the birthday document!

Hi!
This was a birthday gift for Ashok who is not in town on D day. I realised that most of my girl-friends feel the same way about their husbands - we crib about 'em, grumble about things they dont do, moan & groan .... but deep down inside realise that life wouldn't have been the same without these guys - I mean, who would we fight with & play the blame game with?! Read on ...
Being nice is a tough act for me – it goes against my natural, mean, nasty persona which I am so comfortable with! Am petrified that a sweet disposition may lead to diabetes, which despite all the carbs & calories stacked in this bulky frame, I have miraculously escaped!

So call it Nature’s balancing act, the opposites attract syndrome or whatever, but Ashok represents my concession to sugar for the soul!

A twenty yr old relationship also spells twenty birthdays & having run through shirts, shoes, books, music, perfumes, ties ... my creative juices have dried up! We now have a very clinical, sensible, logical, fight-free formula for birthday presents - that that person chose their their gifts! We lay out our lists & civilly trot off to pick ‘apney’ presents! This new arrangement has lifted the dark cloud of mortal fear, uncertainty & a state of constant doubt for the better half. I am a restless, ungrateful soul & no present has ever achieved a state of total satisfaction! My birthday used to represent “Mission Impossible” for poor Kaushik-garu! Every gift was picked up diffidently, tentatively & the shop owner had to pledge that exchange was a done part of the deal!

If u have noticed a spring in his step & a trouble free glow on his pink cheeks, (no, he hasn’t started using men’s fairness creams, which for some reason, I find gross & funny!), it is thanx to our new & improved solution for b’day gifts!

Yeah, yeah, we are sticking to the ‘list’ – what’s with guys & blue jeans – especially the Ashok kinds who are traditional, have worn the same style forever & cannot think beyond Levis ?? So come Dec 6, and the jeans in the household will have a newcomer to welcome – any subtle difference in the shade of blue gets washed away in my tagda whirlpool, & we will soon boast triplets (of the jeans kind!) like Farha Khan!!

But in some remote corner of my heart, lying dormant was this niggling desire to spring a birthday surprise … so Ashok, preserve this, put it under lock and key, make many copies ….. here I am for the first time in prose, acknowledging, grudgingly no doubt, reluctantly definitely, but nevertheless, my gratitude for all your birthdays, particularly the inaugural one (would have loved to have been around to witness the next few birthdays when your mom, who was upset at you turning up as the third in a string of boys, decided to battle with nature & dressed you in girls clothes!!! What a treat that would’ve been!). Pushing aside the mountain of fights, grievances, tantrums, threats of ‘main maaikey chali jaaoongi, tum dekhte rahiyo’ (never put it to the test though – what if he ‘dekhoed’ happily & moved on???) … I declare –‘tu hi re, tere bina main kaise jiyoon’ …. (Gawd, this is getting saccharine ‘n sickening – may need insulin shot!)

*We are adept at moving about in the darkness thanx to the fact that you’ll never change a bulb in time, or I may fracture my foot again in the slippery bathroom, which boasts a washing machine with magic qualities – only I can see that the pipe leaks!
*While I grumble but live with the above, can’t imagine life without your insane sms msgs ranging from a cheery, for no reason “Jai Bajrang Bali!”, or “Radhey Radhey!” to mysterious codes like “Black Dog calling White Cat!” There are times when Shiksha and I just read your msgs & crack up with laughter!
*That balancing act we were talking about – sure I can remember the lyrics for almost every song since the beginning of time …. But sadly, these lungs were made for shouting, not singing! Someone up there decided to send u to deliver music to those be-jaan words! Hate to admit this, but u are right, buster – in our perennial argument of words vs sur, the latter rules! Bonus I guess is Shiksha – she can sing like you, but actually knows the lyrics as well!
*Happy Birthday to the best bitch buddy ever – who else would I dissect, analyse, comment, criticize & gossip wickedly with, about every living moment of life!
*U Tarzan, me Jane (many Janes actually, considering the size!)- for accepting me ‘in sickness, and in health’ – my current ‘sickness’ is to imitate a child’s voice & loudly scream ‘khaana jaldi laao, bhaiyya, bahut bhookh lagi hai!’ while Ashok is on the phone placing an order for home delivery! Picture the scene, Ashok poker face, talking on the phone, me screeching away in my baby voice & Shiksha giggling hysterically! It is left to poor Tarzan to face delivery guys who land up at our doorstep with a look of fascinated horror!
*Nature sent u as the perfect foil for the drama queen in yours truly – you have learnt to deal, with a huge pinch of salt, all my threats of dying & coming back as a ‘bhooth’ to check if your second wife is treating Shiksha well! Of course, unlike her seedha dad, our wicked daughter spots an opportunity there too and is waiting for my ‘ghost’ avtaar to help out with exam papers, torturing people who piss her off, shop-lifting …
*My rambling jottings under ‘life n laughs’ epitomizes our journey together - that’s us, a life full of laughs & here’s to many more – Happy Birthday!!

From 'Mommy Dearest' to 'Mommy Meanest!'

This dates back to a lifetime ago, when I viewed parenting through rose tinted spectacles. Perched high on a fluffy pink cloud of thoughts, I fantasized about being the perfect, cool mom, a charming breath of fresh air to Generation Next, who would bridge the ugly gap b/w conservative, old fashioned adults and the youth brigade. I envisaged yours truly as the proud bearer of the flag of understanding, friendship, peace and change. In unguarded moments when I allowed rational adults like my mother into my dream world, they reacted the way any normal, sane individual would, by sneering, & firmly squashing my thoughts, as the delirious ranting of an unhinged mind!!

Cut to the present: Life in the Mommy lane is as real as it can get. All those myths, duly exploded in my face, and am today a wiser soul, with healthy fear for the ‘nayi peedi’!! As for being the hip, break-through parent, forget it!! The few pleasures left in life are to play your trump card, the ‘I’m your mother and you have to listen to me’ dialogue, and make your precious child’s life miserable!!

This enlightened stage of Nirvana? Allow me to walk u through the rocky road which led to it …

*If music be the food for life, stick to your kind. I tried to keep pace with Brittney Spears & Blue & …. By the time I figured out who was who & what & how to download & upload, Ms Spears was yesterday’s bad news & branded an incapable mom who doesn’t wear underpants!! Her posters were ripped off my daughter’s pink walls along with Blue who I believe are now passé! The so called ‘hip’ music in my car arouses peals of laughter from the modern Ms who brands it “old”!! I guess by that definition, my dire straits, eagles, bread & bhooley bisrey geet qualify for antiquity!!

*Adam Smith would be proud of the rigid ‘division of labor’ executed in Shiksha’s social life. Once upon a time I had visions of being a back-slapping, bum chum of my daughter’s pals, & us cool dudes hanging out together. But parents are parents, and teenagers, teenagers, and the twain shall never meet. Yeah sure, the mom has her uses – I mean whose gonna order the pizzas, keep the pepsi flowing & answer phone calls? We had to wear decent clothes as well, but on that one, I rebelled & now Shiksha and co have disgustedly come to terms with my shabby kaftans and unkept hair!! If I have to work like a maid, what’s the harm in looking like one??!! So there we are on our respective islands and not complaining!

*If someone can track fashion preferences of the 'young & the restless & bottle it, it will sell like hot cakes!

*I hope Papa dearest is reading this because this is reinforcement of the simple truth that he has to work very hard to pay to keep his darling diva well turned out. The weird part is that it’s all very convoluted – we’ve bought dozens of killer heeled affairs each of which cost more than what I’ve spent on shoes in my considerable lifetime, but she wont be seen dead in any of them, so converse to the rescue. Ditto with jeans & jackets – we buy ‘em like they’re going outta style, but what u buy, u don’t wear, that’s the fashion mantra!

