Surprise!

People who are a regular to this space would be familiar with my rants of how the husband never 'surprised' me on special occasions despite subtle and non-subtle hints. You know, the usual accepted norm of giving flowers, or a cake, and the likes. In his opinion, and rightly so, these outward displays of affection are not needed when the concerned people are secure in their relationship and very well 'know' how much one cares or loves the other. Although, my practical side readily and completely agreed with his point of argument, my other illogical side always found a bone or two to pick with this casual behaviour. Too much of complacency is also not good for a romantic relationship, I'd say, rolling my eyes at him, pouting sadly, trying to emotionally black-mail him and even threatening him into 'gifting' me something!

I had slowly begun to make peace with the benign, indulgent smile or worse a mocking laugh that I'd get in return for all the badgering and nagging that I'd religiously subject him to. Twice a year. This year, I took one step closer to being the non-nagging kinds and gratefully and gracefully accepted the offer of dinner on my birthday. The husband came back from office early and I was happy. This, he always does-taking an off or coming back earlier than usual on special days. After a couple of hours, he asked me where I'd like to go for dinner. In my mind I was cheesed off since I expected some amount of thought to be already applied since he was the one who suggested dinner in the first place. Still, being the non-foodie in our house, I was quite OK with any place, so just 'hmm..hmm-ed' and asked him to decide.

Again, after a while he came up to me and asked if I wouldn't mind Chinese and suggested a restaurant that's quite near our house. In fact he almost pushed his case for this particular place and I was miffed again because I knew how much he liked that cuisine and also to dine at that particular joint. So much for my birthday celebrations! The last straw was when he made no attempt to leave the house early and I, being me, began hyperventilating about it being a Friday evening and we going out of table and having to just eat someplace. The pent up feelings came out like water squirting out of a pichkari. Even then, the conversation that happened next was:

He: Ok, get ready and wear something nice!
I: What do you mean nice? I only have what I have and I, anyway, always dress well!
He: Still, wear something nice.
I: !!!!
He: Ok,..ok..I've already booked a table, so don't get worked up, we have a lot of time on hand.

 The anger balloon deflated instantly since this came as a great surprise to me. Pre-booking a table at a restaurant was so, so unlike the husband.

My mood changed instantly and I was all smiles. The smiles widened on hearing that it was a place I was keen on visiting for a while now. It was a happy ending after all. Oh, wait! you thought the surprise was over? Well, I was already happy with this but seems like the husband had really decided to shut me up. As we relished the food, mid-way, there came a lovely cake for me to cut! Oh, my, was this really all the husband's doing? I couldn't believe it all. I was so overwhelmed with...surprise, y'know!

The past is all forgotten and I've decided not to..ahem...nag the poor guy anymore. At least until next year this time. *wink wink*.

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Seven

Step by step by your side
a wholesome journey, a joyous ride

Quite apart in our ways,
We've traipsed yet so far
with more ayes than nays

Together we walk the beaten path,
crossing each milestone and some more
doubling happiness as we go
did we calculate the math?

Not without a thorn
thrown callously now and then
to test our grit, perhaps 
or to let us thank the stars
that despite all, we have 'us'

Seven is the year,
Ah! the proverbial itch, do I hear?
I'd rather choose to remember
the seven sacred steps around the fire,
and, hum the song of our life,
Say, aren't the notes too seven in there? 



*An attempt, yet again, to commemorate our anniversary-yes, it's the 7th this year.*

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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.

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Daddy's boy

R is talking a lot these days and that too mostly in English! Verbs and tenses are, of course, thrown to the wind. But that's beside the point. It is amusing to hear him talk full and long sentences in a language that was alien to him less than a year ago. At times, I am amazed at the use of the right words at the right places.

During his recent hospital visits, he amused the nurses and the on-duty doctor with his quick retorts. That was of course after his fever had subsided and he was back to his sunny self. As is the wont with adult folk, one of the typical questions to young children is which school they go to. And, so when the doctor posed the question, R who was thorough with the answer, replied confidently. He was not prepared for an unexpected next question that asked him where his school was. Not to be perturbed by such things, R replied without batting an eyelid, "There..... Near Appa's office!"

In one other instance, the nurse came to check his temperature and give his dose of medicine. This young man obviously didn't take this very well and told her, "Don't come near this bed. I don't want to talk to you." As if this was not sufficient, he added, "I'm C's (the husband's name) friend!!" for good measure. As though the husband is the Don of the city and anyone would shudder and stop in their tracks upon hearing the name!

This is not just a proof of his nonsensical chatter but also a trailer of how much R is turning out to be a daddy's boy. It's always Appa, appa all the time. His mannerisms, the way he talks and walks, everything mirrors the way Appa is. If the Appa goes missing even for a few minutes (when the Dad is at home, that is), it is immediately noticed and he'd run to me to ask where his Appa went. He even has the cheek to tell me, " he (the Dad) is mine. I cannot share him with you!" I feel the urge to retort that the older guy was mine till the cheeky lil' fella came into our lives and it is me who should be saying this to him.

I had heard that sons are generally mamma's boys but here the story is quite the opposite. Sigh!

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A forgettable week that was

Oh, what a week this has been! Anxious moments and illness had gripped the household. R had been fighting a nagging cold for a very long time now and the past few weeks saw him dealing with some nasty cough on and off. Just as he was recovering from all of it, he suddenly ran a high temperature last weekend. The paracetamols were only bringing the fever down by a couple of degrees and the fever would shoot up just as the effect of the medicine began to wear off.  And, on Monday morning, we had to rush R to the emergency ward of a hospital following a bout of shivering.

He was kept under observation, given a few other dosages of rectum suppository and a lot of sponging. The thermometer finally signalled normal after a intravenous dose of antibiotic. We were sent home late in the afternoon, by when the husband and I looked like patients ourselves. Imagine, we were in the hospital since morning without a bath, breakfast or even proper lunch!

And, then began a series of blood tests and many more visits to the hospital during the week as R had be injected the antibiotic until the reports came out. He had developed a lower respiratory chest infection and was advised a course of oral antibiotics. Somehow, this seemed like a mild let off in comparison to the anxious thoughts of Malaria and Dengue that were plaguing my mind until the test results came out.

Did the valentine's Day just went by? Well, in all this chaos, I hardly took note, until of course, a lady staff in the hospital extended a red rose and wishes to mark the occasion! Well, what a place to be reminded and how! I remarked a tad caustically to the husband in the car later about the irony of the situation. The hubby of course couldn't have cared less. But, looks like I'm growing older (and perhaps wiser?) too since these things now do not matter much in my head too.

The week was ending on a better note than it began on, but I said my prayers too soon since the husband fell sick over the weekend and I had to cater to two little ones in the house. Who's the other little one, you ask? The husband of course! Of course everyone likes to be pampered when they get sick, so I can't be too harsh, can I? Only, just wonder if I even have the luxury to fall sick and get pampered.

ETA: We are all OK now :-)

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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 ;-))))

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