The calm before the storm?

After many many days, I'm finding some time to breathe...that is now. A small respite from work, work and all work, that has made me a tad bit dull! I sure have my queue of jobs, but all awaiting "the brief", so I decided to call it a break. The calm before the storm, no doubt. But might as well enjoy the calm while it lasts, rather than cry about the impending storm! PHEW!!!

Well, April-May is perhaps the toughest time for working mothers in India. What with kids at home, doing nothing worthwhile, simply lazying about, watching TV, fighting with each other, messing up the place....and everything to drive you nuts! All attempts to get my elder daughter to focus on something more constructive has failed thus far! Albeit, half a day till tomorrow, she's occupied by a small camp for kids at Church. After that, only God knows how I'll keep my sanity, through the day.

Sadly, my little one all of 4, is down with a strange viral fever with little bumpy rashes on her arms and legs, since the last couple of days, and to make matters worse, she's got 2 blisters in her mouth. Not chicken pox, the doc said...just a viral bout - mild fever with the above symptoms. Must be the heat. The fever's gone (in 2 days), but she's not eating anything because of those blisters. More or less on a liquid diet of juices, milk & soup. Sometimes, she gets so cranky and throws up a tantrum from the time she gets up, that I feel helpless, and soon that helplessness turns to impatience. I hope she gets well soon.

One thing that is keeping my spirits up is, my sister is landing on the 24th...reason enough to celebrate, bcoz that's when we indulge in a vacation to nearby places. And to top it, it's my mom's birthday on the 24th. Last year too, my sis was here around that time, and the dinner celebrations were rollicking fun with the family. We're looking forward to more fun this time :)

Well, as I was writing this, I had to take a couple of breaks. To attend to work, what else! So much for "breathing" time!!! And yes, work beckons...so ciao and don't forget to share your holiday experience ( kids' holiday experience if you are a parent or your own)....

And pray, I don't get caught up in the storm!

Home-work

Almost 2 years now, working from home. And for all those who went "wow, you are so lucky!", I have something to confess. It has not been easy. Especially for someone who for over 13 years, had been working 10-12 hours at most times, 6 days a week, sometimes on Sundays too, without missing a day at work unless something really important or serious came in the way, it was hard to imagine that I'd opt for 'work from home'. My sis asked me if I was sure I wanted to do that. At that point of time, I saw better work (as it was more to do with my line of work), better opportunity (considering it was from 'Mumbai' the most happening city for 'advertising'), and above all, the idea of being home when my kids got back from school....Lo and behold, I grabbed the opportunity that came knocking at my door, at a time when I really needed it!

The first day was dreadful, the first week was worse, the first month was maddening.  I had a full time maid then, to take care of the household chores, cooking and taking care of the kids. My little one was in playschool and she would get back home by 12.30 pm. And look who she found at home, her mom who was fiddling away at the computer! She would come straight to my room, jump onto my lap, and tap away on the keyboard, and when I would try desperately to get her off, she would smile, cry, bawl (in that order) but refuse to get off. She wouldn't go to the maid (why would she, when her mom was at home). My maid was having a good time with plenty of time to kill, gossiping with the neighbours and all. Not that I envied her (not the gossiping kind, not me!), but she wasn't making it easy for me. I was stuck with looking after the little one, giving her food to eat, making sure she was engaged, coaxing her for an afternoon nap.......all in the middle of having to finish off jobs within the deadline, which was almost always "yesterday". I had more work coming in with every passing day, and more home duties piling on top of my head. And it only seemed to get worse.

And with the elder one landing home by around 3.30 pm, it was madness at its heights. The kids would be at each others throats, screaming, running and what have you. And then the hubby calling to say "that" person would come to fix "this", keep "this" or "that" ready and what not. Then there would be doorbells to answer...phew! What's worse, just when I would be ready to call it a day, there would be a rush of jobs, with the dreadful fine print  "take your time, send it first thing tomorrow morning". There went my night and my sweet dreams!

While I was used to the late nights and weekend work, I wasn't really ready for managing the home-bit as well. My kids couldn't see I was "working from home", they wanted me to devote my time to them when they were back. I wasn't able to make quality time for them, for I was sitting glued to my desk from dawn to dusk, namesake "at home" mom, who was almost always "at work". It was getting tough for me, and perhaps tougher for the family. What's worse, I had this pent up anger (or frustration) and no vent to let it out. And I could feel my head bloating up into a balloon ready to burst at the slightest prick.

When we moved into our new apartment, I made sure I had "office" space marked out. I got rid of the full time maid who turned into full time "jobless" because of me working from home, and instead hired a part-time maid to cook food and cleanup. I dressed up for work and tried to maintain a time schedule.The kids now understand "mama's home office" a no-hang-around zone, so no entering or fiddling with things during "office hours". Though occasionally (read "everyday"), they do kick up a racket, more so when I'm on an important call with a client or at a briefing session that can so tick me off, they're better behaved now (at least better than when I started out!), letting me finish my work. Just that the 9-5 work is not possible in my kind of work.

Sometimes, work even creeps into the weekends and during vacations, when it gets really annoying, but I oblige because there isn't an option, is there?! The duties are definitely more than the work at office arrangement, where you just had to take care of office work. Now work, home, family, maid, guests.....are all part of my work-at-home arrangement. And at the end of the day, what really gets to me is when the "friendly" neighbours comment "oh, you're so lucky you can work from home, and be there for the kids" or "we thought you're the only one free around here" or "you sit at home all day and you don't even have to cook!", so on and so forth.

