potpourri 8

There’s so much happening since the last few weeks that June seemed to have been gone a long long time ago. That includes the vacation, the trip up, the events around it, coming back to work and how crazy the last week’s actually been. I need to start jotting down stuff before they get lost in memory.

1. Trip up to New England was good. Munchkin was quite the darling up and down, without making a fuss. Meeting extended family after a gap of 8-10 years was quite nice and a different experience. Everyone had changed and yet not changed in many ways.
2. Visited the Boston Museum of Science. AMAZING place. Really. After visiting the Smithsonian museums a few hundred times, this was refreshing time spent. The height was when the daughter, after spending 4 hours traveling the floors and exhibits, asked if we could come back again! There’s proof that if it could appeal to a middle schooler, the museum must hold a charm. Truly left bad that son wasn’t with us then.
3. Stayed a whole SIX days without speaking with son. It was a different kind of missing, and more than me I believe the husband fretted and wanted him back at the end of day four.
4. The interesting part is though I can’t nail it exactly, but son appears “changed”. Not in a bad, or significant way, but just changed. I guess this is what they mean when they say “every experience changes a part of you, and learning from it makes us a slightly different and better person than before”. I think I made those words up, but the sentiment remains. Feels good, definitely.
5. Sister and I in a frenzy to get my nose pierced ran to the tattoo parlor on the dot at 10 am. Only to find that apparently, they would open only at noon. So came home, ate lunch and then trooped back again. Can’t believe the husband actually humored me and stayed smiling through all the confusion. Boy, was there confusion. A set of family was leaving,and so were we to drive down, another family coming in, sister’s in-laws and parents each embarking on various discussions, with different sets of kids runnig all around getting in each one’s ways!
6. Had a panic attack when I was asked to sign a long very legal looking document for the piercing. Too many risks is what I thought. Half chickened out. Decided what the heck, it was just a teeny little shot of pain anyway. Thought this smooth middle aged nice looking man would do it as sister promised, but was called into a room by a short, pudgy chubby young man who sported a mohawk, jeans falling off his portly waist and a yellow bright tee which had way too many words on it for me to comprehend. His ears had ping-pong sized holes and he had more silver on his face, tongue, and hands than the gold in Tirupati. His voice on the other hand was probably the most soothing I’ve ever heard. With surgical precision he dove into the skin, right after the guy matter of factly told me “yeah, sure, everyone’s nervous”, just a bit, not much pain, but it will” and “stay comfortable, it does’nt matter to me how you sit” and “close your eyes, and we’re done” . Phew. The piercing as such was bearable, it was the twisting of the end inside that hurt, and I did say a few “aahs and ouchouchouch” but it was over before I knew it.
7. Come home to be welcomed like a strange being from outer space. The brother-in-law armed with a handycam, I had 6 pairs of eyes searching my nose and my face and the most inevitable question: “Did it hurt?” and constant approval nods. The husband just refused to offer any opinion and smiled through the whole thing. I even stuck my nose right up close and personal, and he just shooed me away “yea yea, it’s fine”. The poor guy. The stuff I put him through. In any case, I must give credit where it’s due. He’s a darling for allowing me to do what I want, and not let himself be burdened by it.
8. Then got into the vanand drove home down i-95 in record 8 hours, with 3 stops!!! No, I didn’t drive, he did. On complaining coz I feel he doesn’t let me drive, as he thinks am incapable of it, I was quite strongly reminded of another viewpoint by sister and sister’s father-in-law. That point being, that the husband cares for me so much that he’d rather bear the stress of driving than put me through it. Yeah. Okay. The husband had a look of relief when this was mentioned aloud.
9. Watched July 4th fireworks along with a few friends at the local High school. Drenched to the skin. The spirit once the fireworks started didnt wane a bit and in fact it dodn’t seem to bother anyone absolutely despite the crowds, waits and traffic. Seeing the enthusiasm, the joie de vivre and the sense of belonging folks exhibited, mom and I wished we Indians could do the same on such days at least.
10. Realized leaving work early only meant doing 8-10 hour work in 6 hours. That’s a lot to cram in, but at least I leave happy. I swore I would never bring home work and I hope to keep that up. It’s work. It’s part of my life and it shall stay back where it belongs.
11. This past week has been crazy and I’ve probably been putting in close to 70 miles a day. Pressing the accelerator with my right foot has only laid major stress on my right knee. It now hurts more than I can ignore and it’s only getting worse. Hoping to get rid of it in the next couple of weeks. The pain that is. The leg’s staying.
12. 70 miles is driving back and forth from work, then shuttling daughter and son to respective activities, and then the dance rehearsals in the evenings running late into the nights. The days were running into each other and it all came to an end Saturday night for the performance.
13. It was amazing to be back on stage again and the appreciation that flowed from folks who’ve never known me as a dancer before just added onto the most enjoyable evening in a long time. Probably the best moment was when my guru called me aside after the end of the show and said a few things that I would always cherish and keep in mind. It was a crowning moment and a timely affirmation, something that boosts a sagging morale. Accordingly, my foot and knee didn’t hurt the whole Saturday. Just proves that when you are involved and engrossed in a passion, the little pains, and annoyances cease to exist.
14. Have set a few goals for myself, now I only hope my bones and muscles allow me to realize a few of them.
15. Basement project’s driving all of us a tad crazy. I think it’s finally coming together, now to find a time to pack the junk we’ve been accumulating over the years a new home.
16. IKEA never fails to amaze and always delivers. Thank God for the swedes and their sense of style.

