Temple

Monday is my weekly visit to Shiv-Mandir day, to offer water to the Shiv Lingam.

Little R is most excited to go- she likes Gods.

While I have sole focus of offering water, praying and leaving, little R observes much more. Sample this:

At the temple:

1. Hi! Gampa ji (Ganpati)

2. Oh look- cat

3. Dhyan se Loli (floor is wet)

4. Woh Dekho cow

5. Cow Kuch kha rahi hai

6. Cow ke pass jaana hai

7. Le le le cow

8. Prasad chahiye

9. Yeh kya hai- misri do (she saw half-cut banana pieces as prasad)

10. Pujari ji kahan hai

11. It's raining too hard

12. Hanuman ji ko jai karni hai

13. Nandi ji kahan Gaye

14. Skoda kahan hai

15. Old man ko Dekho!!!

Once we return home:

1. Mein shiv mandir ja rahi hoon (hitching up her pjs like her Dadi does her salwar)

2. Shatrughan (our driver) City le aao

3. Woh ladki kahan hai (who was offering prayers horizontally on the ground) - Dekho aise

4. Jaldi karo shiv mandir band ho jayega

5. Lota kahan hai

Clearly, I have a lot to learn.

Image courtesy: worldnomads/ google

Tender Technology

Imagine my delighted surprise when I walked in onto my daughter and my mother-in-law playing one of their favourite games.

On the iPad.

Now, little R is a tech-connoisseur. She was quite proficient with the iPad before she was a year old - and- at the risk of sounding like a gloating parent- can manoeuvre her way through the myriad of icons, knowing exactly where to press what. 

She also likes to play those home-grown, age-old traditional 'Akkad bum bum' and 'Aam-wale' with her Dadi.

Dadee, dadee, dadee- she'll go, hitching up her frock just like Dadi does her salwar for fear of being soiled in the muck.

So- R and Dadi- hunched over the iPad, playing Animasher (R's rendition of Ant Smasher) and as Dadi squashed the ants, R let out peal after peal of cackly laughter. And to add to her merriment, she all but guided Dadi's hand to be bitten by the big bee. As Dadi squealed yeoww to amuse her, R jumped with joy and called me to join in the fun!

Thank you, iPad!

 Photo credit: google

Hope

So here's a little something that prompted me to write:

This pic taken by my dear friend Amrita in  Victoria, Melbourne.

Isn't it simply beautiful?

The rainbow- signifying hope, in all it's colourful splendour, behind the bleak autumnal tree in shadow- bereft of leaves/ colour yet alive and the presence of the clock tower- a reminder that hope springs even in the dreariest of surroundings!

Isn't that how life is summed up?

Just when you think you can't possibly withstand any more strain, the glass sheet cover melts away, allowing you to feel the prickly green grass underfoot.

Even in the worst scenario there's a best outcome.

Lifeline

Away from the blogosphere, away from the chatosphere and away from the pictosphere. That sums up my existence for the past 13 days without my iPhone. Yes, I depend on it. Rather than call myself a slave to it, I'd describe it as an extension of myself- for it performs not just the above-mentioned functions but provides a moral support just by being there. I don't know if you understand this.

The past 13 days went by in a blur.

Since I didn't have my organiser beeping every day to remind me of tasks, I forgot booking the gas and almost forgot R's inoculation (dutifully stencilled in the iPhone months ago). 

Since I didn't have my 500 odd favourite songs accompanying me on my morning walk, I decided to sleep in extra till my phone returned. (An additional kilo gained)

Since I didn't have easy access to my 3k odd photos, I didn't waste time rifling through them whenever I had a minute to spare and actually used that time productively!

However, I cannot imagine living on endlessly without my phone. It helps me connect/ meditate/ express- just live.

Yes, it's my lifeline!

Image courtesy: scaredpoet.com

Mindfulness!

Today I read about Mindfulness, as part of Sarah Napthali's Guide to caring for yourself and your children- A Zen guide.

I have been blessed with a patient nature, but I'd like to improve- because LoML would rather not have even those couple of flare ups that invariably occur sometimes.

Mindfulness requires you to be calm, alert and let the universe seep into you. It challenges all your senses- visual/ tactile/ olfactory- to live in the present.

Often we are swept along by past prejudices and future plans. The present is merely a bridge between the two on which we balance precariously. 

