Just a random working day.

As I work at a five minute walk from home, my working hours starts at 7:00 am ( I chose this shift to be able to reach earlier in the evenings ). Till 9:00 am, hubby takes care of the toddler. The child would be sleeping, so you can guess the amount of work that goes into it ;-) . Jokes apart, he does wake him up on time, gives him a bath, dresses him up (in the most obnoxious tee shirt and shorts combination which I later have to replace) and gets him ready for his playschool. I visit home for breakfast soon after and one day I found the house incredibly peaceful. No TV, no screams of the toddler. Occasional cute giggles of the toddler were coming from my room, and hubby humming a random tune was emanating from another. Something was terribly wrong.

I proceeded to my room and realized that my worst fear was happening. My toddler had caught hold of my ipad, and was playing Angry Birds in it. He had wanted to touch my ipad ever since I owned it, but by words and actions I had made it clear that it was not a toy. 

Don’t judge me, I cannot afford to buy ipads and give them to my toddler to play.  But he was so happily playing that I stormed to the bedroom where hubby was ironing his shirt.

“Dint you see that he is playing with my ipad ? With music on?”

“Yes . I gave it to him. See how cheerful he is! Awww”

“WHAT ! It is not a toy! Why dont you give your ipad instead?”

“WHAT? My ipad? I paid for that through my nose!”

“Then what about my ipad? We dint steal it ! We paid for that too !”

“But that is YOUR ipad no? Its okay” he said.

I mean what is the logic of that. My ipad is a toy. His ipad contains high security political information of the country’s Armed Forces.

I left the room fuming and snatched the ipad away from the toddler and replaced it with something else. This cant be happening. Do I look or behave like a cartoon to be treated like this. How can all my stuff be considered as toys. Hmph.

So we started from home, and the kiddo was dropped at playschool, and after he waved goodbye, I waited some more time watching him play with his girlfriend (who comes to playschool in a Hummer and I am not complaining )during which he gave me a look which translates roughly to ‘Please leave!’ On our way back I casually told hubby how the summer was catching up. I missed my sunglasses which were resting comfortably in some dark corner of hubby’s home in Cochin – I left it there last Christmas. I sighed aloud.

“Yes for your forgetful behavior, you should feel some sun this time, so that next time you won’t forget” preached the hubby. “Before misplacing this, you lost another one, remember?” he added.

“Whoa! You lost one too ! This is your second!” I argued.

“ Mine was stolen” he defended himself. “But yours was not, it is there somewhere but you don’t know” he said.

“Mine was stolen too!!!”

“No your sunglass just went missing it wasn’t stolen” he insisted.

“Oh I see? Did you see somebody stealing yours? It also went missing right?”

Silence.

"Your sunglass went missing, and you believe it was stolen. Mine is missing too, and I believe it was stolen as well."

“FINE”.

Silence ruled the car for some time, and I decided to break it. I thought of ways to change the topic and the mood and came up with a mind blowing one.

“You know, Ray Ban aviators are cool.”

I am really bad at changing topics.

Ten Commandments of the seemingly underprivileged!

As I opened this document to write, I was completely blank. Where did all the topics go? I mean I sacked a lot of them just because it may 'unknowingly' refer to some readers ;-) But thanks to Facebook and Whatsapp, I am well connected to everybody at the meager cost of broadband internet. If it were not for internet, would we reach out for our landlines to talk to our friends we interact with everyday on Facebook? No, not in a thousand years. 

Today, I am going to highlight some of the weirdest misers I have heard about and others, I have personally encountered. I am sure this will ring a bell somewhere as you read, because chances are more that you have come across one. 

To save money, and how!

1.Thou shalt not make phone calls. 
Local, STD, any calls. 

They do not even use the 100 free local calls facility available in the landline hoping that it will be en-cashed one day and it can be used to fund that square plot near Infopark. But when someone else calls them, the caller is not spared for a good hour with the most mind-numbing conversation, ever.

2.Thou shall miscalculate on purpose.

When a group of six friends buy similar dresses to wear on graduation day, the total amount Rs.6500 is divided by 5 and each one has to pay Rs1300, says this little devil. When you dig deep into the bill and ask her, the perpetually shrewd friend admits having made a 'small mistake'. But you know it wasn't, even though you have to pretend otherwise.

3.Thou shall not go on vacations. 

They do not plan nor do they participate in any group excursions simply because pitching in the total expense can be avoided by sitting idle in the comforts of one’s own home. There are others who actually come and have fun but play evil procrastinators when it comes to money.

4.Thou shall attend all parties but never host one. These weirdos can be found in corporate corridors and are as common as dirt. When there is a birthday or anniversary of any kind, they will be the first ones to initiate a treat or demand a party. However in all the years you know them, their birthday remains a mystery or there are enough reasons to embarrass the ones who ask for it.

5.Thou shall not buy anything new. 

These are people who were born to use second hand items. In all their lifetime they do not have a concept of a new car or a phone. It has to be second hand or Chinese make and they are fulfilled to their heart's content. 

