Happy Birthday, Mummy ...

She is the one, who on my birthday ...every year ...

..gave me a tight hug and lots of kisses when I woke up..

..baked my favorite chocolate cake..

.. insisted that I  wear a new dress and bought me one of my choice..

..managed a gift, invited friends and made me feel special..

..cooked me the best meal...

..clapped and sang aloud the birthday song...

..prayed and blessed me...

..Called and wished me when I was away from home...each word seemed to say that she missed me...

...whose dedication has left me without words…

Mummy,

As you are miles away from me, I could not do one hundredth of what you did on my birthdays...I humbly wish you lots of happy and healthy years ahead... 

....

and thank you, for being YOU.

Happy Birthday, Mummy. 

...And thats how it's done.

During my Bangalore days, we used to hang out with friends at The Leela. Well…we are not the dining-at-The-Leela types. We go there for bowling. A glass of lemonade costs a hundred bucks at the bowling area, we'd painfully realized (after drinking it of course). Anyways, this place was a top favorite among us three couples.

One night, after bowling and subsequent roaming around the Leela, we dragged ourselves to the parking area. Thirty minutes to midnight…and thoughts of going to office the next day had nearly wiped out the weekend smiles from our faces. The parking area of Leela was somewhat the size of a football ground, but not a single spot was vacant. We reached our car…and were alarmed to find a highly modified and accessory laden sports car parked diagonally behind ours, rudely blocking any attempt to move our car. Beer bottles were also found strewn around that car.

We called the security, he called his supervisor, and they assumed dutiful expressions by reaching out to their wireless handsets. We went up to the reception and made a complaint to the heavily decorated female receptionists who could hardly move their faces, possibly due to fear of damaging the carefully applied makeup, and they in turn reported this to other blazer wearing-good-for- nothing- English speaking volunteers. An announcement was made (they claimed) with the number of the car at the pub and other places. Nothing really happened.

We were hungry. And its not like Leela was a place we could dine from. Home was miles away.

We then saw another couple driving their way at a snail's pace into the parking area, trying to find an empty space. As they saw us three angry ladies, with hands on our hips – eyes wide- lip movements which possibly suggested swearing, they politely enquired what the problem was.  We pointed at the sports car parked across ours and all three of us voiced our minds in an absolutely engaging chorus.  And the lady said, "If it was me, I would have released the air from the tires of this moron’s car".

And that’s  exactly what we did.

 For all the four tires.  And, a note to remember, right across the moron's windshield.

                                                                                                                                
And the feeling after that was done....PRICELESS.  :D                

A reason to REJOICE !

A week ago, I was in Dubai, on a well deserved vacation, after a few months of dry spell in Muscat. Hubby had a few bachelor friends there, and I guess all of them silently wished that I wasn’t with him during this trip ;-). Anyway I was also welcomed gracefully and we had a great time together.

One of these guys owned a car, and another was a close friend, so the four of us hung out one night, at the movies. During the movie, these guys got frequent phone calls which sounded very critical and since then, they were at the edge of their seats waiting impatiently for the movie to end. As soon as the movie was over they sped out and were rushing to drop us at our hotel. It was half past midnight, and I silently assumed that these guys had missed out big on some midnight birthday celebration.  During the drive from the multiplex to the hotel, they kept getting calls from aggressive party animals, who were blaring out their vocal cords and music in the background was so loud that it could’ve been audible to people in other cars on the road.

A birthday party couldn’t be as violent as this one…or was it a bachelor party…my assumptions wandered.

We drove on.

In a matter of minutes, the car halted reluctantly  at our hotel (bypassing certain red lights en route) ,and the guys who now appeared like they fought a tsunami all along, were entirely oblivious of the good nights’ and thank yous’ I was sincerely saying. We both got down and hubby asked, ‘Where’s next?’

And seconds before the car could vroom out of our hotel came the reply…

 “There is a party at my friends’ apartment… as his wife just went to her native place”.

Rodent Menace ...continued.

Following my article Rodent-o-phobia, my sister (who is also my critic and an unmatched support behind this blog) was online and was giving me feedback along with a few LOLs. She enjoys my poor jokes to such an extent that she not only LOLs, but also ROFLs and ROFLMAOs at some of them, whereas the same joke would not have any effect on others. In fact, my ability to crack poor jokes is nurtured by her.

(After reading my article she says...)

She: How can there be mice in your house. It is very unhygienic!

Me: Yeah I thought it was healthy and invited it.

She: No I am serious. There was once a mouse in my kitchen…and I knew it from the smell.

Me: Deodorant?

She: Mice stink, don’t you know. I found it and drove it out with a mop. Also cleaned the kitchen…especially the area where it hid.

Me: You killed it?

She: No I drove it away.

Me: Okay check your wardrobe.**laughs**

She: I saw it going outside my apartment...

Me: Towards your neighbor’s house?

She: No it sped towards the elevator… and squeezed inside...then someone from parking lot pressed the button and the elevator went down.

Me:  Mice these days,  I say…!

She: **ROFL**

Laptop queries , Laptop worries.

My office laptop shows its true colors regularly, three times a day to be precise. Basically this laptop is a pessimistic moron. When I am doing something official, it works fine (moron) , when some person comes on chat, it gets irritable and slow, and when the conversation reaches its interesting best it simply hangs (pessimistic).

When it hangs, the next step is to reach to the system administration team, who are seated in a highly secure glass cage. The entrance to this cage is a sliding door, which when opened, makes a noise loud enough to wake other hibernating computers and even some colleagues. But the pessimistic moron is immune to any sound, you see. I carried the pessimistic moron to the glass cage countless times that, when I open the sliding door the creatures in the glass cage almost know it is me, without even turning around ! Well that’s quite an attribute of the sixth sense category, and it explains why they are seated in a glass cage…we never know!

