know, the gifts are driven by guilt rather than affection.

3. He doesn't call me, like ever once he steps out of the house. It is anybody's guess as to what keeps him 'busy'.

4. And last but not the least, reverse psychology. Sample this incident from last night - our car is covered in layers of dust. On the window pane, some one wrote a love note replete with a heart struck by the cupid's arrow, all in the dust. Before I could even question him about it, the spouse comes and insists that someone wrote it for me. 'For me'-- of all the people?? It is easier to believe that it was written for the car itself. Innocent me falls for the ploy, gets distracted and defensive, while the old man has a good laugh.

Finally, if all of the above falls short in implicating the husband, I still have the mole for proof!

Pari strikes again!

I have been struggling with this desperate urge to blog for quite some time now, but things have been slightly busy at my end and my love for procrastination is no secret either. Moreover, I make a conscious effort to keep my blog happy, as in I try not to write if I am depressed or suicidal or 'divorcal'(is there a word for the urge to divorce??). I have two teenage sisters who follow the blog, and that is enough reason for me to keep it clean and not write anything that could potentially put them off marriage/children/middle-age.. Besides, I might be hunting matches for them in a few years from now, and it is absolutely necessary that the family believes that I am good at finding a match!

So much for not writing, now we come to the reasons for writing at this odd hour. I am mature enough to know that my not-blogging is no great loss to the blogging community. However, to me it is.. especially because Pari is back and churning out gems by the hour, and with my memory, I forget most of them the following hour. And it is a bigger loss to the father who will miss it entirely. Yes, the spouse is travelling for work to Noida and being a man of principles, he doesn't call me, like ever, from office(work-ethics), transit(traffic-rules) or home(family-time, he is staying with the IL's). And so he has no inkling as to what goes on in the household. However, the presence of the child, and the continued absence of the only maid that I had (Yes, I have 'NO DOMESTIC HELP' for the last 1 month) ensures that I have no time to even find out if the man’s indifference can serve as valid ground for a divorce. And if you think life couldn't get more interesting, the LPG got over and we spent 4 full days without a stove. The child, she refuses to eat anything except French fries outside the house, and demands milk 3 times a day in addition to her usual dal-rice. I went crazy trying to cook dal in the microwave, and running around with milk bottles begging people to boil the milk. On the positive side, I think I can expect a call from Survivor any day now.

Now the nice part, Pari has been entirely unpredictable since her return from Allahabad. My mom has indulged her heavily, and it shows in her behaviour. She took instant dislike to my not-so-flexible management and said the meanest things I have ever heard her say. I was truly crest-fallen and seriously contemplated having a second child, as the fall back 'budhape ka sahara'. Once she learns to read, Pari might hate me for putting it all here, but I would still share the two most shocking instances.

1. I go to the neighbour's house on some errand, and return in around 1/2 an hour after some invigorating gossip. I come back and ring the bell. Wait.. and again ring the bell. Now, I can clearly hear some argument behind the closed door between Pari and Papa, and assume that probably Pari wants to open the door for me. She likes doing that, at least she liked it before she went to Allahabad. Finally the door is opened by the husband, and Pari is sulking in the corner.
Me: Why didn't you let her open the door? Now, she is upset.
Husband: No, she didn't want to open the door. She is upset because I let you in. She was stopping me from opening the door, saying -'Don't open the door. Let Mumma stay outside.'
Horror!!

2. We are having dinner when I suddenly get hiccups. Even before the husband could notice, Pari screams -'Don't give her water. Let her have hiccups.'
Tell me if that isn't mean, what is?

Anyways, the husband left for Noida soon after, and you should see how this girl turned over a new leaf. She waited for Papa to return for a couple of days, and even cried for him. However, once it became clear to her that Papa is not returning anytime soon, and Mumma is who she has to make do with, she switched on her best behaviour. I mean, I'll just quote her here, these are some of the things she actually said to me-

1. Mumma, I can never be sad with you. I love you, and I will buy a lot of things for you.
2. You are so sweet Mumma! I am your daughter and all my things belong to you.(Of course they do, I bought them with my own money!)
3. Why doesn't the maid come? She is a lazy woman. My mumma has to wash utensils. I will help you mumma when I grow big.(I ask her when will she be big, and she says - Wait mumma, I am growing slowly!)

