Maid for each other: is it a myth?

I slide open the kitchen drawer. The metal clanks as I hurriedly look for the steel lid to cover the soaked lentils ready to be cooked inside the cooker. As I pull out the specific lid, I'm disgusted with how the edges still bear the food stains from the previous day. I quickly reach for a cleaner one, place the dirty one on the clean counter like a carefully collected crime evidence; my mind picturing myself giving an earful to the errant maid.

Image Source

This is not unusual. I regularly collect such proofs of disinterest and lack of sincerity on the part of my domestic helper. It happens, not too rarely, that I stand shoulder to shoulder with a friendly spider that's crawling rapidly down in its intricately woven web right above my desk in the study. I frequently notice effects of neglect on the corners and wall edges; like the fall colours, they go from a clean white to yellow to finally a dull brown. Only that these are rather ugly and not even half as romantic as fall colours. Even as I repeat the warnings to the lady responsible and vow to myself to replace her at the first chance or even pray she quits of her own, I know I'm blessed to have her as my maid. Sounds strange? Allow me to explain.

I live in an apartment complex. And, with that, I'm also a part of the ladies WhatsApp group. It's like that freebie that no one wants but still accepts because maybe someday you might put it to use. To be honest, for all its faults, the group is the most resourceful unit you can have when it comes to a crisis situation. A crisis could be anything: from a last-minute sourcing of a porcupine costume for your nursery going kid to getting candidates for a vacant position in your company; the group rises to the occasion almost always. Well, I digress. The point is a crisis situation concerning maids can be only one: they not turning up for work. This is when I'm truly thankful for the group because I usually find a substitute within minutes of posting the distress Ad for one.

Those were the days when anger against my own maid was fresh and I was looking for an opportunity to replace her. Contrary to being upset on being ditched at the last minute, I took it as an opportunity to find possible replacements. And, therein began my journey of eating humble pie.

Once a maid duly sent in by my thoughtful neighbour sauntered inside. She towered over me, her hefty figure adding to her menacing attitude. Even as I meekly laid out the work for her, she stated pointedly, "you have four balconies!" "Err..yes," said I, unsure. Would she rather have me detach them from the rest of the house? I wondered. I was glad to see the back of her as she finished the work, in a seemingly patronizing manner, for that day.

Another time, I encountered a middle-aged professional who seemed to know exactly how this entire business of being a house-help worked. I couldn't decide if her pan-stained teeth worried me more or her off-handed approach to the work. "Hand me the mop broom" she demanded. "Oh, we don't use a broom for mopping in my house. Here take the cloth," I offered. "What, no broom?!" I don't work with cloth. My back aches!," she glowered. I respectfully ushered her out and shut the door tight behind her.

In yet another instance, a pleasant looking person turned up to fit into my maid's shoes for a day. She seemed affable to talk to too. And, wonders of wonder, she even got my approval in the quality department. I was beyond myself with joy at having found a perfect maid and mustered up all my hiring skills. I enumerated the work while she smiled benignly. As soon as I finished, she put on an air of supreme importance and announced,

"3.5k per month ma, non-negotiable. Just vessels, sweeping and mopping; dusting maybe once a week. Also, I don't clean bathrooms."

Did she just think I had a money tree growing in my backyard? Hell, I don't even own a garden!

This is when my maid's good qualities took gigantic proportions to put me to shame. How could I think of replacing her? At least, she doesn't talk back, hasn't asked for a raise in the last one and half years, and even agrees to work on her faults when pointed out. Yes, perhaps we are also made for each other.

****

Do you have that perfect maid?

Read More

Being online yet not out of line

It's a long accepted fact that most of our communication today happens over Facebook, Whatsapp, Twitter and the likes. The difference between a reply and a response is becoming blurry. Emoticons have replaced lengthy explanations; not to mention made it easier to convey a confused look or ecstasy over something. Whether you're feeling blue or euphoric, whether you want to cringe or ROFL at something, just click the right icon and you are sorted.

http://bit.ly/1Bz9kgz

But, not all is hunky-dory with the instant messaging world. If we aren't careful, we could fall prey to quick-sand of narcissism and impatience that throngs this world.

Haven't we all experienced the restlessness after we post something on whatsapp or FB? We wait with bated breath for that first 'like' or 'comment'. Much like the girl in this Tata Docomo Ad. The messenger Aps have made it worse by adding features that lets the person posting or sending the message know whether the message has been read by the intended person! So, depending upon which side of the message you are, you are either catching your breath waiting for that someone to respond or fuming that despite the double ticks in blue or 'Seen by', the person has the audacity to not reply!

The itch to respond immediately is quite real too. Over-analyzing thoughts crowd our head and we worry that we'd appear rude if we do not hit the 'like' button or comment on a fellow-comrade's post despite leaving our footprints of online presence elsewhere at that hour!

And, then there are the perils of over-communication (if there is something like that) and misunderstandings. A simple comment is torn to shreds by trying to understand the emotions and intentions behind it. Punctuation, pauses, smileys all play a crucial role here. A colon instead of a semi-colon can cause two friends to war. Could a one-liner reply to a lengthy discussion mean that the other person took offence? Is then an apology due? Oh, the confusions!