The weirdest people I've ever come across are mostly from the workplace (or sometimes some relatives ;)).  Some weirdos have this obsession of escalating every trivial issue and send emails marking a copy to the leads, managers, directors and CEOs.  But I am a seasoned programmer you see. They think that  they can easily climb on my head and pull my hair. Others think that every issue can boil down to pin pointing a programmer. Little do they know, that by the number of years of experience in the resume we mean : experience to encounter the above species and strike the ball back to their court…or the satisfaction we get by allowing some people to climb on our heads and then swatting them away at a crucial moment !

People, why I am blabbering so much is that the creatures in the glass cage are analyzing my laptop and I have nothing else to work with…than to take out my notebook and write. The laptop evidently has some hardware issue, it’s a new one within the warranty period, and the logical thing to do is to send it back and get it replaced. But who are we to say. The creatures in the glass cage should decide, you see. They pretend to think it is some virus, which every layman around knows it is not. But the creatures in the glass cage know best, you see.

 But today I am going to gather some guts and say that I want to get my laptop replaced. If the creatures in the glass cage revolt, then I will use the deadliest weapon ever. Sentiments. (You thought I was going to escalate? lol  :D) No one screams at a girl almost in tears. Even the creatures in the glass cage. Shh..now they are in a meeting- which would mean that they won’t be at their desk – but most of them will be seen walking the corridors looking lost. As and when they appear lost, they won’t smile at you for the fear of being assigned with any work and will continue to act intellectual (just like I act sentimental). So when they are back, I will drop the bomb.

 Wish me luck !

Finally, a non cartoon :-)

This is my first attempt at  portraits. A change from routine cartoons. 

Testimony to a childhood inspiration :-)

As a kid, I was scared to go alone to another room in the house, if no one was around. I would hear my footsteps echo like it would inside an empty auditorium…I’d turn around to check if some shadowy creature was following me…the palm of my hand would sweat incessantly.

 Mummy used to knit, read, or value answer sheets from college and be engaged all the time. Therefore she sends me to get her scissors, red ink pen, spectacles or something from her room. I always used to wonder why she can’t keep these things handy, at a place where she can pick it up herself. May be she sensed my fears and kept it at the farthest possible corner of the house, which is on her desk on the first floor. Climbing stairs alone itself was a terrifying thought for me.

One day, when me and Mummy were at home, she asked me,

 “how many people are there in the house now? 

I said “Two, you and me”. 

She said, “No, we are three”.

 May be she counts the spider in the bathroom as a separate person. 

She continued, ‘Jesus is with us na? When Jesus is an invisible presence we don’t have to fear anything. So when you have to go to next room and you feel scared to, just say, Jesus, come along with me”. 

It got etched in my head because at that age, going to another room was the biggest cause of tension. So by softly saying ‘Jesus, come along with me’ I could go fearlessly to the darkest room in the house, even if it had a spider in it.

Years later, as I walked back from office cab after night shifts, amidst hundreds of street dogs, “Jesus, come along with me” was the line which gave me strength to overlook the beasts and move on. Practicing a childhood trait like this one, never felt like something to be ashamed of.

And few days back, I washed my pink tshirt with hubby’s favorite white kurta and the inevitable happened. Pink patches on the white kurta! How am I going to put this out to dry ? !! He is definitely going to see it !

 ‘Jesus, come along with me !’

Rodent-o-phobia !

We all develop notions in our heads, or sometimes wrong impressions about people, places or anything that come our way. Some of them change with time, maturity or an experience which proves otherwise. But some stays on until a spouse gets irritated and chooses to sleep on the couch.

A few weeks back, as I was enjoying an afternoon nap on a lazy weekend, hubby opened the main door of our apartment for some reason. And it happened. The drawback of being on the ground floor of a building – a mouse sped inside and hid behind the shoe rack. It sat there staring at him, helpless, but smartly planning the next course of action. Hubby cleverly closed the kitchen and living room doors and blocked other ways through which the rodent can get inside, and left the main door open. The mouse was check mated and kept staring at him for some more time (silently appreciating the intelligent homo sapien), and fled out. However, the incident was forgotten or purposely neglected by the better half...and I slept away to glory.

Two days later, during a usual small talk the mouse incident spilled out and this scared the guts out of me. “That means there are other mice in the house !” He knew where I was going with that and efficiently changed the topic, but the fact that I have to co-exist with mice was strongly registered in my head.

The next day onwards I started inspecting the area where the mouse hid and kept a watch on that area whenever I crossed it.

At midnight I woke up in horror saying that there is a mouse on the bed and that it touched my toes.

Any small sound, be it from the building behind ours which is under construction, or the random swaying curtains, was concluded to be the work of a gang of mice.

Another night one of the pillows fell off the bed, which was later creatively interpreted that, the pillow actually fell on a mouse, and that I heard a squeal from under the pillow. The pillow was washed and sun dried.

The better half swore to God, that any rodents/reptiles/mammals/dinosaurs, if sighted, will not be disclosed to me.

Psst..that means….there are other rodents in the house. Now that I know he wont tell me, I have to be constantly on the lookout !

An Archimedes incident :)

I had already blown my trumpet loud enough about my parents visiting me. Well, I have now safely landed as the hot air of excitement has blown off after they both left, and now I am here at my desk wondering what to write.

Papa had been around for two and Mummy for three weeks. She cooked my favorite meals and I gained appetite and loads of weight too! Why? I am allowed to. When parents are away for a few months and they come to visit, who watches calories anyway. To eat whatever comes your way becomes the order of the day and the better half also indulges happily, as the one who usually rolls eyes at him and blows undesirable signals has no time now! So it was the time to be happy and merry. Luckily they came at the best time of the year…Papa is likely to come again in May, and I can’t wait to see his reaction when he realizes that the summer which tries its best to touch a fifty degrees here will give him enough burns than a normal cigarette does.