*So farewell to the chilled out mom who mall hops and shops with her ‘batty beti’, & welcome the party pooper whose presence is to contain & curb fashion enthusiasm!! My role is restricted to posing unreasonable queries which put pressure on our parivaar’s Paris Hilton like – ‘will u actually wear this?’ or ‘do u need it?”. Am cordially disliked, and dismissed as the conventional, cold, unfeeling parent who has no finer emotions. Being a trendy, popular mommy or avoiding bankruptcy?? The latter option, pretty please!!

*Confession time – Ashok as a parent scores better than me – hez more refined and actually believes that there’s more to life than academics, unlike the crass Indian in me which hollers for perfect scores & the comparison game – how much did everyone else get? Kya karein, control nahin hota!!

*The bonding, the understanding, the friendship … will happen eventually like it did for me. After the travails of parenting and hard core truth hammered into me, thought gratefully of my much maligned parents, and today, we empathise, & are at peace with each other.

*Patience is the name of the game. There is light at the end of the tunnel. As Scarlett said, ‘tomorrow’s another day’ and there will be camaraderie, tolerance & a state of cease fire …. But right here, right now, ‘Mommy dearest’, serenely & calmly remains “Mommy Meanest”!!

rewind worthy!

When you are least expecting it, like a breath of amusing air, suddenly, out of the blues, something happens, or someone does, or says stuff, which amazes & intrigues you, & tickles the imagination. That’s when u wish u could hit the ‘pause’ button, to freeze that moment, rewind, & play, again & again …..

*This dates back to when Ashok & I were working together as sales officers. Sales plummeted, the company folded up, (yours truly & my partner-in-crime heartily contributed to the collapse I suspect!), but we survived to tell this tale … we were a motley bunch of sales reps, mainly guys & a few gals, (who got a lot of attention, less because of who they were, & mainly thanx to the ‘demand supply ratio’!) Then the “Vaa vaa voom” factor came in the form of this ex-beauty queen who joined the office - she oozed sex-appeal, was well endowed, & set the male hearts on fire. Us plain Janes were rudely thrust aside, & to add insult to injury, they even asked us advice on how to ‘pataao’ the beauty queen!

*The early morning rush was on in the office – getting your reports in, confirming appointments, routine correspondence …. All this was happening in a large room where the sales staff was gearing up for the day ahead when …. in walked “Ms Bold & Beautiful”, pouting, & she loudly declared, “Help, I desperately need a screw!” There was pin-drop silence, & only the panting of all the male puppies could be heard! Our gorgeous gal, (did I mention that the Maker, while ‘well-endowing’ her, kinda missed the brain area!), oblivious to the fact that she had caused the room temperature to shoot up, repeated, in case we had missed it the first time, “can someone give me a screw?!”

*The disbelieving, but joyous hush was merely a lull before the storm! The guys hastily gravitated towards her, like bees swarming around a pot of honey! We could see nothing, except a huddle of unruly guys, desperately trying to get to her first! Then the dampener: Ms Vaa Vaa Voom explained that one of the screws of her earrings had fallen off & got lost, & that unfortunately, was the ‘screw’ she was frantically seeking!

*What a laugh we gals had, at the expense of these Romeos, who slunk away sheepishly, with their tails b/w their legs! Always a great memory to chuckle about when I’m feeling low!

*U’ll be surprised to know that Ashok, despite selling cigarettes for a living during his stint at ITC, remained a non-smoker …. I think I know why!

*We were like puppies in training in our first job – That’s when u actually look forward to going to work! Personally, I was like a kid who was play-acting in a grown up world – I loved donning the persona of a seasoned, veteran sales person – the tense target meetings, the huddle with your supervisor, & zooming away from the office, only to re-group with your colleagues, at the nearest coffee shop!

*Among us eager young things was this thirty year old senior, and he was our ‘Guru’ – he taught us all there was to know about the big bad world of sales – the afternoon siestas at home, remembering to crumple your clothes before u got back to the office, to sport the over-worked, weary look, the mid-morning movie shows, tailor made for slackers like us …. fondly remember my induction into this murky land – it was a one way ticket, & strictly ‘no return’!!

*And then …. the veteran revealed he had feet of clay, and how! Hanging out over a cup of coffee, de Guru pulled out a cigarette – when we firmly asked him not to smoke, he reluctantly put it away, & then proceeded to elaborate on a unique theory he had – apparently, according to him, it was not the nicotine which was the culprit. It was the sensation of the cigarette in your mouth, which he claimed, was identical to a baby suckling milk!!

*A stunned & disbelieving silence greeted this declaration! Would like to inform you that there were two females in this group, both who years later are still reeling & tottering! Of course, Aristotle was oblivious to our discomfort & went on to wax eloquently about how while a child, esp the male child was physically weaned away from momma’s milk, mentally he still craved it. Cigarettes, he announced were an answer to this!!

*Needless to say, that day, we all aged & that bridged the gap between us juniors and the “senior’ – a safe distance was maintained & we added ‘deftly avoiding being left alone with him’ to our job description!

*That’s how Ashok remained a non-smoker in ITC!!!

Amma tujhe salaam!

A chance meeting in the lift – we wont dwell too much on that though – my virgin encounter with Latha & Ajit: She suspiciously received my over-the-top-cheery greeting & treated me to a look which made me feel like a bad smell under her nose! Then there was Aji, all elegantly suited & booted, valiantly trying to compensate for his wife’s indifference with some polite chatter
From then, fast forwarding to the present, we have come a long way! I hopefully graduated from a stink to a bearable odor for Latha!! While I am thrilled to count her & Aji as some of our closest friends, another reason that makes this relationship special & life-changing is the fact that it led me to “Amma” – Aji’s mom & Latha’s grandma cum mom-in-law!
No clichés here – I mean only a person like her would make it possible for me to describe an 86 year old as one heck of a cool babe!
Some snapshots of our encounters:
*My fourteen going on forty yr old daughter & Amma animatedly watching “American Idol” – this was one household, that despite the fact that there were no kids her age to interact with, Shiksha willingly visited – I mean, there was “Paati”!!!
*The walls of their elegant house, dotted with spectacular embroidered pictures done so elegantly by this eighty plus super-girl, while yours truly, at half that age, struggles to thread a needle!
*She could give any Public Relations person a run for their money – never failed to connect with a call or a visit. My cynical dad and mom were floored by the fact that she took the trouble to come home & see me in Chennai. She charmed the pants (dhoti actually!) off my father & had him eating out of her hands. Thanx to her, I got some brownie points of approval from daddy dearest, who was impressed by the fact that a nikamma like me had managed to find such a dost!
*In Ashok, she found a doting fan, because Amma knew her music – the mark of greatness – ability to appreciate all genres of music with no blocks or mind barriers.
*I tear up when I recall the last time she came to our place in Abu Dhabi – with child-like enthusiasm, she attacked a bowl of curd rice sprinkled with her favorite – ‘ spicy moru molaga’!
*When I saw Zohra Sehgal in “Cheeni Kum”, she reminded me so much of Amma! She was always egging Latha to work out at the gym & kept abreast of all the possible tv shows!
*I fondly remember bumping into the trio of Amma, Latha & Ajit at the car park of our bldg in Dubai . They would be excitedly trotting off to watch some movie or the other! Amma even once remarked that my outfit (my first patiala salwaar which in retrospect made me look horrendous!) was similar to what Preity Zinta had worn in “Veer Zara”! How on earth did she recognize that I had diligently tried to copy the dress, not realizing that ‘clothes don’t maketh a man’ – in case that’s not a legitimate saying, let me clarify that I just made it up!!
*She like me, had been a fan of Kamalhasan, only to be horrified by his later movies & phoney accent! Together we mourned the loss of the Kamal we loved, & bitched about him the way he is today – apologies to all die-hard Kamal fans!
For me, Amma was the epitome of ‘sugar & spice, & everything nice!’
I refuse to grieve her passing away. Instead I celebrate this woman of substance. I count her as one of life’s blessings. If I can lead half the life she led, it will be a zindagi well spent! Amma Tujhe Salaam!