6.Thou shall act innocent. 

These are our friends who consistently forget their purses or cards and reveal the same when the bill arrives. Someone covers for them at the moment, and it is forgotten. Dignified corporate friends find it cheap to remind their forgetful friend about the 200 rupees from 'last week's party'  and thus ignore it. Mission accomplished.

7.Thou shall car pool. 

Car pooling could have been introduced to save the environment but this was a blessing for many cheapos who keep their precious machines under covers in the garage. You always have that guy who tells you where he needs to be picked and dropped in a team outing.

8.Thou shall criticize.

These are the same people who own acres of land and runs highly successful family businesses but act very modest. When the comparatively poor you save for a million years and afford to buy a new phone they criticize you of being very rich and extravagant. In most cases these people use mobile phones which have black and white displays.

9.Thou shall eat free lunches. 

These are the ones, who suggest getting together for lunch when it is not on your schedule. They persuade and suggest a restaurant, eat lavishly, burp and pass on the bill to you as if you are his single parent.

10.Thou shall calculate. These are the ones, whose outing day summary looks like this on their phones: 

Public Toilet – Rs.1 

Bisleri Rs.15.75 (when that 16.75 has gone from his wallet). 

However when you pay Rs.1200 at KFC it is not counted but instantly overlooked.

 Tell me, have you met any one of these annoying creatures ?

Caption Contest Results !

When I started the caption contest on my blog I had no idea that so many contestants would actually participate in it ! And lot of others who wished me on my Blog Anniversary... seriously guys..it was overwhelming. Anyway, I passed on all the entries to Papa, who by the way has read over 200 books and always has some by the bedside and at his study table. Well the genre of books he reads is something like a facebook relationship status - 'It's complicated'. It cannot be understood by mediocre brains like mine, so I never really interfere or borrow books from him. I am not a fan of philosophy also ;-) However he was happy to go through all the entries and gave me his top three favorite captions, and logically the first one is the winner, who will win a Rs.200 gift voucher for her next purchase from Flipkart!

And the winner is...

is..

is..

Preeti Dhingra !!! Congratulations !!! Here is to you!

Her prize winning caption was.. " Let me fly before I sink."

Papa also liked the below captions, which he thinks are worth a mention. Unfortunately I have no gifts to give them. Sorrie :-( But thanks a ton !

Flight for existence and a search for sustenance !  - Antony Fernandez

A bird learns to fish not because of talent, but because of hunger  - Karthikeyan Ravikumar

You can see the contest details here. 

So how was Easter, folks? Mine was good....ate a lot of food until the button of my dress around the tummy burst and landed into one of the curries. We had Appam and Beef stew for breakfast - authentic recipe followed through ISD call from the MIL ! There are no free recipes, people, just like there is no free lunch. 

 I have taken a pic of the stew (just in case you are hungry right now :D )

First day at Playschool : excerpts from an anxious Mom's diary.

Every Mom dreads that day. The day their little one goes to a daycare for the very first time.

Mine was no different; given that anxiety is my middle name. Thanks to my parents who abundantly bestowed the most exquisite gene pool to me, anxiety and tension being the two most prominent traits. 

My baby was at home from birth until he turned 20 months old, and I was at a stone’s throw at office visiting him at regular intervals and a housemaid managing him when I was not there. My mother visited a couple of times too, and things were going smoothly until one day, my maid got enlightened from the other world. She decided to play hard-to-get, increased her wages, and started being irregular for lame reasons. This was unacceptable and we started thinking seriously and browsing aggressively for good daycare centers.

And we landed one.

So my next step was… to get anxious. I started chatting with all Moms I have on my chat list asking them what was the ripe age to go to playgroup. Given that my kiddo gets hyperactive around other kids his age was a sure sign that a forty year old housemaid is no company to him. Many of my friends were happy to help me get myself together over an endless list of queries and worries I had. I got a sense of reassurance from them. I visited the daycare center a few times, and shed some tears while talking to the teacher in charge because I am an emotional mess most of the time i.e whenever I am not sleeping.  I ensured the daycare was certified, made careful observation about cleanliness, the children to teacher ratio and most importantly how engaged the kids appeared whenever I visited. I noticed that none of the kids including babies were crying and they all were engrossed in something or the other, as the big bright room had enough toys and stationery to keep tiny tots busy for a long time. This boosted my confidence a little bit. I must tell you, I’d been at the crossroads of life many times and in do-or-die situations (read examinations) too, but I've never been through such emotional stress, ever.

As weekend falls on Thursday and Friday in this part of the world, Saturday was the first day of the week. Then came Saturday, February 23^rd 2013.

Before that, I will let you guys peep into how February 22^nd went. Complete disillusionment. Yes we went out to buy lunch and snack boxes for him, during which I was still in a state of complete delusion. I did not sleep that night. My mind wandered around his playschool and I pictured him in the worst scenarios. I was not helping myself in the belief and faith part of prayer. Soon my alarm went off, and I realized that nights are very short when you are preoccupied. Nights are also short on examination eves, but that is a different story.