Lucky like hell. I would have been better off going to office every day (I know the difference, because I've been there, done that!). At least when I got back home I had some peace and some quality time with family. Now the line between work and home has become so thin that I'm beginning to feel like some super-mom juggling between both roles! Oh no, it's not easy. Especially when you have no one to brainstorm with, talk to or go out with, slogging my buts-off  morning-noon-night with the whatsit glued to the chair, cut off from the rest of the world, and everybody else taking me for granted!

Now, my world has indeed become smaller, I'm afraid if my thinking would become narrower too! I'm thinking of getting a board fixed to the door: BEWARE OF LIVE BOMB...READY TO TICK-OFF ANY MOMENT! (DON'T ANGRY ME!!). The 'once upon a time' cool, patient, composed and ever-smiling gal is no more.

I'm tempted to learn and practise some yoga. Maybe that would help. I don't want my family to bear the brunt. And of course, I hate to see myself losing my cool, and losing my identity. If only I could draw the line between home and work. Make some quality time for myself and my family. Take those well-deserved breaks more frequently...

So take a break guys. Thanks for the patient hearing (reading). I already feel much better now. Just one of those lows, I guess. And I'm glad I'm out of it :)

12-12-12

The day has arrived, and now the clock has started ticking. Couples rushing to tie the knot, babies getting ready to be born, birthday boys & girls happy that they were born this day...And with the time 12:12:12 arriving in just a few minutes (IST), you can imagine the chaos!

It's all over the place. In the papers, the radio stations, the TV channels, on cyberspace...everybody is making a beeline to make the most of it. So what's the fuss all about?

Will we be around to see another 'sequential' date? Unless destined to live to well over a 125 years, it's a 'no' for me, because 01-01-01 would take another 89 years to come! So what? I'm perfectly okay, even if the date is not sequential. To me, it could be just another day. Albeit, there's something about the number 12 that doesn't fail to fascinate even someone like me with the least of interests in numerology, lucky numbers or auspicious dates.

1. According to Chinese numerology, the number 12 brings harmony to the yin and the yang. '1' is a yang number ruled by the sun, representing independence and individualism. '2' is a yin number ruled by the moon, representing symmetry and balance. 
2. The number 12 has found its way into Religion (12 Apostles), Astrology (12 signs of the Zodiac), and Mythology (12 Greek Gods & Goddesses).
3. There are 12 constellations in the ecliptic.
4. The 12 animals of the Chinese horoscope: the Rat, the Ox, the Tiger, the Cat, the Dragon, the Snake, the Horse, the Goat, the Monkey, the Cock, the Dog and the Pig.
5. The number of function keys on most PC keyboards (F1 through F12)
6. There are 12 basic hues in the color wheel; 3 primary colors (red, yellow, blue), 3 secondary colors (orange, green & purple) and 6 tertiary colors (names for these vary, but are intermediates between the primaries and secondaries).
7. There are 12 ounces in a troy pound (used for precious metals)
8. Mathematicians love 12 for its inherent divisibility. It is a composite number and one of the few smaller numbers that can be evenly divided into multiple subsets: halves, thirds, fourths, sixths and twelfths.
9. There are 12 inches in a foot and 12 in a dozen (Did you know 12 dozens are known as a gross? And why ever do we have 13 in a baker's dozen?)
10. There are 12 pairs of ribs in most humans.
11. There are 12 face cards in a deck.
12. 12 often represents the end of one cycle and the beginning of another. December is the 12th month of the year; every 12 hours day turns to night or night to day.

Now as I countdown to 12:12:12...hope to hear from you on what you know about the number 12, and if you really think 12-12-12 is worth all the attention!

Foto Kochi

It had been a long long time since we did this? I mean, just head out on a drive with family, and relax over the weekend. Work had been absolutely hectic, leaving me tired and lazy to do anything else. But this Sunday was different. When hubby said, let's take the detour after Church, I jumped at the opportunity. We decided to do 'Foto Kochi'. Wondering if that's a new destination? Quite, I would say. Since it would be OLD destination (Fort Kochi) in a NEW perspective (equipped with our new camera)!

So I'm going to let the Fotos (picture)s do all the talking for Fort Kochi. All photos published in this post belong to the author. Any unauthorized copy, reproduction, reuse or modification of any sort is strictly prohibited, whether for personal or commercial purpose.

Fishing boats at harbour

Tripod becomes bone for puppy

It's lonely out there!

Chinese Fishing Nets

Tug-of-fish

Hop a little

The vibrant memories to carry home

Books and Old World Charm

Sleepy hamlet - selling trinkets

The Land of Elephants & Backwaters

Riding over CM

Sea and Sweat

Collision course

And finally, me, in a picturesque backdrop of backwaters!

Big Hairy Audacious Goal

My personal BHAG (For those of you who are not familiar with the term: Pronounced Bee-hag, abbrev. of Big Hairy Audacious Goal, it actually means a strategic medium-long term business goal that sounds audacious but is not impossible) had no "big hair" in it, though "audacious" had quite a few occurrences; I've had no fetish for long-straight hair at all!

34 years of living with short hair, it sort of grew on me. Then a friend nudged me to grow my hair, and the parlour I went to for a hair-cut convinced me that I should grow my hair at least till shoulder length, saying it would suit me better (and would not make my neck look so lo..ong). 

