Believe in YOU.

I was the least competitive of all the kids I grew up with. My aunts and the friends of my parents were very happy with my existence as I had proven that I was never going to overachieve or be a competition to their children. I have nurtured this wonderful attribute and continued being the same.

My day mostly starts with counting the hours up to when I can go back to sleep again. My resolutions are mostly to stop some annoying habit or to reach a certain level in Angry Birds. It NEVER consists of anything productive. It is ironic to say this being in IT field, as my core skill requires frequent updating. However I have a PhD in the art of procrastination. If any one of you systematic and prompt people out there needs any tips on the 7 habits of highly lethargic people, I can give you a free trial speech… possibly two weeks later.

I am not in the race to look prettiest (as if I could be in that race lol ), to get promoted or to be the best in whatever I do. When I look around I can see people in a desperate attempt to climb up the corporate ladder. Well I am not judging anyone, being proactive is cool but you can also work hard in silence and not yell from rooftop if you work extra hours. I see some kids getting very serious about winning prizes for games at birthday parties. What happened to just participating and having fun?

So we were at a hotel in Munnar on New Years Eve. The hotel restaurant had arranged a gala dinner which had a variety of food and drinks. There were games, songs and dances through the night. One of the many games was the most annoying classic, The Musical chair. The introvert in me found the darkest corner of the party and set up camp there. As I was comfortably settling in the dark minding my own business, some hotel staff started games for ladies. I tried my best to be polite by accepting the offer to participate (and boycott later of course). The staff had other plans though. I gave up my cozy corner and reluctantly went upto the stage where the musical chair began for women. I was casually walking around chairs (murmuring and swearing under my breath) like a retarded jobless female when suddenly the lady behind me stepped on my feet. I turned around and she said Sorry. I said ‘it’s okay’, but deep inside I was contemplating the torture I was undergoing by leaving a peaceful place only to come to the limelight and be kicked by random strangers. The lady kept kicking me atleast eight to ten times and each time I noticed that she was madly calculating the chairs as the music played. She was playing this game as if her life depended on it and hence ignored the pain she was causing to people behind and in front of her. She was crazily keeping one step forward for each chair!

Yes you can cheat in musical chair also. These are the type of obsessive women one should stay far away from. These are the mothers whose children can’t handle failure, breakups or rejection because they were taught that they HAVE TO win. Be it a lottery or a lucky draw that gives balloons as prizes, they should win by hook or by crook. Little do they realize that at the end of day, they are cheating, lying, making more enemies than friends and are being dangerously cunning.

Well I left the game soon enough .This feet-crusher lady dint win either, and I had an extra drink to celebrate her loss. I owed it to my toes, my poor toes.  

Image Courtesy: Here

I have come across people who have no sense of tune, voluntarily singing at events just for a participation prize. The collective eardrums and sanity of the audience are tested. Music is insulted. Further still, some "singers" at parties have made me want to cry and go to office – imagine how bad that would have been.

 

It is still okay to live and let live. Not all prizes need to be won. Not all talents are gifted to us. Even in the midst of cut throat competition, we have our space, our unique identity, something about us that cannot be replaced by anyone. Believe in that.

Believe in YOU.

Bicycle Diaries..

Is 2018 almost over already? That’s like 365 days of my life I royally wasted planning to do something worthwhile. I am unable to recall doing anything productive with my life apart from writing codes and being on the core team for a successful go-live of a huge project, but this cannot be called as an achievement. So basically what did I do?  I ignored my health more than any other year. (Insert sarcastic applause here). Sometime in January, the procrastinator in me decided to document the to-do list for 2018 “later”, and that “later” never came so I have conveniently forgotten them. One point I can faintly remember was to learn to ride a bicycle.

I drive car in India and Oman but riding a bicycle has always been a challenge. Fortunately, knowing how to ride a bicycle was not a prerequisite to get admissions or jobs or to get married :D Dreaming about riding a bicycle itself was out of my league, thanks to my super conservative but highly educated parents. We were living under a rock of old-school beliefs. So my bicycle dreams did not fly during my childhood, in fact it dint even hatch. I wasn’t allowed to go to school excursions nor did I visit the homes of any friends, let’s all piously observe a few seconds of silence for that.

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In early 2018, I decided to learn to ride a bicycle. Now this was a decision which had several dependencies. Firstly, there should be a bicycle. Secondly, there should be a person who has time and interest to teach. Thirdly, I should initiate to learn. The first two were not hard to find but the third one was quite a Herculean task. So my seven year old had been asking for a bigger bicycle and his Dad bought him one which was only one size smaller than a normal adult bicycle.

Last evening we were at the park as the little one wanted to ride it outdoors. Suddenly this thought struck me – I wouldn’t look too big on this one! All my three prerequisites have been met, my stars have aligned and the Universe has conspired to realize my dream. So what am I waiting for? The boys were discussing the gears on their new toy with joy and enthusiasm when I dropped the bomb on them- ‘Can you teach me too ?’