Fragile relationships do not stand a chance since you are always comparing how friend A reads and 'likes' every post by acquaintance B but ignores you (her bestie?!). Isn't it better to pick that phone and call the person to have a heart-to-heart chat instead of agonizing and staring silly at your computer screen?!

The truth is there is life beyond Facebook and Whatsapp and not everyone thinks about you all day like you do. They have themselves to think about, right? So, lets move on and not base our judgement about people in our lives upon how they behave in social media. Remember, there's always a side that is never revealed out there.

Read More

Of the birthday that went by

Another Birthday went by. Another year added to the timeline. But, it doesn't matter. No matter what number you hit that year, there is a child-like anticipation and eagerness for the D-day to dawn. At least, for me. Yes, life and age has definitely diminished the excitement, intensity, enthusiasm, call it what you may. Still, who doesn't like to be the center of attraction for a full day. The phone calls, the messages, the attention showered by the near and dear ones-it all feels good, doesn't it? 


However, this post is not about all this philosophy. This is about how I allowed myself to be sucked in the quicksand of changing technology and its effects. The husband had been, for a long time now, asking me to upgrade to a smart phone and I had been resisting it citing one or the other reason. Seriously speaking, I never felt the need to. The internet and FB on the PC had anyway engulfed me enough and I was afraid of having it in my hands, literally. So, the game continued between us for a long time; of him goading me and of me taking a puritan stand. I exactly don't remember how all of this changed but I agreed to 'the birthday gift' this year by the husband.

And, friends, as a natural consequence, since then my fingers are constantly being exercised, the hands cannot resist holding the sleek, smart thing, every now and then, and I'm besieged by an almost round-the-clock ring of messages on, of course the "Whatsapp", the devil after Google and FB, IMO. I find my eyes and ears shifting stealthily to where the devil is ostensibly kept away from distracting family time. My guess is that the husband is already kicking himself for what was supposed to be a sort of upliftment of a fellow being. Sigh! so much for his noble intentions. I do feel for him ;-)

That aside, this year, a little more zing was added to the celebration with the husband taking an off that day and we sneaking off to a movie while the kiddo was at school. Only wish the movie was worth all the effort. Shudh Desi Romance was hardly romantic or even half humorous as the promos suggested. In fact, I liked Chennai Express better for all its mindless nonsense and masala.

Read More

Conversations with the toddler

The other day, as I picked up R from the school bus and headed back home, he asked me excitedly:

Do you know my name?

Err..yes, of course!

No...my name is T-Rex. Please call me T-Rex from now on..

!!!!

The name now varies from T-Rex, to Tiger shark, to dinosaur, to alligator, to myriad other species!

The child had a sport's day event a couple of months ago and R came home with his face and T-shirt all muddy. His mouth was smeared with remnants of chocolate too. Upon asking I came to understand that apparently the teacher had rewarded him with the chocolate because he "ran well". A little more prodding into why and how he ran and who else ran with him, he replied that he came first and the other girl who ran with him came second. The answer amused me to no end since it reminded me of this ad:

Several attempts to fish out the correct information went in vain since he kept altering the answers and I left it at that. I didn't think too much of the sports event until a couple of weeks later when the boy actually came up with a certificate for having stood first in sports day event. The event stated " getting ready for school" event. Whatever, that means. But, I am a proud mommy :-)

Talking of chocolates, until last year, R would religiously bring back all the chocolates that he'd receive at school. It is not the case any more. It was his friend's birthday the other day and I asked him if he wished his friend and got any chocolates. When asked why he didn't save any chocolate for me, pat came the reply,

"But, you'd anyway say that you don't want it, no?"

!!! 

*My dear son, at least ask me to see if I actually say that. Or, is it that you know I may not refuse and don't want to take a chance? ;-) *

Read More

What's your good name?

If someone can be named Sitara then why does Guitara for a name sound so funny?

If a person named Ram is no where close to having the personality or qualities that the original bearer of the name possessed, then why does it mean any one with the name Raavan will be anything like the original?

Names have always fascinated and baffled me. I fail to understand the frenzy with which modern day parents name their offspring with the most difficult-to-pronounce and unheard of names-in the quest to be more unique. Since the time I've stepped into parenthood, I have come across some really bizarre names of which I'd rather not allude to here for obvious reasons.

Names have come far from the olden times of carrying forward the grandfather or grandmother's name resulting in having at least five subramanians, krishnamoorthys, Lakshmis or Kalyanis from the same generation in the family and having funny nicknames like Paapa, Echimi (short for lakshmi) or Ambi or even having the residing city attached to the name like Delhi mani to different each one from the other!

Naming children after mythological figures have been the most favourite since time immortal. Yet, one does not come across anyone named Duryodhana or Shakuni or Draupadi. There is a lot of baggage attached to these names, no? I don't claim to know a lot of people but in my limited circle too, I have come across just one "Abhimanyu" so far. I love the name, actually. Does the superstitious fear of a short life attached to the name surmounts logical thinking? Maybe, so. One never takes a chance with one's children.

And, of course, while talking of names, how can you go without mentioning those dubious first names of a male that can also be names in full for a female causing confusions about the gender of the person and causing much embarrassment to the carrier of that name? I can see the male and female Lakshmi-narayans, Uma-shankars, Vidhya-shankars, and Radha-krishnans nodding away furiously. 