This time around, it was total fun, and one night he put two ice cubes into his glass and poured water, which filled the entire glass, up to the rim. It was clear that he cant lift the glass without spilling. Mummy, who adjusted her glasses firmly on her upper nose, in her usual professor mode, was silently, but curiously watching the interesting turn of events. And then she said…”when the ice cubes melt, it is going to overflow, so watch it”

Suddenly, I was enlightened. By a Physics theory.  Seriously. I don’t know why, for what, and HOW it happened. But I was reminded of the Archimedes Principle. People who know me from school and are reading this will find it difficult to believe, I know. But I cant help but say this.. kindly refrain from laughing and read on.

And I said… “Mummy if you don’t mind can I correct you for something you just said?”

“Sure Anu, why not…what happened? “

“Actually, the ice cubes themselves has displaced some fluid upwards, because of its mass…so when it melts the level of water will not increase further”

Mummy, surprised by my knowledge exclaims “ Oh!”

“It is called Archimedes Principle, Mummy….. this guy Archimedes discovered it as he immersed himself in a tub of water …din't finish his bath and ran shouting eureka! You've heard about that na?”

The surprise and curiosity increased on Mummy’s face. She looked at me with a deep feeling, that I knew something, after all. (Meanwhile Papa and the better half have their jaws dropped and are in a state of temporary shock for which I cannot blame them)

Then I continued “ Mummy…when you said about the ice cubes, I just got reminded of this, and told you.. don’t think I am trying to be smart”

Mummy hugged me and said…” I am feeling so proud of you and so excited to learn this “ and a few kisses.

 I have no words to express how it felt when my mother said she was proud of me..

Mummy is a post graduate in Botany and is working at a renowned college. So her stream of thought goes with Plant species, Classes and Subclasses, which people like us would take ages to learn, but  she was so keen to know a new concept, which she actually doesn't have to bother about !

I am reminded of similar situations when Papa or Mummy talks about something I don’t know, and they ask me whether I’ve heard about it...I am often insulted and pretend to know it!

Well, there are things which Physics doesn't teach..you see.

An undue apology...unacknowledged.

2010 had been an eventful year, as I was uprooted from the comforts of Bangalore and replanted in the scorching Muscat. Bangalore was always my second home…warmth and fun of friends around, and parents reachable in a matter of hours. But many factors of a detailed plan did not allow us to succumb to the warmth of familiarity any longer. It was a milestone, or a significant turn in my journey, but this did not count as the most surprising or should I say, the most remarkable event of 2010.

Rewinding ten years back in time... and I was in Grade 11. I’d been in the company of girls until grade ten, and suddenly we were introduced to students of an acclaimed boy’s school, at a tuition center, in the eleventh grade. Soon we were good friends with them. 

I was in the company of eight other girls at school; one of us soon had an affair with a guy at the tuition class. This guy, hereafter referred to as P, was very friendly with all of us girls, even when he was pulling a string with her (hereafter referred to as N). N was away from her parents and staying with a strict relative. P and N had our support, but we never interfered in their affairs. However, many of our parents had seen them on the roads holding hands, which was considered extremely sinful during those times. Papa had also seen them together and asked me what was going on…to which an awfully excuse-retarded me said that P and N were cousins.

Time passed and our tuition teacher once spotted them together. Whether she warned them or did she directly inform their parents is still not known. Anyways, their relationship became known to N’s relative. N was not allowed to answer any calls, or attend tuition classes anymore. However, God knows on what grounds, but P blamed me for it. I had absolutely no role in this, except that I helped them contact each other on phone many times.

 So what happened next was devastating. 

It was a time of yahoo mail, and each of us had yahoo ids and dial up internet connections at home. P misused it by sending me an email, in which he insulted, brutally humiliated, and hurt me to my very core, thus shaking my very conscience. P even went on to hack my email, and sent forwards from my email id to guys of his school and others.Soon I noticed unknown guys whispering to each other and pointing at me at various occasions. But this did not even bother me in any way.But the mail he sent me ...really , badly, did. I still remember words from that email, even after these ten years, and my eyes well up. It hurts like hell. The following year in school, and later in college, I was an insecure, incompetent person bound by complexes triggered from that email.

By the second year in college, I had little or no time to nurture these complexes, and I was back to myself once again, active and bubbly and made and lot of friends. I buried the dark phase, but never did I forget it. I never had any contact with P or N since.

Some friends I discussed this to, heard me casually... often visibly wondering how seriously an email can hit a person this hard. It’s happened to me and I know how words can hit harder than a punch.

Ten years after the incident, in year 2010, I got an email from P. He is getting married.

This is the email:

hi,
hope u remember me!, i know it is a long long time.....
just wanted to say sorry for all the stupid things i have said n done....

i know it is little too late...but really felt i should say this.... 'I M SORRY'

im now into our family business...n things r quite ok....get to hear of u once in a while...

my greeting to ur sister and family!

tc...regards.

I never replied to this email. By typing a breezy mail like this, he must have steered clear of a pending apology and must be feeling better. And as per the Holy Scriptures, I am supposed to forgive and forget. May be I can take a little longer… or can I?

Two years of marital Bliss :-)

It’s a special day.  We are celebrating our second wedding anniversary. And my parents have flown in from India. It is double dhamaka. Lalala. With a cool wedding anniversary gift. Lalalalala.

Two years! Wow and I really can’t believe it’s been that long…Thanks to my sweetheart who has shown me that life is more beautiful than what I can see from behind the pallu of Mom’s saree.  

