I Have No 'Pla' for 2016.Thank You.

From a blogger point of view, the good thing about year-end is the mandatory ‘year-that-was’ post. I am extremely proud to say that this year was as unproductive as the years before. As I have not set any goals for myself, I have no scope for improvement or anything to achieve. Wow that line would be perfect in the ‘About me’ section of my resume. Who wouldn’t want to recruit me?

If eating a lot of food, mastering few new recipes, visiting a new country and making some weird friends count as achievements, then yeah, 2015 had indeed been a fruitful one.  Like every year, I came across people I’d never want to meet again but there is no other way we can come back to appreciate the people in our lives. There had been no change in my patience level, though. However, I did meet some short-tempered people who taught me that I am more mature than I give myself credit for. When Monica asked Phoebe whether she has any plans, Phoebe's epic reply really defined my whole existence. 

Image Courtesy: Here

When there is no plan and you don't even try, that is when life is enjoyed best. I tell you, we are not going to the grave with our updated resumes (I don’t know about you, but I can go freely because my resume went before me).

Never in my life have I set resolutions for New Year. If I feel I should lose weight I take necessary measures from that day. If I feel I should let something go, I sing the ‘Let it Go’ song from Frozen and annoy everyone(but don’t let it go). I do not wait for the first of January to start doing anything because I do not like to think of life as a project which has a kick-off date and a deadline. It is completely ironic to feel this way because I am a software person and I am ALWAYS somewhere between a kickoff and a deadline myself. Still, surprises and suspense are best enjoyed when there is no 'pla'. But there is a catch to that. When something comes our way, we have to make a decision.

Decisions. They are hard. No one ever escaped from decisions. Even a baby has decisions to make- mostly whether to keep the parents up at night or show some sympathy and go to sleep. It is mostly up to the baby. We have decisions of a different kind to make. Most of them translate into –should I be stupid or wise? Stupid always sounds great. Wisdom is painful just like the teeth it is named after. Anyone can advise but in the end, decisions are ours to make- which is why always stupid sounds great. Anyway, what is life without making stupid mistakes, right? In my case, how many mistakes is the question. I still have (N+1) to make before I start getting clarity about people in general. Well, what can I say? I actually met a colleague from my hometown who said he will bring stuff from my Mom as he was traveling back to Muscat on Christmas. Later when he reached here, he came to my house completely drunk, and even missed to give me the gift Mom sent to my hubby on Christmas. Later, I had to ask him about the missing item (which was embarrassing for me NOT for him apparently), and then I got the hint. After the whole episode, my family pointed fingers at me – How do you even find such people and make them friends? That requires a special skill you know?

I have friends, who are absolute gems. I don’t want to name them here, but they are there on messenger at 3 a.m. to listen to my rants. Then I meet people and make them friends and shit happens. End of the day one expensive Christmas gift sent by Mom to her son-in-law turned son is gone with the wind, thanks to my expertise in choosing friends.

I just hope 2016 is better wisdom wise. 

On a completely different note - All you 8 people who unfollowed my blog – what did I do to you? Please tell me! Of course, you unfollowed and are probably not reading this. I wish that the wrong people I met in 2015 meet you in 2016. Good luck! **evil laugh**

Happy New Year all MY READERS! May your year be full of fun, love and laughter! **smiling innocently**

Waiting for Santa!

December- when the living room mess becomes less noticeable as the Christmas tree stands tall and majestic in the corner. My living room has become jam-packed with stuff the existence of which has now become questionable. As if this is not disaster enough, it is during Christmas when there will be guests. Good luck all you guests. We will probably put your stuff under the tree. *Evil grin*.

My little one was very excited about decorating the tree that he was after me for putting it up from October itself. If only I had a nickel every time I said ‘No baby, the Christmas tree will be up only in December’ in various frequencies and wavelengths and tones and tunes all through November. So the first weekend of December, the enthusiastic Mom and son that we are, brought the box from the ruins and started tree building. However, my son was blissfully unaware of the pain part of it as he thought a fully decorated tree will knock the door, catwalk into the house and sit where it has to. I had a small discussion with the father and son that setting up a Christmas tree and decorating it involves effort, just like there is for cooked food on the table and fresh clothes in the wardrobe. Some feathers were mighty ruffled with that sentence as I got death stares and a collective walkout in protest.