Indian English uses forms like asking, "what's your good name?" - something that doesn't make much sense since we cannot substantiate the answer by further asking, so what's your bad name then? If History or Mythology has any bearing on the goodness of the names, then perhaps there are many 'bad' names out there. Of course, they way many politicians with lovely sounding names behave today, a lot of 'good' names are going to be dumped in future.

Courtesy:google;sqidoo.com

Read More

When FB and google beckon

I've fallen into the net,
laid by the mighty internet
FB and google rule the roost
while I follow post after post

Dishes wait and so does lunch
I'm a busy person, online forever
Juggling many a browser,
time for me is, sigh!, a crunch

Typing away furiously one day
the milk overflowed and dried away
the curry was a little salty
and the husband remarked a bit nasty

Said I, "Oh, what do you know
I've an image with fans and follow
Who will run the Facebook
if I turn into a cook?"

Hubby looked a little scared
for,the woman he married
seemed a little mad
I smirked a bit and added,

"I need to go, 've tasks on hand-
 there are comments to be liked,
some pending 'group' invite.
Then there are posts to be shared,
which also need my expert advise"

I can be your friend on FB,
share your jokes and add repartee
But, beware I could spill the beans too
and click the 'un-friend' tab next to you!"

Hubby made a hasty retreat
there was no way he could beat
the world wide web entirely
for, it houses the world, virtually!

Read More

A day linked to the past

The night is quiet, the brat off to sleep (unusually early) and the husband not in town. I can finally sit down to write something. With the husband travelling, the day seemed to stretch like an elastic. I had official work to do but was in no mood to write. The creative juices seemed to be on some strike too. Talk about ironies in life. The brat also seemed very bored and kept popping (the same) questions every 5 minutes in the time I decided to write something. 

Loved this!!! courtesy:pinterest.com

Since nothing better was being churned out in front of the computer, I decided to do the next best thing- tick off some long pending house work. I cleaned R's closet and mine. Oh! the satisfaction. Before you pass me off as someone with OCD, let me tell you this was totally unlike me many years ago. Each time, I clean up the cupboards, my past (it really feels like another lifetime) flashes by where I can almost hear my mother yelling her head off at me for being so clumsy, untidy, disorganized and lazy. 

Yes, I was the black sheep of the family. We had a shelf or two allocated for each of us in the clothes cupboard and mine would be messiest. You open the door and an avalanche of assorted things would be at your feet. Ditto with the books cabinet. I would rummage the shelves-like a dog would a garbage bin to find food-to search for my lost tie, sock, scarf, books, even the precious journal that would have to be submitted the next day.

I think my mother had almost given up on me. She'd finally set upon herself to organize the shelves and cabinet when I never yielded to any of her pleading, cajoling, and finally threats. I was also super thick-skinned then. I started to organize my things myself when I was older but never got around maintaining the shelves in the same manner. 

However, cut to the present- I cannot tolerate messy and unorganized surroundings. Things need to put away as soon as possible (there has to be a sense of order at least on the surface ;-)). I may not be able to maintain the orderliness of the closets but I get a sense of urgency the minute they are in a mess and get to organizing them soon after. Contrary to what my folks or even I, for that matter, thought about my housekeeping skills, I have surprised myself (and them, I think)  into not having a household that has a caved-in look. I may still not be the most organized person, yet I have as sense of discipline. 

Is it some dormant gene that decided to make an appearance late in life? Perhaps it has also to do with the fact that now I know that if I don't do it, nobody will and I have realized that I do prefer a tidy environment.

Read More

Barb(eric) tales

R had a hair-cut yesterday. We have come a long way from having screaming sessions at the barber shop with R sitting on the husband's lap and the husband holding R's hands, feet and head from shaking violently and the barber wiping a sweat or two from his brow after the 2 minute ordeal of having the machine run over the little guy's tiny head to R now sitting still on his own without flinching a bit even as the razor comes close to his ears. Yes, now the barber can safely use the scissors without having panic attacks :-)

When the appa asked R who cut his hair, he promptly replied "Barber shop". The husband corrected him accordingly, so when they entered the house, he reported to me, "amma, the barber cut my hair, not barber shop, Ok?"

After coming back from school, R  demanded for his pair of scissors and promptly took out his toy horse. When I asked him what he was going to do, he said that he's going to give the horse a hair-cut!


So, that's our little barber with the poor horse getting a hair-cut.

Read More

School admissions and such related stuff

Image: google, Deccan Herald

Dealing with school admissions these days definitely amounts to research work akin to the ones done before getting a Ph.d. Starting with what board to choose from, to checking out schools in the vicinity, to evaluating their curriculum and not the least, their (astronomical) fee structure. Adding to the confusion is the varied parental reviews about each school. 

As you'd have guessed by now, we have been dealing with R's school admission process in the past few months. Unlike many other parents, we did not do a tour of schools in our locality. The fact that baring a couple of schools, most schools are situated at a distance of minimum of 13-14 kms from our place, made our job easier. Yes, most reputed schools are quite far and yet, surprisingly a humungous crowd goes to these schools from our complex. Therefore, 
we fall in the minority category of parents who attach more importance to distance among other factors. 