So on that day, I woke up at 5:00 a.m, that’s when my working day starts. The kitchen schedules were completely reoriented to pack his lunch, thus pushing our breakfast into a second priority. Diapers, dresses, napkins, lunch, snacks, milk, water – Check. Around 9:00 am, we left from home. My hands were sweating like crazy, while my son was humming away a random tune.

Soon we reached the nursery and were welcomed by smiling teachers and a lot of kids of different age groups and nationalities. The bigger kids had assembled there before going to their classrooms. As they left the play area seemed bigger and brighter with all sorts of toys and little rides. Four other toddlers almost the same age as him stood there playing among themselves. When he saw the big bright room, he struggled himself out of my hands and walked towards the toys. He got into one of the rides, and turned and smiled at me. I stood there for a while, and he occasionally turned to look at me, not knowing that I will not be there for long. I fought back tears. Seeing my constipated expression, my husband intervened and asked.. “So you think the parents of those kids dumped them here because they don’t like them?”

“No..”

“Then what? See how happy he is now. He may miss us, but this is where he wants to be during the day. Not at home watching those useless serials with the housemaid”.

Okay that went above my head, and the teacher consoled me that he will be fine and that they were all there for him. She also told me not to stay there looking at him too long.

I slowly left, with a heavy heart, wiping tears. I also called up the nursery like ten times and they said that he was not crying. However the nursery being a new place for him, he did not sleep on the first day.

I picked him up in the evening, and he was little tired but still smiling. He came home and caught up on sleep.

The days after, for around two weeks, he cried when we dropped him, and clung to me refusing to go. This literally broke my heart and I cried excessively on my way back to office every single day. I wailed, hyperventilated and became the loudest drama queen ever in the history of motherhood. Not to mention the levels of productivity at office on those days.

It is his fourth week at playschool now, and my prayers have been answered. Since last week he looks forward to go ,  has made new friends, sleeps and eats on time and is happy by the grace of the Almighty. The day has come that I can wave to a happy face when I drop him in the morning. The day I was praying so badly for, is finally here. That smile, and the way he waves at me is directly proportional to my sanity and presence of mind that day.

This is for all the mothers, working or not, who dreads a nursery or a playgroup and cannot imagine sending their precious child to one. I assure you, from experience, kids always love to be around other kids than with us. 

Blog-anniversary and Contest !

March 2009. It was when the Tsunami of corporate world hit worldwide - Global Recession. People who lost their jobs, people who dint know they lost their job, people who are on the verge of losing their job were some of the main catastrophic categories that software people fell into generally. It was only two months into my wedded life, my husband was then an employee of the most controversial Indian software company of that time, and I had changed my job and location as well. It was a difficult time for me as the mind needed time and lot of pampering to come to terms with a life that had lot of first’s to offer.

One fine morning as I walked into my plush office I met a group of girls seriously in discussion right there at the reception area. Their expressions screamed panic. That was when I came to know that the guy we were reporting to had been fired. Not just him, twenty five others. It was happening. We were a group of new employees who were practically unassigned to any project of course due to lack of it. We were the ones who could be chucked out any moment of the day. The fear had actually set in.

Even though we were on ‘bench’, we still had our own workstations and computers to browse. I was mentally disturbed about the state of affairs and this led me to reading light and entertaining blogs. I loved reading and relating easily to the whole load of creativity that floated effortlessly in various blogs and increasingly grew jealous of them. I had a lot of things to write as well. Why don’t I start a blog of my own? I thought. This thought materialized itself and my first post was born on March 30, 2009. Since then there was no turning back.

It has been four years and no one ever told me to go home, people only tell me to ‘keep blogging’! Is it not an achievement in itself? In June 2011, hours after my son was born, I was chosen for a fifth prize (Rs.10,000) on the topic ‘ The Real Beauty’, a contest conducted by Dove and IndiBlogger. That was probably my first and only prize but it still gives me a high like no other! I made it a point to update my space thrice or more every month and it was always welcomed with oodles of encouragement and criticisms in the form of comments, which always gave me the push to come back and write more.

I recall the days I made every effort to feature in the school and college magazines. My vocabulary was not great, ideas were not new, creativity lower than mediocre, but to see my name in print was the only motive I had in my life (despite the other motives my parents and teachers had for me).

When the blog was kick started, it was topped with consistent support from my parents, husband and sister. Altogether I can tell you, it was a success recipe, though it was the recession which was actually the driving force behind it.

So this is the month of celebration, of four years of existence on blogger. Now it is up to hubby dear to decide whether it is going to be Damas or Joy Alukkas :D

Cheers to all my fellow bloggers and some awesome people who have made it in my facebook and gtalk as well !  I am indebted to you and also jealous of your blog! ;-)

So as a token of appreciation I am conducting a small contest right here.
Suggest a caption for the below picture, in less than 15 words, which by the way is a click by my hubby. I am giving away a prize too, which is a gift voucher worth Rs.200 for your next Flipkart purchase.