Kunju Mama & the auto!

Friends you can chose, but relatives, you’re simply stuck with!! As we were, with my “Kunju Mama”!!

In younger & more vulnerable times, I was petrified that society would connect my uncle with me. My sister Chitra & I spent a large chunk of our childhood, trying to solve the mystery of how our refined & dignified mom & our crude Kunju Mama, blossomed from the same branch of the family tree!

My mother is a tortured soul. Poor woman is blessed with a vitriolic sense of humor, which she longs to exercise, by joining her wicked, irreverent off-springs, namely me & my sisters & having a good laugh at some of her brother’s escapades. But her unwavering loyalty to family keeps her in check!

Kunju uncle has a love for cars, which is supported by the fact that he has pots of money to blow up on them. (My practical mother even desperately suggested that if we were kinder in our thoughts & actions to him, we might stand the teeniest chance of inheriting some of that fortune – greedy as we were, the laughs were too precious to sacrifice, even at the prospect of big time moolah!) Whenever my mother came back from visiting her brother, she would proudly talk about his latest automobile acquisition. I kept track of the contessa, santro, Mercedes ….

So after one such customary visit, we were gathered around the dining table attacking idlis & molaha podi. Suddenly we noticed that our otherwise vocal mom was subdued & refused to meet our eyes. Immediately our antennae’s were up. She was no match for our combined curious onslaught & finally blurted out the dark secret which was burning a hole in her system …..

“Kunju has bought an auto”, she vomited out! We gasped in sheer horror. Once she got started, it was like a dam that had burst … she was in a state of shock! At first, there was pin drop silence & then the room reverberated with our guffaws & our stomachs ached with all the laughing! Apparently all the cars had been abandoned & now Kunju & his wife drove around in an auto – yes people, a regular, Chennai, black & yellow ugly three-wheeled affair!! Chitra’s logical mind needed to put things in their correct slots, so she demanded to know the seating arrangements … Amma shame-facedly & with a glint of pure amusement, offered that Kunju was in the driver’s seat & his wife sat behind!! We visualized this for some delicious moments ... this time, my mother joined in the hysterical merriment!!

Confession time: I didn’t tell Ashok about this – I mean if I were in his place, listening to these family anecdotes, I would worry about lunacy in the genes!!

But this came to haunt me & how! When we were in Chennai, I ran a playschool in my parents place. Everyday Ashok would drop me there, hang around for a while & then leave for work.

So one morning, after dropping me & spending some time with the school kids, Ashok went back to his car, parked in my parent’s driveway, to go to his office. The driver was looking hassled & told Ashok that the the car could not be taken out because an auto was blocking the path. Ashok was really annoyed as he was getting late & curtly told him to tell the auto driver to take his vehicle out of the way. The driver with a bemused & baffled air replied in Tamizh, that along with the ‘amma’ who had got out of the auto, the auto driver himself had boldly gone into my parent’s house!!!

Ashok’s outraged & shocked face was a treat for sore eyes!! He spluttered & couldn’t believe the nerve of this auto driver. Husband dearest belligerently went up to warn my mom. My Kunju mama & his wife were lolling there, having a cuppa. Ashok politely nodded to them & turned to his mother-in-law & poured out his story about the audacity of this unknown, but daring auto driver!!

There was a stunned silence in the room, before my mother gently acquainted Ashok with the facts behind the identity of the auto driver. By now, my poor husband was a broken man! Casting an accusing look at me, he staggered out of the room!!

I am pleased to report that our marriage weathered the “auto” storm!! Today Ashok is a seasoned player in this bizarre family drama! Since then, many other dark, khaandani secrets have seen the light of day – my mother in a weak moment confessed that she had actually been a passenger in her brother’s auto. A fact which we’ll blackmail her with for the rest of her life!!

We did wonder as to how my aunt had agreed to the auto way of life as a passenger, until some good investigation on Chitra’s part revealed a disturbing side to her personality …. This is a mini short story …..

Now what do all of us do when we put on weight? Hit the gym. Burn calories on the treadmill. Go for brisk walks. Or make peace with the flab like I have done! Like my kind (?) friend Nalini says, ‘theres more of you to love!' But Kunju-ki-better-half was not going to tread the regular routes. So here comes the part I love – she spent a week converting some of that fortune I talked about, into one rupee coins. Once she had a bag full of clinking coins, her work-out started. She would spend the whole morning bending & lining all the edges of the floors of her house with the coins. Once that was accomplished, she then set about picking ‘em up!!! Everyday!!

My sisters and I are a hardened, cynical lot & it takes a lot to impress us – we were filled with awestruck admiration for this unique exercise routine. We approved – this was a jodi kamaal ki & she proved herself as a worthy passenger of the auto!!

Life comes full circle. From being a skeleton in my cupboard, my Kunju mama is someone I brandish to Ashok with, “mere paas Kunju mama hai”, tumahare paas kya hai?!”

Beti vs Poti!

*I wish I could swap places with Shiksha! If there is re-incarnation, then true filmi ishtyle, I would give my right arm & leg to be reborn ….. as my parent’s grandchild!

*U know how it is growing up in a typically ‘Tam-Brahm’ phamily : No matter what, it’s crucial to catch the sun-rise, & actually watch the newspaper delivery boy expertly fling “The Hindu” through the gate.

*I even have horrifying memories of early morning wails of the milkman screeching ‘Amma, Paal’ – now if u are thinking clinical, clean, no-mess packets of milk, sorry to disappoint …this was the real thing.

*If u followed the noise of that holler, it would lead you to the gate of our ‘home sweet home’, & the ugliest sight ever would greet your eyes! Two huge, black, smelly buffaloes plaintively bleating their hearts out. Yeah, yeah, it must have been awful to be tied up to that gate, & anticipate prying eyes watch you, while you’re milked dry, all for greedy consumption by the heartless “Subramanyam’s” (my dad’s & the family name, spelt with a ‘y’ – Y I don’t know!!)

*Hold on, the nightmare continues – my parents were not exactly the trusting kind, & were convinced that the milkman’s dying ambition in life was to add water to the milk! So it was war – the Subramanyams vs de ‘Paal-kaaran’!! To add insult to injury, we kids were appointed ‘inspectors’ (I mean adding water to milk, do u understand?!) & were strategically stationed next to the scene of potential crime. I would rate this as the most humiliating experience of my life – the ‘doodh-waala’ would sullenly upturn the bucket as proof of no ‘golmaal’. We had to stand there nonchalantly, & ignore him, as he muttered malovently about cruel unfeeling folks like us, who after all these years, still harbored mistrust & suspicion in our non-existent-hearts.

*Just to put things in perspective, all this was happening at the unearthly hour of 5.30 am. We must have committed some heinous crimes in our past janam, that’s why God planned this punishment for us! U also had the early morning population, who spent their mornings constructively, with some healthy walking! Neighbors & friends, who valiantly attempted to suppress their amusement when they saw the “buffalo-club” – we had lost their respect for ever, & officially joined the ‘laughing stock society’!! This was like baptism by fire – after this, to handle anything in life was child’s play!

*So the mystery of my size has been solved – pure, unadulterated, wholesome buffalo milk, & instead of indulging in invigorating walks in the morning, merely providing entertainment for the fortunate ‘walkers’!!

*Trauma & drama, first thing in the morning!! Then began the patient wait for the newspaper. The man of the house, my dad got first shot at it. There was no question of sharing sections of the paper – u just had to bide your time – there’s a hierarchy here – dad, visiting relatives, elder sisters ….. and then u – whew!! All that, just to catch the city entertainment section, to check out movies running in town. C’mon, there had to be a valid reason for bunking classes in college!