We checked out only two schools in the end, and went ahead with one of those, although I still keep revisiting our preference for the chosen one since the school we rejected is situated right at our backyard! However, it has been drawing a lot of flak lately for it's lopsided management policies, high teacher attrition and in general a seemingly lack of control over things. The other school, although a little far off in comparison, appealed to us in terms of the management response, infrastructure and positive reviews of its parent branch in a different location.  Yet, there is constant humdrum in my mind of whether I've taken the right decision, if it'd be better to continue R in the present set-up and look for high schools later or whether I should go for the nearest school and not worry too much about other factors ? Gosh! it tougher being a parent today, methinks.

Just in case you were wondering didn't I just go through the playschool rigmarole just a year ago and happily settled for the Montessori R is going to currently? Yes, you're quite right. I too wondered about the same. Especially, because, not only did the teaching methodology  appeal to me, it also meant I'd have to look out for big schools only after another 3 years. But, then you know, I had many people telling me that getting admissions in higher classes become progressively difficult. I might get admissions alright but it may not be the school I want, I was told. So, that's the reason behind the renewed hunt.

Coming to the brighter part: before I sound like a broken record grating horribly on the nerve, the shortlisted school follows the Montessori method for the pre-schoolers- hence gets an extra thumbs up from my side.  Ok, before you folks pick that broom and hit me out for this long-winded saga story, let me finish on a lighter note. After we submitted the applications, we were called for a personal interaction. It was a casual and informal session where about 3-4 kids were engaged in some activities by the teachers to glean some information from them orally and to gauge their skill level. One parent was allowed to be with the kid, if the kid so wished. I am not going into the discussion of what could be gauged from tiny-tots and if this is necessary at all. My solace is at least this school had it in an absolute casual manner. One of the reputed schools, I heard, had a formal interview with the child, asking everything that could be asked from names of fruits, vegetables to colours to alphabets to names of the parents, phew!

Now, we are parents who do not believe in coaching the kids for an interaction that is in all likelihood just a formality (at least for nursery). So, we thought it is best to let R be himself. It was useless to even give him an idea of what was in store is what we believed.  So, we marched in our best attire that morning with a happy R in tow. Once at the reception, they asked us to wait for a few minutes until our turn. Now, this school is situated close to a railway track which meant that there are train sightings- an eye-treat for little children. So, R was mighty excited and wished to remain at the entrance foyer and didn't want to enter the classroom. So, in a sense we hit a roadblock at the onset itself. Next, he demanded that I come along, something that seemed quite contrary to his usual independent nature. The teachers appeared warm and friendly and asked him if he wanted to colour. R's reply? No. Do you want to play with the blocks, then? No.  Would you like to sit here? No. I want to see the train! The teacher was kind enough and steered the conversation to other things to make him comfortable. R finally agreed to sit. Then, they showed him a picture of balloons and asked him what it is. R said, "flower". He even translated it for good measure with great confidence in tamil and said,"poo" (flower in tamil). I didn't know where to look. Actually, I wanted to laugh but was scared it would encourage R to provide funnier answers. The teacher also looked like she had come across such an innovate answer for the first time. She composed herself to say,"umm..maybe they look like cherries?" But our boy was adamant. Then, to my relief, he rattled off the right colour names, reviving my confidence. Then he was encouraged to play with some blocks. He put the smallest black below the largest one and insisted that that's how it should be and that it is an aeroplane. After some scintillating conversation about aeroplanes and such, the teacher asked if he liked aeroplanes. R's reply, "No"! Later, at the principal's office too he was talking his head off about some random stuff giving us very less chance to talk! Well, at least he kept them (and us) in splits.

And the best part? In spite of all the circus above, we got through the interview! So, all's well that end's well :-)

Read More

Tantrums of an elevator!

I am perplexed and annoyed at how the lift functions in my block. At almost all times when I’ve needed its service, the damned box has infuriated me with its cat-and-mouse play.  And, it is just this particular lift that seems to have taken an aversion to stop at my floor. The other lift seems to work just fine.  Ironically, the one playing truant with my nerves is the one situated right next to our door. 

Now, each block in our apartment complex is equipped with 2 passenger lifts. However, to save power and with the noble intention of doing our bit to the environment, many a times, there is only one functioning at a given point of time. So, the option to always use the other one does not exist at all times. Talk about convenience!  

We live on the second floor and thankfully do not essentially require the lift most times. Even then, there are times when I am running late or I need to take R and R’s new bulky bicycle to the playing ground when I do count upon this blessed invention to come to my aid. Alas! The devil chooses to play truant even then.

Image courtesy: eatdrinknbmerry.blogspot.com

Let me explain. Imagine this scenario: You wish to descend a couple of floors. You press the relevant call button for the lift and wait patiently. The lift, which by the way is parked at a level below, outrageously bypasses the floor you are on, travels to some floor high above. The call is still registered on your floor, so you still wait patiently, assuming it will pick you up on its way down. The snooty box comes at its own pace and even as you look expectantly for it to make a stop and open its doors for you, it does it blinking act again by zooming past and stopping at the floor below!