And such cheesy stuff. She is kissing me at the rate of 5 per minute, and if I happen to move, the ground that I had been standing on is smothered with affection. Sending her to the school and daycare is a cakewalk. If I just record her conduct for a day and sell it as an educational DVD, I am sure parents will queue up for a copy, just to show their wards how nice 4 yr olds can be.

For me, I am just happy to have my baby back, and glad that we are bonding big time. Though I am sure, things will not be the same once the father is back. But for now, I am basking in the glory of motherhood, and Pari keeps me sufficiently entertained. I am taking her down for cycling almost every other day and we go for long walks, where she provides me with useful insights on the world. Like when we came across a puddle, she pointed it out to me, 'Look mumma, a well. Do you know what a well is? It is a big hole and it is filled with water.' And then, there was little rise in the footpath, where it covered the drain to which she said -'Can I cross this bridge?' Thankfully, the official definition of bridge was not offered. At times, when I help her write, she says, 'Mumma you have become my teacher. You are my mumma and also my teacher.' However, the one that I liked the best was when I drove her to a restaurant - 'You have become a driver, but I still love you Mumma..' Thank you my child, I am so honoured!

Pari with Mausi..

Some gems--

1. Before leaving for a wedding with Nani and Nanu..
Pari: Mausi, you will be alone here.
Mausi: No Pari, I will stay with Amma.
Pari: Hmmm... So you and Amma will be alone here!

2. Pari: Mausi, look at my new toothbrush.
Mausi: Wow Pari.. this is nice. I don't have a new toothbrush.
Pari: I will buy you a new toothbrush on you birthday..
Mausi: Thank you Pari.
Pari: ..and you buy me a Dora doll, a toy bicycle, Noddy book, big chocolates, a pink dress,....
Mausi: ??!!

And one with Nanu-
3. To amuse her, Papa is walking criss-cross across the room, making funny faces.
Mausi: Look Pari, how is Nanu walking..
Pari: He is walking like a drunk!
(Entire family is stunned into silence, I still can't believe she knows that word. I think she probably said 'Duck' and these people heard it wrong. Papa starts walking straight with a serious face, obviously!)
Pari: and now, he is 'marching'.

Pari is currently at my mom's place in Allahabad, it is 15 days since we last saw her. This is the first time that she is living without us, more importantly without me, since the husband has travelled several times since her birth, in fact he was travelling the very day she was born. She obviously misses us but is otherwise having a fun time. Whenever I call Alld, my sister puts the phone in her vicinity, and I can hear her chattering away to glory, playing, singing, bossing around. However, it is tougher for us. I usually try to stay positive, since I believe that we have sent her for a purpose. Moreover, she has 4 people at her beck and call, doing nothing but pampering her all the time, where as here, all she gets is school, daycare, and a couple of tired, stressed-out parents at the end of the day who snap at her at the slightest provocation. While sending her off, I always thought that the husband would miss her more than me, but as it turns out, it is me who is up at nights, sobbing and crying my eyes out with the husband consoling me. It is a strange feeling, missing a child is like missing a limb. I feel amputated, the feeling that something is missing never leaves me. And I am not sure if I still have a heart, there is just an aching hole at the designated place. Probably my heart just broke to make way for it.

Phew! Never thought I could be so melodramatic. My bigger concern is Pari's return. I plan to bring her back sometime around Christmas, and I fear that she will find it difficult to settle down with the routine here. I am sure the doting grandparents, greatgrandma and mausi are all busy spoiling my disciplined child to bits. How am I supposed to deal with that?

Something about moms..

Pari has been going to a daycare from her montessori for the last 3 months. The school maid drops her there at 12.45 and I usually pick her in the evening around 6 pm. The moment I reach, Pari gets super happy and excited and starts running around the hall in circles. The running is mostly accompanied by dancing and singing as well. It takes almost 10 minutes for her to tire out, which is when the maids there hold her fast, put on her shoes and hand her over to me with bag and baggage. I am probably the first mom to reach, and all the other children, most younger to Pari are still there waiting for their parents to come and collect them. The babies are too young for school yet, and so they spend the entire day in the daycare. Some of them just walk/crawl to me and expect me to take them along. And that is when I feel embarrassed by Pari's mindless celebrations and cocky announcements-'My mumma has come..'. Gratifying as it may be, to see the child celebrating my arrival so much, I secretly wish that she would quietly walk out without rubbing it on the other children. But Pari being herself, does exactly the same thing every day, and the novelty of mumma coming to pick her from creche doesn't look like wearing off any time soon. If anything, her ability to run in circles without getting giddy is only improving.

