So who said shopping can't be a learning experience?

Yeah, what's with people criticising shopping, calling it 'retail therapy' and snickering when women declare 'we are going shopping'. Shopping can be a transformational, enlightening and err... strangely weird exercise... especially when you are shopping for someone you don't know at all. Even if it is a 5-year-old boy!
I mean in this day and age, even five-year-olds have a unique perspective on life. And no one who has had to convince your five-year-old to wear a particular dress will argue otherwise (oh, by the way, you cannot convince today's kindergarteners about anything!).

So there I was last evening, late for a birthday party and still hunting for a birthday present. This was Ditu's classmate's birthday, the first such invite, and understandably, I was a little nervous about going at all: didn't want to meet a lot of lah-di-dah women (while my daughter's school is great and offers wonderful child-oriented education, it also tends to attract the butterflies. Period.).
And now I had to find a birthday gift for one little boy whom I just knew as Abraham ('He's called Abu at home, Amma. Since we are going to his party, we can call him like that': gyaan from Ditu). At the kids' store, I did the only thing I knew: when in doubt, head to the books section. I was browsing through the books, when I felt a tug at my sleeve. And not even thinking, or rather thinking that Ditu wanted to pick something for herself, I said: "No!"
My very understanding child caught on to my mood, and said: "I don't want anything. I just think you should be looking at something like Ben10 or Chota Bheem. After all, Abraham is a boy!" Gender-based advice? From my daughter? All of nearly 5? I just stood there, all agape, and she continues: "I really don't know what he likes, but I always hear Georgie and Abraham discuss Ben10."
So Ben10 it was, but me being me, I couldn't get myself to get the action-oriented Ben10 toys; just bought a Ben10 colouring set, approved by Ditu of course. ("Yes, Abraham looooves painting class!") And me being me, I also stopped to look at a couple of little table-chair sets that I wanted to get for Ditu's room. And my little one pipes us with more gyaan: "Mumma, that's for me na... You have time till my birthday to get it. Or we can come back after Abraham's party to look at it some more." *Beatific smile*
Now if that wasn't a particularly enlightening shopping trip!

P.S. And hey, pardon me my prejudices: I had fun at the party too, with some of Ditu's classmate's moms. And I realised sometimes makeup is a mask in more ways than one, and sometimes women just hide behind it due to their insecurities. But that's a post for another day, and perhaps Ditu will have some insight into that as well.

It happened last night!

Shameless me! Am back again after my last post where I wrote about "blogging for discipline" and then took off on one of my biggest breaks from blogosphere. And I don't even have a decent excuse, so I am not even going to try!
Am back, after a sleepless night spent almost entirely on Twitter and catching up with some of the blogs and websites I love. In particular, drew inspiration from funny-fab blogger Judy Balan (do follow; she's amazing and can pep up your worst days) and the November edition of SPAM.
No, I am not going to attempt humour... you either are funny or you aren't and if you try too hard you may end up as a joke. I am just very enthused about blogging again... some of you can argue that it's probably cyclical! Come to think of it, maybe I should check out my blog posts to figure out if there's a pattern to my absence.
Again, that's besides the point. And the point is that I have no point to make but I am just glad to be part of this vast, amorphous community of bloggers and social networkers (dunno if that's the term, anyways I mean all the people on my TL and FB) who do sometimes-ordinary, sometimes-bizarre, sometimes-random stuff... and reading all that makes my day! Especially a day, rather night, like yesterday when I couldn't sleep, thanks to body ache presumably associated with a viral fever, and was up till the wee hours.
It was a bad night for TV! Every movie channel was showing wet-rag movies; I think there should be a strict code for movies shown after 11pm: they should be thrilling or edgy or experimental or at the least interesting. Spare me the blah! True that I couldn't sleep but boredom is not a sedative!
Which is when I logged on and found that Twitter was brilliantly, vibrantly alive in the dead of the night and that while I was away 'working hard' my Google Reader had patiently accumulated 1000+ feeds for me to catch up on... so I did just that! And believe me, it was just as great as curling up with a good book.
The long and short of it is, I had great fun online and while that sounds typical nerd-ish, it was so not! And before I sign off, I promise to be back again... soon!

The Post Without a Theme

This is going to be a rambling post because I am just blogging for discipline... I hardly dare look at the date of my last published post. Well, that makes it sound like I have quite a few in drafts that are ready to go with a little bit of polishing but truth to say, my drafts section is as empty as my favourite cookie jar... no, not even crumbs left!
Now to the discipline part. In my mind, I am a writer. I write journalistic, promotional and other editorial thingies for a living. In school, I used to write poetry and short stories, which were occasionally published in Young Times. And back then, I had no idea that writing required any kind of talent. I just thought it was something everybody did. But of course, my friends caught on that I had a way with words and you know what that means... I have written hundreds of love letters to random girls on behalf of my friends and cousins.

