this

Saturday morning, the first day of the last month of the year. my cousins  and friends abroad have put up their christmas trees and hung up their stockings! i have not begun to think of 2013, but, if there were three wishes i got as a gift, i would first ask for me to be a neat freak. if only!

and, the second wish would be for me to wake up (a tad smoothly) early in the mornings. i can jump out of bed on school days, but otherwise it is right next to impossible for me. 

i think, no, i feel, quite strongly, that if i could master the two habits of waking up earlier and putting things back in their place, properly, 40% of my problems would disappear. my mind would feel as open  as my clutter-free surroundings. and, the rest of my problems... oh well! nothing is in my hands is it?

PS

anyone know who can grant me these wishes?

at home with kikki

PS

i have a plan.

too much too soon

Here I am, rejuvenated enough to see the little ones settling back in school, almost, effortlessly and hopeful of reading all the books I wanted to read, click though beautiful blogs at leisure, settling on my window seat and penning down my thoughts while I listen to the rain…
… when I am rudely awakened by a shrill squawk! There stand my husband and daughter with an African Grey parrot.



This is Kukku, the daughter shrieks and my open mouth and look of utter dismay (to say the least) prompts a sheepish grin from the husband. Kukku has the emotional intelligence of a two year old, he says… and, I am thanking the good Lord that Abi has finally turned three, I humph… the intelligence of a five year old… as if the smartass retorts of our daughter were not enough, I sigh… and a vocabulary of 2000 in another year… as if I don’t talk enough, I whined!



The birdie adapts to us before we do to her. We are more curious and wary that we might hurt her, but she is quite resilient, enjoys and demands attention and quite fun… till the day, the husband decided that kukku needs a friend and stood at the door with a three month old German Shepherd and 12kg of puppy food!



It was nothing but another rude surprise (because I don’t like the word shock) until the pup dodged the kids and friends of the kids, took one sniff of my chipped nail paint and flopped down at my feet there and then. Something between love and joy (or was it both?) surged in my heart, but it was too much too soon and I gave my husband “the look.”



The first two weeks, blackie, named ingenuously by the daughter, followed me everywhere – from chair to bed to sofa and back. But, now it is at home with the four of us, together or separate. Things are so much better since it has been toilet-trained. And, now that it is teething, I actually have the floor clear of clutter, which consisted of things quite needed in our daily life.



This is us now. Suhana actually has blackie in the family picture she drew of us spending the day at the seaside. I asked her why she forgot kukku, miss smarty replied, it was because kukku would fly away in the open sky. No contradicting that!


PS
Somewhere in between blackie came and I post this, I was overwhelmed, tired and cranky. That was when I decided, reluctantly, to end this blog, because I was hardly coming on-line, feeling uncreative and did not see any time for me in the next two years to do all that I had wanted to.
It was precisely, on Little E’s three-month birthday Shalini, and soon as I had posted on flickr, I was going to say my good byes to you (for you believed in me enough) and Shilpa (how I love her name and the little notes we share from time to time) and Sindhu (who must still be finding me as confused as I was when I sat next to her in journalism school and who, out of all of you, has actually seen me in person and all that I know of computers and laughter, she taught me ☺) and Asha (who is solace and inspiration and always gets my jokes) and Arundhati and Arya and Indrani and Susan, your comments do me proud.
Short story shorter, the Net connection was lost and I was unable to blog that day. The transmission problems still continue as does my blog.



But, thank you so much, each one of you!!

summer, pleasures... and quotes

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~John Lubbock



Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it. ~Russel Baker



I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.
~John Vance Cheney



There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart. ~Celia Thaxter



Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. ~Henry James



In summer, the song sings itself. ~William Carlos Williams



I have always loved summer, maybe because I was born in this season :)

typing out loud

There are so many things happening around me and with me. We, now, have neighbours next-door. Actually, since November last. But, the neighbourly feeling started during spring break with the kids having company they liked.

That left me and the mother next-door enough time to drink tea and chat about everything and sundry and lament our heart about why our kids simply refused to eat anything edible or cooked by their respective moms!

There, really, is something heartwarming about having good neighbours. For one, it makes you want to be good neighbourly folks. Then, if you need just one green chilly for the raita and can't be bothered to run down to the vegetable vendor four storeys below, you have a door to knock at, so it shall be given to you.

This joy that I am revelling in is being shadowed by the utter dread (hand on my heart) I am feeling at the prospect of Abi starting school in April. He loves sitting for a moment or two in the school bus, whenever one of the other kids is late. My heart knows, it will not be the same once he does it for real!

I started him in playschool two weeks ago (cringing at my tardiness) and the first week was smooth sailing. Then , after having played with all the toys there, he got tired of the whole business and now, clings to me wailing at the top his voice every day.

Sometimes, in the morning, he hides behind the curtains so I can't find him in time for school. Ingenuous are his ways, but not cute enough to stop determined-mother-on-mission to get him an idea of school.

After a month of school, its summer holidays and we take off for Kerala where we spend time with both sets of grandparents. At the end of the carefree days there, it is almost always a culture-shock for me as every responsibility falls back on my shoulders and I am homesick to the core.