My question was met with mixed reactions. My son’s expression was something like ‘Is she serious? Would she fall and ruin my new bicycle ?’  The spouse was looking around and had an expression like ‘Are there any hospitals nearby…’. After few minutes of dramatic silence, they both mentally aligned to agree. I sat on the bicycle, and the spouse caught it from behind the seat. ‘Keep pedaling!’ they said. I was scared to ask them to click a photo (what is the point of doing something out-of-the-box and not updating on Instagram?). My son was excited as opposed to my expectations. He proudly watched me cycling my dreams away.

The next ten minutes I got support from him, and after that I was on my own. It was such an exhilarating experience, to ride without any help and to be able to strike off at least one row from my bucket list. I have no words. I never got such satisfaction whenever I activated my code without any errors. I never found such happiness even when I was appreciated for my work at office.

Last but not the least, the priceless expression on the faces of my boys gave me goosebumps.

The expression was something like “This bicycle is done with”.
 

The price of Stress.

Stress is a fireball that burns holes everywhere it hits, including the pocket.

Work has kept me on my toes all month (and year, and the year before), and stress sucked all my creative juices that the only thing I write now is Code. The pressure to drag myself into unreasonable deadlines manifests itself into many glorious ways, like annoying everyone around on purpose. Anyone trying to get in my way gets showered with words I have handpicked to celebrate the auspicious occasion of my stressful life.  So one fine morning, the spouse became the victim and then what happened next, sky-rocketed our family expense graph out of the frame.

I went straight to the jewelry shop and bought that gold pendant I’d been eyeing for quite some time. Someone is legally available to be annoyed by me, so why should we waste the opportunity? So Ms. Stress heaved a sigh of relief and evil-laughed at the spouse. This laugh later echoed into my entire month as it was just one week into September and I had already depleted all resources. Gold is too costly to be bought at the spur of a moment, my dear friends and Ms. Stress is pure evil. Coming to think of it, I could have bought diamonds, at least I dint do that right?

The same week, I had further differences within my work circles and lost my sanity yet again. This time I headed to the mall and bought a top. There was a sale and the top was beautiful. So now it is evident that the finances of my family rest solely on the demeanor of my colleagues. After all the hasty purchases I made, I never felt guilty for what I bought. The pendant looks so lovely that any female with a good sense would appreciate me for the classy buy. Actually they’d ask me what I drank before heading to buy it rather than whether I was really stressed ;-)

Image Courtesy: Here

 

Apart from money, there are other ways one pays for being stressed. I just have to run my fingers through my head once, and voila ! there’s a bunch of hair in my hand! One pays for stress with hair. Like I wrote earlier, my parlor lady has slashed her prices for hair treatments specifically for me, as she does not have to work too hard in my case. My friend said she could see my scalp from the elevator when I was climbing the stairs. There is light reflecting from my scalp in some of my selfies. So in the weekend I headed to the hairstylist again and asked her whether there is any way to not let the world know that I have no hair. She nearly cried and gave me a pretty reasonable haircut, but yeah the scalp can still be seen. And you who saw it from the elevator – get a life!

Sigh, and end of day when I go home, hair or no hair, there is my little son-shine, who can wipe out any stress effortlessly. ‘Amma you’re my best friend’ he said-just before revealing that he lost his new pencil, eraser, color pencil pouch and English notebook all on the same day.

But, who cares! I am his best friend yoohoo!

Hair and Teeth Fiasco

Life sometimes gets ridiculous to the point that we actually pay people to insult us. Every person we pay for any services whatsoever, feel the need to pass on those precious pearls of wisdom, also known as free advice. Truth be told, no one appreciates a third person holding a magnifying mirror to our flaws.

So of late, my dentist and hair stylist have collectively gone on a mission to embarrass me. One busy day I was munching some nuts at work, when a smart nut felt adventurous and decided to explore the remotest gap within my tooth. I tried to push it out using my tongue, which got bruised in the process. Later 562 toothpicks failed in the same mission. Finally I was forced to book an appointment with my dentist, whom I was trying to avoid for the past few months. My teeth had other plans though.

She has the most amazing chair at her office. This chair, almost like a modified recliner, which has everything from a mirror to lights to a multi-purpose mini table attached to it, is one of the reasons I go to her. She was happy to see me; she knew the history behind every one of my teeth, as she has pulled out few and performed root canal in others. All my teeth seemed to say hi to her. She examined my tooth which had the embedded nut, and unleashed her sharp weapons to start excavation which lasted a few minutes until the nut gave up and decided to come out.

She then said ‘Anita you need to get it filled, else the same can happen again’.

I asked ‘This one?’ pointing to the tooth which just parted with the nut.

She replied ‘Honestly, if you ask me, it is not just this tooth. There are a multitude of other teeth which needs to be filled’.

Her assistant stifled a laugh. Until then, that dude was peeping into my mouth as though it had a hidden treasure deep inside.

‘Okay’, I mumbled.

Dentists are brutally honest, I tell you. And about this dude who laughed. I hope he finds his treasure somewhere else.