I don't know why teenage guys think that love letters have to be just perfect and written in great handwriting. My best friend, O, charming Casanova that he was, never believed in love letters but I must have delivered umpteen oral missives for him, fuming all the time 'cos I kept expecting him to wake up from his new-girl-in-school-induced-stupor and notice me!! He finally did, but that's another story. :D
I am digressing here but I guess I am allowed to since this post came with ample warning.
Back to writing. I got my first illustrated fairytale book when I was six. It was quite a tome, but frail me practically lived in the book. It was like a magical world where I could be anything I wanted and do anything I wanted, including not eat all day and still look picture-perfect. I had a constant war with food as a kid; come to think of it, I still do: just that in my childhood, I never wanted to eat and now, eating's one of my guilty pleasures and I have to keep reminding myself to stop.

Anyways, with my reading habits (torch under blanket at night included), I am surprised I actually needed glasses only once I started working. And long, long ago, as an extension of my love for reading, I decided I would be a writer. Whatever else I primarily did, I would write a novel which would, incidentally, land me the Booker. Ironically, I am now paid to write but my book is nowhere near completion. I did start on it a few years back but that's it. I can't even find my original draft! But the plot keeps spinning in my head and I keep adding scenes and killing characters and all that! Now you know why I suddenly look disoriented in the midst of a conversation: I am probably trying to find a not-too-cheesy exit route for a superfluous character.
And you know what, I may even make a movie out of my book. I mean, that's the done thing after all. But where's the book in the first place, you ask? It's in the head, and this time, I am determined to do it right.
A friend and published author, S, as well as my former editor, J, have frequently told me that a writer needs discipline: you have to write at least a page a day. It doesn't matter if doesn't read well or even if it actually isn't contributing to plot progression or even to that particular story at all. Just write! Of course, this does not include all the paid writing I do... this has to come from deep within, like putting my mind on paper. And then, they say, the story will come.
So here I am exploring the little-trodden, thorny path of self-discipline in the hope of finding my muse. More tomorrow. Or the day after.

Rain on the beach, and Chetan Bhagat

Abhi's 'big' catch

Last weekend was the most fun we had had as a family in a very long time. We were at the Marari Beach Resort, celebrating Abhi's boss's birthday and we had an absolute blast. This, despite the weekend being the one 'when the rains strengthened over Kerala', to quote the Met Dept. It was some 30+ hours of great food, great intoxicants, great company and well, not-so-great kids but what the hell, you can't have everything!

My daughter hasn't inherited our love for the sea. To the contrary, she's petrified of the waves and hates it when anyone she knows steps into seawater! Anyways, Sunny (that's Abhi's boss's elder son) had a  wound on his foot that had to be kept away from water. So he was in babysitting mode, making sandcastles with Ditu. Soon I joined them and we made this futuristic looking thing with underground nuclear reactors and an extensive defence system and access roads. Unfortunately, I can't find a pic of the completed castle!

In the private pool with Jacuzzi

Sunny, Ditu and the beginnings of the castle

Abhi fulfilled a long-held dream of sitting on the beach while a storm brewed around him. Yeah, I know, he's a little weird but I love him to bits! The food at the restaurant was fabulous, to say the least. Dinner was accompanied by live 'classical music: tailored to suit the taste of the predominantly European and north Indian crowd, the music was heavily influenced by old Hindi film music. I don't know whether I am being kind or sarcastic here.

Bliss needs no caption, eh?

The experience as a whole was heavenly! Add to it the fact that most of us were out of mobile coverage area! That's like hot chocolate sauce on a scrunchilicious banana split. Well, you get the drift....

Coming to Chetan Bhagat and 3 Idiots. This might sound like too little, too late but I take back all my vociferous support for Mr Bhagat on various online forums after watching the movie. Before I went to the movie, I had only read his One Night @ The Call Centre and while I was not charmed by his writing, I did like his tongue-in-cheek dialogues and the crazy plot.