*So u got up, spent quality time with the ‘bhains/errumai/buffaloes’, stood in queue for “The Hindu”, showered …. and then?? Remember there was no 24x7 cable TV, no computers, ipods …. So we just aimlessly hung around, but the early morning getting up thing, there was no messing with that!

*Cut to the present when I go back to the same household, to the same parents, only this time there is Shiksha! Boy, what a difference! Those uncompromising folks, who would ruthlessly yank you outta bed in case u dared to sleep beyond the Subramanyam wake up shout, they gently tiptoe into the room, lovingly draw the blinds, tearfully watch the little angel sleeping, & actually instruct me not to talk so loudly in case, God forbid, she wakes up.

*Huh?!!! What the hell did I miss??? The mean person in me was hoping that my daughter would get the ‘early morning treatment’, & be disciplined for life. But obviously I hadn’t reckoned for the fact, that strict, uncompromising parents make the most doting & adoring grandparents.

*The same ‘Maata-shri & Pita-shri’, who ranted on about how getting up late was the sign of a wasted & slothful human being, now spout dialogues about how growing children need their sleep, since they are so active (sure, watching TV, movies, net surfing, chatting, mall hopping … must be exhausting stuff!!) through out the day.

*Oh to be their ‘poti/peti’!! Times they are a changing, so I dared to sneak in some sleep time in the morning – it was my holiday too. Apparently, that milk of human kindness was reserved for Shiksha only. It dried up when it came to me – they were aghast at the fact that I dared to sleep & did not participate in the ‘first coffee of the morning with the virgin decoction & pardon the crudeness, but ‘straight from the udder milk’ ritual!! I was accosted with ‘why so late, are u ok’ (not being well was the only excuse for not getting up at dawn!), to being accused of unhealthy habits like sitting up late, & watching TV. “Early to bed, early to rise” – yep, no compromises there, where I was unconcerned. After all, I was merely the daughter of the household!

*Now I feel less guilty about the fact that my daughter cordially dislikes me, & dreams of a life where dirty words like “mom” don’t exist! I will still make it to heaven, since my penance will be in the form of spoiling my grand-children, & being sinfully nice to them. Grand-parent-ing I look forward to! I will atone for my sins as a mother, by being the most fabulous grandmother ever!

Fear thy neighbor!

Rewind to the ‘born again house-wife’ …. Bet u’re expecting the clichéd ‘they lived happily ever after’!

So did I …what I didn’t reckon for was the mother-in-law of modern times, ‘the Neighbor’!!!

There I was, doing the dance of freedom in the solitude of my sanctum-sanctorum, gleefully contemplating all the delightful options which lay ahead of me, when the ringing of the door bell rudely interrupted my party for one! I gingerly opened the door to find my neighbor, sari clad, in contrast to my disgraceful and shabby house-coat, grimly surveying the unpleasant scene, which included yours truly, in front of her uncompromising eyes … loud music, newspaper strewn all over, and the floor was still shuddering from the shock of having this tub of lard (me again, I mean, I am the heroine if u please!!) unceremoniously boogying all over it’s prettily mosaic-ed surface!!! The aroma of my coffee battled with the smell of sambhar, curry … in other words, a four course meal. Help, this paragon of virtue had apparently finished cooking lunch, showering, donning a sari, done her Pooja, and there I was in disgraceful contrast, the slob whose day had not even begun!!

She briskly walked in and started folding up the paper. She expressed her disapproval of the unholy music I was vulgarly listening to and informed that at my age (huh?!), and at this hour, devotional music would be more suitable!! By now I was all humiliated and shriveled up. While there was nothing I could do about my appearance (I had new found appreciation for Ashok who has seen the worst as far as I am concerned and is still so gung-ho about life!), I resorted to one of the seven deadly sins and lied about wrapping up my cooking! Quick thinking, which got me a glimmer of a smile!

She departed with the ominous warning that she would be back the next day with some religious tapes. I longingly thought of my unfeeling and cold boss who hadn’t given a dam about anything, except sales targets being achieved! How I missed her indifference!!!

Like a pricked balloon I crawled back to my now cold coffee, the primly folded newspaper, & tried to revive the party, when my bruised ego was rudely shaken up by the firm ringing of the door-bell – AGAIN!!!!

A young thing tripped in with baby and bag in tow – apparently news about me quitting the big bad working world had spread like wildfire! She gaily announced that since I loved kids, from now on, I would get to spend quality time (?) with hers … didn’t she realize that the rotten human being that I was, I had many times prayed for a fast-forward button to propel my kid to the school going stage and me to ‘aazaadi’??!!

I had barely digested this when with the milk of human kindness dripping from her, neighbor 2 informed me that she would wait while I got ready, and that we could start a routine of going vegetable shopping regularly!!!

What about all those frozen veggies lying lovingly in my freezer – wouldn’t their feelings be hurt?!

I was finally enlightened – u either trot of to an office or any work place, or u cook fresh healthy food for your family all day long!!! Apparently, the world had no place for alien gals like me who just wanna have fun and fritter their lives away!! I almost thought a space-ship would descend and whisk me away to ‘planet waste ’!!

Hang modesty!! Till this very hour, I was pretty pleased with the way I had turned out. In fact probably the reason I was so huge was that it was worth having many of me!! But now, like Dickens “Uriah Heep”, I was truly humbled!!

I was no match for her and dutifully did the rounds of the vegetable shops and came back with bags bursting with veggies, some whose names I didn’t know, but didn’t have the guts to reveal my ignorance.

Back home, I sat in a stupor totally stripped of all hope and energy. Enter neighbor 3 – I distraughtly asked her if she’d like a cup of coffee to which she primly answered that she didn’t partake of such poisons!! Meaning I was a ‘vish-kanya’!!! I tried to lighten my mood by imagining myself in a ‘nagin’ attire, a la Sridevi or Reena Roy!! Not for long, because if I had hoped third time lucky, definitely not!! When I made small talk about hitting the gym, now that I had the time, she looked contemptuously at me, and pompously told me to sack my house-boy (who was my true Knight in shining armor, sorry Ashok!!) and get down to doing my own house-work as a fitness routine!!

So there I was at the end of the day, broken, shattered, and the exhaustion, more than I would have experienced after the toughest of days at work!!

Happy to report that from that state of total despair, emerged a plan to deal with this menace:

*Learnt to remove my foot-wear & sneak in and outta the house so that I couldn’t be accosted by my friendly (?) neighbor! Ditto in the house – dirty, cold feet were a small price to pay for the bliss of privacy and debauchery!!

*Invested in ear-phones – to secretly indulge in my vulgar unrefined music!!

*My desperation was like a beacon light which guided me to a soul-sister, Neha. We bonded in our indignation and outrage at the expectations of our nosey neighbors, over many cups of over-sweetened, milky tea!! Shades of oppressed daughters-in-law, who group together to discuss their mothers-in-law!

*Your neighbor – the new age mother-in-law!!

*Moral with a twist - 'fear thy neighbour'!!

"Once More" - Kunju Mama!

On popular demand, Kunju Mama again!!

His auto escapades have obviously struck a chord with readers across the globe. My gal pal, Ivette’s son now wants to own an autorickshaw! Rodney & Ivette, count your blessings – could’ve been a porche or BMW!!!

Like wine, Kunju Mama just gets better with age. On my last trip to India , a fruitful visit was made to the house which has been a privileged silent witness to many a delightful happening! My mother as advised by John Milton, ‘ours is not to reason why’, didn’t bother to investigate the change of heart, and the ecstasy I expressed at the thought of what lay ahead. She just gratefully accepted my willingness to visit her brother. Shiksha, reflecting the folly of youth, firmly refused. All in good time, my friend. One day she’ll regret missing out on what could have turned out to be a defining moment in her life!!