The prize is sponsored by Coupondunia, which also has discounts on Flipkart coupons, Dominos coupons, Snapdeal coupons and others. It is a boon for online shoppers. Visit their site to know more so you may save better on your next online purchase.

But first things first. Send in your captions in less than 15 words to anitajeyan@gmail.com with the subject #Caption. Or you may even put your captions on the comments section of this post. I am not going to be the judge, don’t worry, there are better and well-read people who have agreed to shortlist the winner! Send in your entries, please participate, multiple entries allowed !

Contest Closes on March 31st. 

The Summer Crown.

Middle East summer prevailed at its peak, and the timing was painfully wrong to land on international grounds for the first time in my life.  They said it was 46 degrees, but for me it felt like boiling point. The sun rays seemed to burn the skin and the eyes.  I held her close to myself knowing that people were staring. I held her gently.  I could hardly see much ahead of me, just shadows as they came nearer and fleeting assumptions of fast approaching people.

I held on to her expecting her to elevate me from the core of the volcano I was in, literally. Cars drove past like lightning and the friction the tires made with the road was deafening. I could almost see sparks being emitted. My chiffon dupatta was at the verge of catching fire. Hot winds blew against my face giving it a steam sauna. There was steam in my hair.

 I missed home.

I continued to walk. More and more people stared at me. Some of them whispered to each other and laughed. I knew they were amused that I was holding on to her like she was the Bible. I knew I was fiercely possessive about her and it showed in my eyes. I noticed the laughter aimed at me, but I vowed never to belittle my prized possession and vowed to carry her wherever I went.

Days passed and it took me immense strength to adapt to the new place. She was my only saving grace. I became famous for carrying her around all the time. To most people, I was a complete weirdo.

I braved a lot of criticisms and still carry her around. She shadowed me when I wanted her to. I did not even ask her for it. She canopied me giving me the calm, and the exclusive darkness I longed for. She hovered around me like a guardian angel.

She is my POPY umbrella. 

Why Talaash wasn't convincing enough ;-)

It is true that with the kind of technology we have, it has become challenging to make reasonably believable movies. Like for instance the scripts of the yesteryear in which the hero gets lost in the jungle when he goes in search of the abducted heroine. It cant happen today, as he has google maps. Also, today there are no jungles but that’s a totally different story. Again, we have movies whose climax shows the heroine waiting endlessly at the railway station for the hero but he doesn't turn up.  And then she meets her destiny on that railway track, after which the hero appears because he got delayed in traffic. But it is too late. The era before mobile phone will justify this movie. So now that almost everything is possible by that smartfone in my pocket, it has become more tedious to actually make the viewer believe the story in the first place.  

I am assuming anybody who is reading this watched Talaash already. If not, there are spoilers ahead. Oh who am I kidding? The crux of Talaash was a slogan on twitter ever since the movie was released.

So Talaash revolves around the mysterious accident of a movie star. The car loses control on a perfectly empty road and somersaults its way, breaking barricades in between, and dips into the sea nearby. This is the very first scene of Talaash. The case was investigated by Aamir Khan the cop, and finally the same accident happens to him after his vain attempts to unravel the case. Thus the maze of unending questions behind the actor’s accident unravels itself and everyone goes home.

We could not watch this movie at a theatre, because such intense, edge-of-the-seat thrillers are best watched without a baby around. So last weekend we downloaded this and hubby and me watched at home, when the toddler chose to sleep after a long day of activities.

The next day, I asked him “How did you like Talaash? Nice no?”

He: “When was this movie shot? Long back? Was it shelved?”

“No why?”

He: “First scene … that movie star’s accident…”

“What about that ?”

He: “ I cant believe an actor of today’s times driving a car which doesn't have ABS on it”

K

Aiming for the stars !

Last weekend we sacrificed our TV time and unplanned trips to the mall to wait for the sales guy from Early Learning, to come home for the demonstration of one of their products, a kids learning collection. As parents of toddlers, waiting for a guest is not about sitting on the sofa and staring at the door. It is about making the toddler wear a neat shirt on which there is no cheese or ketchup, cleaning up the living room, picking up socks, shoes, toys, cutlery, crockery and things I'd never seen before emerging from under the sofa. Soon the doorbell rang and a gentleman in his twenties walked in with a trolley bag.

I gestured him to take a seat making sure there were no knives on the seating area. He sat down and pulled out a chart  and then IT happened. He opened his mouth.

The initial talk he made for around twenty minutes was about the pace at which a baby’s brain develops and the number of nerves connected to it. Tenth grade biology class flashback. Then about how we have to aim high at a younger age to set ourselves at par with the cut throat competition. Teenage year’s parents advice flashback. Complete nostalgia. In between his intense science sessions he kept asking us, ‘Do you agree, Ma’am?’ Well who am I to question modern science. I nodded.  

After twenty minutes of brain frying session about the infant brain, he moved on to the next. He opened a book and started shooting a few questions at me.

“Ma’am, do you have a vacuum cleaner?”

Of course. Wait… is this guy coming from the health and sanitation department. Doubtfully, I replied.. ‘Yes’.