Well, I recently read the book that started it all: Five Point Someone. And I must say that this is one time the film-makers were justified in using the 'Inspired By' tag. I mean, what sort of credit is Bhagat talking about? As an aspiring writer myself, I hate it when writers are cheated of their due but this was stretching it too far. 3 Idiots is way different from 'the original' and this was the only time ever that I found a movie more compelling than a book! It's sad that Bhagat took such a myopic view of the whole issue: yes, his book is entertaining  but nowhere near the absolute roller-coaster fun ride that 3 Idiots is! You just have to live with that, Mr Bhagat, and be happy that the film helped you sell a few thousand more copies.

Kids say the strangest things!

Some of the best moments of our life are auto-saved into our memory. When we recall those moments, they appear like this picture (a favourite for both Ditu and me): blurred, out of focus but unmistakably happy.

I am constantly amazed at the things my four-year-old notices, observes and says. While I could live without some of the gyan that comes from that precocious mouth (especially anything that involves boyfriends, clothes or toys), her words sometimes take me by surprise. I always think then that I hope those moments have been burned into my heart 'cos then when she's thirteen and horrible (I believe in karma, so there's no way she can be 13 and sweet), I can play it all back and smile at her tantrums.

One evening I am making chapatis for dinner and Ditu materialises at my elbow. I instinctively move the atta out of reach (she thinks she makes better chapatis and insists that we eat her creations). But all she does is smile angelically and say, "You know, Amma, you are a supermom." By now my mom radar is on full alert. I am sure she has scribbled all over my pristine white living room walls or torn my library book or.... well, you get the drift. "Why is that," I ask her, half ready to pounce on her when she confesses. "Because you do office [sic], talk on phone, then make food and take care of me!"

Believe me guys, I am not one of those supermoms, by any stretch of the imagination. You just need to take a look at my basket-loads of unfolded clean laundry to know that; in fact I keep buying baskets to accommodate the growing pile (sheepish grin). Oh, and you must have seen my hair, na.... so no way am I supermom!

I was just touched that Ditu had noticed that I was doing all these things at all! I mean, how many of us have ever noticed that in our own moms... Yes, as adults, especially on entering motherhood, we have started worshiping at our moms' feet but I am talking of the time before that. As kids or teenagers or even as young adults, there is such a tendency to take mothers for granted. I mean, I scarcely registered the fact that my mom worked until maybe my ninth class or something when I was 'forced' to do regular household chores. This, despite the fact that she worked full-time! I mean, I knew she was working but did it really register... no!!

How does Ditu understand so much? This is a question that always plagues me. I hear stories from other parents and I realise kids today are way smarter than we ever were at their age. Is that good or bad? I don't know. Here's what I do know: they never cease to awe you! What was all that about child being the father of man? I am beginning to read new meanings into that.

The other day, Ditu was looking particularly cute (or she said something particularly cute) and I went, "Awwww, my ichkoo!" She smiled sagely and said, "Do you know, Amma, even if I grow this big [raising her hands high in the air], I'll always be a little ichkoo for you?" Did you go OMG! See what I mean: kids understand ideas, concepts, relationships in a far more involved way than we did at the time. I now think half my childhood was wasted in some sort of spaced-out time-frame. Which brings me to the next question: are we doing enough to fire our children's curiosity, enhance their imagination, mould them into better human beings (I say better 'cos obviously they are good enough as a base model)... as parents, are we evolved enough?

Butterflies in the stomach, and other stories

It's like a dream unfolding in slow motion: this very unreal feeling of finally embarking on a project that you have long thought of, slept on, discussed to bits and generally analysed until you were quite sure that it would not happen anyway. But it's happening, and all it took was one small step. Oh yes, and my favourite Matrix notebook and my current favourite Stabilo pen. (I love making notes!)

DropCap was born in a rather unceremonious manner on a bright Sunday morning when I should still have been poring over my vast spread of Sunday supplements. Something in me propelled me to pop the question to Abhi, who has heard me come up with a million business plans when I am feeling particularly down and out. He listened carefully (for a change), was pleased this was not one of my depression-busters (I had been in a reasonably good mood all week) and best of all, did not involve the spending of copious amounts of money while "leveraging my core competence".

That little action has spurred a series of events and I am surprised, humbled, awed and filled with gratitude at the reactions from various quarters. One of my friends, who received an announcement email from me, called from Bangalore! She couldn't believe the motor-mouth had kept such a grand plan to herself! (I am known to call up friends with half-formed ideas which I am greatly enthusiastic about.)

I was just explaining to my little one about my expansion plans and that soon, I'll have young, college grads coming in to work for me. Until June or so, I'll mostly be operating from home. She was thrilled at the idea but I think she conjured up the wrong image of a college 'kid'! "Amma," she said. "After your work is over, will they stay and play with me?"

It's official!