 

trav(w)ails

Thought process before embarking on a long trip:

• Sit up late into the night downloading songs that you arent sick of listening within a minute. The ultimate scare of 10 hours of silence broken only by the incessant “nagging” / questioning from Munchkin would be the ultimate motivator.

• The above task of downloading made easy as everything you listen to sounds new. New doesn’t necessarily mean nice.

• Hindi is relatively easy and sticking to the language would be awesome. Until sudden realization that I have the ultimate critic in dad. Debate. hesitate. Decide. No matter what songs, unless they are sung by BMK or Ghantasala or SPB, dad would’nt be a happy camper anyway. Decide to unearth some black and white DVD’s.

• Daughter decides to take her closet with her. Sadly, she was brought down quick to the ground with doing simple math learnt long ago in kindergarten, and the days of the week count.

• Have no idea why I started cleaning out the basement. Found some treasures. Relics that were once thought of as treasures and now wree stared at wondering why those were saved ever in the first place.

• Dry wall dusting collecting over my hair, arms, legs, pants and behind. A geisha would probably want to run and powder her face a little more.

• Sending son camping seemed more traumatic and stressful than sending a daughter to her in-laws claimed the dad. Well, seven days and six nights is no joke, and all the unsettling stories about insect bites, pottying in the wild, open showers, throwing 11-12 year old boys into ponds lakes with slimy slithering creatures as they make a makeshift floater with their shirt and pants. Yes, the ones they are in when they are pushed into the water. I am glad I wasn’t born a boy. The daughter agrees.

• Munchkin changed in and out of 11 dresses. 6 came from her grandmom, and 5 from older sister’s hand-me-downs. She was delighted to have found the vault of colorful dresses. I had no idea I saved them all. I had no idea why I saved them all. Sure, they are pretty, but still?!

• If anyone’s thinking am a hoarder, I would gently ask you to tilt your neck to the far end of the basement. IIT Kgp’s stamped notes and text books along with U of Alabama’s tomes lay in a few boxes turning yellow. Not a soul’s to lay hands on them. In contrast I have just 2 containers. Filled to the brim and the writing’s too round and cute for my own comfort.

• Discovered my 12th grade ( senior year ) white uniform scribbled all over with love, goodbyes and sayings from classmates of ‘88. Wow. Brought some fine memories back, along with trying to explain to the guffawing tweens why we wrote over our white uniforms and didn’t just have year books like them. Bah. Like they’d understand?

• Mom’s plotting to watch Maya Bazaar, while munchkin’s swearing by Shrek, and daughter is eyeing Harry Potter, but is inclined to Spidey. What do I care? I will be devouring Hungry Tide even before we hit the first pit stop.