‘Okay when you use it, and your kid asks, Mama how does this work, what will you say?’

I slipped into the famous sober expression which I hadn't used since my school days. It was a nostalgic feeling, being asked a question and the embarrassment of not knowing the answer. The guy kept staring at my face, his expression changing rapidly from seriousness to sheer amusement. That my toddler had not started saying his own name was some sort of a consolation which was keeping me calm at that moment. I replied, ‘Hmm, I am not so sure’. Well even back in school I never admitted that I dint know the answer…I just said that I was absent in that class when she taught that, which led the teachers to assume that it was my first day at school.

Then this guy went on to say, that we need to hand him a glass of juice with straw, and allow him to sip it. When he does, the concept of vacuum cleaner which sucks the dirt can be explained. Voila ! I mean the idea of my toddler asking this question and me making a juice as soon as he asks, and then he spills it everywhere which actually makes me use the vacuum cleaner and demonstrate it right away.

Note, the hubby was spared all the reassurance hums and annoying questions all this while as he was happily checking out other books which the gentleman had brought. But this happiness did not last long.

‘Sir, do you know how many teeth a fish has?’

My face lit up. Yaay its not to me. By the way, if he doesn't answer, he may pass the question to me. I better be prepared with some solution.

‘Four’ hubby said confidently. The guy smiled and looked at me. ‘And you, Ma’am?’. Oh. Did he mean how many teeth I had? Well if you actually exclude the teeth which had root canal done on it, it may be pretty much the four front teeth. I said, ‘Four’.

The gentleman then opened a page of a book which had a close up picture of a fish which appeared to be singing an opera with its mouth wide open. “There are four teeth which are visible and two hundred others which we cannot see”. He said, mocking both of us with a wicked eye.

He dint leave us any time to recover from that disaster when the next question came. ‘Sir, do you know why rabbits have long ears?’

This was a tricky one. At this point, his mobile rang and he escaped gloriously from the human trap he set himself and me into. He walked off gesturing the guy to continue the intellectual torture he inflicted on me. Actually I never even noticed rabbits before. That they have long ears is information I got only from Bugs Bunny. I said, ‘Not much idea about that’.

He then explained why they have long ears. It was something about hearing and escaping from enemies, I vaguely remember. It totally passed over my head as I was thinking how to trap the hubby back into this.

“Do you know why giraffes have long necks?’

I mean, you’ve got to answer atleast one, right. You don’t have to, but that the courteous way to behave to a guest. I said, ‘To be able to reach the leaves on trees’. He said, ‘Right’. And he continued,’ there is another reason Ma’am, that giraffes have long necks to view a wider ground and save themselves from wild animals.

Oh come on. For the one answer I knew, he says another befitting one. The unsuccessful interviews I gave when I graduated weren't as embarrassing as this.

Thankfully the guy realized that if he kept asking questions to me, he will never finish this assignment, as each question took me time to look at the ceiling and wish if there was a google search engine up there to save me from this cumbersome trial. 

He went on to display all the books and their astronomical prices too!  The books were actually good. Well if he hadn't humiliated me by asking those questions I might actually have considered buying at least one of those on a trial basis.

I need to grow up a little bit, you know.

P.S My previous post below was the 150^th post on this blog. Thank you, everyone who read me J

Valentine's Day dinner date.

Even before the dawn broke on Valentine’s Day, I was already up on my bed watching over an ailing toddler, who, for the past few days had been suffering from stomach upset accompanied with fever and nose block. Of all the above illnesses, all mothers would agree that even if nose block sounded trivial, it is one of the worst diseases babies suffer. It is also the worst because once it infects, it ensures sleepless nights for a couple of days and disturbed sleep the days after. So on this day, I spent the night sleepless, because the nose block tortured the child in such ways that he was unable to sleep, despite his earnest efforts.

That morning, as I walked to the kitchen, eyes half closed, I heard my mobile subtly playing notification tone. Completely oblivious about the date and time, I picked up my phone only to find facebook flooded with Valentine’s Day wishes shared by random people to everyone on their friend list. Others posted pictures of the expensive surprises their spouses gifted them. Whatsapp also had its fair share of broadcasts, an option which thankfully or not, helps a lot of people convey shallow wishes on every other occasion to countless people on their lists. I went back to my routine, stuck in hangover and drowsiness.

It was a long day, and not a moment did the child move away from my arms. By evening, a call came from office asking hubby to report for a meeting to discuss a critical issue. Soon after he left with his laptop, I sat helplessly on the couch, the baby on my lap, who was finally trying to sleep after a long day of crankiness and low appetite; I switched on the TV and flipped channels, all of them playing mushy movies and songs, all of which had the Valentine theme plastered on them. I still did not miss anything, as none of my Valentines days in all my life was anything movie like. However I was a bit disappointed ,as hubby was at office, and he would have his dinner along with the other guys in the team who will probably burn the midnight oil with him.