Or nearly so... Abhi says there's nothing to be so excited about, that it's just a natural progression of the work I have been doing ever since I went freelance. But I can see that secret smile of his and I know he's just pulling my leg. I have just decided to extend my professional setup to a more-than-one-man-army. Going for a brand repositioning (I love management mumbo-jumbo) and calling my content solutions firm, DropCap. I went through a whole lot of names before I arrived at this one but I have been in love with drop caps for a lo...ng time.  I could go on for hours on the beauty of certain letters in certain fonts when seen in drop cap. But since that would result in my readers closing the browser window and vowing never to read me again, I shall desist!

Some more about my firm (Abhi says since it's s proprietary concern, I am supposed to only use certain words in relation with DropCap, like brand or firm. Which reminds me of an important marital tip, or a premarital one: Don't marry a CA if you can't take the legalese): Essentially DropCap will continue doing the services I am providing currently but it will have better backup support since I am hiring more people. Also, since I'll have people helping out, I'll be able to use some time to market my brand better. Have never marketed myself, by the way, and am a little jittery about this because singing paeans to myself isn't exactly my forte.

Wish me luck, guys! Oh, and I am looking for an editorial trainee. Fresh graduates with a flair for writing; no experience necessary. Will provide on-the-job training. If you are interested or know anyone who's interested, please send updated resumes to dropcapmedia@gmail.com. I also need a page designer/layout artiste. Some experience is preferred for this post (send all resumes to the same mail address). But this post, I need to fill up only in a month's time. The other one is URGENT!

What does it take to pursue a dream?

Drive, ambition, will power, resilience... a combo of all these and more? Almost all of us have a running-to-pages list of 'things to do before I die'. You may not have written it down but it's still in there. In your head or heart, as the case may be. Inevitably, the BIG ONE is somewhere in there too. Why do so many of us allow our passions to languish in the murky depths of our subconsciousness and never allow it to see light and some action, if you please? To dream and to do: God has given us human beings such a wonderful gift of taking conscious action! Wish more people would put their powers (however limited) to better use!

Forgive me pals

Changing my blog design every other day is definitely not a good idea, I know. Bear with me. It's just a phase. I think. Either I'll tire of this or my notebook will crash. Until then, no matter how weird this blog looks, keep reading please!

Readable?

Friends, are any of you having any readability problems with my blog? I think there are some issues with the new design. Didn't see a problem on my notebook but logged in from ToI today and half the post column was not readable.

Are any of you facing the same issues with my posts? Let me know.

Green and Selfish?Yes, says Prevention mag

I know I keep going on and on about being green even though eating green really isn't my forte. But there are lots of little bits we can do, like this slideshow tells us. Even if it's geared towards Americans, we too can take a tip or two!

13 (Sort-Of) Selfish Ways to Go Green - Prevention.com

Inspired by life!

As a kid, a cloud would move me to poetry. Those of you who are thinking dark poems aren't imagining the right kind of cloud. Growing up in Salalah, I was more moved by the puffy white types that drift against a clear, startlingly blue sky than the heavy, rain-laden ones that get the peacocks dancing and Meerabai pining for Krishna. And believe me, back then, all I wanted was to experience the other kind. I wanted tragedy, pain, tears, betrayal, all so that it would mould me into the kind of writer I was aspiring to be. I was quite sure even then that happy stories aren't the stuff of great literature.

I was rarely inspired by anything outside the natural world back then. Then I grew up, and I was rarely inspired at all. By then, I had discovered I had a way with words and I really didn't need inspiration to write well. Occasionally, I was inspired by great people but these were few and far between, and these people were mostly dead. No, I don't converse with the spirits, just had a phase of reading a lot of biographies of the greats.

Now I suddenly find myself inspired by real living people, my peers, people who work for me, my friends. I am especially thankful to all the wonderful bloggers out there (whose blogs I read regularly and those that I catch up with intermittently) who wield the pen, err the finger, with such grace that I can't sleep without going through my daily quota of blogs. So people, please keep putting up your thoughts online as much as possible... I may be addicted!

Today while chatting with a friend, I realised there was one person I have wanted to blog about ever since I met her. I call her a real hero. Her name is Rajani and I first met her when I launched a maid-hunt when I moved into my new apartment. She turned up at my door, dark, slim, sorta tough-looking. I was a little intimidated to say the least. It turned out that she couldn't help out at my place because she only took up part-time jobs that ranged between 1/2-2 hours a day. And she was already going to 7-8 houses a week! She promised to find someone for me.