And about my blue Christmas and all the long distance nagging about my current location. Parents have visited me for the first time that too during the best time of the year, and complimenting on how there are flowers on either side of the road, the cool climate, the romantic drizzles, occasional rains. Now I am the liar who said that temperature hit fifty and people actually melt here. I came in May-June. I am inviting them again in May !!!

Here is wishing everyone a peaceful and blessed 2011. Take care.

A Blue Christmas...

Come December, and the mood of Christmas magically spreads on.

 My native place in Trivandrum gets lit up with stars and other glitzy decorations right from the first week of December. Mistletoes, Christmas wreaths, candles and Santa caps adorn homes and every building around... The songs of Choirs (customized or apparently slaughtered versions of the original ‘Silent Night’) bring glad (!) tidings from home to home. The extensive luxury of a ten day holiday, accomplishes all the ingredients of a wholesome feast -  the intimacy of family, joy of gifts, music of Christmas songs, sanctity of church worship, and above all, the unmatched warmth of togetherness.

Talking about Christmas, I am drawn back to my school days …and December is usually the month for midterm exams, and school Christmas celebrations. I used to be in the school and church choir…yes you read it right, and this was not entirely because I sang tunefully (self-realization). A choir practice session at school does away with two regular classes, which could include a Math class also, and any worry of a pending homework can be merrily sung away to glory …;)

Back home, my Mom would be busy, in the attempt to execute a fun-yet-tiring Christmas schedule, for which she assigns tasks to herself, and everyone else at home. The refrigerator would be filled with butter, eggs and meat. The noise of a food processor and smell of freshly baked cakes fills the house. No one forces my Mom to do any of these activities, but that’s how she has crafted Christmas for herself and for us. She makes delicious chocolate and plum cakes, beef cutlets, fish bake, and other delicacies…and pulls in Papa, to take time out of his busy schedule of reading the newspaper, to go with her to the homes of friends and relatives to distribute those cakes. I should say that my Mom is officially the most awaited Santa in town. I’d be busy too, decorating the Christmas tree and fighting away any reminders or warnings to the fast approaching midterm examinations. The evergreen Christmas songs of Jim Reeves and Boney M would play in the living room, at a decibel we can barely hear.

Visiting grandparents and gifting them goodies is another heartwarming memory. Only one of my grandparents survives today, and her home is silent and untouched by the waves of Christmas, as old age has already taken its toll on her. I dreamt about her yesterday, and in it she was healthy and happily running around the kitchen cooking her mouth watering Christmas lunch for us…her home hustling and bustling with playful kids, guests and lots of laughter…In the morning as I recalled the dream, I couldn’t gulp a heavy breath which resulted from holding back a few sobs.

This Christmas, I am miles away from home, and in a country where Christmas passes off like any other day. Circumstances are that I can’t be home this time around, but the fond thoughts of the soft music, and the warmth of being with family fills my soul…and I linger on those memories with teary eyes.

Click Play.

" You'll be doing alright with your Christmas of white but I'll have a blue blue Christmas...

I'll have a blue Christmas without you...

I'll be so blue thinking about you...

Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree

Won't mean a thing dear if you're not here with me..

And when those blue snowflakes start falling...

That's when those blue heartaches start calling...

You'll be doing alright with your Christmas of white but I'll have a blue blue Christmas..

And when those blue snowflakes start falling... "

                                                    - "Blue Christmas" by Jim Reeves.

E for... English !

I’ve completed my entire school education in the same institution…for which I take credit (I don’t know how the school sees it)…anyway, the full sentences I write in English these days, with or without errors, are wholly attributed to this school and to my English teachers (and Microsoft Word spell check).

‘Talk in English within the school premises’ – was a discipline of this highly established Convent school, and this made us first grade inherent chatterboxes remarkably reserved and insecure. Hmm. Already we were busy with other routine activities like wasting lunch, losing pencils and other stationery, and tearing paper from text books(of other students, of course). Now see what a burden had befallen us. At 60, the Principal had nothing to lose to execute a discipline like this. But she did have something to lose. Her image. Once one of my English retarded friends wished her ‘Good Morning’- in the evening…and she also graciously returned her a good morning! So we aren’t talking about anyone’s image here anymore.

During our primary school days the struggle was topped with embarrassment. Although our parents were well versed in English, we spoke in Malayalam at home. So, one can equate ‘talk in English’ = ‘stop talking’. This eventually resulted in comparatively calm classrooms, and the class leader would have limited or no job, much to the delight of teachers.  This was a period when passing of messages in folded papers was invented. This enabled free and full fledged communication between us friends, in Malayalam. Later, full notebooks were attributed for this purpose! But remember, all this happens within my circle of friends only; class leaders and studious girls were carefully avoided. Papa had advised me not to be in the company of bad girls, you know?

As we grew older, the ‘talk in English’ rule was prevalent, but we dint care anymore. This was a time when we had become fully grown brats and walked the corridors with heads up, and both hands in pocket… even when a teacher passes by. The same teachers at whose very sight, once upon a time, we used to wish, bowing our heads so low with humility and respect, that after she leaves we get a head rush and can’t see anything for the next few seconds. But the good thing was that all the English grammar, poetry, short stories, and the articles in the Hindu newspaper which was forced on us by parents, had borne fruit. But then the Indian Council of Secondary Education dint like what had happened; they dropped a bomb called 'Merchant of Venice' on us in the tenth grade.

Shakespeare lessons rewrote all our fundamental concepts of English grammar. ‘Aside’ and ‘Soliloquy’ became the order of the day. Oh my…and the turtle pace at which the ‘Merchant of Venice’ classes were going…! One paragraph or four lines in an hour!

Hidden meanings + Most likely other meanings + literal meaning + what the critics of the 16^th century thought + what Shakespeare meant + what we are supposed to infer = five 200-page notebooks for Merchant of Venice.  It’s likely that Antonio and Portia wouldn’t have been aware of a sea of meanings attached to their casual conversations. Or maybe they meant something else. Ah who cares? We want marks.