Most people might give up by now. I have too on most occasions. But, there have been times I’ve still persisted to see if the lift obliges me at least now. You might think I finally get my chance? Not quite so. This time lift does show some concern to at least stop and open its doors for me but lo! Behold, what do I see? A smiling set of people waving a upward sign at my face. *rolling eyes*

Scenario number 2:   You press the call button. The lift comes and magnanimously stops for you, the doors open but only for you to realize that the lift is going in the direction opposite to where you intend to go.  You have two options: to either join the prevalent group to wherever they are abound and then proceed to your destination, or to wait for the lift to return empty for you. If you choose to wait, you run the risk of scenario 1 repeating. In either case, you are waiting endlessly to get to just one or two floors below you. 

Stumbling into this piece has freaked me out further. And, not without reason, you see.

Image courtesy: fromthepews.org

These days, I choose option 3, even when I’m in hurry or especially when I’m in a hurry. Which of course is,

taking the stairs: Haven’t you heard this is a healthier alternative to the elevator??

Read More

The buddha in my life

Talking to some people even after a long gap brings a smile to your face. You, somehow connect to the person from where you had left off. And, the interesting part is, this is so even though you were never the thickest of pals in that sense where you practically knew everything about each other. Just simply, comfortable friends. So, I met one such friend online the other day, after what seems like ages. We chatted on happily, catching up on each others' lives.

Misery always seeks company. Well, misery may be a strong word here, but any situation that is not (seemingly) worth boasting about to the world, seems better when you find others for company. The thing in question is the nature of husbands. Women all over the world can join hands in feeling empathy for the lady crooning "main kya karron Ram, mujhe Buddha mil gaya" on screen. Buddha does not mean Gautam Buddha here or even someone with his qualities. It also does not mean an Old man in the literal sense. The song pokes fun at the man who cannot keep up with the romantic gestures required (supposedly) to keep the flame of love alive  between a couple, or more so reflects the frustrations of a woman married to such a man.

Every woman, however practical she considers herself to be, does dream of her man in shining armour bringing her flowers once in a while or surprising her in a small way sometimes. Something that the Bollywood has exploited in more ways than one, needling even those without ample imagination, to match up to the standards. When the man in question however has a blase attitude about these petty outwardly notions of love (that's what he feels, of course) even when subtle hints give way to in-your-face demands, the outcome can vary between sour and funny, depending on the woman's disposition.


So, as we got chatting, we hit upon this topic and discovered to our surprise the similarity between our respective other halves with respect to romance. We women do like to confer brownie points on the men who score high on the charts of romantic gestures. In general terms too, when the report card doesn't look too good, one refrains from bringing it up on the table of conversation. Especially when the other's card looks very promising. But, if one has met his match, it's a different story. So, as one of us typed, "the only surprise my husband has given is to buy me some samosas from the corner shop", the other excitedly typed back saying, "Really? the husband here too does not believe in such outwardly show of love". A camaraderie of a new level was struck between us and we laughed at our situations and joked about me blogging about it, for we were sure that for every romantic dude out there must be plenty of nerds who couldn't care less about gifting roses to the lady in their lives. They do care, but cannot for heaven's sake do the mushy rituals.

So, are we missing out on something important? Probably not. For, the poor guys are not villains. They only don't feel comfortable being the Hero.Then, why complain you may ask. Well, because yeh dil maange more! But since we are nice souls too, we'll try not to resort to petty comparisons and restrict ourselves to just singing this song...

Kya karen..tedha hai par mera hai ;-))))

Read More

Entangled in pronouns

Have you ever been enmeshed in the linguistic quagmire of "tum" and "aap"/ "nee" and "neenga"? Have you faced the confusion of whether to address a person as "tum" or "aap"? The question is relevant to the Indian language speaking audience which distinguishes the elderly and the young/peer-group with distinct second person pronouns. English speaking souls are saved from having such confusions, thereby. Remember the lines from the famous Dharmender starrer movie, Chupke Chupke? "Angrezi badi hi asabhya bhasha hai. Tum ke liye bhi you aur aap ke liye bhi you. Chote bade mein koi antar hi nahi.." Of course, if you don't know whether to address the person as aap or tum, English comes in handy :-) So, I'd say thank God for the Queen's language!

But, you may ask, if it is just the age of a person that determines the nature of the pronoun bestowed upon him/her, then why should it be such a rocket science to address someone? Well, you see, it is a little complicated. Apart from the age factor, there is the factor of acquaintance level, i.e. how well you know the person and also how in the first place you came about to know the person and the social/personal equation with the person.

When my husband's friends addressed me as "neenga", in the beginning, I found it very odd. Odd, because, firstly I was not used to being addressed so, and secondly, it felt odd coming from people who are around the same age as I am. Perhaps, the role of second level acquaintance played a part here. Getting to know a person first hand is different from being introduced to as the so and so's wife, I reasoned. However, when I reflect upon the recent friendships (my contemporaries) that I have developed in my apartment complex, I find to my surprise that  many of them address me as "neenga" or "aap". It makes me wonder if perhaps, the city-culture places a part too??

In Mumbai, the city I grew up in, people do not bother to get enmeshed in the nitty gritties of the lingo with atleast the contemporaries . The "aap" quickly comes down to "tum" or even "tu" (which may sound harsh or crude to the ears of someone who is used to speaking and hearing the purer form of the language) depending on the level of interaction and comfort factor. So, a friend is always "tum" or "tu" and never "aap". This is ,of course, my observation and I could be wrong. And, this is perhaps the reason for my ignorance or naivety in this matter.