Apart from that, I am excited at the prospect of having 8.00 am to 1.00 pm as a child-free zone. I have an offer to teach part-time at a college. I am blushing as I write that I will, in case I take up the offer, be teaching journalism! My journalism guru, will probably resign from his post as dean of the institute I studied in, if he hears word of this.

Now, this job is guaranteed by my friend, who in addition to being an editor at a magazine, has been teaching next-gen journalists for three years. I have to admit, him teaching is not the same as me teaching at all. He has work experience and I got married soon after internship and until three years ago, only wrote emails.

Maybe, it would be better for humanity, if I took the year to revive myself. I do, do feel drained and my neck always hurts.

*smiles*

It would be so nice to have two hours to myself five days a week. I could read all the books I wanted to. Maybe, go wander around in the nearby malls. Explore a by-lane, a new street. Deep clean my house. Enroll in a gym to feel fit and good... and get rid of some of the cellulite.

I could take a nap, sighs! I could get me a massage... a facial, where I have time for the face pack to actually dry. I could sit and stare, without having my eyes poked at by sticky fingers. Learn to meditate. Think about something other than medicine doses and to-do lists.

Practice yoga. Start learning classical music. Maybe not. Organise the kitchen. I could just be and contemplate and mull and wonder and feel rested and... I could go on and on.



As the days of my so-called freedom come near, I feel strongly about staying put in the house with myself. To get to know me as a mother and wife and actually learn what it is I actually need to fill in my life.

It was my dream to be employed by 2010, when I will be thirty. That wish seems shallow now. I might never be employed ever (twinge and grimace. But, now whatever it is I do, I want to do so knowing I can do it best because I love it so.

Insha allah!

foot notes

I was wandering through the main road of Kalamboli, weighed down by the weekly stock of chicken, fish and vegetables. And, as always, I marvelled with glee at the variety of anklets and toe rings and shades of nail polish on other women's feet.

I am wierd that way, liking people for their hands and feet and, sometimes, judging them too harshly for their hands and feet or choice of nail paint! But, I can't help it if the sun is up and it helps to keep your head down and walk.



But, that day, I was feeling tired in spirit and wearied minds make you a wee bit reckless. So, I walked in the nearest silver shop and asked the teenager lighting agarbattis (incense stcks) if they were open.

I bought the first pair I laid my eyes on because it soon became evident that there really was not much choice. aren't they a dainty pair?



Though, I must add, I so wished I had stocked up on all those quirky toe-rings, enamelled and bejewelled, and especially the ones with jhoomars and little bells!! I regret those times I shook my head saying they're not my style :(

But, now I can be on the look out for the jhattak and mast styles. Oh! am dying for a walk through Hill Road or Colaba Causeway!!

... and, mere haseen feet ka secret ...



Ahem! Just in case, this feet-fetish-phase of my life ends too soon, there'll always be a place for these simple beauties in my life forever :)




PS
...all this drama over a pair of toe-rings??

shabna aur suhana

Shabna was the first girl I met in the dormitory in law college. She sat there, eyes red and watery. She was already homesick. Me, in an hour, I thought, sneaking looks at her while mom and I unpacked and made my bed.

Shabna and I shared the same room in the first year. She had asthma and that year because of the climate change and adjusting to college/hostel life pressure, she had more attacks than all the years in law college.

I remember, after studying with my friends and classmates (she was in the other batch), I would come to my room to find her gasping, notes in hand, absolutely sure, she'll fail her test the next day. There were other days, regular college days, when there was always so much time (sigh!), when I would sit up with her, chatting, trying to take her (and my) mind off the painful gasps of air she took.

In second year, I moved to room 10 with my gang of friends and that was to be my residence the next four years. Shabna moved to room 9, next door, with her friend and classmate, Shimla (I know :)). Her shelf space was now covered with large bottles of dark coloured, strong smelling ayurvedic (yes, very much a mallu) medicines and concoctions.

Yet, when sufferring at night or day, she would, sometimes, call me over... I don't know, maybe it was easy for her with me. I have cleaned her vomit, washed her clothes and though we were never together, there were nights that I was thankful she was sleeping across the wall.

She shared stuff with me that she told nobody. When she fell in love, truly, madly, deeply, three years later, I knew of it at least nine months before my roomies or her roomies even got whiff of it. Yes, I am very good at not telling people things!!

She has a daughter and son and is living blissfully in Kerala. But, she's been on my thoughts a lot this last week, especially the nights.

Two days ago, a renowned chest/allergy specialist told us that our daughter has bronchial hypercativity, mainly (his words), because the doctors don't like to use the words asthma with regard to children.

She has been prescribed those inhaler sprays in blue, green and pink - her words. She might grow out of it, but then again, she might not - the doctor's words.

This last week, my little daughter has been coughing (not yet wheezing, thankfully) the entire night and day. I carry her and pace around from bedroom to living room and back. Shabna used to tell me that her earliest memories are of her dad carrying her on his shoulders throughout the night.

By the way, the little wise daughter turned five yesterday. We had a teeny party (if you can call it that) where she jumped and played and laughed a lot and ... did not cough even once. A small but precious miracle!!