But as always, it seemed to take ages, and with growing frustration and falling hair, I finally gave up and rushed to the Salon to have my hair chopped off. The Tibetan hairstylist coaxed me to try straightening and I DID! My friends were just as surprised as I was to see that long hair didn't look too bad on me, after all! 

But now my own wavy hair is growing out those smooth strands and I'm not too sure if I want to straighten it or have it cut short. With the amount of hair fall, one thing I do know is, if I chop it off, I'm never ever going to grow it back to this length again. So maybe (just "maybe") I'll give it one more go, try a funky hairstyle or something with my loooong hair (now it's grown a bit longer than what you see in the pic). BHAG, you think? 

Will let you know, if I successfully get to keep my hair long, for a bit longer, and if the hairstylist (still hunting) can actually give me a funky hairdo, something that suits me!

Just for laughs - Phunny English Poem

 
We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,
But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.
One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.
You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,
Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,
Then shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?
If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,
And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.
We speak of a brother and also of brethren,

But though we say mother, we never say methren.

Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!   

Let's face it - English is a funny (or should it be phunny) language.

There is no egg in eggplant 

nor ham in hamburger;
neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England!

We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes,
We find that quicksand can work slowly, 

Boxing rings are square,
And a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.   

And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing,

Grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend.
If you have a bunch of odds and ends, and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?   

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English
Should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.   

In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?

We ship by truck but send cargo by ship.
We have noses that run and feet that smell.
We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.
And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same,

While a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?   

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language
In which your house can burn up as it burns down,
In which you fill in a form by filling it out,
And in which an alarm goes off by going on.   

And, in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop?   

And if people from Poland are called Poles
Then people from Holland should be Holes
And the Germans, Germs.   

And let's not forget the Americans, who changed s to z, but that's another story.

- A language-confused netizen

Ever heard of a crack in the heart?

I’d been wanting a new mobile phone for over 2 years - a ‘Smartphone’ what they call, to replace my Nokia N72 which was literally ageing in my hands. Which one, depended on various factors like the utility, the brand, the price, the looks, the features and all that. Each salesman outsold the other on their favourite or recommended brand / model that only did me more confused.

The main purpose - apart from making/receiving calls of course, was to be able to access my mails, review creatives and give my feedback and such else, on the move. After several rounds of web search, much deliberation – between iPhone, Blackberry, Samsung SIII/SII…

I settled on a Samsung Galaxy Note (though the price pinched my heart and burnt a hole in my pocket – it was time I had one or so I consoled myself!), because I thought it was like a small tab-cum-big mobile so I didn’t have to carry 2 devices but enjoy the benefits of both!

I was excited like a little girl holding on to cotton candy or a bunch of balloons. Exploring the magic of touch, the speed of internet, angry birds and all those fun android games and apps, mobile TV, driving directions with voice, clarity of photos shot, da da da…and hours whizzed by like seconds. That was less than a month ago.

Yesterday, I wish it was just a nightmare…something dreadful happened! I was working at my desk. The headphone was plugged to my Note. Some visitor walked in. I got up to join him. Just remembered I’d left my phone behind. Got hold of the phone. Felt a bit of a tug on the other side. Headphone cord was stuck somewhere. Before I could do anything else, the Note was out of its Flip Cover and face down on the Desk. The N72 had seen worse falls, from greater heights, so I casually picked it up and tried to tap it to life. And what do I see?

My head went numb. I was just gaping at the Note for what seemed like eternity. Took me a while to get to my senses. A quarter of the screen was lit with a cacophony of colours, the rest of the screen was blank. My heart was in my mouth. I switched off the Note, removed the battery, turned it around, put it back in and tried to revive it back to life (save the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!). The same irregular quarter of screen with a magenta-blue mix of colours / pixels. I thought I would faint. I wanted to cry but I couldn’t. The world around me seemed to be spinning.

Then I noticed the crack (2 actually on the LCD screen, oh no, not the screen, maybe it was the touch panel. I felt the crack in my heart. 

Bungalow & Farm Holiday – Part II

The ancient charm of a colonial bungalow, the rustic charm of a farm resort-----contd.

April 21-23, 2012

The drive from Vaghamon to Vandiperiyar (14 kms from Thekkady) was filled with nature’s wonderful hues and views. As we were nearing our destination – Harithavanam Farmer Resort in Keerikara, the emerald green tea plantations welcomed us, stretching 6 kilometres way up to the resort. We unwound the window glasses, let the cool and fresh wind in, turned up the volume of the music playing “We will, we will rock you!” and looked forward to gulping down some fun, on the rocks. 

The Resort had this very earthy concept, with generous use of bamboos in its decor. We were to stay in 2 cottages which had thatched roofs and eco-friendly materials to keep it pleasantly cool in any weather. A refreshingly cool lemonade, spiced up with ginger was waiting. A shot of spirit, followed by a heavenly feast (traditional Kerala cuisine with fish curry, fried fish, dry prawns chutney and the works!) and we were all ready to hit the waters.

We changed into suitable outfits and made our way through the plantations (coffee, spices, fruits and vegetables), down to the river. The water wasn’t too deep, as it was the peak of summer, but just enough to stay afloat and beat the heat. We had a splash of a time. We sat like hippos in the water, and could see small fishes curious and nibbling at our feet. We spent about an hour by the river and went back up.