In the meanwhile I found someone for the position but I was occasionally in touch with Rajani. She would come over and help with dishes and cleaning up when my maid went AWOL! I got to know her better and I was amazed that a woman who has gone through so much can still go about her work with a smile and a song and find the time to entertain my daughter in between.

Here's how an average day goes for Rajani: wake up at 5 am, make lunch for son (her other son lives with her sister in Fort Cochin), go to the temple, set off on the 3-km long walk to her first house, reach there by 8 am, finish the work there by 10 am and then wolf down the breakfast they set down for her, rush to her next house and the next and the next, until she wraps up by 3-4 pm, walk back home, have what's left of the lunch she made in the morning (remember she hasn't eaten and most times drunk anything since breakfast), finish the rest of her chores, watch some tv, babysit for a neighbour, counsel another neighbour with family problems and then hit the bed.

This girl is also a trained autorickshaw driver but her sons don't want her to drive an auto as they consider it unsafe for her; she is also trained in making a number of handicrafts but she has realised that making and selling a few handmade roses will not help her earn a living or fund her children's education. She only lived with her husband for a few years after marriage; he upped and left her, eventually marrying someone else. By sheer hard work, she has decked her home with every necessary urban comfort including a television, a fridge, a mixer-grinder, a washing machine (!) and the ubiquitous mobile phone. And the best part is that unlike most other Cochin maids who are plain sloppy or do the work with disdain, she works super-efficiently   and is polite, to boot! There's no dilly-dallying for Rajani; if she can't do a job, she admits it, if she commits to it, she'll make sure she delivers. This kind of work ethic is a rarity in Kerala, and quite refreshing when found!

Now tell me, does that sound too filmi to be true? Sometimes, truth really is stranger than fiction.

Friends from far and near

A couple of days ago, I received a message on Facebook from a college friend wondering why I wasn't putting up posts regularly. Am glad that my blog is garnering some attention.Thank you, Sheny!

Yesterday was a hectic Sunday, jam-packed with activities. Sometimes I am a lazy Sunday person but sometimes I just hate spending Sundays lounging at home. Yesterday we were planning a day-long outing at Oberon Mall but my contact at Make A Difference (MAD), Sumesh, rang me up in the morning to ask if I could come over and check out the summer camp where I was scheduled to speak on journalism some time this month. So Abhi, Ditu and I piled into the car and off we went to Palluruthy Snehabhavan, which takes in orphans, street children, kids from broken families and provides them with food, shelter and education. MAD is an NGO that helps out with underprivileged children, training them in English and computer skills. They also have a placement cell. Click here for more on MAD.

At the Sneha Bhavan, the children were thrilled to see Sumesh, and the boys greeted him boisterously. One young fellow came up and shook hands with us, too, saying 'Hello' and 'Welcome'. When we went into the office to speak to Fr Sunny who looks after the place, the kids came in too, pulling out chairs for us and giving us some candy. I was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. Of course, they insisted on joining in on the conversation too and it soon got so noisy that Fr Sunny had to lovingly shoo them out. I was struck by the environment at the orphanage: the staff and the children were all happy and cordial.

We then went to the Don Bosco school where a theology student, Br Saji, had organised a month-long camp for children aged 10-15. He suggested that I make the class as interactive as possible to make sure the kids pay attention. And Sumesh warned me they may try to intimidate me which was just their way of checking my mettle. I have committed to a class on April 14: two hours in the afternoon. So if any of you have interesting interactive/group activity-based ideas on journalism, writing or simply on expressing creativity, do mail in or reply to my posts.

Am looking forward to hearing from a lot of my friends. Also, do let me know if you are interested in spending time with the kids, teaching them any skill or just providing some career guidance! It will be a great experience both for the kids and for you too!

We did go to Oberon Mall after all, and , as usual, were amazed at the readiness of Kochiites to spend on food. The Food Circle was crowded beyond endurance and we ended up sharing a table with a couple of young lovers (who, understandably, were not too thrilled about it). But we had to gobble our lunch and rush because the young fella sitting opposite us had a gulab jamun on his plate, and Ditu absolutely loves this syrupy sweet! She kept eyeing the gulab jamun and poking his plate until it got too embarrassing for all of us! :) Oh, she did get platefuls of gulab jamun at night though, at the housewarming do of a new neighbour!

In between the mall and dinner, we visited a dear friend and a former neighbour, who has been advised bed rest for discitis, an inflammation of the spine. Now, this is one person who has hardly ever taken any rest before and was always a busy bee, attending to the needs of her large family. She is a gregarious person whose life revolves around family and friends; these relationships mean everything to her and are a driving force for her life.