Later in the week there was an official event for which I had to blow dry my hair.  I called the stylist and got an appointment. I have been going to her for a long time and she is aware of the fact that I used to have thick voluminous hair once upon a time. I sat on her chair. Earlier she used to part my hair into three or four sections and blow dry each. Something like a divide and rule process. She combed and ran her fingers through my hair and gasped, ‘What happened to your hair?’ with an exasperated expression.

Image Courtesy: Here

I felt I owed her an explanation even though it was my hair , it rests on my head and it carries the DNA of my family. I explained that my project gave me no time to come home, forget maintaining hair and skin. She took a smaller comb and as usual divided my scalp into four sections. She clipped the first section only to realize that the other sections were not needed. Meanwhile her floor was full of my hair from the first and only section. “Two more sessions like this and you will be bald” she happily warned me. Actually it was my fault to think that my hair qualified for blow drying. She did not charge me at a usual rate, and added

 “For your hair you can pay half or less for any hair services”.

Yeah. Even the dentist may say the same thing soon once all my teeth are extracted.

How much is too much?

I dint update my blog in the month of April, considering the fact that  I had updated twice the month I gave birth in 2011. No I did not give birth to quadruplets in April, just that some software projects sucked the life out of me and is only a tad less uncomfortable than childbirth.

Before I go into whine mode let me say that I love my job, colleagues and the space and recognition I get professionally. I am very much loved around here and get to laugh a lot. I love to write software codes, my work is not repetitive, I get to face a lot of challenges, my boss is cool and I feel blessed by all this.

That was a disclaimer that leads to the fact that in IT, one is expected to work regardless of time of the day, day of the week, gender, marital status, weather conditions, earthquake alerts, flood, political situations, bad health and the fact that you are a human being. I haven’t had a proper weekend in a long time and now I am in a ridiculous situation in which I am wondering what I did on weekends when I had them.

 

To be honest, working on weekends and then going back to work when the week starts feels MEH.  Meh is an understatement, actually. Man there should be a day when one is not expected to wake up and show up, right? A day I can sleep peacefully until I rise on my own, without any evil external forces trying to barge into my happiness. By evil external forces, I mean my family. Honestly, I love my family but my idea of ‘taking an off’ or ‘letting my hair down’ or ‘taking a break’ involves switching off the wifi and data, and lazing on the couch watching TV or sleeping ALONE without any disturbance whatsoever. It is completely harmless right? I am not asking anything of anybody.

 I am not a foodie, nor do I feel hungry every now and then. Neither am I a cleanliness freak so I don’t shower five times on a weekend. I don’t sing, dance or make noise.I don’t harm anyone on purpose. I am not crazy about gold, diamonds, cars or property (not because I don’t have the money).  I don’t pollute the environment in any way nor do I use any non-renewable resources. I am highly eco-friendly. I just want to do nothing on the sofa.



This is another idea of "taking a break!"
Image Courtesy: Here

Not getting ten official calls less than five minutes is luxury. Not having to check emails and not having to reply to them with a solution in less than an hour is luxury. Sleeping knowing that the alarm is off for the next morning is luxury. Peace is expensive. Being able to laugh to Tom and Jerry cartoons is luxury. Sigh.

My luxury may not be your luxury, but my idea of taking a break is very reasonable. I want to be left alone with TV, sofa and electricity to run the AC as it is freaking hot here. Oh and some wine would be good. And a Thai masseuse. And a Bose speaker that plays my favorite songs on loop.

Is this too much to ask?

Corporate Survival for Dummies.

No one ever enthusiastically came out of a meeting and said ‘Wow! That was life-changing!’ unless they got fired in that meeting. The IT sector is not as cool as the air conditioned cabins we are stationed in.  Sometimes elaborate mails are received which are too much to make head or tail of. You read it, and read again, and again, still no clue. You see the list of people to whom the mail has been sent to, and look around to see their expressions. This is one of the best forms of entertainment in the IT department. There should have been a meeting to discuss that rocket science of an email but some mastermind decided not to.

On other days, there are meetings which are long and completely unnecessary after which you feel like a month passed by and it is time to do eyebrows again.

Image Courtesy: Here

However in my case I do not go prepared for any meeting. I am not proud of it though. I check with my boss whether my presence is absolutely necessary. If she feels I should participate, I make a guest appearance. My public speaking skills are as good as Varun Dhawan’s acting skills, so my boss does not drag me in unnecessarily. My strongest skill is the ability to write email. If anyone tries to ruffle my feathers, they stand the chance to receive the most elaborate, shrewdly worded email, with screenshots, bullet points and hints of sarcasm that could be nominated to The Literary Award for Emails. This has not deterred anyone from picking bones with me but my email attack is never mild. There will also be atleast ten people it would have been copied to. At some meetings, if you could listen to what I am talking inside my head, you will be blown away by my incompetence on the verbal front.

I like to watch my colleagues bring books, pens, ipads or laptops to meetings, and how they take these discussions seriously. They fiercely debate over topics, disagree aggressively but leave the room holding hands or making jokes. I mean, how is this possible? When I have an official argument with a person I’d be secretly planning to screw his life.