Last Monday, my mom called up in the evening. I was unwell since the weekend, so she enquired about my health and then made a sudden announcement. She had got tickets booked in 'Tatkal' and was boarding a train to Bangalore on Wednesday, and that she would be here by Friday. I felt my heart do a quick running in circles, dancing and singing, the Pari way. It is still giddy with joy, and will take much more than 10minutes to tire out.

There is something about Moms.. ain't it?

By The Water Cooler

This is part of an old post, recycled to make an entry to the contest running on the incredibly witty Parul's blog. Everyone I read is competing and so am I :D

Last night, we met some of the husband's batch mates from college. One of them, AS, happens to be our ex-colleague as well. I have always found this particular person very inspiring. He has done some very unconventional things which require much more courage than I can ever hope for, but that is yet another story. Over the dinner, we recalled this little incident from the days of yore which I would like to share here. This goes back to 2005 when I was committed but not married. We were in the same team, and sat around 50 feet apart. On the messenger-

Me: I am getting engaged.
AS: Congratulations! So many people getting married these days...
Me: Is it?
AS: Oh yes. A friend got engaged just last week.
Me: Do I know him?
AS: You might. He is employed here. Would you know AJ in the XYZ team?
Me: ??
AS: Wait, let me send you the engagement pic. They make a nice pair.
Me: *Scampering off to his place despite a minor heart attack*

I reach his desk in a split second, he has the picture already open by then. It has me and the then-fiance-now-husband sitting in Pizza Hut. He grins sheepishly, too embarrassed to even apologize.

Open ended questions-
1. The entire office knew about us, why was he so blissfully unaware?
2. Even if he couldn't recognize me in the picture(though there is really no reason for it), does he expect a North Indian girl to get engaged in a Pizza joint, dressed in jeans and an almost off-shoulder red top?
3. What qualified him to comment on the pair, calling it 'nice', when he did not even look at the girl properly?
4. Why did he offer to share a picture with me in which he had, in all probability, no genuine interest? Oh I know the answer to the last one.. he was sharing the picture to help me recall who 'AJ' was!

These men can be really weird.. stay warned!!

I am worried..

.. about the Commonwealth Games. I know it is weird, I have very little to do with sports in any case, and given an opportunity, I would anytime prefer to play myself than watching other people play. Perhaps the patriot in me gets stirred everytime there are sad things in the newspaper about the games. And boy, these people do their job really well, the journalists that is. Isn't rousing people the motive behind writing such pinching headlines --'Games become India's shame'. If anything, it is a national shame. And to have people coming to your country, inspecting the games village and calling it 'filthy and uninhabitable' is downright embarrassing. I mean, how would you feel if your guests call your house a mess or your bathroom stinking? That is exactly how I feel when I read the newspaper these days.

There are shocking facts all through. For one, to think that these people had 70,000Cr rupees and 7 years to prepare, and some collapsing stadiums and an already-collapsed bridge and stinking loos are all they could come up with. Where does that place us as a nation? Ironically, this came the day following some study in the US that declared India as the third most powerful country. Wow, a powerful country that builds really weak structures, those that collapse even before they can be used. Truly wow!

As if this is not enough, there are some really highly placed idiots who make public statements without as much as a second reading.
'Westerners have different standards(of hygiene), we have different standards.'
Can't believe anyone can make a statement like this in defence of the filthy village reportedly infested with stray dogs and dogshit. Plain awesomeness.. and truly high standards of hygiene!

A couple of months back, while discussing the CWG, the husband very acridly remarked that he would be happy if all went awry and the rampant corruption in the country is exposed. It is scary to see that actually turning into reality. I so hope that somebody higher up has the decency and good sense to call off the games and salvage the nation's honour, whatever of it is left.