 At around 10 pm, I slowly picked up the baby and lay him on the bed and sat next to him. There was nothing to eat. A few cupcakes were in the fridge but they dint excite me. An hour later, as I slowly drifted off to sleep, I heard the door bell, and opened the door to find hubby back, as his work was done for the day.

 That’s when he asked THE question… ‘So what is there for dinner?’

 I was taken aback. ‘I thought you guys were eating out’.

“Today? No.”

“Okay then I will make something for you, come” I said gesturing him to the kitchen.

“Whats there to eat?’ he asked, opening the fridge to find absolutely nothing in it.

“I will prepare ghee roasts for you, there is batter enough for three’ I said.

“What will we eat WITH the dosas?’

As the toddler is a light sleeper, there was no question of using the mixer to prepare the chutney.

“There is a leftover fried fish from lunch” I replied gloomily.

He sat on the kitchen chair. The tawa was greased and the dosas were prepared one by one, and he sat on the kitchen chair munching them while the fish was reheated in the microwave. In between, I also took my share of the dosas from his plate. Soon the batter was over, and the plate of three dosas and one fried fish was wiped clean.

 “Happy Valentines Day” I said.

‘Same to you” he mumbled, smiling at the same time.

“The guys at office went out for dinner. I dint go with them”. He added. 

It was indeed, a special day.  

Score !

Last Sunday, as I sat on the couch post dinner, the mobile phone rang. I sluggishly walked to the table where my mobile was placed – (away from the reach of certain tiny claws), and noticed that it was the boss calling. ‘Hello?’ I answered. ‘ Hey Anita. Our Director’s mother, 87, passed away, so the Head Office will not be working for the next two days’. ‘Ohh, okay Ma’am.’ I said, rather plainly. After I cut the call, my husband’s phone rang almost immediately, which was a call from his boss to say the same thing ( We both work in the same firm). As soon as he disconnected his call, ‘Yaayyy’ I squealed.

‘What?’  he exclaimed.

‘What, what ? Dint you just hear what they said? Holidays ! yaay!’

‘Are you not ashamed to behave like this? Somebody lost their mother and what can possibly be so funny about that? And its not a somebody! He pays us ! He is our employer! It’s his mother, who is probably one of the founders of the organization’.

For once, I wished I could go to office at that very moment.

There goes a yaaayyy that will never come back.  I just thought about the two whole days I could spend with my toddler and never did I spare a thought about the bereaving family. Oh whatever it is, saying yaayy should always be taken in the right spirit, no?  I am not the kind of person who laughs when someone dies and he knows that. I mean, before giving me a lecture on when to be happy the spouse should understand what I actually meant. This is NOT fair.

Displeasure colored my face.

The spouse noticed that and came upto me. ‘Its not very appropriate, you know?’, said he, in a seemingly remorseful tone.

‘Okay. But still you dint have to… you know?. The lecture was unwarranted. Still its okay’. I said. He agreed.

Soon, it was forgotten. ( Of course after I whatsapped  a few friends and enacted that scene to few others who found his reaction incredibly funny- I totally don't get some of my friends ;-) ).

Holidays came and it was all about home theater and home cooked delicacies. We had a good time. On the second and final day, we were on our way home after an outing with friends, and one of them asked my hubby about why exactly we had two days off. He replied ‘The mother of our founder directors passed away. She was 87’, he said. And after a brief pause he added , “And I am glad she dint choose the weekend for that”.

‘What are you saying? She is the mother of the employer who pays us! Do not talk disrespectfully of the dead! Shame on you!',  I scored. :D :D 

Relief. ;-)

The Doctor's word.

Practice of medicine is the most respected of all professions. For all I know, they worked so hard, really very hard to get that degree to their name and it is not a joke. Well, they are also placed on the top of the status tier ,and most deservedly so, as no one can do without them. A doctor’s learning phase doesn't end with the last day of their final year examination. They need to keep themselves updated each and every single day of their existence because that is the pace at which medical science grows. A good doctor is one who is passionate about what he does,  and not one who was sent to medical school because it was his grandpa’s last wish.

There are however, few morons who spoil it for the entire medical fraternity. Fake and unqualified ‘doctors’. Yesterday as I was watching TV, I came across this appalling piece of news, which reported that there are thousands of unqualified people practicing medicine across the state. That too, in full public view with placards outside their fake clinics. Amusingly enough, they even have an association for themselves, something called the All Kerala Unqualified Doctors. Unqualified-Doctor is a laughable oxymoron. A so-called ‘physician’ prescribed an unsuitable medicine for a child, was caught red-handed and thus was unraveled the shocking story of an entire community of medical frauds in the underbelly of the state, earning status and money to their credit since decades. Steroids, and expired medicines which were regularly prescribed, were caught from their pharmacies.