Then there are legends that arrive with punch dialogues. Like for example I put forth a suggestion and they say “There are four disadvantages to that option”. I wouldn’t have finished saying my suggestion and they have already counted four counter arguments! FOUR! I am completely NOT in awe of such people. How did he possibly come up with four points before I finished talking? Basically, there are only 3 points - the 1^st and 3^rd are the same, they are just worded differently. The second point is not related to the topic.

So the moral of the story is that if you want to be taken seriously inside the air conditioned glass cabins:

1.      You should have that confidence to say in a forum, ‘I have three points to add’ when you actually have none.

2.      Argue with a person on their field of expertise in a language and tone of speech that bowls over the entire panel.

3.      When someone talks logically and you don’t know what to reply, smile sarcastically as if you knew what he is talking ten years ago.

4.      When someone brings up an idea, immediately spring up from the chair and claim that it was your idea and that you were about to say it (then what held you back you moron?)

5.      If you are not the boss, ACT like one. Laugh only at the boss’s joke. Ignore the jokes of everyone else.

6.      Never keep your phone on silent mode, and answer your calls (most likely from the credit card section of the bank) with an expression like Trump called for a mission to save the planet and walk back in after the smoke in the meeting has subsided.

7.      At any point of time, maintain the constipated expression.

Looks like I could go on and on and publish a book about ‘Corporate Survival for Dummies’ (written by a dummy who is still trying to stay afloat) but honestly, my department is bursting with ideas to write more!

Let me go back to work now, I have an email to compose ;-)

The best place to yell.

Teaching a story to a six year old for his story telling competition after returning from crazy work days is like sticking my head into a beehive. Especially with my curious son who has a thousand questions to ask starting from the origin of the story and the author. Humpy the camel walked down the desert with his mother. ‘If Humpy is the name of the baby camel, what is the name of the Mama Camel?’

‘Her name is Anita..! ANEEETAAAAAA…!!!!Now can we proceed?!!!!!’  -

The doctor next door would have definitely heard this. Next time I visit him at his office, he will start writing out a prescription without asking any questions.

My edgy responses laced with sarcasm, shrill voice and raised eyebrows mostly evokes suppressed laughter from the little boy. Even my most serious conversations and advice are met with laughter and mockery by both the guys in the house. I am happy to be raising a boy who is unaffected by high decibel levels of a highly impatient mama and remains cool as a cucumber. Surely he will work with any hot tempered boss.  The hubby also does not remember what I said five minutes ago. If these guys can manage my crazy moods and high decibel levels and still insist to have me around all the time, then this is exactly what differentiates family from others.

Whenever I make a serious conversation at home, both the guys look at each other, then at me and start murmuring. The hubby guy has a habit of making jokes at hospitals and churches. I am the only person who laughs inappropriately at such places when the man who cracked the joke acts as if he is not related to me, making me look like a complete loser who has no sense of surroundings. Then there are others who take my jokes seriously. Like for example a college mate who needed explicit clinical bifurcation between jokes, facts, information and general loose talk. There is an element in our DNA which identifies them automatically, which was missing in her.

Image Courtesy: Here

 I have always looked up to people like my Dad who never responds to negative criticism or even insults directed towards him. We feel like losers when there are disagreements because he does not put up a fight and let us win. He forgives, forgets and most of all does not let anything affect him. These are all biblical qualities which we should NOT try to imitate at any cost (as we may become better people, this evil society does not deserve such people).

If I am not taken seriously by the boys back home, I think that is the best. They don’t remember why I yelled at them last evening.

Because the socks are still stuck inside the shoes and both don’t seem to care. Surely they don’t remember it today, and they will not carry it forward for years to come and judge me for it.

Family is the best place to yell: D

Xmas Hustle.

I can’t seem to remember the month of December 2017, so I am guessing that I may have been in a coma which no one is speaking to me about. I do remember the Xmas cakes and garlic breads straight out of my Moms oven melting in my mouth gulped with generous amounts of wine. Christmas, as usual, was spent with my people in peace, love, music and lots of food. I earned this break after slogging and stressing out in office trying to reach somebody’s insanely impossible goals and timelines.

I applied for a month vacation, and my boss was highly amused at my great expectations. She cut it down to ten working days. My husband was allowed more leave and he said ‘Bye, Roomie, Merry Xmas’ and went on his way. Well, my son and me had the best time ,did our Xmas shopping, ate countless tubs of popcorn, watched late night Disney, slept and woke up on our terms. It was such a jolly good time without rules and husband ! Finally the day of travel arrived. I was supposed to leave office a bit early as it was busy Xmas season, traffic was slow moving towards the airport and the flight dint belong to my Dad. I targeted to leave by 4:00 pm.

Meanwhile some logically-challenged guys at office requested project related training at 3:00 pm. I had to pack bags, weigh them, get food for my son, dress him, lock all doors, switch off TV and Gas, arrange documents, remind the driver for airport drop, pay the cleaner, park my car somewhere safe, handover keys to neighbor to water my microscopic and malnourished plants in my absence, lock bedroom doors amongst many other things.