We then played some cricket (we always carry bat, ball and stumps in the boot, to play where we please!) after which we indulged in some steaming hot pazhampori (ripe banana slices dipped in a batter of gram flour and fried in coconut oil…slurp, slurp!) and refreshing hot chai (tea). We got to cuddle some cute li'l rabbits too.

Next we got ready to go on the fishing trek down the river, across the bridge, through the plantations…with a professional fisherman to guide us. What a catch we had! 

My elder daughter Ann proudly lifted live fish one by one, from the net into the basket. And to have that fried and curried for dinner is an experience worth relishing (A boat can float in my mouth now, just thinking about it)!

 We had time for a quick shower, and got ready for campfire and dinner. Rotis, Rabit roast, Fish fry, Chicken curry, Peanut masala and Fresh green salads with some clinking of glasses, in a background of music blasting off from my sister’s mobile, kids all flared up with their own singing and dance performances and then a grand finale with all of us breaking into a tribal sort of dance around the fire. It was a sight, no doubt, but gratefully there was no one else around, but us!

Crashed the night and morning we were up early to have a quick breakfast - Vellayappam and beef stew, and hit the road on our journey back home. The drive was not very pleasant though what with the endlessly curvy roads and the kids and sis giving in to motion sickness.

Finally we were on home ground, bringing back with us the memories of a fine vacation. Though just 2 days in all (the weekend), it was a fulfilling and refreshing holiday, worth waiting for!

Busy days ahead, I switched on my laptop and nearly swooned at the mails and the work in store for me. The worst part of a holiday, is having to get back to work, I tell you! Just like the Monday morning blues, I'm suffering from 'Back from holiday' blues...Will get over it soon for sure, but hey, who wants to?!

Bungalow & Farm Holiday – Part I

The ancient charm of a colonial bungalow, the rustic charm of a farm resort

April 21-23, 2012

It was a journey amidst a hectic schedule. A harried couple of months at work, followed by a weekend getaway plan, what with sis bil in town. Leaving behind a pile of work that would be sitting a pile higher when back from holiday. Kids, Bob and I along with my sis and bil hit the road early in the morning.



A whirlwind visit of Bharananganam the resting place of Saint Alphonsa en-route to Vaghamon. 

The highway on four wheels and six spirited souls (six abs none!) continued on the dreary drive uphill.

The first casualty (of motion sickness) turned out to be my 3 yr old daughter Becky (the youngest of the lot) who threw up without warning. But I held up the mug in the nick of time saving our clothes and the car insides…phew! (A mug is handier and less messier than the pukey bags/plastic covers, and so accompanies us on all our car journeys)


The rest of the journey passed by quite uneventfully, save the beautiful sights around us - the mist clad hills, rocky mountains, views of the bottomless valleys, tea plantations….






And lo and behold…we arrived at our first destination – Vaghamon – A right turn from the T-Junction and about 500 metres down the road is the Estate Bungalow of MMJ Plantations - our exotic place of stay.


A bit more about the Bungalow...

Built in 1927-28 by the then Chiefs of Vaghamon (Travancore) Tea Company Mr. Hammonds and Mr. Gardinier (Brits), this Bungalow is situated inside 2000 acres of Tea, Cardamom and Coffee Plantation at an elevation of 3100 feet above sea level. The wooden floors are fixed 3.5 feet above the ground level.

Most of the Bungalow remains quite intact with no major renovation having taken place, except perhaps for the modern bathrooms adjoining the two guestrooms, and the regular maintenance and cleaning around.

We were welcomed with a cup of steaming hot tea served in the cozy settings of the living room in all its colonial splendour. All rooms in the Bungalow have a fireplace that adds an exotic charm to the place. We quickly had a shower in the modernized bathrooms and took a quick tour of the Bungalow. It has a visitor’s room, living room, library, 2 guest suites with attached bath, recreation room (caroms, chess, cards...), dining room, kitchen, storeroom and a caretaker’s room. Each room spacious, and each nook telling a resplendent story of the yesteryears.



We played a few rounds of caroms (had been ages since the last time I played!), had some refreshing drinks, then went out for a walk in the garden. 

They have a beautiful garden of medicinal plants and flowers of all kinds and colours that make it picture perfect. With organic farming, everything locally cultivated and farmed, and a poultry farm, our lunch was nothing less than perfect. It was then time for a siesta, short yet sweet.

The fresh tea refreshed us and we were ready for the drive around Vaghamon – A place called Pine Valley (acres of Pine Trees) the perfect picnic spot and a scenic place popular among cinematographers in South India, then proceeded t to Mottakunnu – again a picnic spot, a seemingly endless meadow with little hilly mounds. The weather was rather pleasant.

Drove back to the Bungalow, enjoying the sights around. More rounds of caroms followed. Then, sumptuous dinner. We were ready to crash. After a good night’s sleep, we woke up early, walked around the tea estate (covered not even 1% of the 2000 acres perhaps!) and the veg garden.




Many photo-ops later, and after bread, butter, eggs and tea we hit the road, heading to our next destination – Thekkady.

[This post begs for a Part II, so I’ll be back…Hope you’ll be back too!]

Parenting woes

Finally, got down to writing some of the parenting woes I promised I would. Things I would fret about, but not really worry about (lest I frighten aspiring or to-be parents), but they are 'woes' nonetheless…phew!