While there, one of the kids unwittingly spilled tea over my white tee shirt! I wiped it down with some water but my friend's mom wouldn't hear of me leaving the house like that. She rummaged in her cupboard for the brand new FabIndia kurta she had bought a few days back and forced me into it. When I sheepishly emerged from the bathroom in the kurta, Amma smiled radiantly and said, "Now you look so good. You have made me very happy by wearing this." So much joy in such a simple thing! Now I know where my friend gets her joie de vivre from! 

Try being content!

Is it so difficult to be happy? Sometimes it seems like the world is plotting against us to keep us in gloom, at others, we hatch imaginary plots in our head that give us a headache.... Happiness is such an elusive quality, it does seem like there's no catching it or keeping it. But is it really so hard to hold a little glow in your heart?

I have been on an experiment of sorts, an experiment to see if I can get out of the rut of being a crib often-cry often-rant often person to a laugh more-smile more-spread cheer kind of person. It seems to be working so far. Should I touch wood? It's a pleasant superstition indeed but I won't because I have recently figured out that all it takes is faith and willpower.

Faith in God, in yourself and in fellow human beings and a will made of, if not iron, at least something not too pliable. And I can proudly say 'I chose to'. I chose to be happy. I chose to work harder. I chose to laugh more. I chose to let go of the things that don't really matter. I chose to hold on tight to all that does. I chose to love my dear ones better in a manner they liked (the book Personality Plus helps). I chose to stop cribbing and start doing my bit. I chose to take my circumstances and turn them around. I chose to do it on my own terms, adjusted to fit in with family ideals and needs. I chose not to hold grudges. I chose to be more forgiving, to others and to myself. I chose to spend some alone time with 'me'. I chose to keep the relationships that mattered. And not worry not too much about those that didn't.

Nothing happened overnight. It is still a struggle each day. Following this path is easier said than done; it takes a conscious living of each moment. But it is all worth it. I see Abhi and Ditu smiling more, I see myself scowling less, I see myself lazing less and doing more and still finding time for myself (something I earlier thought was a contradiction in itself). I have realised that graceful self-denial is not all that bad sometimes. 

I haven't become a saint of sorts. I still have my weaknesses and my vices. But I am more tolerant of it all now. I have accepted my lot and am making the best of it. And it's given me the best excuse to put my every moment to good use! I feel like I am in a McDonald ad.... I'm lovin' it!

Tampon-makers can't mention the V-word. Period. | Richard Adams | World news | guardian.co.uk

Tampon-makers can't mention the V-word. Period. | Richard Adams | World news |
guardian.co.uk

Watch this ad, amended of course to not risk hurting anyone's sensibilities. What I don't understand is are these the same people who show boobs and more in shows like Baywatch Hawaii and Desperate Housewives (which has some more-than-suggestive scenes)!! Why would a word like vagina, which sounds like medical terminology anyways, be offensive? And who are we kidding anyway? Could have understood if the whole issue had been in India but in the 'liberated' US? Who exactly are they protecting?!

PS to earlier post!

This is my online apology to a friend's wife. Much as I love to say I don't judge anyone, sometimes we jump to hasty conclusions about others. Many years ago, this very beautiful lady told me the secret to her not employing maids. "There's such joy in scrubbing the floors until they shine," she said. At the time, I just looked at her aghast.

And I relayed this story time and time again, laughing away each time I said it. But really, now I understand. Not that I have suddenly discovered the joys of cleaning (boy, no! I totally like having a maid to help with cleaning) but I just realised that was her inner goddess speaking. She had found what gave her the most joy in life, and she was living life as she saw fit! To every woman out there, live your choices!

A phone call to the past

Easter weekend is coming up, as is the wedding of the younger brother of one of my childhood friends!! It's bound to be one nostalgic Thursday for me as I attend the wedding in the morning and then join my family and relatives for Maundy Thursday service at the church where I got married, right in my hometown. Meeting my friend's family after a long time will be great fun! Our relationship formed in those good old days when friends' parents were just like yours: they could scold you or laud you, just like your folks!! When my friend's mom called to invite us to the wedding, the first thing she asked was, "Do you remember me?" Like I could forget! The phone number as well as the voice is etched into the deepest crevices of my memory.