Essay type questions demanded original Shakespearean sentences to be reproduced in answer sheets with quotations marks. And the teacher enlightened my friend N that ‘Even if you don’t quote, please don’t misquote’. So the bad news was that, we are not supposed to write our own sentences, beautify them with ‘thou art’, ‘Thine’ etc, topped with semicolons, commas and tildes, enclose them within quotation marks and expect teachers to award marks. They actually read these. Sigh.

Anyway our teachers, in the days when Google was not so popular, gathered enough information from the British Library to change our lives from miserable to pathetic. How we all overcame it all without tainting the image of our then teacher is another feat, and I hereby dedicate it to the sweat, BP pills, prayers, hypertension and support of our parents. *bowing head in gratitude*.

But the battle was not over yet! Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost ! HAMLET happened!

Shakespeare’s Hamlet began in the 11^th grade with a conversation of the ghost of Late King Hamlet. The characters which were living had already done enough damage. If a Shakespearean character had to appear after death, it means that it had something earth shattering to say. God what on earth did this guy miss to say during his lifetime, I wonder! We’d be immensely grateful if this ghost silently murdered an existing complex character. But this was no ordinary ghost. It went on to utter a few passages which made integration, differentiation, and Physics theorems look like nursery rhymes. Misery and more misery awaited us.

That’s when she came. Our new English teacher, Ms.Lakshmi.

She had big expressive eyes, and an unbeatably excellent vocabulary. Her style of speaking English…mode of teaching…and how she loved and enjoyed what she taught…was definitely a class apart. Sometimes we even felt the urge to make mental notes of her casual conversations! Oh for the impact she made! It was so perfect. Come what may, we never missed her classes...not even me. Well, if a teacher can keep people like me engaged in a subject for an hour then I needn’t explain any further. She made us realize how we Indians had customized the sound and pronunciation of certain words to our convenience…and ventured out of her way to teach us how it really had to be pronounced. Wow. She could read the confusion in our eyes and the wrinkles on our foreheads. She captured our concentration with smiles and not frowns. She talked, and did not scream. And finally, she walked us through Hamlet like a dream… and one of the many things I miss about school are these Hamlet classes. We virtually watched the entire play of Hamlet unfold before us…the effervescent voice, and the expressions that kept changing on her face. Live. And that’s how we loved English. And why we still do.

 Thank you, teacher…because of you, I have a blog today.

Follies of 2010 - (Second and final part)

The second and final loss whose full responsibility I accept is that of a theft, which could have been avoided if not for my carelessness.

I’ve always been notorious for losing umbrellas at school, some of which were retrieved from lost property boxes, and some, which were misplaced and later forgotten from public transport buses and the like. However this was a different case, and it made me extremely spiteful of myself.

We stayed in a beautiful locality in Bangalore. The parallel road to ours, was another residential area and there were a row of apartments, one of which was occupied by a friend. However this road was dug up for cables and the friend was unable to park his car in the garage, as the cable maintenance guys left for the day without covering the dug up area. So the friend called us and we let him park the car in our garage. Hubby came late that day and parked our car behind the friend’s car.

By 10:00 a.m the next fateful day, the friend came for his car. He had to move our car first, take his car out and park our car back. As hubby was not home, I came down and handed over the keys to him, and while he left, he said “remember to lock your car”. I nodded and waved to him, closed the gates, patted little Tommy Hilfiger (the neighborhood dog) and went upstairs. I had completely forgotten to lock the car.

By evening, we got into the car to go to a friend’s place and found the display panel of the car stereo missing. The ipod, some USBs, a sunglass, and car papers were all in place; just the display panel was missing. It was stolen.It looked like someone tried to pull out the entire stereo, but due to lack of time or some reason, couldn’t pull it out completely.

My eyes welled up, seeing the expression that was now on my hubby’s face. I told him that I had forgotten to lock the car… but he did not say anything. This car stereo was a result of weeks of intense research on the net, reviews, review comparisons with other models, direct user reviews from colleagues, ratings on websites and so on. 

Later the following week, we checked with the shop from where we bought it, and came to know that the stereo could not  be used anymore, as its display panel was the most expensive one, and if it was to be ordered from the U.S, it could cost more than another car stereo.

I hated myself. I wished if someone could just thrash me for being so careless, irresponsible and absent minded…but no one did, and that was in fact, the biggest punishment I could ever get.

To helplessly watch the expression on his face.

Follies of 2010 - Part I

2010 had been a happening year, both in my personal life as well as in the losses contributed by me in the family income-expenditure virtual sheet.

Well, major losses include two incidents, one for which I am fully responsible, and the other, for which the responsibility is primarily shared by my better half .

My husband’s home in Cochin is situated in the middle of a large hectare of land, the boundaries of which exist beyond the reach of human vision. Due to this reason, there was a necessity to replace the existing watch dog which had grown old and weary (probably in its attempt to find the border of the land adjoining the house). So on one weekend, the mission to find a new watch dog was kicked off, and we set on our way to various private pet centers.

We visited a couple of pet centers, from where we couldn’t find the right candidate, but I thoroughly enjoyed the whole trip, trying to attract the attention of my favorite pug pups(which is ruthlessly considered ‘useless breed’ by everyone else in the family )… apparently pugs do not fall for flying kisses and eyelash fluttering.

Finally we reached another private pet place, which was situated roughly 23542354 metres away from civilization. Now we positively have to find the pet from here…as there were no signs anywhere saying that we’d require a hummer to reach this place, and the second hand value of the mediocre hatchback we were using, was cut in half by the time we reached.