Mindfulness encourages you to evaluate the moment, live it, sink in it and forget the past and future.

This is a great thought, especially since I'm precisely thinking of the future - all the time.

I sometimes even forget what yesterday was like. 

But, with mindfulness, I'm beginning to appreciate little moments that make up the day.

It's like a dandelion clock- the mind being the ripe flower- and the petals/ clock coming in to the open mind.

 (Photo credit: mindfulconstruct.com)

Temple Run

Raania has been overawed by the iPad game- and she plays it like a pro. She artfully runs/ dodges/ gets the coins - requiring just a wee bit of help while swiping to turn.

Her favourite character is Karma Lee with her red hair and embroidered jeans. She also likes Barry Bones (Baiee Bones) just the way he is and Guy Dangerous just because he has 'dangerous' in his name (her Dadi had once showed her a pic of a polar bear in Reader's Digest and said it was dangerous - since then it's stuck as something fantastic).

One day- we played the game at least 25 times, if not less, so much so that when I closed my eyes I could see only coins and my character running. For a wild moment I wondered what if life was an iPad game? 

How would it play out? Would I have different avatars- different roles- like I keep juggling every day...

Would scenarios change too? Market, home, study, bedroom...

What laurels would I achieve by completing a set of tasks? 

Would leader boards define me any different, just because of the motherly love I felt for my unique baby?

But

Looking after your children is a thankless task- and no one appreciates the common housewife- however well educated she may be.

The pace of life may not be an iPad game, but unlike the game- you do not get lauded for any High Scores. 

Life's too ordinary to be an iPad game.

Memories...

... Hide the corners of my mind 

Misty water coloured memories 

Of the way we were... 

 As I googled through my estranged best friend's links, this song provided an apt hazy background score- interspersed with images of girlie laughter, warm shafts of sunlight punctuating stone corridors, ribboned pigtails, a flash of smoke in the chemistry lab and our secret getaway beneath the library. 

The best part of my school years were shaped and defined by my friendship with her. 

Yet where was she now- hidden among blue and red links - half a name here, a pixelated photograph there? 

I chanced upon her newborn son's album on a photo sharing site and drank in the images eagerly- looking for clues to prove her married existence but there were none. 

Was this golden friendship sacrificed for a few thousand rupees or was there something deeper to her personality that I wasn't able to fathom- something that developed post those school years? 

When you're young, the world is yours to conquer. It's only when you have scaled a few summits that you realise that the joy is diminishing and there's more fun in sitting at the base, enjoying the future smoky rings that your partner is blowing.  

There's a deep contentment that steals over you and robs you of action. It's then that your mind whirrs to those memories and voices perk you to search for her once more. 

But a heap of unanswered emails and ignored friend requests later, you are left alone in your cocoon. 

Wondering if she feels the same, and wallowing in pity over the answer because its a plain no.

Those little grey cells...

Of late, I've become besotted with Hercule Poirot (Ercule Poiho) and watch almost an episode a day on YouTube.

As each melodious episode commenced, I re-visited my childhood with the series montage - triangles fading into Poirot's face and the lilt of the saxophone brought back Sunday mid-mornings and late brunches when my parents used to watch Poirot on DD and I'd lurk around- not understanding anything but being intrigued by this odd penguin-type man.

Decades later, I'm still enthralled by him.

Played to perfection by David Suchet- accompanied by Captain Hastings in his sing-song soothing British accent and the silently efficient Ms Lemon, I watch each episode with great enthusiasm. I also remember some of the Agatha Christie books I've read in a decade so long ago...

I love the way he wears his napkin tucked into his collar and the delicate way he dabs at his lips after eating or drinking. His signature lemon tea (tisanè) with three sugar cubes - in a tall glass with a steel holder. His swan/ peacock headed walking stick and his impeccably matching gloves and hat. Plus the delightful accent and the way he smiles, like a regular imp, with his moustache curling up and small eyes twinkling with the mischief of a thousand stars.

The London scene- newly invented clanky automobiles, beautifully coiffured ladies, creaking wooden staircases... Ah the aura of a golden time!

Of course I try to second-guess him but am not successful all the time.

It's much better than just reading his adventures- the moving picture stays with you so long!

