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!