It was one of the first few phone numbers I memorised: a regular landline phone, black, if I remember right, that Aunty kept in the spare bedroom. Never figured out why!! Speaking of phones, I got a surprise call last week from a long-lost friend. She now lives in Abu Dhabi and is a teacher, mother to a five year old and Hindu wife to a Muslim husband. It's been so long since we got in touch; I haven't had any contact with since she got married nearly 10 years ago! It was a hue and cry at the time: a Hindu girl from a conservative family marrying into a Muslim household. A surprisingly liberated Muslim household, I must add. They not only welcomed her with open arms, they never questioned her right to religion. There was in fact, no talk about the whole issue at all! A total non-issue for them, if any. Not so for the rest of the society, is what she says. Her son sports both her and her husband's name as his surname!

I couldn't believe I was actually talking to her after all these years, and we had a good chat, interrupted by my little one's cries for attention! She insists that my laugh hasn't changed at all, while my Malayalam has improved vastly! Excuse me, I said, I always spoke my mother tongue perfectly. Not in her memory, it seems... Memory is a strange thing. The things you choose to remember about a person or an event may not even remotely resemble what that person has chosen to file away; at times, we just remember our version of the event which may be entirely different from another point of view.

As we were chatting, the topic veered to my decision to work from home. And guess what she said: "Oh, but you always wanted to stay home and do a great job of keeping your house beautiful and your family happy." COME AGAIN!! I don't recall ever being less than committed to my profession! But of course, she was talking of a time a long, long time ago when I was just 16 or 17, hopelessly in love with the boy who would grow up to be my husband, and a total romantic! That was my rosy picture of life back then!

Things did change once I 'grew' up and often job took precedence over family. When I gave up my job and started working from home, I was happier. But I still struggled with 'maid issues', agonising over an untidy home and less-than-perfect meals. But now, I am happier still, and it's a happiness that comes with a little bit of wisdom I think. No-maid days are no longer a hassle, I enjoy cooking for my family and I love the satisfied look on my clients' faces when I deliver a good piece of work! Yes, you have to give some.... you can't have everything picture-perfect; your husband will still toss his papers and keys all over the place, your child will continue to mess things up even though they both know you don't enjoy cleaning up so much!

But the secret is finding your inner goddess! Just stay in touch with her and things will be fine. Yours may not be a housekeeping goddess or a culinary one but she will have some special talent for you as a woman. Revel in it! Also, I have realised it helps a great deal if you embrace your responsibilities rather than confront/avoid/get worked up by them. Life does not move in a straight line but I am enjoying the curves, the dips and yes, the heights!

Go tweet!

The Hindu : Sci-Tech / Internet : Kerala's first ever Twestival to be held in Kochi

Now this is highly interesting! I am still figuring out how to participate but this link should help:

http://cochin.twestival.com/2010/03/25/and-so-it-begins/

Have fun, tweeple!

Missed Day: 1

Yep, missed a day in my blog-a-thon. Not my fault this time though. It's just that Abhi had a holiday yesterday. Have you ever noticed that if your spouse has a holiday and you don't, your work/things-to-do still gets into slow mode? Always happens to me!

Let me tell you something interesting that happened yesterday... While at the supermarket, Abhi and I happened to notice a flyer announcing a discount sale at a furniture store we like but think is somewhat overpriced! We were delighted: we had been eying a futon there for some time; now was the time to get it for a steal!

We rushed to the store in the evening, all gleeful smiles and bulging pockets. The futon was there all right, and on sale too. In fact, we would have gotten 1,000 bucks off the marked price! It's just that we noticed that the marked price was nearly 1,000 bucks above what it had been last month. So much for the 'discount' sale! Well, anyways, we got to admiring the furniture as usual and ooh-ed and aah-ed over some lovely pieces that we planned to buy with a windfall. Fingers crossed.

Just as we were leaving a splash of red caught my attention. Abhi had noticed it too! It was a great looking lounger with a footrest; nothing fancy schmancy, just clean lines and a very relaxing experience when you sat in it. And then something strange happened. Abhi, who is normally hesitant to make a big-bucks purchase without days of deliberation (by which time the object of desire has doubled in price, as has happened to us), pulled out his wallet and made an advance payment on the spot.

Well, well, if that wasn't love at first sight! Or should I say, first sit? The lounger comes home--to our breezy balcony--on Saturday! Can't wait!

Eyes wide open!

Sleep! That is all on my mind right now. Born to an insomniac mother, I've always embraced my ability to sleep well and soundly as a blessing. My mom has recently started a love affair with sleep after having given up her 10-cups-of-tea-a-day habit. So now she is forever napping; every time I call her (and that is like five times a day at least if there's nothing much happening), she's napping or just woken up from sleep or is just preparing to doze off...