The second factor-the social/personal equation with the person- is particularly applicable to the husband-wife relationship. I am not sure how relevant or true it is in today's world because I can only speak for myself and the small circle of friends and acquaintances I am familiar with. As far as I know, there are still many women who address their husbands as "aap" or "neenga". Note that here the seniority of the husband in terms of age is not (just) the factor that warrants the conferment of the "respectful pronoun" but the social status viz-a-viz the wife. The "aap" or "neenga" contains the respect quotient too, you see.

In the olden times, the husband used to actually be years older to the wife and also the couple never got the chance to interact freely with one another to reach the same wave-length as the other, emotionally and intellectually. Also, they were bound by social constraints that automatically bestowed the husband with a higher status. Things have changed quite a bit from then. There are a number of marriages that happen without the need for parental intervention in seeking the partner. Even in case of alliances that fructify with the help of the elders in the family, the couple in most average families are given a chance to get to know one another or they stay in a nuclear set-up after marriage to enable the intimacy to develop. The age-gap between the couple has also come down drastically, in some cases, the wife also being the older person. So, I see no reason for the wife to address the husband as "aap" :-) In my opinion, respect for a person cannot be packaged into something so frivolous; it cannot be judged by the way one addresses another. Also, in any relationship, especially marriage, the respect has to be mutual for it to thrive. So, how is that, a husband has the leeway to not address his wife as "aap" or "neenga"?

I faced this problem of tum and aap in my early days of marriage. I had always addressed the husband as "nee" (tum) from the very first meeting. I never understood the need to change the pronoun to "neenga" (aap) after marriage, hence, never did (the disapproving looks from some of the elderly community notwithstanding).  So, it was always tum as far as the husband was concerned. And, as far as in-laws were concerned, I spent the first few months in the painful endeavour of constructing sentences that avoided the direct alluding of the husband as "tum" in front of them. Soon, and naturally so, the mind got tired of the game and couldn't keep up the levels. I then chucked the hypocrisy out of the window and found to my relief that the in-laws were quite cool about the fact.

So, where does all this leave me? Now, am quite used to the way of functioning of the pronouns in this part of the world and I resort to "aap" mostly all the time, even when it sounds ridiculous to be addressing a friend who I see day after day in the park, so. The only hitch is of the old habit which comes in the way and I fumble and flounder at times alternating between "tum" and "aap" in a breadth of conversation. And, what better way to end the confusion and discomfort than to switch to the Queen's language? At these times, I sing a silent "Jai Ho" to English in my mind.

Read More

Draupadi's predicament

Draupadi sat in a corner brooding. It was exactly a month after the bloody war of Kurushektra and although she was in the victorious camp, the pandavas and their share of loses too. She ran her fingers through her hair, reminiscing about the spate of events. That was it. Her hair! They had turned into a mass of dry and rough stack of hay.

She had bravely taken the vow on that fateful day when she was dragged by her lustrous hair into the packed court of king Drishrashtra to avenge the disgrace that her hair suffered with the blood of Dushasana. Until then she vowed never to tie them. Years of neglect, dust and environmental harshness had reduced the once luxurious, shining and silky mane to a pitiable condition. She decides to discuss this issue with her husbands. After all, they were all mighty warriors and repectable kings in their own right. Will they not be able to find a solution to a problem so mere for their reputation?

The next day, she goes into Yudhistra's chamber. She finds him in a contrite and pensive mood, something that had become a regularity with him since the end of the war. After exchanging pleasantries, Draupadi places her problem before Yudhistra.

"Oh, Queen! I expected better of you. Of all the problems, you are worried about something so trivial?
I have other important issues to be sorted out. I suggest you get a nice massage with a good hair oil."

Draupadi was miffed and angered by the diffident and cold response. Hair-oil, huh? didn't she already know these solutions? Probably, it was foolish of her to expect empathy from her ever just and citizen-loving husband of hers. Blinded by fury, she stomped out of the chamber only to bump into Nakul. Nakul looked at her state in bewilderment and asked her the reason for her distress.

As Draupadi recounted the course of events, Nakul was unable to hide the smirk on his face. A handsome man himself, he felt amused at Draupadi's predicament. Sharp as she was, Draupadi was quick to catch the faint smile and chides him adequately.

"How dare you smirk at me, thus? Don't you dare rebuke a lady! You have already seen the consequence of such a misdeed in the recent past." ,  she hollered

Nakul, though a little vain, was a wise man. He knew better than to incur the wrath of an insulted woman. He was visibly chastened and wisely asked for forgiveness. Though, he was unable to provide any solution, he used his astrological prowess to pacify and mollify the hurt Queen.

"Oh, Draupadi, fret not. Your problems are to end soon. The glory and respect that your hair is worthy of will be restored very soon. Help is at the doors."

Draupadi calms down on hearing this and her spirits are lifted a little even. She goes back to her chamber to cool her heels. Discouraged by the responses of Nakul and Yudhistra, she goes back into a morose state as she is no closer to finding a solution. Arjuna would have been sympathetic and resourceful but as luck would have it he was away on an tour to the earth on an errand by friend, philosopher and guide, Krishna. Bheema would move mountains for her but again he was preoccupied with the cooking challenge that the neighbouring state had thrown.

