Monthly Archives: April 2013

there’s a marriage hall next door to my in-laws place…

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…and whenever we drive past, firstborn’s invariable question is ‘ who weds who today, amma’

as a result of too much ipl, he accidentally asked ‘ who verus who today, amma’

the mmmmim said, ‘not quite.,firstborn. today it’s still A weds B. it’s only after the wedding that it becomes A versus B’

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summer cricket

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my sons and their friends are playing cricket at 2.30 p.m. right after their summer camp.

me and another mum are catching up. our chatter is the foreground. a few boys, a girl and their noise is in the backdrop. we dimly hear there’s been a toss, there’s a run-up, one guys bats, there’s an umpire, shouts of fours and sixes and wides….
and the match goes on for a while,

only when me and the other mum looked closely we saw there was no bat or ball…

it’s all imaginary cricket…

is it a touch of the sun,

or has the mmmmim procreated his clones.

bye bye multi tasking

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when i am going to do one thing, i am going to do only one thing.
that’s my resolution for the next one month.

my so far errant method of working, thinking, living… etc was to mess everything and then clean everything…

are you reading the blog of a new leaf.

i hope so.

i would dance this thillana like this dancer to exactly this song, if only i knew how.

cheers to the optimism of fresh beginnings with a sprinkling of kathanakoothahalam ,

native intelligence

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is what every city-dweller should endeavour to cultivate…

the knowhow to deliver a baby at home, have a greenish thumb to tell the difference between a red chilli seed and a brinjal seed, the agility to clamber up a tree, to live amidst snakes and not be unduly peturbed…

one of those minor things in the list is what i got the kids to do in pondicherry…

stone. mango.kids. connect.

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firstborn surprised everyone with his loot of 4 huge mangoes. baby param and me managed one each. thrilled.

how am i doing..

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i dont know
so i thought i’ll find out by writing a post.

i want to do a bulleted one…

so here are the things i want to say in no particular order. but you already know that if you read my blog.

1. i have lost track of how many days of vacation we have crossed. was there some such thing like school, uniforms and 8 am…

2. want to go on record that there are pockets in india where foreigners arent harassed, leered or stared at. pondicherry is one such. yay india.

3. i visited a store called ‘inner consciousness’ or some such,in pondy. they sold handicrafts. if it were in chennai, the store would be called ‘handicrafts’.

4. i have lost track of weird things the mmmim does. he’s talking on skype with family within chennai… this man has the karan johar it’s- all- about-loving-your- extendededededededed -family kinda thinking.
he would declare undying solidarity with the lamppost if it were remotely related… we arent related . we are apparently related to the mobilephone

5. everyone we met has been conned into this silly game… by firstborn

you need to answer every question with the words ”creepy crawlies”…
and not laugh.
if you laugh you are out.

eg
q. what soap did you bathe with
a. creepy crawlies

what did you eat for breakfast
a. creepy crawlies

here is
firstborn’s q. that never fails to elicit the lolz…

”what shall i use to dig your nose…”

yep. keep a straight face. the 7 y.o. is on the prowl…

first the rant

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ok.
we drove down abour 200 kms to pondy to hurry our vacation over — we finished day 2 and day 3 of vacation in a pondyblur. #utbthowareyoudoing

but.

when we went to the jawahar bal bhavan to entertain our boys, i stumbled on to the child sexual harassment bomb ticking away…

this is what happens. ma’s friend who lives in pondicherry for the last 28 years filled in some of the blanks …

the auto drivers of pondicherry have sorta evolved this into a tradition.
apparently on the last day of the school holidays, the autodriver ‘uncle’ takes the girls — these are children on his regular school pickup and drop — for a joyride. he takes them to the park or a beach, and the wholetime the children are unsupervised by other adults or parents.

my ma’s friend says she has seen autodrivers on the beach ‘misbehave’ with the girls… and the school children, between 8 and 12 years old, seldom protest, since the autodriver is an adult they trust.

the logic is this…

1. since he is being paid for the school holidays, two months salary — so this is a treat that he gives. he buys the kids crisps, soda and cookies from his salary.
and takes them in his auto to a ‘fun’ place.

2. but schoolboys are never taken on such a joyride by autodrivers, says ma’s friend.

this is what i saw…

1. the auto chappie took the girls on the toy train
2. he played a whispering game — where he whispered a secret into everyone of their ears.
3. he gave them juice when they said they were thirsty.
4. they were going to play hide and seek next, the girls said.
5. don’t you girls want to go home, he asked. no uncle we want to play, they chorused.
6. the bal bhavan is an isolated kind of place… it’s the middle of the week.

on the one hand, there might be the genuine avuncular auto driver. taking the girl for a friendly ride … it’s unfair to paint all men black.

but the tradition, i think, is a completely unecessary one…

ma, who came with me, was furious the whole time. ”i brought up a daughter. and i certainly wouldnt send her on this if she was under 10 years old. i wonder if the parents have any idea about what is hapenning…”

you see what i saw …

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the organic idly

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i tried my best — found organic idly rice. found organic urad dal… and an organic grinder [exaggerating, but you get the pic] and topped it off with organic salt and generally willed the batter to be a reflection of supreme health and taste.

and i CANNOT believe how thumbsdown my idlys have turned out. they bear no resemblance to the royal chennai idly, however slight.

hindsight] when the batter goes wrong, i prefer the hard idly. at least i could use it as a shield to deflect the sarcasm.

now the remarks about the pumpkin halwa-like idlys are seeping into my bloodstream.

it’s a good morning

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..
when u srinivas is playing the mandolin. the morning slot is always a good time to bring out the flowers and do a flower arrangement like my friend J taught me to…

have i told you about J.

J, is my friend, who lived across my street in bangalore. it’s only today that i have recovered from her visit one month ago.
she’s a tidel wave who’s into giving. total senseless acts of generosity…

this is exactly why she works.
this is exactly why she blows her salary in one day.
and this is exactly why she lives.

these are the presents she gave us this time…

first look at how my house was transformed by flowers.J bought a bunch of flowers and whipped up this look in 17 seconds…

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she cleaned the fans and scrubbed my bathrooms and left aroma oils for baby param to spray on…

she polished the kids’ shoes and filled their water bottles and picked them from school…

and promptly turned into santa…

there was cricket gear for baby param including a helmet and a bat [seriously, 4yo dont need a helmet, but why would i waste time telling that to J]
and she played cricket indoors for good measure

she gifted purest white A4 sheets for firstborn [who now believes he is an artist, so help us god]

then there was a shawl for ma
and a kurta for the mmmmim and
perfumes and paintings and kurtis for me
and a bengal cotton sari, matching bangles and a bag for our maid
and
a bedspread for ma’s friend who J doesnt know
and microwaveable glass rectangular bowl for ma’s cook
a nightie for gran
and a kilo of organic pepper for my mil
and giant tupperware containers for her as well
and water bottles for the kids
a huge round of juice for all the 10 kids in firstborn’s music class

face packs and foots scrubs made from mint, papaya and organic coconut oil that she kept concocting
and offering aromatherapy consultations for my friend who dropped in…

‘here you take my clip and pass me your rubberband, akka,’ she told our domestic helper lady.

she applied a fragrant homemade organic facepack on our maid. ‘ you are glowing like mahalakshmi,’ she told her and complimented her on her high cheek bones. it’s been a month since my friend J sped off on her shatabdi, but our maid here has been glowing ever since.