When I opened the box and unpacked the tree which has a base, screws, and multiple bunches of leaves each having a code, corresponding code on the stem of the tree, and a user manual, the male members of my family had already vanished. Of course they will later invite their friends to see the tree and click pics alongside it, and pretend that they painstakingly built it from scratch, when I will royally stand in some corner like a complete loser. Story of my life my friends, story of my life.

*sigh*

Christmas shopping was a big deal when I was younger because that’s when we got new clothes. Well, nowadays it is a big deal if I don’t buy new clothes. When my son was younger he used to give me company during shopping. Now he is four, all man and can’t stand the sight of apparel stores. The Y chromosome, I tell you. It repels all things good, pretty and pink. Both father and son have to go to that video game store to stare at all the astronomically priced junk. I am like ‘Hey, I bought him snakes and ladders… Jigsaw puzzles, Ludo. …What is wrong with those games? They are cheap too. With this kind of money I could buy some gold you know’.

“Can you race in Ferrari cars with that gold?’ came the prompt response.

Image Courtesy: Here

 Of course, who am I kidding, right?
I just have to take it with a pinch of salt and hold on to my sanity just like I do when there are missing socks. No matter how branded they are, a pair cannot coexist. Then hell breaks loose. I always suggest buying cheaper socks. But, no. Socks have to be branded so when they are lost, you can look at the woman in the house and say punch dialogues like ‘It was a Hush Puppies sock!’ and loud sighs for dramatic effect.And women are considered to be drama queens.

Guys don’t care about any festival, birthday or anniversary. Everything has to be manly for them. How about a Christmas tree with a moustache and a beard? Will someone give me a hand then? If they are wearing a branded shirt, they will not dispose the trash. They will not temporarily put your phone in their pocket because it will make them look fat. They will never have a pair of identical socks. They will never agree with you. They think you are responsible for everything that goes missing. They look at you like you are secretly running a high-security personal website to sell their stupid junk stuff. End of the day, they say that women are complicated.

I can actually see my son’s vocabulary changing with inspiration derived from his Appa.

Past:  ‘Amma where did you put my green crayon’?

Present: ‘Amma where did you MISPLACE my green crayon?’

Future: ‘Where the hell is my green crayon?’

This Christmas, if Santa asks me what I want, I am just going to ask whether I can accompany him. 

What my teacher unintentionally taught.

Summing up the week, saree day went well and most importantly, it did not fall apart. My son is a big time fan of the saree because the Principal of his school wears it oh-so-elegantly every single day. He thinks she looks like a bride. Yes, Bride. Since he was born four years ago he must have seen a lot of brides by this time. His grandmothers have tucked their sarees to the top shelves and are flaunting their churidhars with chiffon shawls with much élan. All Indian dudes grow up to be total suckers of the saree, because a major part of their lives are spent watching others suffer – be it wearing a saree or in a labor room.

It is a fact that we all adore well-dressed teachers. Particularly in colleges where students are only physically present and are forced to focus their eyes on the teachers. My Mom was a teacher and she dressed immaculately every single day to college. She, being a fan of well ironed and tediously maintained cotton sarees, effortlessly gained respect from students and colleagues alike. A teacher who has a sartorial sense gains respect irrespective of her teaching abilities. Some others may not dress as well, but has good knowledge of the subject. Others are friendly and just let live. Then there is that fourth kind.

About that.