"Is there no one who can understand my misery? No one who'd not belittle my problem and help me find a solution?", thinks Draupadi aloud.

"Oh, Sakhi! how could you forget me? I, who have stood by you in all your difficult times, did it not occur to you to think of me or am I not worthy of it?" , asks a sweet voice that is mixed with mischief and slyness.

Draupadi turns to see the blue cowherd, dressed in his trademark yellow dhoti and peacock feather tucked in his crown. His twinkling eyes giving away the masked seriousness in his question. Draupadi is about to offer her apologies and explain herself when Arjuna enters in with a packet tucked in his arms. He smiles and gives the packet to Draupadi, who is surprised and confused with the turn of events. Her mind running with questions of how did Arjuna come back early,  How come krishna timed his arrival with Arjuna?

She needn't have worried with Krishna around. As though, reading her mind, he steps in to answer her questions.

"Sakhi, I knew the cause for your worry and hence I had sent Arjuna to Earth to procure the solution. This packet contains the whole range of products by a company called Dove. They are experts in providing solutions to all kinds of hair problems. My ardent devotees on earth testify to their claims, so be assured of positive results."

Draupadi's joy knew no bounds as she had at found the miracle product -Dove that was to put an end to all her hair problems. She couldn't thank Krishna and Arjuna enough. Within a couple of weeks' use, she could see a visible improvement in the texture and health of her hair. In a couple of months, her mane was restored to their former glory and shine, one befitting a queen of her stature.

My attempt at fiction is a part of the contest ..and that was the end of my hair problems at Indiblogger

Read More

Random ramblings

A shift from a set schedule to another one can be tough. It is like toppling the apple cart to fit in oranges and lemons and create the beautiful stack again. Yes, although the cart seems just enough for apples, the oranges and lemon have to somehow fit in too. And, one needs to be organized and skillful enough to have the cart look as neat as before. Well, if were a fruit seller, I'd have got a bigger cart instead of making my life difficult by trying to fit more into less. But of course these are just metaphorical and am only referring to the mortal me and the 24 hrs that are allotted to a single day and night cycle in our lives.

Struggling with re-organizing a house that has been recently pest-controlled, dealing with the time-shifts in my schedule due to R's school and a sudden bout of nasty cold and cough has left me with very less inclination to write when there is some time that is not ear-marked for other routine stuff. I just want to crash and zone out into dreamland. I am of course reading your posts sporadically and also try to leave a comment when I read a post. The urge in me to write even so much must mean that am really keen to maintain my presence here.

I want to do an update on R. He seems to be growing up so fast. He says some darn-est at times that leave us either stunned for words or giggling uncontrollably. When you are suffering from a dis-ease, all you can feel is life moving very fast around you while you are grappling to close your fist on the happenings. Bangalore too is weathering a bad phase, it seems. The rain Gods have turned up their noses at us Bangaloreans this year. The dark clouds loom and entice us with the hope of some respite in terms of weather and the much necessary underground water but then tease us into disappointment by disappearing to the bright blue sky a few moments later. In this, the city and I seem to be in some kind of symphony, both waiting to get into familiar conditions.


Posts out of randomness are becoming my thing now. But, of course, I seek to be excused. Writing, although a recent find in my list of hobbies, has grown to be a dear one. I haven't given my other skills as much time and love as I've to this one. To let this slip away into oblivion seems like letting a plant die after tending to it with much care and obsession. But, I attract  the infamous writer's block too very often even as I post regularly, so the upset routine has only thickened the block. So, if there is only randomness and nonsense for sometime here, do bear with me. I shall be back. In better shape and form.

Read More

Buying dilemmas

I have never been a sure shopper. Oh! you don't know what a sure shopper is? I just coined that word. It means knowing exactly what you want to buy. Sure, I know I want to buy clothes: Indian or western, kurtis or jeans. But that's about it. I can get completely lost in a shop liking a whole lot of stuff, indecisive about what to choose. And, I simply do not like when the helper there comes in almost immediately after you enter the shop asking you what you are looking for? Should I tell them I am looking for a green tunic with red dots, preferable with a turtle neck???

The queue outside a (ladies) trial room can put to shame those serpentine queues you once had to stand in to pay the electricity and telephone bills (in an erstwhile era). I instantly feel guilty about the number of clothes I am carrying with me to the trial room. But given the crunch time I have been allotted by the husband who is in charge of a hyper-active toddler during my shopping escapades and also given my shopping escapades are (now) not so frequent in nature, I have to capitalize on the particular chosen day. I can't understand my own guilt. When I am inside the trial room, I make sure I come out as fast as possible. I don't like the feeling of people with sad, frustrated and long faces outside the room waiting for the person that is in to come out. It always feels as though the person who is inside takes an eternity to emerge out when you are in such a queue. And, if I haven't come to any conclusion by the end of the allotted time, I experience the panic situation of an exam student furiously writing away with the hope of completing the paper even as the supervisor has begun collecting the papers. So, in the midst of  such noble intentions and near-panic situations, I invariably land up with a thing or two that I would regret buying in the days to come.