• Have a birthday celebration every day till we leave sister’s. Way too many gifts to think of. Figured will deal with it once I get there. I really need to learn to not stress over the “perfect” gift. I know for a fact my mouth’s gonna be hurting by the time am back.

• Am tired and sore, my legs and back hurt. I still have to find that button down tight shirt that the son will be wearing before he makes a life saving device out of it. And here I am blogging about it all. See how much I care!

Toodles all, enjoy your weekend and hope the sun’s not too harsh on you, wherever you are. If i get lucky, I may just enjoy my vacation.

..and o, I plan on piercing my nose. Why? Coz my nose is lacking attention it deserves. I mean, it just occupies like say a thrid of my face, so why not add a shiny 3-d on it and see if it occupies the whole of it. Yeah? Yeah. Any kindred soul, say a prayer for me. The date is set for July 2nd me thinks. Am at the mercy of my sister, so we’ll see how much she manages to make me look like a maami from Ayodhya Mandapam in West Mambalam. (We actually have a wiki entry for Mambalam?! I am shocked!)

That moonu kallu mookuthi is resounding in my ears. Go Maamis! Go Mommies.

 

good lord

My darling, sweet and wonderful daughter celebrates a birthday, and I officially have become a mother of a teen.

Yikes! Gasp!

Okay Okay, no dramas.

***

Dear daughter,

I have to start by telling you that you make me and your dad look good, with no effort of ours absolutely.

You came into my clueless life as a charming precocious little thing, and I must admit I learn more from you everyday than the other way. Thank you for putting up with my whims and fancies, for being the stable and grounded personality that our family needs. Your dad and I knew from the time we laid our eyes on you at Edith Cavell, that you’d be our beacon, our joy and most definitely our favorite. Just don’t tell that to your brother or sister.

Today is just a formality, an initiation into youth as the world likes to mark it, but elegance has always been you, something which you carry with you as a part of you. When folks affirm to me and dad what we already know but still find it hard to fathom considering you were born to us, it makes us beam, and swell with pride. You bring tears of joy to our eyes, and my throat chokes with the intensity only you can bring in me, when we see you on stage with the flute, dancing, making that 3 point shot, when you fight with great animosity with your brother as you claim your right, even when you argue and stomp off from us.

Thank you for being the responsible daughter, for being a wonderful big sister, a hardworking student and a real trooper. You are as resilient as they come, and may God give you more strength, wisdom and the forethought that comes with intelligence in the years to come by. God knows and we all do too, the next few years would be the most exciting yet the toughest that you will ever face. Creating an identity that you are happy with and accepting it enough to bring you deep sleep at night. I want you to know that we will be there for you through this time, and wish you would let us be your struts as you make it on your own.

I just went up and saw you tucked in your bed and the excitement of turning 13 is palpable in the room. I’d wanted to get you that Tom Brady jersey you wanted but the darn stores didn’t carry them and you know how prepared I am. Sorry.

I remember how at DSW, armed with 4 pairs of shoes (the most you’d ever bought at one shot and what funky ones too!), the grin on your face as you squealed and jumped with joy at the displays, and the number of times you told me “Mom, this place is so cool! ” and “Why didn’t I come here before?” and “please can you bring me here before school starts?” - to see you as a wild unfettered child was pure joy. For most of the time you behave, think and act on the maturity that our head somehow manages to churn. My eyes filled with tears and I beamed with pride when you so responsibly told me “mom, remember the jersey I wanted, it’s okay now, I have these shoes, I don’t want it.”, as we were walking out after having spent triple digits on the shoes by the arm loads. Oh okay, you got 4 pairs and I got 2, but still!

In any case, I swear to you, no 12-13 year old in her right frame of mind would ever say what you did. I know your brother won’t and most definitely not munchkin. She’s such a demanding little princess!

May all the world’s happiness be yours, as you most certainly deserve it.