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As I had emptied my fridge and every meal had to be arranged, I came towards my car in the afternoon with a thousand things running in my head and official calls ringing continuously. I found a car parked perpendicular to mine, completely blocking any forward movement. Who on earth parks like this as if I abandoned my car there? All hell broke loose in my head. My animal instincts woke up. I rang up a colleague who usually parks adjacent to mine and blurted ‘Hey do you know which stupid is the owner of this purple Mazda? What kind of ..what ..what nonsensical…’ …I searched for words to complete my sentences. He said ‘Anita first of all calm down, you can find him at___’ I cut the call and made an angry walk towards the human who was doomed to be at the receiving end of my wrath.

He was happily joking in his cubicle oblivious of the fire he started. I said ‘Can you move your car from there?’ What I really wanted to say  was ‘Hey pea-brained useless creature! You better move your damn car out of that place else I will scratch it with my keychain!’. To be honest I am the useless creature whose mouth goes against her brain. The guy who heard me loud and clear said… ‘I wrote my number there…dint you see?’ Oh well ! Now he expects me to walk around his car and find his number and call him whenever I have to go somewhere? Dude, I don’t even call my husband whenever I start my car. I replied to him. ‘NO!’. He looked at me closely, measuring the rising mercury levels and quietly moved his ridiculously flashy car. The fire that started in my head couldn’t be extinguished.

Later the training started at 3:00 pm and the trainees had segregated all the doubts in the world to ask me. I kept talking and simultaneously looking at my watch every five seconds trying to signal the crowd that I am not interested. However they seemed to be brimming with a thirst for knowledge. Finally I scraped through that meeting around 4:10pm. Later everything happened in a blur, packing, tidying, locking etc. , and soon we were on our way to the airport.

Wearing similar tee shirts and jackets, my son and I cuddled in the backseat of the car, when he looked up at me and asked. ‘Ma did you take the passports and ticket?’

‘Yes I did, baby’. I said confidently, after having successfully sailed through a busy day alone.

‘Are you sure ma?’



 

Emotional Modulation.

I am an emotional wreck. If the character in a movie violently dies, my tear glands start pumping up tears from the air and starts generating renewable energy. Whereas when it is comedy I will make sure your eardrums blast with my laughter. It will be so explosive that after you watch a movie with me and go home my laughter will still ring in your ears and you will regret your decision to have hung out with me. Any emotion, be it happiness, grief or anger is expressed by me and my maternal family in its extreme form. The way anger of my relatives usually pans out, we can rightly measure it on a Richter scale. When they yell you can actually feel the tremors in the neighborhood.

Even though anger dominates any other emotion in the family, I am slightly different. Laughter mostly dominates my moods. I can remember jokes heard in movies or told by my friends during meetings and get myself into a situation wherein I struggle to control my laughter. I am, but wired to find a funny angle to situations and do not keep myself sad for long periods of time. I just keep the tears for the pillows, laughs for the ones who deserve it and stay far away from negativity. It isn’t easy but with determination it evolves.

If science develops a device that modulates emotions it would be a breakthrough for my family to be sane with each other and the rest of the people destined to be around them. I would buy it in bulk and distribute it an act of benevolence for Christmas. My anger outbursts are not very common. My laughter never hurt anyone. My sadness is fortunately short lived. I do not stew in regret. Basically the algorithm which runs that device should be inspired by me. Okay enough self-praising for now; I need a device to control that actually :D Even my boss tells me to stop self-praise. It is not even appraisal time, she thoughtfully added.

Last week I was on a cleaning spree when I dug out my son’s toy bin. Expectation was to find everything from shoes to food bits from 2011. However, I was in for a surprise. At the bottom of it was a comb, which belongs to my Papa which he was frantically searching for while he was here in September with me. He had to settle for a new comb, which we bought after his precious comb which seemed to have been handed down through generations was lost. Ever since, he had been dissatisfied with the very act of combing hair. Finding it was a eureka moment for me. Immediately I took a selfie with the comb and sent it to our family group captioned ‘Look what I found!!’. The group witnessed an outpour of sentimental emotions about the comb, tears of joy and one earth shattering revelation from Papa - ‘It is the closest to my heart’! And here I am, stupider than the stupidest, thinking vainly that I was the closest to his heart!!! My heart broke into a thousand pieces. No problem, in December when I meet him I will breakup with him.

Coming to think of it, have you noticed that some people actually value objects and situations more than we do? I wouldn’t even notice if my comb was lost (because there are hundreds of them at home, you know, just in case). Papa wouldn’t notice if his shirt was ten years old, but I care too much about what I wear. I search for sense of humor in people I meet and get along better with them, whereas Papa prefers knowledge and sensibility. He hates lame jokes and wasting time on small talk, whereas that is what I live for.

So coming back to that device I was talking about. I know what you are thinking. Don't gift it to me.

Church Etiquette for Dummies.

As an uber-cool, club-hopping, midnight partying, forever socializing person that I am, one of my much-envied weekend activity is waiting outside the church for two hours in the scorching sun while the son is at Catechism. By the way, I don’t know what is club-hopping or midnight partying and if checking Instagram for the 137^th time in one hour counts as socializing then yeah I am forever socializing.