On reach, we were introduced to a pack of cute little Labrador pups, eight to be precise. The owner opened the cage, much to the excitement of the little devils and soon they were all over the place. One or two were extremely lazy and found solace under a flower pot, while others were busy running around pulling on shoe laces and grabbing the car tyres (ya that’s exactly what the car wanted, to go back all the way through the jungle). Soon the pups were carefully scrutinized and we zeroed in on one, which looked ‘proactive’ ( a term my project manager uses to describe people who volunteers to initiate confusion and chaos in the team ).

Now came the payment part, and the owner guy said that the breed is very pure, and the parents and grandparents of this pup were champions at various dog shows (oh my…the pup was so humble for its credentials..), and that it had all injections done promptly and had a certificate also. Soon the li’l jovial pup jumped happily into the boot space of the car and stayed in an open card board box all the way up to civilization and then to our home.

The pup showed good signs and traits later.

However, this descendant of champions grew up to look exactly like the common street dog, with no signs of a Labrador anywhere.

That guy dint precisely mention in what were the ancestors of this pup champions in..may be a show for street dogs !@#$%^&*()
Now that’s a few thousands down the drain.

To friendship !

I saw this wallpaper in a website..
                 .... presenting another humble attempt at pencil sketching.

Click on image for an enlarged version :-)

The "Husband Material"

Flipping a few chapters backwards to Bangalore. It was a particularly hectic week at office. We decided to escape the hustles and bustles for the weekend, this time with my sister and family. At daybreak, we made ourselves comfortable in our car, and vroomed to a very particularly quiet and serene hill station near Bangalore. The drive was not less than seven hours, and hubby drove all the way with just a breakfast break in between.

 Driving is a passion for him, and any long distance drive doesn’t make him impatient, weary or irritable.After long exhausting drives like these , he usually appears cool and fresh for photo sessions ... but  me…who’d be sitting idle in the car end up looking like I'd been dragged all the way. 

We reached our destination by noon... the resort cottages were crispy clean and cool. The men bought us Chicken Biryani for lunch. I collapsed into bed for a short afternoon nap, conveniently ignoring comments that if it was to sleep I could’ve slept at home…why drive all the way and pay for a resort. Zzzz.

By evening I was almost sure that what we ate was Biryani, but it was not chicken. The rumbling sounds in my stomach was almost audible to myself and eerie thoughts clouded my head as I began guessing what it could have been, having seen many dogs and monkeys en route. A trip like this one doesn’t happen every weekend, so I shushed the sounds to myself.

Soon it was dinner time. I ate a bare minimum, popped a Lopamide, drank warm water, restored myself and we lay down to sleep. The seven hour drive had begun to show now, and hubby retired to bed and fell asleep soon after. However the dogs and monkeys had no plans to let me. I was unable to sit or lie down. I walked up and down the room, visited the loo like 25 times, popped another pill, and by now the growling and rumbling had given way to unbearable pain in the abdomen. I sat by the window side, shut my eyes tight and prayed. Tears were flowing down my face.

By now, hubby dear was sleeping peacefully, with an expression which told that he was pretty amused by his dream. I had one hand on my stomach, whose affairs had gone way out of my control and sat on the bed next to him. His dream had gotten so entertaining that now he was laughing aloud.

Ignoring it, I switched off the lights and got under the covers…I don’t remember when I slept, but at least I could. In the morning I couldn’t wait to tell everyone of the  scariest night of my life, the pain, the laughter, the helplessness and the action that could have happened if he had laughed some more.

Putting more thought into it…what would I have done if it was a room mate, a sibling, a friend or relative, who laughed when I was miserable? Either a kick on the ass or waking them up and making them stay awake with me throughout the night. But I never even thought of waking hubby up considering the long drive especially after a shift the previous day at office.

Husband is totally different from the rest of the world. Ain't he ? J

Lost and Found !

Just a few weeks after we landed in Muscat, I lost a mobile phone. Not just a mobile phone, it was the ONLY phone in which the facility to make ISD calls was enabled. All extensive searches and raids were unsuccessful. My better half has known me for more than half a decade now, and I should say that he wasn’t very surprised, but I convinced him to not tell anyone at my home. And it was done.


However Papa started checking with me about this mobile, as he called on that number a few times and continued to receive a message that it was switched off. I gathered some courage and told him about the loss. The courage was not to present the situation to him, but it was to get enough self-control to listen to the reactions and conclusions that was to follow. Anyway he told me to make some alternate arrangement to connect with home and that was done too.

Five months later. This time I was searching for a doctor’s prescription in my laptop bag. And yay, there it was! Not the doctor’s prescription, but the mobile phone. My better half was again witness to this, was least surprised, and again I begged him to not tell my parents that we got the mobile phone from MY bag. And it was done. I’m sure Papa will come to know from here. And I am not calling home for a week: D

This reminds me of another incident at school. A and N were my friends. A was a dancer and she had lost a quintessential dance accessory during a competition at school. All 3 of us set out to search. A was in tears. We went to the school office and requested to see the Lost Property Box. We also explained what exactly we were searching for. Ma’am returned with a huge card board box. We identified a little more than what we intended to.

N’s pencil box.

N’s umbrella.

N’s notebook of the previous year.

N’s costume for fancy dress.

And, N’s text book for the current year.

A dint get the dance accessory, but the search in the lost property box was a fruitful one. N wasn’t even looking for these items, as she dint realize that these were missing. Unfortunately N’s name was there on all of them. (Otherwise we would’ve pretended that it was not hers). The Ma’am gave her an ‘I was waiting for you, Miss. N’ look and an evil grin.

It was also the first time ever, that A and N was in trouble and I wasn't !! I celebrated the rare event to pacify them.

Uncanny Responses :-(

We’ve all had our share of abusive rickshaw drivers and dirty stares by bus conductors and cleaners (in case of females, but nowadays it doesn’t matter). However repeated embarrassment from an apartment security was for the first time.