1. Well….one of the main reasons I’m so irregular on blogosphere. My 2 year old doesn’t let me sit on the computer/laptop when she’s awake, she doesn’t sleep when I’m awake and yes she wakes up early in the morning. Now I’m left with the choice of, blogging at work during breaks (with work being hectic, that’s out of question) or blogging in the middle of the night (but once I hit the bed I’m knocked out, coz I sleep like a log! The only 'thing' that can wake me up is my 2 year old!!). There! Now I have a pretty excuse :)
2. Once you are a parent, you can forget about yourself. Life is then all about your kids. Everything you do, say or think has a direct bearing on how your kids will be. Responsibilities and expectations are huge. All that weighing on the head and shoulders, it's hard to keep your head over your shoulders! No kidding!!
3. You will always be judged ‘good’, ‘bad’ or ‘ugly’ by how your kids behave and/or how you behave with the kids. If your kids are naughty and you just let them be, your well-meaning neighbours, relatives or friends will look you up and down, as if to say “if I were you I would have whacked the kid”, and if you chide them, they’ll tchh, tchh…as if to say “Poor kids, mean parents!” Not that I care what others think of me, but I sure will want to have a positive influence on my kids’ lives.
4. Go out shopping, and kids go berserk - they want anything and everything. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to roll your eyes. My little one sits on the trolley, picks up whatever item she can reach and fills up the cart in no time. Once, my elder one managed to break a jam bottle at the supermarket in her excitement and it was so embarrassing I haven’t had the courage to take her along to a store after that. You can’t try on clothes, because they want to enter the trial room along with you. Can’t dare go near a shoe shop, because the li’l one goes crazy when she sees shoes. She tries on every single pair and doesn’t want to leave the store even if you’re done with your shopping. Shopping is a nightmare with kids on the loose!
5. You can’t go out for movies, because most movies these days are not good for kids and you can’t leave them behind can you?! You can’t even watch TV peacefully, for fear of corrupting their young minds!
6. Go to a restaurant and they act like they’ve never seen food before. The other day when we dined at a fancy restaurant, the li’l one was eagerly waiting for food to arrive and every time she saw the waiter she was jumping out of her seat, “where’s my soup, where’s my soup!” Once, she managed to break a glass (so embarrassing I tell you!). Most times, she manages to drop her spoon, fork or knife on the floor and then quickly grabs mine. She clinks at the plate so hard, I worry if the plate would just crack. My appetite usually vanishes by the time food arrives, with the tension of damage control!
7. You’re always late just about everywhere, because you have to DRESS UP your kids and drag them along whether they like it or not, because you can’t leave them alone at home. And then again you get these looks as if to ask “why is their hair so shabby” (the hair bands, hair clips or whatever you use to tame their hair would be in their hand, my bag or gone for good!) or “don’t they have any other clothes” (they’re seen wearing their same old “favourite” outfit till they can wear it no more!). And hey, just to answer the question: they decide what to wear, not me!
8. 2 year old or 8 year old, you can’t raise your voice even a little to chide them for something they might have done wrong. They get “ANGRY”. My 8 year old is a sweetheart until you tell her to take her books and study. She gets angry, she makes a big fuss, she feels sleepy, or her head (or was it her tummy?) hurts and such lame excuses ('natak company' I call them!). You can’t tell her to eat quickly. She takes half an hour for breakfast (2 idlis, or quarter part of puttu, or 1 chappatti, or 1 appam….), 45 min to 1 hour for dinner (a measly meal at that!). The 2 year old is adorable, huggable, lovable and all that, but you’ll be surprised what she does when she gets angry! She pinches and punches. She throws her tantrums, goes to another room and stays there till you coax, cajole and sweet talk her. And what not! PHEW, she's little, but she can get you on your knees!!
9. They don’t take “NO” for an answer, but anytime you tell them to do anything, pat comes the reply “NO”!
10. Keeping the siblings apart is a task in itself! They’ll be playing and laughing one moment, and the very next minute fighting and crying. Aargghhhhh! But then I remember, I was once a little girl too, pinching my sister and getting punched in return! So there, I forgive them :)

You want them to be the perfect children. You want to be the perfect parent. But I guess, it doesn't work that way. It’s all these imperfections that make us who we are and you love them even more because of what they are. So even as I may crib often about my chores and woes as a parent, I’m loving every moment of it. Thank you kids for being part of my life. You guys mean the world to me :)

Parenting Joys

1. Topic of conversation / Icebreakers: Kids are the subject of conversation, small talk or big talk, among friends or even strangers - helps break the ice.
2. Pass time / Time pass: When you are stuck in an unknown place or among unknown people and have to while away time without feeling out of place, kids de-alienate you - You can talk to them, fuss around them...they enjoy the dedicated attention and you enjoy their company all the more. 
3. Boredom busters: When there's nobody else at home and nothing else to do, kids are free amusement/entertainment. You never get bored with them around.
4. Item to flaunt: You can brag and flaunt...even their tiniest achievements, and feel your chest swelling with every word you speak about them.
5. Preferential treatment: In a crowded train / bus, ticket counter or any waiting area, with a kid seated on your waist, you are bound to get special treatment - be offered a seat or allowed to jump the queue and such else.
6. Talk gibberish and be understood: You can talk  gibberish, with a sweet tone, nodding your head and waving your hands and get the sweetest giggle from your little ones. They can talk gibberish, and you can understand it too, quite effortlessly.
7. Get away with being late: Late to work, late for party, late for just about anything, point the finger at your kids, and you are let scot-free!
8. Feel like a child again: You relive your childhood through them. Start from scratch. Learn all over again. 
9. Free exercise machine: Running around kids is like having a free treadmill!
10. Test of Patience: Ahh....I think I'm soon running out of it!!