Now before I launch into my story, I need to place a statutory warning of sorts here. My dear Mama’s bizarre thoughts are totally his own. I am merely the narrator, the chosen one, to tell his remarkable tales. So one of Kunju’s theories was that only Brahmins eat pure ‘saatvik’ vegetarian food, and point to be noted is that this food does not have any odors. I would love to be a fly on the wall &be an audience to his horror when he watches the truest Brahmin from the house of Lalgudi, Ashok Ramamurthy Kaushik, demolish all creatures that crawl & move!! But that’s the world according to Kunju Mama – rigidly divided into two categories: the Brahmin who eats odorless vegetarian fare, & all those who are not Brahmins, who eat food with distinct scents!!

Back to my story – when we got to Mama’s place, an apartment block, security had obviously been beefed up, and we had to call Kunju to help us get in. When we expressed curiosity about the security, Mama explained that there had been a robbery in the building. In our sad little lives, that itsel was exciting, and we sat up … just the tip of the iceberg my friends.

Apparently there was this middle-aged lady living next door who had opened the door to a couple of thugs posing to be from the locality’s temple, collecting donations. She unsuspectingly let them in, and they roughed her up, and starting stealing stuff from her house. Kunju’s neighbor was a woman of substance and started screaming her guts out. Now these thieves had come prepared … a bottle of acid (I thought these things happened only in Indian movies!!) which they forcibly poured down her throat.

Then came the point of interest. We were on the edge of our seats by now.(My mother even graciously agreed to stay on and miss her daily soaps!) We learnt that the fine lady had survived to tell the tale, and thankfully, ‘being a Brahmin’ had saved her life!! Initially, we let that curious piece of information slide by unquestioned, but when for the fourth time he joyously announced that her “Brahmin-hood” (what’s the term for that by the way?!) had come to her rescue, my mother couldn’t mask her bewilderment at the relevance of the ‘Brahmin’ bit & finally asked her brother what the hell he meant!

Kunju Mama resented the interruption, but this was his formidable big sister, so reluctantly stopped the flow of the tale of high crimes to explain himself: Here goes…

The ‘padosan’s head was being held firmly by one of her assailants & the other was pouring acid down her unwilling throat! (Later the thought did strike me that they needn’t have gone to so much trouble. Wouldn’t coshing her on the head, gagging her throat and probably tying her up been easier??! Hey, but who am I to complain?? No acid, no story!!)

Now what comes next is pure, unadulterated “Kunju-ism”: Apparently, acid has a distinct odor (not having partaken of this delicacy, can’t comment!) For the lady next door, her true blue Brahmin throat could not accept this vile smelling liquid, and she choked on it, and it fortunately came out instead of reaching her insides. (By now I wanted to throw up too!!)

Kunju’s logic was that someone who was not a Brahmin, and therefore used to scented foods, would not have experienced the ‘Brahmin throat block’, & so willingly glugged the acid down & the ‘non-Brahmin’ world would have had to bid farewell to one of it’s inhabitants!

In this match b/w the ‘Brahmin’ & the rest of the world, jo jeeta wohi sikander!!

When I narrated this twisted tale to a close friend with an over-active imagination, she began to visualize “Acid” bars where the acerbic liquid would be flowing from kegs and sold in pints. License to enter?? Proof that you are not a “Brahmin”!!

Yeah, this one has a moral too:

“You can take a Brahmin to the river of acid, but you can’t make him drink it”!!!

At my doorstep ... from a volunteer's viewpoint

You wake up to another routine day – the headlines in the newspaper loom like a warning of things to come – Global tension, warring nations, communal intolerance, religious differences

Then I step into my little Universe – the class where I volunteer at the Special Care Centre, & the loud whoops, smiles & ‘good-mornings’ from the kids embrace you like a big, giant hug. Far from the maddening world, this is a little cross-section of the world – Malaysians, Pakistanis, Arabs, Indians, Tamils …

There’s JP, one of the happiest kids I know, who is from the Philippines – when he joined our class he was quiet, & barely spoke. Happy to report that we can no longer say that!! Today’s JP fluently tells Ameen to talk “mella mella” (quietly in Malyalam), asks Wahid “uniform kidhar hai” (where is your uniform?) in hindi, chatters in Malay with Jeremy …. Our JP can give any linguist a run for their money!!!

Sure these kids fight, argue, and get into disagreements – one moment the class will be reverberating with high pitched ‘Teacher, he took my block’, to Ameen’s complaint in Malyalam that someone is troubling him, and Sheru's retort in hindi that he did not …. As I said, regular kid stuff!

But come the lunch break, & till today, I get a lump in my throat, at the casual way in which these bunch of children, unaware of Geographical boundaries, rally around Jeremy, who has trouble walking – Sheru runs to get his bag, Ameen quickly gives him a mat, Wahid puts his books away …

What is hilarious sometimes is that these acts of kindness are taken for granted – while helping each other out, they continue to fight & scream at each other!! After all, kids will be kids!!

While on the subject of the lunch break – it’s a live advertisement for world peace: Chinese fried rice & noodles, at one table, South-Indian dosas neatly packed by Abhishek’s mom at the next, Sheru’s mouth watering giant parathas & curry, and Arabic sandwiches in one of the lunch boxes, they all serenely co-exist!! Let’s not forget the universal language of pizzas, cakes & nuggets from McDonalds which overcome all global barriers!!

It must be simply human instinct which makes Wahid, who is normally withdrawn, to resist the temptation to run when the class is informed that they can go down to play, & to patiently help Jeremy to the lift!

Then you have our little medical geniuses when they play ‘doctor doctor’ – JP importantly hanging the stethoscope round his neck checks Abhishek out, while Sheru prepares the injections & Ameen is waiting to perform a complicated surgery … with a plastic knife!! If I’m lucky, I get examined too, & am firmly asked to pay up – a standard fee of 10dhs!!!

Apologies to all docs, but according to our class, doctors & barbers command the same fee – another favorite game is “Barbershop” – very professional where Saquib will firmly shake the towel before placing it around your neck, squirt water, & one of our little hairdressers ruthlessly set out to chop your tresses – oh yes, plastic scissors again!! No bargaining here too –the going rate again, the princely sum of 10dhs!

Life’s like that, huh? There I was, depressed about the state of tension & unrest in the world, not realizing that I had it all – tolerance, peaceful co-existence, understanding, friendship, right there at my doorstep!

confessons of a house-wife!

What happens when a ruthless, uncompromising, & unpleasant individual (read Uma!) quits working, ostensibly for the welfare of her one and only off-spring ……

Can a leopard change it’s spots?? So while the environment shifts, the spots so to say, remain intact, and you just focus your maniacal energy and cut-throat spirit on the wretched victims on the home front!!

So from being a dreaded, aggressive, bloodthirsty colleague, u become, well, a dreaded, aggressive, bloodthirsty home-maker!!!

Welcome to the world of a blissful convert – the house-wife!!

‘You’ve worked all your life – u’ll get bored and be climbing the walls’ rang in my ears when I broke the news to all and sundry about my decision to become a regular ‘hussif’!!

Once upon a time (lamentably I’ve scaled that age in my life where I can use this phrase meaningfully!!), when shame and pride still resided in me, I would nod virtuously, & with a halo gleaming around my large head, bravely acknowledge society’s warning with the clichéd “I choose my child over a career”, my feet soaking in a puddle of self-righteousness!

There’s something about the fabulous forties which is very liberating …. cherish that don’t-care-spirit which is now a permanent member in my large being! Enter the decadently delirious house-wife coming out of her closet!!

The off-spring for which u claimed to sacrifice bravely for has since then spread her wings and now takes good care of herself, and the disgraceful truth is, probably me too!!