Well, all that is besides the point. What's happening to me is that I can't sleep! For the last three days I have been up until two in the morning (watching inane movies on TV; like Wild Things 3, beat that!) and even then I am wide awake. Not even a teeny bit drowsy. Maybe it's the side effects of the medicines I am having (I am on an antibiotic course for some crazy, out of the blue infection), maybe it's a lack of exercise... whatever it is, I am not liking this one bit.

I mean, we all go through those days when we just can't sleep. But you know, you still feel tired and drowsy at the end of the day and you probably lie in bed tossing and turning or like my husband does, watches the TV on mute and promptly dozes off! I have tried all the tricks in my book... reading, playing card games on my mobile and like I shamelessly admitted, watching stupid stuff on television! But my body just refuses to take the hint. I even tried counting sheep last night. No luck! And the sheep were running all over the place; couldn't even count them well.

And it's like I don't even feel tired. Not at night. I wake up at 7 am nowadays; quite late considering that I am a 5-5.30 kinda person. And then I feel drowsy for like 10 min. But that's it! There's no snoozing or anything happening after that! Maybe I am turning into Shah Rukh Khan; he wants more hours in a day to do more. Well, I have got plenty of hours now. He can borrow some! Maybe I should try tweeting him. If he isn't sleeping too, maybe we could chat or something.

One problem I see with this scenario (my sleepless nights, not SRK's) is the appearance of puffy, tired eyes. I see all the signs already and I suppose a few more days like this and then I'll look a wreck. My appearance is the least of my worries though. I am just keeping my fingers crossed that insomnia is not somehow passed down the gene line. Nights are not that fun when you are the only person up and chirpy!

Let me know if you come across any tips to get better sleep. And before you ask me, I only have two cups of tea a day!

Determined to write!

There was a time in my life when all I wanted to do was write. Like the greats, mind you! My favourite authors ranged from Enid Blyton to Jane Austen to toni Morrison and in recent times, Jodi Picoult. In short, I loved everything from the classics to the unabashedly romantic tearjerkers.
Today, I write for a living. Since I gave up my full time job on the editorial desk of a news magazine, writing for a living has taken on many hues. Writing brochures for companies, blogging for marketing sites, writing 'positive' ad-oriented features, websites and yes, the occasional feature stories.
When I first started this blog, I thought blogging would come easy to me. After all, writing is what I was born to do! Right? Wrong! Not about what I was born to do but about keeping up the frequency of blogging. Sometimes you don't have the time, sometimes the patience, sometimes the inspiration.... whatever, my blog looks like the bedroom of a philandering husband... rarely used!
This is my attempt at restarting this whole thing... Am taking a vow (an online promise makes me feel like I am standing in the middle of a very crowded square and shouting it out; everybody hears it but few actually stop to listen) to write in every day, on the big things, the inconsequential stuff and the ups and downs of life!
Happy reading, friends!

Papa don't preach, but please play

On my morning walk/jog (couldn't really jog cos my tracks kept slipping down: have I lost that much weight?), I could see kids in uniform on either side of the road in uniforms of every hue, style and length. Some were with friends, others with parents or grandparents.

As I neared my favourite stretch, I saw a father and daughter standing together but looking in opposite directions. When the bus came, the father started walking away even before the bus rolled to a stop. Without even a goodbye! There had been absolutely no eye contact between the two during the time. A little further down the road was a grandfather leaning on his cane with his granddaughter. Again, both of them had the listless look of routine!

At a bend in the road, a mother had parked her car by the roadside and was giving a tirade of sorts to her daughter, who was half-listening to her. The mother, either due to working woman guilt or supermom syndrome, was combing through all homework (I assume) one last time. On the main road, there was another mom-daughter pair hugging each other and whispering jokes in each other's ears.

Mothers, it seemed, engage better with their kids: am not saying they have great relationships with their kids but they are making an effort in a manner that they think best. But what's with the men in this New Age of parenting? Aloofness will get you nowhere... Agreed you may not be as verbose or as expressive as women, but you men can do your bit too.

My husband's favourite 'love tactic' is tickling. I absolutely hate it and we often wage war on the subject. But my little one, who is not keen on being tickled too, will occasionally go up to him and demand to be tickled. It's strange but they really connect over these mini sessions. See, all you need to do is reach out in a manner that suits you. Believe me, children are adaptable and they will understand that that's the way you love them. This doesn't translate to men saying 'But we are earning for them.' You would be earning anyway, irrespective of whether or not you have kids!

GO on guys, do some bonding. And childhood is the only time you can really enjoy your kids. Once they are all grown up, you will need those happy memories. So go and make some!