There's more of course. And I'm enjoying every bit of it. Would like to hear the version of other mommy & daddy bloggers too :)

PS: Perhaps my next blog will be about Parenting woes!

Santa is late this Christmas!

Santa was supposed to bring a bicycle each for my daughters this time around. But he didn't arrive in time for Christmas. The snow was perhaps holding him back. His assistant managed to deliver some chocolates with the glad tidings that Santa will come with the promised presents in a day or two. We don't have the Chimney for Santa to slide in, nor the stockings on the door (the cycles wouldn't fit in anyway!). But each year, Santa watches how the kids behave and brings sweet things they desire.

Does my daughter believe all this? Well, she likes to believe, though she knows that it's her mama and papa who play her Santa each year. I like the idea of Santa too. My parents gave me no such illusion. But the image of santa riding the reindeer sled through snow flakes and across skies, carrying gifts for children world-over, sliding down the chimney with his big fat belly on Xmas eve, leaving gifts in pretty stockings...well, some imagination, but I think children like to go with it, just like they love fairytales. And of course, they grow over it with time.

I had a lovely christmas with family and friends at my in-laws place - kids dressed as santa claus, christmas tree all decked up, twinkling stars & serial lights, bamboo crib with baby Jesus and the rest of the cast watching-over, a feast with rich plum cake, white forest, mom-made mushroom & cauli-flower biryani, pepper chicken not turkey (cooked on firewood for that smoked flavour), FIL-made naturally fermented nutmeg wine (2008), chocolate & butter-scotch icecream topped with apple and banana...and the works!


 

The only sad part was that Becky, my 2 year old, was unwell and couldn't enjoy it much, although she did try to play along. She's getting better though!

I'm now looking forward to the New Year. Hoping to start with a bang! Wishing you all a very happy and prosperous 2011!

This is in continuation to the comment I posted on Aparna's Blog. I should perhaps say "inspired" cause I've been so un-inspired and tied-up for the last 11/2 months, drawing a nil on my blogpost. So thanks Aparna, for bringing this post out of me :D

After Math

Distinction in school. Double Major in Math & Physics. Dream of a flying career in the Air Force.

She had successfully done her solo in gliding (winch-operated glider). TheWing Commander (NCC Air Wing, 2 TN Batalion) knew she was good at it, encouraged her to become a fighter pilot and helped her with the preparations. Her senior who had succeeded, also gave her some tips. She had the NCC 'C' Certificate, which was an added advantage.

There were only 3 centres for the PABT (Pilot Aptitute Battery Tests) - Mysore, Varanasi and Dehradun. Though she had opted for Mysore because it was closer home, she was allocated Varanasi as her exam centre. Her family, relatives, friends, classmates, fans (yeah, she had a huge fan following at the University), lecturers to the Chancellor, fellow NCC cadets, Wing Commander, Squadron Leader and more or less the whole of the city geared up for the day when the lady fighter pilot would return with her badge, beaming. One of her friends was going to Mysore to attempt the PABT. They exchanged their good lucks and went their way. Her dad accompanied her, because Varanasi was not familiar territory. It was a long journey, from Coimbatore (in Tamil Nadu) to Varanasi (in Uttar Pradesh), by train.

The hippie culture in Varanasi still existed. There were rickshaw pullers and mule-carts. There was chaos and dirt. Dope and dreams. They found a decent place to stay for the night. The next morning, they headed for the exam centre. There were more than 185 aspiring pilots, from North, South, East and West. The accompanying family members / friends were asked to return to their place of stay. Completely organized and disciplined, the whole process. Candidates were split into groups of three and allotted rooms where they were allowed to settle down. A girl from Orissa (daughter of a high ranking Air Force Officer) and another girl from Haryana were her roommates. Breakfast was served at the Canteen. Then they were asked to assemble in the gallery for a briefing.

First there was to be a Written test (On basic Air Craft Instrument reading), and candidates selected in the Written test would have to go through the Machine test (To judge if the candidate can control simple joy stick and rudder controls). A candidate was allowed to take this test only once in his/her lifetime. Failure in PABT test permanently debars the candidate from appearing for flying branch. And, there would be Physical tests, Medical tests, Group discussions and Interview.

She was excited and looking forward to giving it her best shot. The written test results were announced. Only 20 out of 185 had made it. She was one of them. The other candidates were sent back home, dejected. The twenty 'proud' candidates proceded to take the Battery test.

It was pretty much like a video game parlour. Two different machines. One had a steering wheel which worked just like the ones in a car. There was a moving lead shot and grooves that were placed in a zig-zag lane. The task was to use the steering wheel to veer the lead shot into each of the grooves. Each groove fetched a point. There was a time limit. She was good behind the wheels and was confident on getting this one right.

The second one was quite like an inside of a cockpit with a screen that had a small square and an outer square, a joy stick, 2 rudder pedals under the feet and a lever on the arm of the chair. There was a moving spot of light. The task was to use the joystick and pedals to focus the light within the smaller square which fetched more points than the bigger square. There would be occasional beeps (deliberate distractions) which had to be silenced using the lever on the left arm of the chair. She had maneuvered a glider with ease and found it way too easy, made a mathematical calculation in the mind and came out smiling.