Image courtesy: Wikipedia

Rainy Rain Days

It's been almost two weeks since the first showers hit Mumbai. I remember the date because I had just had all the cartons and miscellaneous toys and accessories kept in the window ledges sent over to my sister-in-law's garage for safekeeping. And I had just written my English exam that day. The welcome smell of the rains, promising relief from the burning summer heat was coupled with a brief power cut. Now R has never seen a proper power cut in Mumbai. True- it happened more often when we were visiting Nanu in Noida but because of the large inverter there, she didn't realise when the power returned.

On that day, suddenly everything went black. I held onto her tiny hand, fearful that she may walk into a toy or worse, a wall. However, she was mesmerised by the lone candle that cook lit and kept on the table, far from her reach.

R: happy to you?

Me: yes, happy birthday to you (and we sing a little to get rid of the five second long boredom)

R: chalao iPad

Me: (putting on her favourite Balam Pichkari) here you go

And she's suitably entertained for the ten-odd minutes that we are plunged into darkness as she voices the words in the cutest manner possible.

I remember when the power would go off in Lucknow. We would ascend to the terrace and having spread out the charpais, proceed to swat off mosquitoes with handheld newspapers and magazines and drift off to sleep in the cool breeze. Ma would wake us up when lights came back and we would clamber onto our beds half asleep - with the promise of this story to be told at school.

When the inverter came along, it robbed us of this joy too. We would simply congregate in one room and adjust ourselves to the lone whirring fan and fall asleep. No story for next day.

Now I stay in Mumbai where power cuts are as rare as a blue moon. My daughter will never understand the fun of a cool breezy night under a canopy of stars or the sheer joy of dissecting your own power-related story in school!

New Learning

Been away from this space long & a lot has happened in between. Ever since I gave birth to beautiful Raania two years ago, my life completed one set of goals. The next set took considerable time to be formulated (given that the first set took about eight years to form, implement and fructify) - so for little over a year I mulled and stared at the wall- imagining various kinds of goals for self.

And oh yes- in that one year- also wrote a few stories which got kinda rejected the way they were - in their raw unedited form by an agent (didn't bother with a list- one rejection was enough to send my fragile ego spilling as tears on the bathroom floor). So while I pretended that it wasn't a big deal (in retrospect - it wasn't!) I whiled away time watching old movies on YouTube and reading popular fiction by the dozen. Then a chance conversation with an old school friend set the rusty mental clogs turning once more. Yes, time to study.

Successful completion of assignment and I was ready to take the exam. Out of four subjects, could manage reading and answering only one subject properly. Of course, I started studying very late and with just about two or three hours in the day to study, with a bawling toddler, full home and Ma's ill-health, I thought of giving up the exam so many times.

But I guess somewhere old motivation sprang up and I studied really hard.

That I couldn't remember half the points I meticulously made on my phone, while writing the exam is another story, but all this, in a nutshell is where I've been.

I've discovered and appreciated that 'brevity is the soul of wit' and to write better, one needs to choose words very carefully.

Hopefully I will be able to implement my learning soon! Meanwhile, stories on my other blog.

Eggs Florentine (Wednesday's Breakfast)

So, just like that, the LoML decided to take baby and mommy out for breakfast (okay, it wasn't just like that, it involved mommy getting up early to bathe and dress earlier than usual)- armed with little R's maid- we set off. Indigo Deli is right around the corner and soon we were sipping fresh orange juice- that is, till little R decided she wanted some 'juice' herself.

Casually pretending she didn't know how to suck from a straw she took a big gulp from the glass, and spat out the whole mouthful. Maybe it was too much for her, or she didn't like the tanginess but her new white Laura frock had a nice orange stain despite rubbing it off with wipes.

Eggs- she wasn't too interested in- she'd had her own scrambled one at home. But jam- yes- being a true carrier of my genes, yes- completely loved the strawberry jam.

And, for some strange reason, keeps referring to all mealtimes as 'dinnah'.

Little Ms Propah, aren't we?

Puri-Alu (Tuesday's Breakfast)

Tuesdays are no- non- veg days in our house. This means no egg for breakfast and no chicken for dinner. After having exhausted all the five available veg breakfasts (there are twenty five options but only five which are eaten by both baby and daddy) we have found our peace with the ubiquitous Puri-Alu.

I come from the land of Nathu's and Madhurima- where kaddu, puri, Alu are staple breakfast diet.