We are all laymen when it comes to medicine. When we get a headache we pop a paracetamol and get temporary relief. When there is a stomach upset we have something else ready. In short we have a whole medicine box to ourselves. Don’t we? Any self-respecting doctor may tell you not to prescribe medicines to yourself. If that headache persists even after you slept for 12 hours and ate enough food, then it is ideal to get a doctor’s opinion. Instead we eat paracetamol three times a day for a week to get rid of it. It may disappear for some time, but the suppressed symptom may be back with a bang later. Its better to be safe than sorry isn't it? But no, we do not get an appointment with a doctor, because, they are expensive, it takes an entire day to get a token, wait, buy medicines and come back home. Moreover, fake doctors are in town. Who knows their background and what if we end up eating steroids? I am a nobody as far as medicine is concerned, and I will go to a hospital only when something strikes real hard and a sick leave certificate is required from a doctor. Now with the fake doctor news, we are most likely to think twice and the value of qualified and lifesaving medical professionals go down. 

It doesn't stop there. There are another category of qualified doctors who are determined to slander reputed and sincere ones.  We had a a family friend-doctor, to whom my parents went flocking to when they sneezed or had hair fall. This person, who dint have many patients to his credit was proficient to prescribe antibiotics for the smallest ailment. But who are we to judge? 'He is an MBBS!' defended Papa ever since I could remember. A month ago, my mother had this incessant tiredness, sore arms and fever and high body temperature that wouldn't come down. The doctor prescribed antibiotics, repeatedly, which further worsened the condition of my mother, whose arms got red and had rashes after ten days of treatment. When the doctor understood that things were going beyond his expectations, he said that this was a confirmed case of measles and that she had to shift to a different hospital. When my parents met with an experienced doctor from a reputed hospital in the city, he admitted her immediately in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) as this was a severe case of Dengue fever and shouted at Papa for not bringing her earlier. The platelet count in her blood had gone way down from normal and in the next two weeks, she had to be infused with six bottles of blood. My mother, who later recovered, battled with fatigue and body pain for more than a month. Now tell me, everyone makes mistakes, but can doctors wait so long until they come to a conclusion in the diagnosis of a person? Shouldn't he have checked the blood when fever persisted so long, given that dengue is like a plague nowadays?

I have another example for you. Once when my husband was about to leave after his appointment at a hospital, the doctor casually asked how our son was. My husband replied that he was fine, but had a slight cold which was manageable. Immediately the doctor tore a paper from his pad, wrote the names of three syrups and handed it over to him, saying that these would ease the cold. My son was four months old at that time. All three syrups had in their leaflets, dosages and warnings which said that it is not for kids under the age of two. I am not judging anyone, but I am educated enough to know, that without seeing, touching or knowing about any allergies or medical history, is it not okay to prescribe medicines for an infant, or anyone for that matter. My son was not there with my husband then, and so it sounds really wrong to me. Nevertheless we did not give those medicines to our son. We met a qualified pediatrician who suggested that no medicines are required and to consult him again if it does not subside in a week.

Both the examples above are my bad experiences with doctors in general. The doctor we meet with now is a qualified person, who listens, educates us about what is wrong and prescribes medicines only if it is necessary. He doesn't write down big names in illegible letters just because we visited him. And we trust him blindly because he is right all the time. I wish all doctors were like him. Most of them are, I know, but I hope the unqualified ones and others who lack experience, does not meddle with the lives of people. I hope as many people wake up to realize that there are fake doctors out there, waiting to make money out of our misery. 

Good doctors are found not only in plush multi-specialty hospitals alone; they are everywhere. You just need to identify them. The minute you stop placing your trust on that fancy placard outside, and go that extra mile to do adequate search and gather opinions, it is worth each day you take out for an appointment. Because healing comes from God; real doctors are His messengers.  And his, is the final word, the answer to your question of health, of life.

In my defense...

In my childhood I dreaded to say ‘I forgot’ to anyone.

 For one, I was enrolled into a Convent school where the nuns considered wearing nail polish as a severe crime. Forgetting to bring a book or an assignment was blown up into an act worthy to be reported at the nearest Police Station. When they distributed books for the academic year, they gave us two notebooks just for composition writing. One for English, and the other for second language, Malayalam in my case. So composition notebooks looked alike for everyone from first grade to the twelfth. Which also means that if you dint bring it, you cannot take another notebook and pretend like it is the composition book and save yourself a visit to the Principal’s room. Composition books were specially made to punish annoyingly forgetful students like me. However in a classroom of around 50 students there always were a couple of other miserable souls who were also brave enough to admit the same and followed me as the teacher escorted us to the Principal’s room.

Principal: ‘Hello Anita Jeyan. And others’.

(I am special you see)

Me: Good Morning Ma’am. *bowed head and held the ends of my skirt wide*

Principal, obviously not impressed by the show with the skirt, puts on a grim tone.

‘What did you do now?’

The teacher who escorted us to her room explained that according to the timetable one hour was assigned for composition writing and still we had not brought the composition book, with an expression as if she caught guns from our school bags. Principal started further interrogation.

 ‘How could you do this?’

‘I forgot, Ma’am’. I explained meekly.

‘How can you forget? Did you forget to comb your hair today? DID YOU?  DID YOU?’

I touched my head to check if my hair is okay, because she seemed to have thought I dint comb it.