To be honest I am not a regular church goer. My partner-in-crime (legally addressed to as husband) does not believe in the concept of going to church to pray. He says he wants to retain whatever peace that is remaining. I don’t disagree completely and I don’t agree also because in marriage we are not supposed to agree with each other. It is sinful.

Image Courtesy: Here

When I was younger (I'm still young), our grandparents taught us to dress conservatively while going to church. My Mom always wears her new sarees to the church first. All people in church were dressed either in sarees or salwars or tunics that were appropriate for a place of worship. Now if you see, times changed drastically. People arrive at church in their luxury vehicles with a statue of Jesus stuck in the front (which needs immediate cleaning because it is starting to look like Che Guevara) and makes a grand entry in a black t-shirt with a picture of a beer bottle right there in front captioned “Beer is Life”. Inside the church, at every 100 meters there is a small board that says ‘God sees you’. I am not sure whether these people see the board (or a mirror).

So yesterday I had to pick my son fifteen minutes before the mass was over and drop him at a birthday party. Oh yes, that is a sin and I am a sinner. He is just six, it’s not like he was on his knees and talking to God from the subconscious.  In my defense, I am sure God will agree that it is better this guy leaves the mass. He is that guy whose pranks distract everyone. His Catechism teacher rolled her eyes at me as if I was Satan. “You can take him when the mass is over” she said strictly, pointing to my son who was winking behind her and making few other kids laugh. I pleaded ‘Ma’am we have to go somewhere, it’s very urgent” (otherwise we won’t get cake ;-)) and she was burning with fury. So this is a Catechism teacher with a zero tolerance. I now know why I have to literally drag my son to church on Saturdays. This is the exact opposite of how the scriptures have to be taught and practiced.

Once you exit the church there is a 45 minute wait for traffic to clear until the main exit. This is a ground for cut-throat competition because either you go first or ensure that others don’t go. The priest said something about patience but what does he know- he does not drive and travels in chauffeur driven cars. Priests often give us marriage advice also. You should see the hues evolving from myriad facial expressions in the congregation.

Then there are others whose phones do not have a functioning silent mode. In my knowledge Charles Babbage would have invented the concept of silent mode in the 1800s. The intention of bringing the phone or keeping it in full volume inside the church is something we have to ask God in fasting and meditation. I am sure He also will not be able to comprehend such complicated psychological behavior.

I am not holier than any one of you to lecture about church etiquette but I really think that keeping a gadget away and dressing better is not as hard as trying to get your car out of the church premises.

Right?

Small but Happy Things.

The systems we work on at office are unavailable due to maintenance being done on them and for us techies this means - YOOHOO !!!. It is a digital hartal which is a welcome break and an amazing opportunity to look at ourselves in the mirror and reflect on how old we have become, the scalp of our heads getting more conspicuous, the ever-growing forehead, the crow’s foot which is gaining prominence and the panda eyes that can’t be ignored. Now don’t you say that pandas are cute.

We compare pandas for all the wrong reasons. You have a beer belly and say it looks like that of a Panda. You develop dark circles under your eyes  and again call yourself a panda. Even though all of these look cute on the Panda, he went on to learn Kung Fu and became famous whereas you are stuck in your cubicle.

Some small but happy things happened recently.

One is that I have been nominated for Indiblogger awards under Humor and Personal categories.  In humor I am competing with the likes of Mr.Bean and Mickey Mouse. Not exactly, but other bloggers in that category are all exemplary in the genre and are established columnists. In the personal category, again my competitors are bloggers who have it in them to be one day shortlisted for the Pulitzer Prize. Basically I have no choice but to congratulate myself for having the nerve to go nominate myself in the contest. This nerve is also known as shameless.

Second small but happy thing is that my parents were here for a month and we had the time of our lives. We went on picnics, ate Mom’s heavenly food, experienced what it actually means to live in a clean house, and my son became a bit hyper excited- well there is a downside to every upside.  Then they left and as usual I went into homesickness mode in my own house. When you’re homesick you are actually not ‘HOME’-sick - you are just missing your parents. Who doesn’t, right? Especially when you have to leave them to go back to your mundane life. The day I came from the Departures section of the airport, I was too sad to cry. Life has to go on, right?

Third small but happy thing is that one of my acquaintances became so obsessed with the three piercings on my ears that she took a picture of just my ear and looked at it like Ranveer Singh looks at Deepika. Isn’t that a wow moment? I have never felt so proud of any other part of my body before.  No, wait. I did once before when my Engineering final semester results came and I was so proud of my brain even though half of the marks came from a project which I dint do.

Fourth small but happy thing is that my son has started reading quite well and is very excited about his new skill. I am a super proud mother (except when he reads my whatsapp messages).

Fifth small but happy thing is that I have lost a lot of weight owing to excessive work, stress and other lifestyle factors but weight loss is something one should never complain about. My parents are not too happy about this, but like I said, there is a downside to every upside ;-)

When turbulences strike, when your loved ones no longer think of you as priority, count your small and happy things. I already counted five ! These are the things we live for. Laugh aloud.  Laugh like crazy, unapologetically, freely. Live for the parents who will always love you. For the friends who worry about you when you whatsapp them at 4 am. For the colleagues who make the workplace lively. For the cashier who always smiles at you. For the tiny tots in the neighborhood who wave at you. For the wine that is waiting for you. And for the person who actually pinged me on facebook and asked why I am not updating my blog – here is to you dear – you actually made my day which was not going too well.