Two of our friends stay in different apartments of the same building in Bangalore. So during weekends we usually drive to this place and hangout there. The security guy for this building was a tall, frail fellow, who dutifully forbids us to park in the car parking area. We usually convince him that we’ll be back in five minutes and this guy believes it every time. Also there were a few cars on the parking lot which looked like vintage cars, covered with dust, bird feces, paw marks of cats and dogs, cobwebs and the like. We always park our car in front of such cars, as, 1. We are sure no one will ask us to move it. 2. If at all someone calls to move it, we desperately want to see that guy.

One such day, we were watching TV in one apartment, and later decided to have dinner at the other. Being three married couples or in other words six extremely lazy techies, we took the elevator to the other apartment which was only a floor away. This elevator was designed to allow only three people…but our legs weren’t designed to walk upto another floor…so we all squeezed in, and pressed the floor number and waited. When we almost reached the next floor, the elevator stopped and door jammed. I cant say that this was totally unexpected, but we got panicked and called the security. After what seemed like five minutes, he came with a torch, pressed some elevator buttons from outside and we got out…

The guys among us maintained absolute silence, but we girls, definitely dint, and asked for whatever that happened after this.

We: “What is this? If something is wrong with elevator, no one should be allowed to use it!”

Security: Yeah lift ka koi problem nahi hai madam…bas yeh 3 log ke liye baney hain…aur tum…? 6 mota mota aadmi …

We couldn’t believe our ears. This guy has certainly gone overboard. And the three guys among us had swallowed their tongues and were still silent.

But we got angry and blurted…” Mota mota aadmi???!! Kaun hai mota aadmi…tum bolo…BOLO…!!!”

At this, we expected the frail old guy to apologize and relapse to his shell.

But the most earth shattering thing happened.

“ Mujhe pooch rahe ho kaun mota hai…? and he took out his filthy fingers and pointed at a few of us one by one.. ‘Tum…tum….aur tum…”

!@!!@@#$##$#$%$%^%^&*(*(*(&^%$#@@#@$#$^*(*()!!!!!

'Holier than Thou'..

This incident dates back to a couple years, when yours truly had got a job as a fresher and eventually developed a huge crush on a guy at office.

 Office and team parties were then, those unavoidable events, in which each of us participated, to prove right the ‘team spirit’ and ‘team player’ factors of the annual performance assessment form. Usually I end up checking the watch incessantly and fight the increasing urge to eat at the cost of project funds and get out. However this time it was different. Now that the crush is there, official parties have gotten interesting for me. I stopped yawning and dressed better.

It all began by people getting together in round table chit chats, patting shoulders, fake laughs and the like. Me and my friend sat together and shared interesting gossips about our crushes. Being single girls who dint have vehicles of our own, but essentially had ego clashes with people who had vehicles,  we had to find our own ways to commute our way back home, so we initiated the buffet dinner a bit early.

Soon after dinner, we disposed the plates and walked into the wash room, still commenting and giggling at the awful color of the dress another female was wearing. As we washed our hands and pulled out tissues, my crush stepped in, stared at us both sarcastically and got into the restroom. Oh my.

 “ What the hell is this guy doing here… these men! !@#$%^&*()   !!!!!!!!!They just get drunk and get into the ladies washroom…look at the way he stared at us? Arrogance I say! “ 

And we got out of the washroom, feeling disgusted.

And we also noticed that there were a group of ladies in the adjacent washroom which was actually,  the ladies washroom.

We got the hell out of there.

That he couldn’t remember this the next day and ever since,   saved my head.

By the way, that crush is now the husband J

Digital memories :D

During my days in Bangalore, malls were our favorite hangouts. We had friends too, and we girls and boys would team up and break into stores of our choice.

One such day, we set out on a window shopping expedition at Zigma  mall. The two guys, instinctively stepped into a digital store. All there was were LCDs, LEDs,  laptops,  and some gadgets whose names I don’t know. Soon we got terribly bored as the sales guy got all technical and started talking in certain units of measure, and soon we found ourselves on a couch which was meant for the home theatre demo.

On one of the gazillion LCD TVs in front of us, was Tom and Jerry show and even before we knew it, we were laughing our heads off and getting a bit too comfy in that couch. As the husbands were gathering specifications minute enough to build that gadget at home, the store guys got tricked into believing that they are actually going to buy it, and so being girls who came with them, we were treated with most respect and Tom and Jerry started to play in full volume.

Soon after, some sales guys started to stare at us, but we ignored it in style…well, who doesn’t look at two irresistible girls... we innocently thought. But the stares got strange; some of them started murmuring and pointing, the volume of Tom and Jerry getting lower by the second. We looked at each other totally unaware of what was going on. We continued to sit there, expecting the sales guys to increase the volume of the show we were watching….but the interesting Tom and Jerry rudely gave way to NDTV Profit. Most of the salesmen now had a raised eyebrow on them, hands places impatiently on their hips, and looked more or less like lion tamers without the stick.

That’s when reality struck hard. The husband lot had taken some brochures and wandered off somewhere else long back. Now we were just two girls, sitting on the demo couch, watching TV in a digital store.

We chickened out.

And what happened to the husband lot is a long story.

Later we pacified ourselves, thinking that at least we realized and got out in time….as we were actually planning to ask the sales guys to increase the volume of Tom and Jerry.

My experiments with the Pencil :-)

I always loved to sketch cartoons. I drew many of them during the management sessions of my final year of engineering. Thats when most of us realized our hidden talents, and worked on them.
Anyways, I collected greeting cards, downloaded  disney wallpapers,  and tried to sketch those on my own. Recently I posted a few of them on facebook , and here is one which many of my friends clicked 'like' for.