‘Anita!” she screamed. ‘I am trying to tell you, that if you dint forget to comb your hair, but forgot your book, then you should reset your priorities’

Ohh. That’s what she meant. Hair is okay only. For a second she scared me.Why cant people convey properly what they want to say and stop acting like Shakespeare? I can expect some sort of straight-forwardness from a Principal, no? Anyway. The frustrated Principal sent us back to class with instructions that composition for that day could be written in the rough note (which I had forgotten, but who cares) and copied in the composition from home. The next day she wanted to see these composition books first thing when she comes to her office. She had way too much free time .

Thats my past. I continue to dwell in amnesia. When hubby drives back from the mall, I remember the most important item which was the reason I sent him to the grocery in the first place. From his animosity to any explanation of forgetfulness, I usually keep mum. Or if he finds out, I am tempted to lie in highly animated tones like, ‘ Dint you buy that? Omg what were you thinking?’

My Mom writes a Things-to-buy list and sticks them on the refrigerator with a magnet. Papa notes them down in a tiny yellow pad, in a much smaller and illegible handwriting, so that even if someone pickpockets him, they don’t crack the code of what secret vegetables he is going to buy:-/

By the way, the Principal is nothing compared to how my parents react if I told them I forgot something.

What I am trying to say is, when I forget, I want to say that I forgot. If it is not taken gently, I will be tempted to lie. If you tempt me to lie, then you are answerable to God. ;-)

Writing my way in 2013...

Hello dear folks who noticed that I was not here over a month! Others who dint, miss me next time, okay? ;-)

2012 December was one incredible vacation. Details later, but I can tell you it was nothing less than pure bliss. Except the part that I suffered a splitting headache on Christmas eve, that I spent more time lying down on the back seat of the car , parked in the church premises with a toddler dancing on my head, when the choir happily sang, ‘Joy to the world!’. Sarcastic singers, I say.

Later December 16^th happened. The wretched night of Delhi gang rape. The aftermath of riots, chaos, tears and ultimately her passing in glory to the land where rape is unknown. Been following all news and articles written on the same. However some people who blame women to have done the heinous crime of “provoking” men seems to be determined to show off the deepest low of stupidity they can stoop to. Honestly.

December 28^th. It was our wedding anniversary. I celebrated it in Trivandrum, and hubby at Cochin. Well as per our schedule it was preplanned according to the layout of a larger plan. Well we live together and work at the same office all 365 days- being geographically separated on anniversary is not a big deal. All the other days are.

So recently I was filling out a few forms, and realized that with time, I am losing my ability to write. Writing my full name using a pen on a piece of paper has become so tedious that I am sure in a few years I will not be able to do it anymore. My son will grow up to call me illiterate. Or he will think I passed Engineering through online multiple choice exams. Did I answer those five essays, four pages each and 20 short answer questions all in three hours? I mean ideally I’d take a week to do that.

 My papa saves some handwritten letters of his father and his uncle. These are some of his invaluable possessions. Those words in custom handwriting speak a lot more than what Microsoft word does. Handwritten letters have that quality of intense personal communication, achieved by the handwriting, aroma and an invisible attribute which actually makes the reader feel that the sender is actually speaking just to him. These letters are also physically saved and read over the years, just for that aroma, handwriting and a personal touch, unlike the emails we archive and never read a second time. Also, a handwritten letter is usually unique. There are no copies, and it has a single receiver, unlike the Cc’s and worse, the BCc’s of standard email.  This makes it priceless. Letters written on paper with fountain pens are really memoirs, or little personal tokens of eternal worth.  I do not know how authors of today write. I know that JK Rowling writes in her Macbook Air. So the authors of the yesteryears must have taken so much effort to write those timeless classics. Imagine the passion which went into those books, when there was no google and availability for reference was scarce.

Every year, my employer gives me a diary and calendar in the first week of January, and I routinely donate it to my parents who have the habit of writing down expenses, recipes or important dates. This year, I am keeping it to myself, and will try to note down something on it. I will not write a summary of my day to day activities, but when I go to meetings I will carry this diary and a pen instead of my laptop. I will draw those instant pictures, or reinvent my signature or do something with it, but I will see to it that I use my fingers to write, and not just to type. My idea is to draft blog posts or write ideas for a short story in it, which may not be possible, but I am determined to use it. Well that is my resolution for 2013.

During my days with my parents last month, I spent some time in my room, which is still decorated with stickers and greeting cards from my teenage years. The handwritten Archies cards of the 90’s. One of them had a black and white picture of five little girls sitting on a wall, and the caption says ‘Friends like us paint the town red!’.  I lay on my bed and looked at the innumerable cards stuck on the walls. Those were the days. Even today I can identify the handwriting of each one of my friends. The personal letters written on the cards are still fresh and real. When was the last time I received or sent a card through post? I think it was a long time ago. My son will never know what birthday and Christmas cards were… or what it was worth. He is likely to think of it as a waste of time and paper. Oh I feel sorry for him; he will never experience the joy of a greeting card.