Many times, I end up using the outfit a few times just for the sake of it. Other times, it has happened that I have carelessly discarded or misplaced the bills only to realize LATER the need for an exchange. I have got an earful from the better half on such occasions. Now, we generally schedule my clothes shopping on a Saturday. To account for the not very unusual eventuality of me having second thoughts about a piece of clothing and the resulting need for an exchange. The next day being a Sunday proves very helpful, doesn't it?. And, now I also guard the bills safely.

Read More

If I went under a Xerox copier

Ok, that's figuratively speaking. Don't panic, yet. This is a fun tag going around the blogosphere and I read it on Smitha and GND's blog on the lines of the recent Kotak Mahindra Ad. If there was another you, what would you do?

[For the sake of the post, *Dme: duplicate me and *Ome: original me]

I can only think of how difficult life would be for people around me! On the other hand, if I had a *Dme, we would technically be identical twins, only, (if I get this concept correctly) it would be just me again with the same heart and soul. [And, of course, she should not have a mind of her own. She'd do exactly as I want her to, else I'll be one of the poor souls at the receiving end.]

1. I'd let the world believe that she is just another person who happens to look like me. That way, I would act bitchy about the Ome behind the Ome to know the real friends and real foes (whatever that means) of the Ome.

2. The *Ome can blog, browse the net, read books and laze around to her heart's content without feeling guilty 'cause the Dme will be doing the other important tasks of cooking, cleaning, playing with R.

3. The Ome can have cozy dine-outs and movie-watching dates (with the hubby, of course) while the Dme takes care of R and since Dme is basically the same as Ome, Ome need not feel guilty (or so Ome thinks). *muhahaha*

4. I hate buying veggies, separating and putting them into bags and refrigerating them. Dme can handle them and also the part about deciding what to cook (err..umm..also the cooking part maybe, I can take over sometimes too)!

5. I am torn between wanting to work and being a SAHM. If there is a Dme, the problem is completely solved. We can keep swapping roles as and when we tire of the self-designated roles.

6.  There are somethings I would love to have but loath the hard-work associated with it, for example, gardening. I wish to be surrounded by well-maintained and beautiful plants but I cannot bring myself to do the research, digging, potting, pruning, and all the rest. So, here comes Dme the saviour!

7. I have a liking for many things but hesitate to try them out for want of time or confidence. With a Dme, the Ome can experiment with the salsa class and the Dme can attend baking classes. Just an example.

8. So, what is Ome going to do then, apart from lazing around and having "me times"? Give the Dme a break at times and let her re-charge the batteries. Com'on I have a kind heart. Ok?

So, what would be on your wish list if you had another you for company???

Read More

Hair today, gone tomorrow..

Well, our crowing glory could have tales as well as tails. It depends on which part you focus on. This story is about how the tale of my hair became just a tail of hair. Once a upon a time, I had a mane that most girls would kill to get. Nature had bestowed it on me- shiny black, silky, thick and straight. Yeah, I could've been one of the models for a shampoo ad. Only, no one approached me for it :-( My hair used to be the subject of envy amongst a wide-known circle.

"Oh! what do you do to maintain it?", "please share your secrets"..and so on. My heart would swell on hearing these oft-repeated questions targeted at me by known and sometimes even unknown people. (There have been instances where people would actual touch and feel the hair to believe it is real). I attained almost celebrity status because of my hair during college. I always felt my hair made up for all the other superficial imperfections I might have had. So, I would secretly enjoy all the attention while maintaining a very modest demeanour.

Really, I never did much to maintain them apart from the routine washing and shampooing. Not even conditioning. But yes, I was rather finicky about them in a different way. I never combed my hair when wet. Always untangled them with my fingers first. And boy! I have given my mother much grief when she used to tie them into plaits when I was much younger. The plaits HAD to start at the same level on both sides of the partition. The amount of hair left at the end of the twin-plaits also HAD to match. Not too loose and not too tight. Gosh! am surprised how anyone could put up with such idiosyncrasies. Not that she had much choice in this matter. However, she was only too relieved and glad when I took it upon myself to do my hair at the age of 10. Yes, when I was in class 5 or 6.

And, how I can I forget the hair-cutting ordeals? Ordeals for others, that is. I would throw tantrums after the hair was cut and demanded that the hair be stuck back, pronto!!! Even much later, during late teens, I would reluctantly enter a parlour to get my hair styled, after much cajoling by friends to sport a different and contemporary look. But, I would always come home teary-eyed, for the lady would have chopped off more than I'd have liked and would miserable about it for days. I know, quite silly. 

But, all good things come to an end, someday, don't they? Things changed a whole lot after I switched cities post-marriage. The hard-water made my hair lose much of its volume and I couldn't do much, other than helplessly watching my best feature go down the drain literally. Later, work and home responsibilities left me with no idle-time to pamper or even devote decent care for my once prized possession. Post-pregnancy hormones only added more fuel to the already raging  fire and now I am left with just one-third of the original strength. The tale that was has been reduced to a tail that remains. Of course, am grateful of that, to say the least. Something is better than nothing. There has been some good out of it too. My attitude has undergone a metamorphosis of sorts. I'm no longer a slave to people's appreciative glances (not that there are anymore). I am open to having a shorter, manageable and fashionable look and have become bolder in my hair-cutting experiments. So, that's not a bad bargain, after all. What say??

 

Courtesy: google.com

Loved this quote...

Read More