The candidates discussed among themselves their performance. A punjabi girl candidate (who also had a solo wing in gliding) was the one other candidate who was just as confident. All candidates were called to the Gallery. An Officer started 'We are disappointed with the results this year. Only 2 out of the 20 candidates have made it through the Machine test, who will stay with us for the rest of the selection tests...'. There was a lump in her throat, but she was still smiling. Roll number of one candidate was called out. It wasn't her, nor the Punjabi girl's. It was some guy's, who seemed surprised himself. He was son of so-and-so in the Army.

Her heart was now beating in her ear and she could hardly hear anything. The second roll number was called. Thud, she landed on the ground. It wasn't hers. It was the Orissa roomie's. The Orissa girl had said that she had barely scraped through the written test and had no hope of getting through the machine test, because she couldn't really figure out how it worked. She was daughter of so-and-so in the Air Force.
She (back to the protogonist of this 'real' story) was disappointed. She hadn't tasted failure. It tasted bitter. She didn't like it one bit. Her mind was racing at supersonic speed. What next, since there was no second shot! She got out of the hall to see her father waiting for her. No words between them. The emotions were running high. Dad tried to make small talk, console her. But she was lost in thought. The journey back was tough and seemed to take forever. She had to get back home with nothing, just a shattered ego and nothing more left of the dream. The aftermath was tough to handle. She wasn't ready for this. But nothing would jerk the tear out of her eyes.

There wasn't going to be a flying career, unless of course she wanted to consider getting a CPL (Commercial Pilot License). Her Wing Commander gave her a choice between CPL (50% sponsored by NCC) and Air Force SSC (Short Service Commission) Officer. But she was dejected. She wanted to be a fighter pilot and had failed. She suspected if there was some favouritism / bias, because it just didn't add up how she could have failed. She had made her decision. She shot down the option to get into the Air Force. She heard there were many pilots with CPL in their hands and no job, so she ruled out that option too.

She was at the crossroads. No more of Math or Physics she had decided. She didn't want to be an academician nor a scientist nor a researcher. She met her friend who had attempted PABT at Mysore. She didn't make it either. By sheer coincidence, they both chose advertising. They did their Post Graduation in Advertising & Communication Management. A soaring career in advertising took her to greater heights. The aftermath wasn't too bad afterall. God has His ways! She can now fly a jet plane with her feet on the ground :)

Lost and Found

Long, long ago...when I just started to walk, and maybe when I realized that my legs could actually take me wherever I please...my life played out like a nightmare.

My dad was deputed on the auditing job, so we literally travelled country-wide back then - Dad, mom, my sis, and myself. It was some place in Andhra Pradesh, if I remember right. We didn't know the local language (Telugu). Dad & Mom managed with English and the spatter of Hindi they knew.

It was just a week in this new place. My mom gave me an oil massage and left me for maybe about 5 minutes to get some hot water for the bath. Meanwhile, I ventured out of the bathroom. Reached the gate, opened the lock and wandered about the entrance (Not sure what exactly happened here, because this is a third person account that I am relating here).

Our milk-maid was walking down our lane to deliver milk at our house, when she saw this stranger carrying me and walking in the opposite direction. He didn't look related to us and she'd never seen him in the vicinity before. By instinct, she realized there was something wrong. She immediately approached him and enquired who he was, how he was related to me and where he was headed with me in his arms...He muttered something under his breath, but was visibly shaken. She threatened to report him to the police unless he handed me over to her immediately. He couldn't get himself to say anything, since this must have been something he had least expected. He thought he could get away scotfree. He did eventually. But at least he was frightened enough to put me down and make his escape while he could.

Back at home, my mom was all anxious and wondering where I had vanished. Her eyes were welling with tears and flooding down her cheeks. She didn't know what to do. The Bank Manager came down and consoled her saying they'd do everything they could to help find me. And then, the milk-maid made a grand entry, with me in her arms. She narrated the whole incident.

I was lost and found. It was a miracle indeed. My angel in disguise! I still wonder what would have happened to me if the milk-maid hadn't come there that very moment . He would have probably whisked me away, given me a begging bowl and sent me out in the streets to beg. It's big business I hear. It happens, really! Hundreds of children are, this very moment. It's sad, but it's the truth. Wish we could do something to stop this horrendous crime!

KISS

My dad is a man of few words. His ‘KISS’ act can rattle anybody, anywhere, anytime. Here’s a classic case, which I for one, cannot erase from my mind.

I was at the NCC Republic Day Camp, New Delhi (Yes, the last 3 posts were about that, and no this is not Part IV cleverly disguised with another title!). There was just a week to go. I was asked to report URGENTLY to the camp office by my camp commandant and superiors. I entered to see worried faces and a glint of sympathy somewhere. They handed me a telegram and waited anxiously. I ripped it open, my heart almost in my mouth.

DEAD
OR
ALIVE?

It was from my dad, of course.

I hadn't written or called my parents in the almost 1 month period that I had been in the camp. My camp superiors were furious. They got me to write a long letter to my folks back at home, right there, just in case I changed my mind when I got back to the bunker.

The telegram had served its purpose. My dad proved it yet again. Keep It Short and Simple (KISS) if used appropriately gives the desired (most effective) results. And this true story proves it beyond doubt.

You’re wondering why I didn’t write to them or call them? Well, that's me. When I get out of home, I presume everybody else knows I'll do fine and just let me be.