Image Courtesy: Here

 

Cheers to little things and people that brighten up the day!


Those of you who still think this blog should be up there on Indiblogger awards, click the image on the top right of this page or click here and leave me a testimonial :-)

A recap of June..

June was my birthday month and usually the time I post euphorically on how the day went, but let’s face it guys, birthdays are not fun as we grow older. It is almost like I did not want this day to come so soon. There were gifts, cake-cutting, photos and new clothes, but the thought that I was younger just the previous day is deeply saddening to say the least.

On the job front I can figuratively say that I am being sliced and dumped into a blender. My brain now works overtime, and even while conversing with people I have a load of stuff running in parallel in my brain. I am overloaded with work which has reflected in my behavior in the recent past and I am guilty to have pissed off some people.  Over a period of time I have turned into a workaholic and I know that because nowadays I dream software codes. To be honest, I am now a complete loser of a wife, mother and friend but a full time consultant and programmer.

Anyone who may have gone through this space earlier may know that I am a die-hard fan of SRK. However, yesterday the most unimaginable happened. It was a school buddy’s birthday and a friend posted this latest viral selfie of Madhavan in whatsapp group and all of us married women with babies(ya, plural) became sinners  and were in blatant violation of one of the Ten Commandments.

 

Such hotness that my phone almost exploded.

My brain ditched the codes and took me back to that train scene in Alaipayuthey ....how exhilaratingly he rode that bike near the beach just before the song ‘Pachai Nirame’ ...and Kadhal Sadugudu! Alaipayuthey released when I was in 11^th standard and the naïve convent school girl in me thought that wow- men are so cute! And that is the biggest lie my friends :D

Maddy had and still has such an impact that my best friend named her son Madhavan. However this picture is a whole other level. It can ruin the lives of innocent girls. Even married women with kids…and morals. Maddy why did you have to do this to us? Why? **Deep Sigh***. I showed this picture to my spouse who could say that I was clearly smitten over it and he looked at it with a weird expression as if it was Shakti Kapoor and then looked at me pitifully. When people give such looks it makes you want to give them a piece of your mind but wait, isn’t that a salt and pepper beard? I realize this is a U/A blog and that I should maintain decorum. If you have any female friends going through a breakup or a bad time in general just send them this picture. It will make their day…and night ;-) #MaddyMaddyOhOhMaddy

My parents are arriving this month and very soon, so now I have to throw out unwanted stuff because every time my Mom comes, she brings a portion of Trivandrum with her. My apartment cupboards are already full term pregnant and cannot even accommodate a hairpin. Clearing out stuff from my home is a war scene as all unwanted things seem very dear to the boys who never may have seen those objects until I ask the earth shattering question ‘Do you need this?’ Suddenly they swoop in from nowhere and act like I am throwing away their boxers. Basically nothing is unwanted. It’s time we rent another flat just to keep stuff. And our parents thought that girls were high maintenance they need more space for their accessories and stuff. If anyone reading this has such an idea in mind, you are invited to my house.

My boy who recently turned six celebrated his birthday and was spoilt to the core with gifts. He has also started asking all kinds of questions and as a result I hold my sanity and patience at the tip of my fingers now. Like the other day we were driving past the church and there was just one car outside. “That must be Jesus’s car. Does he spend the whole day here?”

‘Mmm” I hummed.

“He doesn’t go to work or anything?”

This is just a sample of what usually happens here. The kind of questions I am asked every minute of the day is baffling to say the least.

In general life is going on like usual and I feel like Incy Wincy spider trying to climb up the spout but keep getting washed out by the rain. Unlike the rhyme, in life the sun does not come so soon or may not come at all ,so Incy Wincy bought a new book and is reading under an umbrella hoping the rain will subside.

Pain that glitters.

Sometimes in life, we come across situations when we suffer immense pain, which cannot be shared with anyone. Helplessness, vulnerability and trauma can weaken the strongest of people. This is a story from two months ago and no, I dint give birth.

I stepped into a popular state-of-the-art hospital that could give stiff competition to star hotels in the region. Apparently it is meant to be visited by people who have plenty of money to spare and have chronic diseases like sneezing and dandruff. They treat your acne problem and give you a facelift that can give Sridevi a run for her money, but if you have a cardiac arrest and go there on emergency you may die. My purpose of visit suited the hospital profile. The marble floors were immaculately clean and I am sure even those 0.01% germs that escaped Dettol were handled. We walked to the reception contaminating the hospital with the germs we carried involuntarily.

‘Ear piercing’ I mumbled.

 ‘Have you been here before?’ asked the receptionist who looked like Kareena Kapoor. Obviously not, young lady. People like me can come here only once in a lifetime. 

‘No’ I said.