Art of living, meditation, yoga …. Move over – let me suggest the finest technique to find peace and tranquility.

The moment u wave good bye to your loved ones, cheerily wish the reluctanct school and office- goers a good day, & ….. shut the door on ‘em and the outside world. Friends, an empty house to yourself is a retreat, your sanctuary ….. this is therapy by itself, and it does’nt get better than that!!

Simon and Garfunkel, bless you, you sure did know what u were talking about in ‘the sounds of silence” – so soothing in your private haven, which offers endless possibilities to tantalize! Should u dive back into bed, dig your nose into that book u were reading, finally read the paper or ….????

Yeah, decision making, but of the most delicious & sinful kind!! Your steaming cuppa coffee, with music, or savored unaccompanied, or by your side while browsing the net??!!

Now the computer soulfully offers itself as a worthy partner-in-crime. No longer used for uninspiring stuff like budgets & sales figures, u step into a debauched & depraved arena where u ‘knowledge badhaao’ with earth shattering facts like Lindsay Lohan going into rehab or that Paris Hilton & Nicole Richie are best friends again!!

Old habits die hard, so the compulsive streaks continue – any matter has to be investigated .... Thanx to handling all that interrogation, Ashok, has emerged a stronger man! He claims that the lessons learnt under terror have equipped him to face the Gestapo cheerfully!!

My loving spouse and daughter are convinced that even if they have a date with death & destiny, this control freak will rustle ‘em up from their graves, or ashes, make them straighten a cushion, or put away their shoes, and then give them the nod to rest in peace!!!

Will Shiksha and Ashok write someday about their tortured lives, or pour their victimized hearts out to a shrink … definitely!!! But after my death, over my grave, because today they are too oppressed, and live under the hood of fear of the obsessive house-wife!!

Some trade secrets:
When people sympathise with your lot, put on a martyred act and go along with it. I nod with a sad, brave smile, indicating ‘all for my kid’ while mentally doing a jig of delight!!! A 24x7 holiday paid for by poor pati-dev …. Wicked!!

Candor & openness with hubby dearest, not a good idea!! I mean, added to the fact that he slogs like a dog to provide for his unproductive family, he is also staggering under the guilt of denying this saint of sacrifice, namely me, a career! Now that’s the kinda math I approve of!!

Moral of the story: I have a couple of ‘em:

*Honesty, definitely not the best policy!

*Having your cake and eating it too – so possible!

life's like that!

Life’s like that … there’s always a sense of anticipation of what’s around the corner, waiting to unleash itself on you ...

So guys, as we start the process of bidding adieu to this roller-coaster ride which has been 2006, I’ve decided to record all the moments, big and small, which take u unawares, but leave u with a smile on your face, and the craving to share the experience with kindred souls ...

*No one can tell it the way it is better than kids, and if they’re special, it’s unadulterated, blunt, in-your-face honesty. So there was this boy in the special care center where I volunteer, distributing chocolates on his birthday. When he came to me, he firmly said, ‘You take only one because you are fat’!!! My wary spouse must be eyeing this specimen of youth with envy for telling the truth … and getting away with it!!!

*Ashok and I met as bright-eyed, eager young officer trainees starting our careers (and lots more which we discovered later!). The first statement Ashok firmly made to me and dozens of others was that he didn’t see marriage in the distant horizon … famous last words considering he was down on his knees proposing a few months later!!!

*But I’m convinced that the foundation to this marriage lies in the laughs we bonded over … there were plenty when we made our joint-sales-calls (I talked about bright-eyed, but conveniently left out the uncomfortable bits like we were cunning, street-smart, and manipulated many cozy market visits together!)

*There we were in this cramped office room of one of the largest, crudest looking men I’ve ever seen. He was a man of few words (I suspect he found it difficult to talk thanx to his heavy jaws and multiple chins!). Ashok launched immediately into a long soliloquy on “Brother Typewriters” which we sold, and I just watched, a fascinated spectator. While we were in the midst of this never-ending-speech (those days young Kaushik-garu was preparing for CAT, so cramming and vomiting out stuff was ‘baayein haath ka khel!!), the client, the incredible hulk, silently and solemnly picked up his shirt, revealed the largest expanse of exposed stomach I have ever had the fortune of witnessing, and started noisily scratching it!!!!!!

*Something in me just snapped and I burst into uncontrollable giggles. But the awesome part is yet to be told. The “Hulk” undeterred by the laughing hyena in front of him, without pausing for a moment, scratched on diligently (if this was an audio-visual communication, would have recorded the amazing sound!!) and Ashok, bless him, spared only a brief second to cast a look of pure horror at my laughing countenance (many years later, that look has been replaced by a weary, resigned one!!) and then continued to belt out his speech!!!

*Just visualize this – the unflappable giant noisily scratching away, Ashok with a fixed, unblinking look bleating on about electronic typewriters and yours truly, shamelessly holding her sides, in hysterical splits, all in the same frame!!

*Oh yeah, we have more than our share of issues, and our mature, lady-like off-spring (How did that happen?! One of life’s mysteries to me!!!) will with disgust, vouch for the fact that we fight like a bunch of kids, and she has to step in as referee! But thank-God for these innumerable moments which we look back upon and still laugh about, which we share with our kids, and hopefully will form the subject of tales to be told to our grand-kids (Is this senility or what but already looking forward to them. My friend’s unkind rejoinder to that is that I probably want to just selfishly enjoy kids without the responsibility of parenting!!) and to white-haired friends in the ultra plush, fun, snazzy retirement home that I dream of ….

*The laughs continue … the other day Ashok and I were driving around when we came across this delivery van with the picture of the scrawniest, most hideous looking hen grinning scarily at us, and the caption proudly read “happy henny, healthy eggs”!!

*I feel like the joker in Batman – so much to do (write about in my case), so little time!!

*So folks, dig into your memory banks and recall and write in about experiences which have kept you smiling till today, when u’re battling with a tough day at work, an impossible deadline, or a dreadful traffic jam … and u’ll count your blessings and realize, hey life ‘aint all dat bad!!

Keep smiling,

Sundal Samachar!

We had just moved to Abu Dhabi - there we were, downloading music into our car system, and planning long drives to Dubai during navratr,i because we thought we did'nt have know 'vethalai paaku'/'haldi kumkum' hosting families here!

*But apparently Abu Dhabi's theme song is 'hum kissi se kum nahin'!!!

*The innumerable 'vp'(vethalai paaku/haldi kumkum of course!) visits. Was caught off-guard and horrified at the "paatu paadu"('sing a song' in Tamil) aspect!! Apparently here u have to 'sing for your sundal'!! Am deeply ashamed, and cringe at the memory, but at one of the places, actually croaked out "hum ko mann ki shakti dena'!! I'm hoping that writing about it will help to exorcise such painful and embarrassing memories!!!

*But that's just the tip of iceberg ... When I thought that the worst was behind me, and made to grab my vethalai paaku, I was bluntly asked 'which year were you born?' While I was gulping and rendered speechless, my hostess, kindly repeated the question in simpler English in case I was as moronic as I looked -'how old are you?'

*With a thousand peircing eyes on me, I shamefully blurted out my age. My humiliation was complete when I was told, 'that means I'm much younger than you, so I'll do namaskaram'!!

*She then dived for my unsuspecting feet ... I was not prepared and could think of "jug jug jiyo" or
'sada suhagan raho' (Ekta Kapoor would have been proud of me!!), but instead mumbled a "God Bless"!!

*Million thoughts ran through my crowded brain, priority being 'why the hell did'nt I get a pedicure done'!!

*Was this a freak case? Sad to report that it was'nt! Only silver lining on the otherwise very bleak and dark cloud was that in the next place I turned out to be 'younger' and therefore no opportunity to give 'aashirwaad' here!!