So, after having taught our probably eighth cook in ten years- the correct way to make the just-tangy-yet-not-spicy-for-baby- Alu and scrumptious kaddu accompanied with crisp fluffy puris, the best way to enjoy this delectable breakfast is with spicy mango achar and sweet adrak tea!

Ooh. How rustic and how very delicious!

Exam fever!

It's March and I'm struck with exam fever (ok, assignment fever). In order to get through my first year, I have to write up a few questions- which- a decade back would've been a cakewalk but now seem a Herculean task.

The anxiety, coupled with the fact that I haven't really studied all nine plays - and I don't have enough time to study them in detail has only compounded the issue.

Doing all this, along with running a house, supervising my helps and ensuring that baby is eating and learning well- not to forget taking care of my own health - getting up early and going for a brisk half hour walk - leaves me dead by end of day.

And then, tomorrow is another day!

A Real Bookshop

While studying for my Masters degree in English Literature, I was forced to go scrounging through half a dozen bookshops in this city (courtesy IGNOU and the near-impossibility of finding those texts).

And so, yesterday I stepped into a real book shop after maybe 15 years.  It was a forgotten but much cherished world which brought back a strong dose of sepia tinted memories.

The rows of books, lined up neatly on the shelves according to subject- and books spilling onto the floor in piles- and some on twirling stands- and a few in the glass display case- were enough to transport me to my own school days. 

Minoo, Dinshaw & Co. was the preferred bookstore for our school. Located centrally in Hazratganj, it was a long, long store, extending well into different sections and a store-room (where the prized best books were kept- the ones no one read except perhaps a few of my friends and me). I still remember the face of the two cashiers- the ones who probably owned the shop- the ones who created neat labelled bundles of texts and exercise books according to the class- and the ones who knew where each edition of any possible book was kept. 

I loved that shop. They also sold a few stationery items and primarily books. The smell which engulfed you as soon as you stepped inside- the perfume of knowledge, combined with a generous helping of geography (so many authors across the world under one roof), the old-worldness of history... it was, to put it succinctly- awesome.

Now I have an iPad and a flipkart to buy me books. The dank scent of those unread books- mixed with the minty new smell- has been replaced by a flat screen showing me at least fifty options and prompting me to buy now. 

And I was a trifle sad, that in the end, I had to purchase my texts through flipkart. 

Lifelong Affliction!

Last night, little R was most uncomfortable - kept waking up every couple of hours - which was odd since she's been a very disciplined baby since she was six months old and sleeps right through the night. We should've guessed. I passed on my cold to her and what started as a little runny dot soon developed into a little continuous river. It's been her third brush with cold in the nineteen months of her existence (she favours an upset tummy more - like her mum!) so naturally she's irritated.

However, the point of this post is- that despite sleeping just an hour in the early morning and nursing a  cold, sore throat (so bad that my entire back hurts when I cough) myself, I got the energy to run R through her morning milk, breakfast, bath, lunch and subsequent nap with play- without feeling out of sorts. The exact feeling I had when she was a month old and nurse every couple of hours around the clock and stay awake till 4 am. 

Guess this sleeplessness is a lifelong affliction! 

And then there are some...

- Whose role is just to provide for the family, be an ideal for listening and implementing strange advice (which may be outdated but who cares, as far as advice is concerned only two things work- it's freely available and impervious of time) and generally not open their mouths to all forms of injustice.

- The world thrives on hypocrisy. It is too frail to accept truth and as long as one lies, all are happy.

- Does it take too much for a kind word or a small gesture to an 'outsider' who has been part of your family for ten years now?

- Daughters in law will remain just that. Tied and gagged by the law and never replace daughters.

- Your mother knows you best. Even when you haven't spoken/ told her that you're suffering from fever and neglect, an SMS asking if all is well will mysteriously appear in your phone. The umbilical cord never gets cut.

- Sisters are the best listeners.

The permanence of Now

When I was a couple of years younger, I had long term vision and a single minded objective. Once that goal was reached, I find myself often wondering why I am so fixated on the concept of the permanence of Now. Everything assumes gigantic proportions in the Now and it's difficult for me to think that this problematic now will ease itself off in some time. 

I do, of course, still have long term vision and immediate goals but sometimes I'm pulled down by this Now.

What do I do?