She started a procedure that required me to provide details as though she was issuing me a new passport. When she finished her tedious yet systematic process, I received a card that looked like it was laminated and gold-plated, along with a bill huge enough to pay for the renovation of the ground floor. I was paying them to put a hole in my ears. It was not like I was asking for a heart transplant. I paid the bill (through my nose) and waited outside the specialist’s office.

There were magazines on the table, neatly stacked size wise. I dint want to contaminate them with my germ laden hands. My son who accompanied me had no questions so far but as we waited, he remotely sensed that this could be a Doctor’s office. ‘Amma I don’t have any pain anywhere! Let’s go from here! Now Now NOWWW’ !! How can children be so unreasonable? After paying a bill like that even a fire alarm couldn’t move me.

Few moments later, I was called. It was like entering an office from Grey’s Anatomy. The Doctor stared at her computer as we sat on the pristine white revolving chairs.
She then looked at me and politely said ‘Yes?’

‘Doctor, I need to get ears pierced’. I said.

She looked at my son inquisitively. Her look sent chills down his body. He in turn, gave me a death stare.

I corrected her in a split-second ‘It is for me’.

The correction was immediately made; otherwise a meltdown with ‘Why did you bring me here-I told you I have no fever -what is this- I want to see Appa NOW’ would have echoed through the hospital which always maintains pin-drop silence.

The Doctor then checked my ear which already had two piercings. She was amused. This was not as amusing to me as the cashier already put a hole in my purse. The procedure lasted hardly three minutes and two months of excruciating pain whenever my ear touched the pillow- which means I slept like a statue facing the ceiling for two months, and suffered sleepless nights whenever I twisted or turned in my sleep. Then there were nights I woke up and cried why oh why do we have ears on both sides !?

Now it is like an achievement I should include in my bio data and Facebook profile. I also made sure that my hair does not cover it at any time because hard work, pain, patience and persistence is for everyone to see. I literally burned the midnight oil for a worthy cause! I couldn't complain about this pain to ANYONE, not even parents or friends, as I did not want to willfully invite irritating responses like ‘Did I ask you to pierce your ears?’

 ‘What kind of emergency made you pierce a third time?’

‘It was your decision, suffer on your own’

People who get the opportunity to say the above dialogues enjoy sadistic pleasure which I personally do not intend to give them. So I suffered in silence the outcome of my own decisions.

Whenever it hurts and I have no one to say it to, I look at my reflection on the mirror, how cute my bejeweled ears look. It heals all kinds of pain. Trust me.

Marching through March.

March is usually the month I scream from the rooftop that I completed another year as a blogger and then fill up an entire post about stuff about which no one cares about. However a post is a post is a post. Then I bask in the glory of one, having completed another year and two, having posted something at all.



Image courtesy: Here

I have been rather busy last month. My son started first grade, which means he now has to wear uniform for the rest of the best part of his life, which means I don’t have to invest on other clothes for him in general which means more clothes for me. I am that evil mother who calculates how much more shopping she can do when her son actually crossed an important milestone. I am actually supposed to be happy and crying tears of joy at the church. Well I am drinking wine and planning where to go this weekend to shop.

Another important development is that one of my tooth from the farthest corner of my mouth fell off as I was eating grapes. Apparently my mouth was pretty shocked by the fact that I was eating a fruit for the first time in ages. The shock was so bad that the tooth just collapsed. Nowadays teeth are equally as dramatic as us. Thankfully I dint swallow it, but yeah the dent has given me that look that I am only a broom and black cloak short of being an authentic witch.  As my son has lost a couple teeth as well and is rejoicing when new ones are sprouting from his cute pink jaws, I can only look at the mirror and sigh aloud. Obviously my jaws are way past menopause and are unlikely to produce teeth again.

However highlight of the month was not that. I made a traffic offence while taking a left from a lane which goes straight only. Which actually means the lane which goes left was waiting at the red. I smartly crossed the red. Few cars recorded their protest by honking in unison as part of their ‘holier than thou’ campaign. I realized my mistake but it was too late and kept going. I came home and cried into the pillow, the only thing that understands my pain in the house. I was so lost that I dint notice the camera flash as well. However, till date it has not been updated as an offence on the website, which means I will not be swatting mosquitoes in jail.  My son was pretty excited by the idea of me going to jail, as he wanted to tell his friends how cool his mom is compared to their boring law abiding moms.

On a serious note, I will be in India coming week, to be with my parents as one of them needs a medical procedure and has to be admitted in the hospital. They were both against the idea of me going there for this and were sternly voicing their objection which I ignored, the same way they ignored my pleas when I wanted to go for excursion in my college days. This is payback time.

That week I will be away from the baby for the first time since 2011. Now this is a serious matter, because I’d be leaving him with a bigger child who also needs adult supervision. My child may also experience the bitter taste of hunger because whenever I leave him with his dad at meal time, the food is eaten by the one who was supposed to monitor the child. I am leaving him for a few days, knowing that it will be the worst days of his life, and hoping that he will appreciate me more when I am back.

It has been eight years of blogging, and March was the birthday month of my blog. Thanks everyone who read, appreciated and criticized me. Special thanks to those who found me irritating but still refrained from sending goons to my house. Love you all!