And here’s another lame excuse… I didn’t have a mobile phone back then, in 1996. Making a telephone call, meant waiting in long queues, and others breathing down your neck if ever you get your turn. Receiving calls was also long shot, since the lines were almost always engaged, that any sane person would give up trying.

Someday, I'll mend my ways.

Finally, here is Part III of RJ@RD 1996

RJ’s experience in NCC-Republic Day Camp… If you would like to know the whole story, what went on during the Training Camps and the Journey to Republic Day Camp (RDC), New Delhi, click here for Part I and Part II.

.............................................................................

Garrison Parade Ground, Delhi Cantonment: The story continues...

6 AM, Guard of Honour Training begins. RJ and a fellow girl cadet from TN (Tamil Nadu) Contingent, after the grueling ground leveling task and mouth-chattering bath, wear their Uniforms with Jersey, Gloves, Cummerbund, Beret, Boots and the works, run to collect their Rifles. They’re running 5 minutes late. As they near the mist-covered parade ground, they rejoice they are the first to fall-in. As they get closer, they realize they are among the last. A dressing down and 2 rounds around the Parade Ground for being late. Nice warm-up, is how I see it!

We’re congratulated for being selected to the elite Guard of Honour Contingent, told how privileged we were. They gave us instructions and the training roster as to what to expect. Actual training began. 5 minutes parade, 10 minutes break (spent wisely – making new friends, getting our shoes shined by boys who were available at the ground, yapping and napping, alternatively). This went on for a while. Then break for breakfast. Again fall-in, 5 minutes parade, 10 minutes break went on till Lunch time. This was getting to be fun. And good food added to the cheer.

Evening was for cultural competitions. We draped ourselves in the Kancheepuram Yellow with Red & Gold Zari saree and Maroon Blazer (our formal attire). We played cheerleaders in events we didn’t contest ourselves. Then some delicious Dinner. Food choice was good, perfect for the cold weather – Rice / Roti and Chicken (non-veg) / Paneer (veg) was on the menu most days in addition to other North Indian delicacies. And desserts such as Kheer, Gajar-ka-halwa, fresh fruits salad etc. Slurp! No wonder, I put on weight in the one month at RDC, Delhi.

As the competitions were getting tougher, the bias for the ‘M’ contingent seemed to be getting more obvious. In the last 2 years, it was the TN contingent that had won the PM’s Banner. And we were rallying for it this time too, to score a hat-trick. Our scores at the end of every day decided the ranking and TN was No.1, M was No. 2 and K was No.3 for most days.

RJ was selected for Guard of Honour for the Chiefs of Army, Navy & Air Force, the Vice President and other VIPs & VVIPs, with high tea party with them. RJ was even chosen to represent the Contingent in the High tea Party at the Rashtrapati Bhavan (Official Residence of the President of India), the highlights being – tour around the place, audience with the President (Dr. Shankar Dayal Sharma), Cultural Evening and of course the yummy grub part of the high tea. Burp!

Lest you have begun to think if this was all about the good food and a lot of breaks, nope, we had competitions going on remember? The Prime Minister’s Rally on the 27th of January (after the Pageantry RD March on 26th of January), was the high-point of the Guard of Honour Contingent. Plus the Prime Minister’s Banner (for the winning Contingent) was to be announced that day. We were all ready for the Rally. We had had many rehearsals before. And many security checks later, stood firm and proud with our rifles. It seemed like eternity. I had these black-out moments many times, but kept wriggling my toes in my boots and kept myself standing with my weight balanced between my ready-to-give-in-any-time legs and my sturdier standing-me-straight rifle.

The moment had arrived, march, brisk salutes with the rifle, and all eyes on the PM. It was a moment that was to stay etched in my memory for a long time to come. Just as the PM passed by our Contingent, the shortest girl (from D Contingent) in the farthest corner swooned. The PM didn’t know a thing. None of us knew either, until we got back to our assigned seats in the Gallery. The cadet was stealthily whisked away by the medical team. There were a lot of other events to witness. Military and Paramilitary Battalions, men & beasts (horses primarily) marched away in unison. It was a sight indeed! Then Parasailing, Gliding etc by the NCC. Air Show by the Surya Kiran Team.

We had our hearts-in-our-mouths moment when a freak accident occurred on the ground. A cadet who was supposed to take part in parasailing, had her sail tied to her, with the sail kept flat on the ground. When a few helicopters part of the air show flew close to the ground, the sail opened up and she was air-borne without warning. She hit the side rails many times over and collapsed to the ground. We thought that was the end, because she was lying motionless. She was given emergency treatment, and except for a few bruises and fractures, she didn’t have serious injuries. Thank God!

The Prizes were distributed. TN, TN, TN….first in 13 out of 18 Competitions. And the Prime Minister’s Banner goes to ‘M’ Contingent. We are shocked. The Prime Minister (Narasimha Rao) must have been shocked as well, because he was the one doing the honours, and TN was leading all along. He even asked, how is it that TN wins most of the Competitions and some other Contingent walks away with the Banner? We wanted to protest, but it would take away the spirit of the event, so we refrain. The whole Contingent was crestfallen. The others sympathized with us. And that was an eye-opener for many of us, to the bad world out there. Our commanders consoled us, said we were the real winners. We held on to our trophies, proud that we truly earned it.

The few days before the camp ended, we were taken on Delhi –Agra Darshan. It was time to say goodbye to RDC, and goodbye to the series of RJ@RD 1996 Posts. Thank you bloggers for your patient hearing :)

* Images courtesy Google Images / Wikipedia