Love,

Mom.

ps: sorry about your snap and the way your eyes shine. No, I didn’t do it on purpose, it’s the iPhoto’s editing software and yes, you look perfect, and no, am not saying that coz am your mom. Okay, Go have the cake in the refrigerator, yes it’s chocolate with strawberry mousse. You welcome. :-)

 

munchies

Over the last week Ive discovered that the munchkin can yield a pencil like a natural. She draws perfect round golgoppa type circles, and keys in laddoo shaped eyes with perfect sticks for eyelashes. For the most part the pictures either are me or her sister, and she even shapes in the daughter’s rectangular glasses.

Today while I was hammering away a comment somewhere, munchkin droned on like a bee:
“I want to draw mommy, gimme paper and pen.”
“Ok, here’s a paper” *handing her a one-sided sheet, did I tell you I hate wasting papers?*
“Not this one, I want a new one.”
“fine, here’s a book, and here’s a pencil”
“MOM!”
“what?”
“I said, I want pen, not pencil”

Long story short, she finally started work on the sheet with a pencil that looked like a pen; and unlike how you, me and mere mortals draw, with the sheet laying flat on the floor with us bending all over it and smudging every little mark, she stands facing the wall, and with a serious concentrated pursed lip and scribbles away. The sheet’s laying flat against the wall, and the pencil’s moving with ferocious speeds. I think to myself, if not anything she’d make a good elementary school teacher!

I get back to emails. I am hardly done with one, when she flashes the paper brilliantly under my nose. This is what she drew.

I thought the expression was priceless, and continuing to flatter myself said:
“Nice picture munchkin, so my eyes look that big?”
“Mommy, those are my eyes.” *in a solemn patient tone*
“oh, okay. You are smiling?”
She nods.
“What are those sticks on either side of your face?”
“They are my hands.”

*okayyy, this is what happens when too many people pinch little girls cheeks. The girls imagine hands sprouting out of them*

“so whats all these long lines on either side of you?”
“That’s my longggggg Ju” *ju is short for juttu, which means “hair” in telugu*

..and that’s when I felt a little pang for snipping her hair off. *sigh. Curse the damn job, the drive and me leaving before she wakes up*

“but you don’t have long Ju right?”
“but I want me to have long ju, just like Ariel and Cinderella. Don’t cut my hair ever ever ever again ok, or I won’t be your friend?”
“Okay, I promise I won’t” Laughing, I kiss her on her upper lip.
“Mommy, are you being a boy?!”

?! *argh*

 

a crystal day

Remembering the firsts:

conversation and nod

smile, a consequent blush

holding hands

the excited flow of words

the rush of the emotion

the silence in between

the kiss as a man and wife

and the love that held it all.

15 years ago this day

seems like yesterday.

 

discordant

I drive 23 miles one way to work. After the fair amount of hints blatant and otherwise this fact isn’t hush anymore. So, to keep my mind from working overdrive, I listen to music, just like any of us who go on long drives. The various options I have are:

Desi Bollywood Music

Not-so desi music

MSS and the likes

FM radio

News

I tried books on tape but soon realized I preferred to read them. One can hardly focus on the story never mind the words. Then there was this incident when I drove off the road in boredom, but that’s another blog post for later.

Coming back to music, I am in a fortunate place where, without me asking I tend to find songs in my inbox. Of course I send requests out too occasionally and folks are real nice to me. Gone are the days when I go searching for music. The zeal to go search, download, fight pop-ups and create logins has died a silent slow death over the months. I originally had an Ipod. The husband in a rare bout of indulgent cozy love, got me one. For quite some time I didnt believe that I was the recipient and I eyed it a few days cautiousness mingled with suspicion as one eyes a mirage, or even a lottery ticket. The excitement on owning one yet not wanting to burst into happiness in case you jinx it.

I have a feeling I eyed it too long. Coz, one day it really did disappear.