*The unnerving part is that there are still a few days to go. Now that I'm a veteran with many visits tucked under my belt, am quite looking forward to the next rounds with hope in my heart!!!

Moral of the story : fed up with the routine, dignified humdrum navratri celebrations in your town?? Abu Dhabi beckons!!

A much chastened soul,

Jail Tale!

Big fan of Jeffrey Archer …. till he hit the crime road & landed in prison! While I applauded his spirit of making the most of a situation, could not bring myself to read his prison stories. Jail depresses me (yeah right, like all of you dig prison!) & conjures up images of mean jailors & poor inmates (ok I know they committed a crime & all that, but still …) doing hard core labor!! Why do only jailbirds break ‘pathar’, in stark quarries, (at least they do so in Indian movies – my Bible for life), always with the sun beating down on them relentlessly. There’s always that one old guy who pathetically squawks for “paani”, watched unsympathetically by the smirking, evil jailor!! As I said, with no personal experience, this is my take on what goes on behind those grim gates! Don’t judge me, but have always nurtured this weird desire to take a tiffin carrier to someone in jail …. ‘pitaji, main aapke liye khaanaa laayi hoon’ ‘Father (meaning my real dad, not God!) forgive me!’ Ok, ok, I know I need to go into rehab to shake off this ‘philmi fever!’

But this morning I was catching the news on NDTV & there was a feature on this guy frying scrumptious looking vadas & samosas …. guess where????? Jaws open, I learnt that this was a scene from some prison in Rajamundry, of all places! The chef was this prisoner, committed for murder! This was a happy sight, resembling a cookery show, rather than a jail tale! We had the murderer efficiently stuffing samosas along with his assistants (crime not described!) …. more bizarre were visitors to the jail who not only purchased these tasty jail-bites, but one ecstatic old middle aged man even excitedly described how he was going to take a ‘parcel’ home!!

Oh my Gawd, what happened to those ‘rock breaking’ tortured jail birds?! No wonder Jeff (as in Jeffrey Archer!) had so much to write about ….

Suddenly, again philmi ishtyle, had a flashback moment – I worked at this institute in Sohar. The head of my department was this solid, seemingly upright citizen type of a guy! What did I know??? Apparently, with no license, he decided to head out for a joy ride in his friend’s car. His bad luck - there was a deo spray left in the car & the sweltering heat caused it to explode mid street! Immdly the cops got on to the case, discovered our license-less hero & promptly put him behind bars!

At the institute, we heard the story with horror & worried about our boss’s well being. We imagined him battered, bruised & utterly traumatized! So don’t blame me for feeling a little cheated when the star of the hour sauntered into the institute, looking fresh as a daisy & unreasonably upbeat!

He settled back in his seat with all of us crowded around him – reminded me of my grandmother & one of her story telling sessions! Back to ‘Oru Quaidiyin diary!” He breezily described his night out & one wondered whether he was talking about his prison cell, or a deluxe suite at a 5 star hotel! The crowning glory was when he boasted “I got separate cell, with newspaper”! U almost felt like committing a crime, just for the pleasure of going behind bars & if u were really good, u would be offered perks like “separate cell with newspaper”!

Some more prison prattle …. we were horrified to hear that one of our neighbors had been sentenced to three months imprisonment in Oman – the poor guy was only guilty of being stupid! A chemical engineer, on a flight from Cal to Muscat , he was carrying some chemicals required at his factory plant. Unfortunately for him, at the Muscat airport, the bottle containing the chemical cracked, leaked a little & reacted with the atmosphere to create a mini kind of explosion.

Believe it or not, he was booked under the terrorist act & before he knew it, was spending three months in jail. Every time we drove up to Muscat & went past those scary looking wired walls of the Oman Prison, a shiver went up my spine.

Fast fwd to three months later, when he given a hero’s welcome by his community. Armed with sympathy & wise words of counsel, to help him cope with this distressing experience, we went to visit him, expecting to meet a shattered & broken spirit … but, there was the object of our sympathy, grinning from ear to ear, glowing like a neon bulb & fit as a fiddle! Contrary to our expectations, he gushed about how for the first time in his life, he had the time to exercise & walk away the calories! Was he talking about a spa or jail??? But this was just the tip of the iceberg – he accused his poor wife of having fed him mustard oil soaked ‘maach’ & sugar laden rosogollas & longingly described how, ‘back in jail’, they were offered ‘low fat’ versions of everything, yoghurt, milk & u name it! He then regretfully announced that ‘so far, so good’, but worried about how he was going to sustain this gift of fitness & well being he had been blessed with, now that he was out in the ruthless, unhealthy & unfit world!

For all the fat people huddled around him (yours truly included), he offered hope & inspiration. All one had to do was to hit the crime route, ensuring it was worthy of a decent stint behind bars & say hello to a ‘fighting fit’ life! When did a jail sentence become aspirational???!!!

From regretting plodding through “Papillion”, a horrifying book on one of the most frightening prisons ever & suffering nightmares as an aftermath, to pleasantly dreaming of a jail break, this fat girl has come a long way!!!

The crash!

My computer crashed a week or so ago!
After the initial trauma & withdrawal symptoms, discovered a life beyond .....
I cooked, cleaned, read, listened to music, shopped, actually managed a long hand written letter to my in-laws (the joy of receiving an 'ole fashioned, regular 'chitthi' by post, should offset the agony of having to decipher my illegible scrawl!), finally visited my neighbour, called up friends who had given up on me, sms'd sweet nothings to an unsuspecting husband, was unusually nice to my daughter ....
Please note the tense of the above declaration - all in the past, mere dost!
The PC's back & the past week is a distant hazy memory - email, internet & Uma Kaushik are like "U, Me aur Hum"!
A warm welcome to chaos, messy house, tension, fights ....

Egypt Encounters

THE MUMMY RETURNS …

This mummy’s back from Egypt!!!

‘Daddy’ Ashok is in circulation too, shaken-up (explanations follow!), but rejuvenated!!

Yeah, the pyramids were all that we expected and more …simply awesome!! Sobering to think that sans cable TV, books, music, malls ...there was so much time to create these architectural wonders!!!

Come on, in these times when lazy scumbags like me are actually contemplating checking out home delivery of navratri bags, u marvel at the patience of these guys who not only painstakingly bandaged these bodies, (Help!! Need to lose weight, because the thought of the lengths of bandage one wud need to round up this fat body makes me deeply ashamed!!), but zealously & endlessly created case into which more cases went!

Visualize the word ‘happy’ – think of all it’s synonyms, all the translations in all possible languages …u still wont find words enough to describe the people of Egypt!! That to me was a true “wonder”!! Despite the squalor, obvious poverty, lack of resources … they seem oblivious to all the reasons which for one make me a greedy, selfish world citizen!

Loved waking up every morning to be greeted by the inspiring view of the Nile from your balcony.

Explanation time –

Take a walk down the bustling market place – believe me, it’s a strange but sure-fire technique to make u feel very proud of being an Indian!!

For once the ‘goras’ are sidelined (reveled in the experience - yes, I’m not a good human being, and very petty!!), and u r the star of the red carpet!! Any Indian is royalty belonging to the “Amitabh Bachan” Gharana!

Indian outfits – wow!! It was almost unnerving to have men openly tell u how they loved what u were wearing, and one of them even wanted to buy the outfit off my back!! Since no return bid was made to compensate with an Egyptian outfit, and the only offerings in the shops were daring, skimpy & sequined belly dancer outfits, I, in the larger interests of the good of the world (ok, we’ll spend some other day rolling on the floor, laughing at the prospect of yours truly belly dancing!!), politely declined!!

BUT… ‘daddy’s of ‘jawaan betiyaan’, watch out!!!!