Brain Raid!

Today, as I was in the kitchen, humming away the hangover of a good night’s sleep, hubby came by super excited.

He: Have you forgotten  what is special about today?

The helplessness of a memory failure took me over instantly. Gradually, I slipped into a whirl of extensive  brain raid. Staring at him, with a wok in my hand, I ran through a virtual calendar of birthdays. No I hadn’t missed any. The expression on his face changed from excitement to surprise. I continued to be in a state of intense thought. Did I miss his parent’s  birthday? But no..Its August 24. Seeing me falling from surprise into a frenzy, he drilled deeper into the whirl I was falling in … ‘How could you…?’

Now I was almost done covering the birthdays and anniversaries of the current and previous generation. My pea sized brain has defeated me … and now I am so miserable that I am trying remember dates of historical importance. I am so ashamed and my ego wasn’t letting go even after I exploded and drowned inside the aforementioned whirl … that I said.. ‘Yeah I know…just fell outta my head”. Yeah that was super lame. But his smile said it all. That I forgot some important day even after him trying to remind me, doing rounds in the friends circle is too much to take at the moment. So he said those earth shattering words… ‘Women in the house are supposed to remember all important dates !’... The urge to ask what men are expected to do was over ridden by the mission to dig out the foolishly forgotten event.

Then he came over, shook me vigorously and screamed:

‘Its August 24^th!! LOST season 6 dvd releases today’ !!!

Really! ?

Really ?

Does 'breaking news' still mean what it used to :D ?

Happy Independence Day, everyone!

Happy B'day, Papa..:-)

                             

Dear Papa,

  Wish you many more happy returns of this day, and may all those days see you in the pink of health, encircled by boundless love, a peaceful n happy heart… blissfully content with all that you ever wished for and more...

Love you sooooo much you know? I am not buttering you! I’ve been thinking all these days on how I’d surprise you on your birthday.

Initially, I thought of writing you a poem. That’s when it dawned on me about the very creative poem I wrote about Mummy when I was in third standard, which, to my fate, you found and treasured for future blackmail. That you publicized it and marked the beginning of an era of sarcastic recitals of my poem, coupled with finger pointing and laughing made me drop that idea.

Then I decided to post a nostalgic photo from the 1980’s with you cutting your birthday cake. I got tens of photos of my sister’s and my birthday, but I couldn’t find any of yours. I then painfully realized how Mummy and you ensured that our birthday moments were captured every year. Selflessly. The sacrifices you both made. How you forgot yourselves, for us.

Then I ran through the photo albums of the 1990’s in which there are photos of your birthday party, but you posed with Mummy in all of them! I’m not even in the frame! Later I realized that I had taken those photos. Anyway, I dropped that idea too.

Then I thought I would dedicate an entire article for you, remembering good old times. But I wasn’t sure whether I could do it better than last year’s. I wanted to do something cute this time. So I dropped that idea as well.

Then I thought I’ll get a cute big bouquet delivered at 7.00 a.m right at your doorstep. But how you hate wasting money on flowers and perishable 'useless' stuff, made me drop that idea. I dint even think of buying a shirt and you know why! (The lecture u gave me on why I shouldn’t shop for shirts at least for another decade and a glimpse of your wardrobe having some shirts still with the tags on, was remembered and complied with)

So I am left with some ‘priceless’  love, hugs and kisses which will be delivered in person when you visit me here…then I will wish you a belated birthday and we’ll take lots of snaps and cut a cake too!

People are many but true ones are few,

Years have passed, with experiences new,

But all I have is a great Dad that’s you…

Love you more than you think I do!

Happy 61st B'day, Papa!!!

Lots of Love,

Anu.

First (worst) Impressions..

Making first impressions was not destined to happen in all my life. I can sharply remember one incident wherein my sister greeted a teacher ‘good morning’ after the morning assembly in school and she got greeted back with a smile…but when I passed the same corridor and greeted the same teacher, she scanned me closely, up and down, sporting raised eyebrows. This incident is a superhit among all my relatives and friends, as papa performs it in the form of  a solo skit which lasts about 20 seconds at family get-togethers, as he hyper-actively enacts the expression of the teacher, who was greeted by my sister first, and then by me.

Those were the days when there weren’t too many channels to fight over the remote. ‘Superhit Muqabla’ used to be the favorite and the only program my sister and me were allowed to watch. We enjoyed our favorite songs of those times… ‘Ruk ruk ruk’… ‘neela dupatta peela suit’ … etc and smile at each other with glee as that was the single entertainment hour in all week. However we dreaded the airing of the fiercely romantic songs ‘Tum mile…dil khile’ from the movie ‘Criminal’ and the rangeela songs (which when compared to today’s movies looks like children’s movies), as parents would still be hanging around the TV room. All the Ruk ruk and neela dupattas  happens when Papa is carefully reading the newspaper…however when he comes to the TV room for some reason or the other, “Tum Mile” comes up from nowhere and me and my sister would look like criminals ourselves. I guess this has something to do with the name of the movie.

There was this chocolate called ‘Kismi’ during my school days. I was a very loud person those days and was once casually talking to my friend about 'Kismi bar' to which a teacher who sat behind us nodded her head sarcastically. After a subsequent amount of time (which is required for me and my friend to enlighten) , I realized that 'Kismi' can also have a pessimistic alternative, ‘kiss me’ and how the teacher must have coupled that with 'bar''. Wow quite a picture :( I was in fifth standard then.

Now it was Googl’es turn. I am a programmer and often I search some sample codes and syntaxes from google. Once I had to do some very specific stuff, for which I wanted a reference. One of the many people I was reporting to was standing right behind me and staring at my monitor. Then I typed in the search string, ‘find…’ and google gave me the first option...’

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‘find single girls in Oman’.