On seeing my puzzled face, the daughter said “hey, you didn’t load a single song in it! Couldn’t let that go to waste now can I?” So, the iTunes got downloaded and songs kept flying in. In a 70’s black n white movie style flashback I remembered my mom’s expression of distaste when she heard any BoneyM or ABBA music. “Ghosts” she’d scream “It’s devil’s music. How can that even be qualified as music? Listen to Balamurali, Ghantasala, how about SPB. All that convent education, and we get such side-effects! I told your father to send you to nice Hindu Sarada Vidyalaya, but would he listen, noooo, he wanted to make Britishers out of you both sending you to the convent school, and now I have to hear such torture.”

Ultimately, I am told, we all turn into our moms.

I don’t get what they listen to despite my keen monitoring on what they download and makes its way into their heads and they in turn scoff at what we hear. The relief is that it is equal opportunity. I roll my eyes at their music and they shrink their noses at mine.

So, with the now elusive iPod confiscated by the tween, I was relegated to listening to music the good old way. On those bright shiny discs that Best Buy still sells. So I’d burn the CD’s with various music pieces, and tuck them away into the car’s originally 5-slot-but-yet-only-3-of-them-play music system, and spend my time on the road. Since I don’t qualify for the most organized person on earth, occasionally I tend to get repeats and random collection. Hindi, Telugu, Tamil get mixed, and these days with ARR’s foray into the languages, it’s perfectly alright for me to hear Guru’s one song in Hindi and then Telugu (though in this movie, hindi rocks personally) and Gajini’s song is heard in telugu and tamil. Kuchipudi dance items and English however I have maintained separately, and it seemed the natural thing to do. So yes, its a fine smorgasbord if you will. In fact, I like it that way, being pleasantly surprised when the system’s on random works wonders keeping you awake in the wee hours.

I recently discovered that pleasantly surprised and rudely shocked are on either side of a very thin line. Mainly drawn by the one who plays a pivotal role in deciding the order of songs.

Ever so often my CD’s shrink in number. One day the CD pack is brimming with 20 shiny discs and the next week, it’s down to a paltry 2. Apparently, they make good play things for the munchkin, son uses them as instant frizbee while he waits for the school bus, the daughter uses them as tracing mechanisms and the husband just throws them out once he sees a miniscule scratch on them, or if they get in his way, anywhere.

As a result, burning music onto brand new CD’s is like a constant almost-therapeutic action every few days. One rushed morning, on realizing I would have to listen to the silence or the voices in my head - either of which didn’t sound tremendously beneficial to my already fragile state of mind, I figured in the time it took for me to shower and get dressed, 2 discs could be burnt. Since moms love to totally send the underlings scurrying as assistants for any kind of job however small it may be, I asked the daughter if she could slip the discs in while she chewed on her cereal. She nodded. I showed her the 2 separate playlists and ran.

We drive off with at least 1 fresh new set of songs. She says “Yes, ma’am, the Jodha thingy and the cuckoo ones too!”. Feeling happy I’d have some ARR for company, I slide it in and as “Azeem O-Shaan” picks up, grin broadly as I hear a soft voice sing along with the tape. I pull into the kiss n ride line at her school and the track changes.

HUH? What the hey!?!

Did the CD change? No, we still on the same one. Track no. 2 is THIS?

Daughter “What? You asked me to burn them right?”

Me: “Yes, I did, but.. . Okay, what’s track 3? “

Daughter: “See, nice nice music again, just for you. Actually it’s for me, but never mind that.”

Me: “This is insane girl!”

Daughter: “haha. Mom, I am the only one who drives with you. It isn’t fair asking me to listen to your cuckoo songs continuously. So, yea. Ok, bye”

She hops off, leaving me to stare at the back of her swishing pony tail and wonder at the incredulous ways a tween’s brain can and will work.

So you ask on the songs and the order? It goes like this.

Track 1: Azeem O Shaan

Track 2: If I were a flower growing wild and free - Juno

Track 3: In Lamhon ki daaman

Track 4: Layla - Eric Clapton

Track 5: Jashn-e-bahara

Track 6: Anyone else but you - Juno

..and so on.

Imagine relishing and savoring the last nuances of tangy Bhel, and a delicious idli lump soaked in a combination of sambar and coconut chutney is thrust down your throat, while you are still licking your lips on that leftover sev tucked between the spaces between your teeth?