Image Courtesy: Here

So back in my Engineering days, most of our teachers were really young so they were fun and harmless. Then there was this lady, senior most in our department, short and stout, shrill, and always carries a ‘F you’ expression. She taught us that not all teachers deserve to be respected. Unfortunately, semester exams came every six months, and during the final classes of each semester, most of the staff used to get friendlier and wished us best of luck. Engineering exams are passed only by God’s grace which roughly translates itself as ‘luck’ in Layman terms. However, the lady in question begged to differ. She used to walk in on the last class before the exams and curse us. “You know what. I wish you guys don’t pass this semester. None of you. I will be here in my cabin and I want to see each one of you coming year after year to clear your arrears”.

I did not fabricate that sentence. These were the exact words spoken to us. Not once, but on multiple occasions. Most of us, far away from home, just needed a gentle push to keep going. A few words of kindness to keep ourselves afloat. In the case of this lady, if she hadn’t turned up at all, that would have been a big favor for us. However, she decided to do what no teacher should do under any circumstances.When I told this to my parents they couldn’t possibly believe what they were hearing. Even though I was capable of hating anyone who did not agree with me, they knew that it was beyond me to make this up. My Mom was literally shocked to know that anyone can talk like this, let alone a teacher. Just because someone is a ‘teacher’ according to the payroll of a college doesn’t mean she is one. 

Such people come into our lives for a reason. Now I know how a teacher should not behave. Some kids have shown me what my son should not grow up to become. Some have shown me that a degree in medicine does not make a Doctor. Some friends have taught me never to trust a single human being. Since I have been doing a lot of learning, I am exhausted. It is high time I start teaching a lesson or two.

Now, what do I teach? :-|

Mission Diwali : Almost Impossible.

It is that time of the year again. Diwali is just round the corner and so is the mandatory saree day.

While everyone I know can’t wait for saree day to come, I have my own prejudices about it. The only reason I still wear it on Diwali day is that in the movie Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Shah Rukh Khan started romancing his lady after she started wearing sarees. Well, that is some solid reason for a die-hard fan to wear it right?  Secondly I am bored being normal and insignificant all year long, so here is a chance for people who haven’t noticed me before to get amused. Coming soon at the office in Muscat, the ultimate chance to watch in flesh and blood, the walking documentary of ‘HOW NOT TO WEAR A SAREE’. Thank you very much.

The reason I still resort to this impossible mission.
Image Courtesy: Here

I have never in my life rocked a saree look. On my wedding day, the saree was obviously heavy so when the stylist draped it around and put it accurately in place with around 86433 safety pins, it stayed put until evening. I will not attribute the massive success of that to the safety pins or the stylist, but to the saree whose weight made it stay. Saree falling apart on wedding day would have been a kind of a major setback for the dignity of my family. Anyway blessings followed us on that day and beyond because neither the saree nor the marriage fell apart :D

Coming to the groom’s suit, hubby was kind of overweight that time. So bringing both sides of the suit together at the tummy and sliding the button on was a challenge. Throughout the wedding he was expecting the button to burst into the altar with a thud and the videographers covering the entire footage in detail, so occasionally I kept reminding him, ‘Hold your breath, Hold it! Hold it!’ . Meanwhile somewhere between the infinite folds, a pin was about to succumb to the weight of my saree. In general, our wedding day was a strength test day for safety pins and buttons.

Nowadays we have readymade blouses which have actually made life much easier. Who would have thought that this day would finally arrive! It has everything inbuilt (if you know what I mean ;-) ) so everyone is happy ( if you know what I really mean *wink* *wink*)! I got mine from Trivandrum when I went blouse shopping with Mummy. Well, I got a lot of time to try and choose the right one, as Mom was there and my son was trying to figure out whether the mannequin near the blouse section was male or female. So in general, peace prevailed during blouse shopping.

The one thing that makes saree impossible for me is the long list of prerequisites that makes it unreasonable and time consuming. I am not very systematic; my things don’t sit in the same designated place every day. Hence I buy dozens of safety pins every year for this purpose, and when I am done, they just vanish into thin air. Which is good because storage space is saved. For the chronically absent-minded person that I am, a checklist should be in place. There is a probability that I may miss something in the checklist itself, so I am off to Google ‘Dummies guide to wearing saree’. 

Okay, then.