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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

How intelligent Moms pack for a vacation !

Tomorrow my vacation starts (yay!) so this week is like an overstretched Friday. Like on Friday it’s the weekend so at work the laptop, unread emails and colleagues are all pushed to a secondary, insignificant place where the mode is set to ‘ignore’.  I did not mention ‘bosses’ in the above sentence because they are already in that place we don’t need to push them.

I am not a systematic person unlike both my parents. I pack in the eleventh hour and I’d been that way ever since….. err…ever since I had to pack myself. That is, around the time I got married. Thankfully till date I’ve never forgotten any important stuff like comb, eyeliner etc., but I admit that couple of times I did forget irrelevant stuff like e-ticket and passport. I don’t understand why my folks back home were so mad at me for driving back home to take those – they were acting so hysterical like I forgot my toothbrush or something.

Basically my house is in a complete mess right now. We have two bedrooms. The master bedroom, which is mostly maintained well with most of the things in place (don’t judge me; this is a major achievement in homes of toddlers) because this room is partially visible from the entrance. The other bedroom has a Queen Size mattress which is on the floor as cots are dangerous for my toddler who seems to ride roller coasters in his sleep. He usually sleeps next to me, but wakes up somewhere else we literally have to hunt for him in the morning under his Angry Birds pillow or under a pile of blankets. So for safety reasons we did not buy a cot for this room. There is also a computer table and chair. It is better for one’s mental and emotional health and peace to prevail in the house if the items on this table are untouched. Even my toddler understands this. Besides the bed and table there is also a wardrobe, and what is left of that room is a portion of floor that can accommodate two malnourished adults. This portion of the floor is the place where the suitcases currently rest, obviously with nothing in it, but it is opened so that we don’t forget to put something in it and go home tomorrow. So if I have to put the toddler to sleep in this mess it becomes a Herculean task to move these suitcases one by one, and the chair and other stuff we shopped for the family. Suppose I successfully navigate all these, something or the other catches the fancy of the toddler and sleeping becomes an impossible dream.

Even a bachelor's home on a Friday night may not be as messy as a home which has enthusiastic toddlers in it. Like the other day I found almost half a kilo pearl onions from the gap between sofa cushions, vegetables and fruits are found from places that we least expect it to be. There is no standard place to search for a TV remote. If there are children you search for TV remotes in shoe racks, the fridge, kitchen drawers, and washing machine, these being some likely places. So imagine packing in such a situation. When I pack, it is like demonstrating Newton’s third law of motion, because my action is met with an equal and opposite reaction– my toddler unpacks it. And the stuff that is unpacked needs to be hunted. For an absent minded Mamma like me, I may not even go to such lengths to find something I may just ignore it could be the key to open the suitcase or something.

This is why I pack in the last minute. At the last minute the hubby experiences temporary deafness due to the stress of packing his countless gadget accessories and power cables and the toddler will be busy choosing the toys he can’t live without. This is one of the few rare occurrences in our home when nobody is talking, and I can pack with a rational mindset.

I hope this explanation will be convincing enough to Papa who had been asking me to pack since New Year.

 Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Why most women hate each other ;-)

We, women are intensely guarded about ourselves. This makes us shrewd in a way that is mostly harmless, but it adds to our list of enemies. For example, let’s say we walked into a party and liked a sari, jewelry, blouse pattern or a handbag of another woman, and we wanted to know how and where they bought it from, or got it customized.

Firstly, the distance between us and the woman in question is full of the unseen reality called ego topped with a fog of jealousy. It is so heavy and opaque that it weighs us down. Complimenting another woman or asking her where she got it from is like losing our dignity for life. Some people have no qualms to appreciate anything that they like, even complete strangers have given me compliments but for majority others, it is a mammoth effort to break free from their comfort bubbles (where they are reigning Queens and everyone else are just subjects) and ask the question. It hurts.

Once Rachel (Jennifer Aniston) said in F.R.I.E.N.D.S, ‘Oh its okay, women hate me’ with pride. So we can safely assume that if you are someone most women don’t keep too much company with then either you have something that is too enviable ( rich husband, luxury car, branded wardrobe, diamond jewelry being the common reasons) , or you have a great figure.

Now comes the second part of it. Suppose I leave my ego at home and walk into a party ( in reality this is not possible, it’s like the critics telling you to leave your brain at home and go watch Golmaal series) and let’s say all women are wearing enviably pretty accessories.

Me: Hey your blouse is so pretty and perfectly stitched! Where did you get it made?

Other woman: “Oh this is my mother’s blouse…hers is a tailor near our family home…I think that tailor relocated…’

Mother’s blouse! It looked exactly like the one Shilpa Shetty wore in one of her item songs.  This woman will tell you her email password but not her tailor’s address. She safeguards his identity like one of her deepest secrets which can be revealed only by conducting a narcotic analysis on her.
Me: ‘Hey nice shoes! Where did you get these from?’

Other woman: ‘You like it ? I don’t know where it is from. Someone gifted it to me.’

Since when did people start gifting shoes to adults? :-o

Me: ‘Hey! Your earrings are beautiful! From where did you get these?’

Other woman: ‘These are my sister’s earrings…I will ask her and let you know.. .’

This is a temporary escape. We will not ask further questions about where her sister is, as it is obvious that she doesn’t want to say it. But if you insist she will not hesitate to say that her sister is a nomad with no permanent address.

Me: ‘Hey your kids are so well behaved and speak so fluently! Which school do they go to?’

Other woman: ‘Thanks! They go to XYZ School. But the fee is high and they spend a lot of time commuting to and fro. Also the admissions have closed…it difficult to get into, you need to have recommendation letter from Barack Obama…blah blah…’

This is a full sermon. She does not want your kid to go to that school. Amen.

Me: ‘Hey, what a gorgeous Kurti! Where did you get this from?’

Other woman: ‘I bought this like five years ago…I don’t remember exactly…’

It is brand new. She bought it for this party the day before. I am not a donkey I know what five year old kurtis look like.

Me: ‘Hey how did you bake these cookies? Can you share the recipe?’

Other woman: ‘Sure I will mail you dear.’

This woman’s first priority will be to block you or anyone who asked the recipe from google chat.

Me: ‘Hey how did your chicken fry come out so crunchy outside and soft inside? Any tip you can share?’

Other woman: ‘No…I just put the chicken in oil…and I did it in the last minute yaa’

We have tongues, woman. And we use it to taste food at meal times. (Henceforth we will use it to badmouth you).  And we have had fried chicken before; it’s not our first time.

Me: ‘What a beautiful neckpiece is that! Where did you get it from?’

Other woman: ‘Oh thanks! My grandmother gave me this. It was made by a goldsmith known to her. If you want I can ask her’

This woman I talked to is already in her late 40s. The chance that her grandmother is alive is thousand to one, and even if she is, she may barely remember her own name. And if you ask her this goldsmith question she may even die trying to remember it.

So basically, women don’t tell you anything. We divulge nothing about ourselves, but  try to extract every single detail about other women. If we are successful enough extracting a little bit we are very creative to fill voids with assumptions and spicy details. The secretive behavior even to our best friends is one of the reasons why we say women are more complicated than the intricate design on their antique jewelry.

Last week I met my husband’s friend at the supermarket. He’s a cheerful guy and while talking to him I noticed his wrist watch which looked very elegant.

Me: ‘Wow what a watch! Tag Heur?’

That guy: ‘ Arrey, nono! It is Swatch. You know the Qurm City Centre? When you go to Carrefour supermarket, there is a Swatch showroom on the right no? I bought it from there. They still have it’.

I dint even ask him.

 Image courtesy: Google images.

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