Totally surreal encounters:

*a young shop keeper telling us that hez fallen in love with our daughter and her hair, and immdly wants to marry her. We beat a hasty retreat - the only time wasted is to pick up our jaws which have dropped to the ground!!

*the fascinating aspect is that this does not come across as a pick-up line or vulgar or ugly … don’t ask me how but it’s all done with a lot of respect,& refreshing honesty, which kinda takes your breath away!

*then you had my good natured, amiably disposed Ashok, snapping “shut-up” over and over again – we learn later to propositions of camels as dowries for Shiksha!!

* actually tried appeasing some of Shiksha’s suitors with “shez very young” – the Pharaohs descendants countered this with “I’ll wait”!! One of them even kindly offered to let us keep the camels as ‘advance booking’!!

*after a lifetime of growing up in India and being harassed by the roadside-Romeos there, (hard to believe, but once upon a time, ‘moi’ was young!!), I am hard-pressed for adjectives to describe the frank, honest, almost upright way with which these young guys very respectfully and openly told you that they liked your daughter!!

*Please don’t judge us, but thanx to being the parents of an eligible young Indian lass, we got a couple of pieces of Egyptian art at rock-bottom prices!! To err is human, I guess …

*Moment to treasure: Ashok’s outraged face at all this persistent wooing of his baby daughter!!!

*we must have presented quite a strange sight – the fat lady in a salwar kameez, our own Amitabh, the ‘angry-young-dad’, the modern version of Samyukta at her ‘swayamvar’, with a motley bunch of guys following us, one of them who kept singing “achhaa hai” for some strange reason!!

*there’s something about taxis and us … Shiksha and I laughed hysterically at Ashok’s helpless & trapped expression when one of the cabbies sincerely told us that in his opinion, Indian wives were the ‘best’, because they ‘obeyed’ their husbands ‘respectfully!!

So that winds up our “Egyptian Encounters”!

The visit

Sometimes u crave for simpler times – when an invitation to dinner was greeted with a ‘sure, we’re free’ and the maximum damage caused was that u landed up at work the next morning, bleary eyed, and maybe nursing a hangover.

In 2006, this unassuming, uncomplicated offer to have u over for an evening had assumed gigantic & unpleasant proportions. Those unpretentious five words – ‘are u free for dinner’ sent chills up my spine. Once accepted, I braced myself like an army recruit, readying for the obstacle race.

First hurdle - the angry young man of the house who demanded to know whether liquor would be served. How the hell would I know?? He agitatedly recalled the previous party where the hosts had the temerity to respect a religious day by abstaining from alcohol. Doesn’t society realize, the respectable father protested, that a growing boy needs his drink!! Finally I resorted to a woman’s finest weapon – emotional blackmail & he sulkily gave in.

One down and one more to go. Our delightful daughter was a tougher nut to crack. So I was grilled with ‘twenty questions’ -

· Why do I have to go with u guys?
· Can’t I stay back and order pizza?
· Do they have kids?
· I hope they’re not nerds like the previous lot
· Will they ask if I speak Tamil & snigger that I don’t?

The moment was ripe to brandish the, ‘because I’m your mother and I say so”, trump card referred to earlier. Mission accomplished here too!

I had issues too – I would miss “desperate housewives” and was inconsolable. Also I had nothing to wear, but where that dilemma was concerned, I am pleased to report consistency from a very young age!

That’s how this terrible trio found themselves at a dinner party. There are times in life when u get lucky, & hit pay dirt, just because you happen to be at the right place at the right time. I shudder to think that I so easily could have crumbled under pressure from my family, and missed this mother-of-all visits. Someone up there is definitely watching over me indulgently!

Ashok’s worst fears were confirmed when he was greeted with ‘apple or orange juice’ – what he didn’t realize was that the events to follow would put him on a high which alcohol couldn’t match!!

Shiksha was whisked away inside and that’s the way it should be – all of us deserve well earned breaks from each other and normally, till dinner is served, the kids & adults remain disconnected. Please note the operative word being ‘normally’!!!

We had barely warmed our seats when we were briskly commanded on our feet. Single file, we embarked on a tour of all the trophies earned by every member of this over achieving family. I noticed that a petulant Shiksha was forced to join the line. This was not a tour for the weak or faint hearted. Every cup/medal/trophy had to be duly examined, exclaimed over & the master of the house bleated on about the history behind it. After the third shelf, we ran out of steam – wondered if we signed on stamp paper swearing our admiration & respect for these gleaming works of art, we could go back to our much maligned fruit juices!!

No such luck – if we committed the crime of going past one of those prizes with a simple nod, there was panic in the ranks! We would halt, have the narration repeated, in a censorious tone till we accepted defeat and gushed over the neglected plaque!! Soon we were short on adjectives and approving sounds, but necessity and fear - the mothers of invention!!

Excursion over, we gratefully sank into our couches & viewed the fruit juice with new found appreciation! Before we could tiredly raise the glasses to our parched lips, our seating was briskly re-arranged … apparently we had to now watch a video film of a show organized by the hostess. You live and learn – it dawned on me that in this house, guests have to contribute too. I desperately needed a thesaurus, because my scant vocabulary where words of praise go, had been stretched beyond capacity.

This was a family you couldn’t mess with – we were audience to a well oiled routine – each member had his role to play – the daughters took care of the lighting, the son controlled the remote, the mom took over as the compere, and the dad watched us like a hawk. Anytime we dared to so much as glance away away, he pounced on us, the beta would rewind, the dialogues were repeated & we burnt under the combined glares of the rest of the tortured party who had to pay the price for your folly by watching something they didn’t want to – AGAIN!!

By now we were reduced to a zombie like state – our spirits broken, we were putty in the hands of our resolute hosts. Trapped in the land of no return, we resigned ourselves to whatever fate had in store for us!!

With no will to question, we feebly trooped downstairs. The few souls who still had a glimmer of optimism lingering in them, hoped for dinner. But all that happened was a change of scene for the next act ….

The lights were dimmed and we sat back wearily & by now, warily!! There was a moment of welcome silence, but it was merely a lull before the storm …. One moment the young lad of the house posed with his back to us and ….. with no warning, he leapt towards us & broke into the most vigorous dance I have ever seen, with tamil rap music thundering in our ears. The pyaari behnaas were the dj’s, while the fond parents assumed new avatars – the cheerleader squad!! All that was missing were the pom poms. Mortifying memory, but we succumbed to the moment and lustily hooted too!!

As they say, if u cant lick ‘em, join ‘em!! Like Ar Rehman’s music, this kooky khaandaan began to grow on us!

Some hapless guest had the audacity to get up and visit the loo – and paid for her sins. The dance was repeated!!

Then the pretty young girl of the house started belting out a combination of Hindi and Tamil songs. This time we listened like our lives depended on it … by now we had wisened up to the fact that any small distraction would mean big time payment – in the form of an encore!!

While the nightingale was singing, we noticed the parents running helter skelter. Apparently the music system upstairs was being connected to the speakers down for best effect for the next act – Indian classical dance. This time I was honored- the hostess cheerfully announced that someone like me may not have enjoyed rap and modern music, so something ‘desi’ for the simpleton from back home!! I indignantly wanted to protest – just because I look & dress like an ‘amma’, don’t dismiss me as one (we’ll talk about how people slot u according to your looks another time because there’s lots there folks!)!!!

U know those non-stop party remix albums?? This was like that – entertainment unlimited!!! Eventually diner was served, happy to report, accompanied by singing and dancing. Were too pooped to check if those kids ever stopped to eat or drink??!! This was survival of the fittest and we wolfed down our dinner gratefully & stumbled back home!!

Outcomes of this very enlightening evening – plenty my friends ….

· Never judge a book by it’s cover – this unassuming family had revealed hidden dimensions
· Realization that we sucked as hosts
· We were spoilt & every gathering we went to, paled in comparison!