Myriad kaleidoscopic moldy stuff

The amusing MinM tagged me to come clean on domestic horror stories...
I have been racking my brains ever since.

Do i write...

--about the time i served half cooked food to TB's childhood friends?- or does that fall under the genre of torture?- Out of sheer politeness they ate it. Never came home for 4 years after that and when the finally did, told me to order out. They refused to believe i actually figured out how to check if puttu was cooked or not. Sigh!

-- or about the time i dutifully kept the fairly stocked up fridge ON during a week long vacation, and promptly switched OFF the mains?
If y'all haven't faced 8 day heavily fermented dosa batter.....it's a loss. Trust me. It took two hours to get the crusty, foamy stuff out of the trays, two days to get the smell out of the fridge and 2 years to get it out of my psyche!

--More entertaining would be the descriptions of the myriad kaleidoscopic moldy bottles that my mother fishes out of my refrigerator crevices ( Trust me- they are never there when i look!). The patterns and colours on them are pretty intricate and amusing at times...though my mother does not appreciate my interest in mould cultivation.

-- Or about our Sofa....the day it goes for refurbishing, quarantine will be declared.

Instead...here is a domestic disaster..well, almost.

--Circa 2001. We the "DINK" couple are having the time of out lives in namma bengalooru. Then who else lands in the town to spice up our lives- none other than " Bryan Adams".

A huge bunch of friends decided to land up there, and plan and plot the POA ..the venue is in one end of town and we need to leave early...so we breeze through the day...park ourselves right in front in the hot sun...wait endlessley for the man to begin.

Finally he comes on stage in pristine white with " B A D" written across his tee and starts off with " The best of me"...
He played non stop... "Everything I Do", "Please Forgive Me" and "I Am Ready". Then came- "18 Till I Die", "Run To You", "Cuts Like A Knife" and "Summer Of '69"- I was on cloud number nine when realization hit me with a mallet.

I HAD LEFT THE GAS BURNER ON WITH THE CURRY IN THE PRESSURE COOKER!!!

I died.

I have no memories of the next few hours...there was no way we could get out of a crowd of 40, 000 people.I cried- literally. The crowd thought it was sheer fanatism!!!I was worried my kitchen would have blown apart- there would be cops waiting for us when we get home. I was going to be gulity for the entire building gutting.

The show ended in 15 minutes- it took us one hour to get our car out of the parking, and another hour to reach home. It was 2 am and the entire nighbourhood was quite...i was too scared to enter our lane- wondering what awaited us. There was nothing! We quietly walked up in darkness and opened our door...the entire house smelled of gas, and burnt food. In the dark we opened the windows and waited to the smell to go away before turning on any light...i tip toed over to the burner and found my pressure cooker intact...the cylinder had run out of gas!!

I can't even begin to describe the relief .
The pressure cooker , however had to be salvaged and the black crusty burnt stuff took a day of soaking to come off.

I have never, never left the house without checking the switches and burner henceforth!.

Here MinM...tag done.

Venting out

What could be worse than pining for the kid who is away having fun??

Having the other parent also go off for a week...leaving me all to myself on a long weekend---Times when i wish i lived closer to either set of parents... Now i have me, books and the stupid TV for company.

I.so.hate.this.

Lion's park

V has gone from one set of grandparents to another. He is now with TB's parents and aunts and uncles.Dad is taking him to Lion's park by the beach.

The child thinks he is off to see "Alex the Lion" and may be " Simba and Mufasa" too.

Little does he know that " Lion's Park" is actually " Lions Club Park' and the only animals he is going to see are the two legged variety.

Am hoping the beach and the sundaes make up for the dissappointment!

Being a mom

Nitya asked me " why don't you do this tag"? Never done one before, but couldn't think of a good reason why i should not....so there.

Some of the zillion reasons why i love being a mother...these are random 5, not really the top 5.

>>I love being a mother because having V gave an Axis for my life. From someone who is fiercely independent and lived life in her own terms, V now dictates the course of my life. Every decision, every step in life is taken around him and his comforts. He has bought in a purpose and given direction for the rest of our life. Every day in the last four years, i have looked at him and wondered what i was doing with my life before him.

>>Motherhood has made me appreciate the smaller, slower things in life. Somewhere over the years of working, i stopped smelling the flowers and watching the clouds. With V, everything matters. The joys of just being together and doing nothing. The myraid emotions that we go through during the course of the day.. He makes sure i do not miss the fine print of life.

>>Being a mother has changed my equestion with my parents, and the way they acknowledge me. I see them in a whole new light...every emotion, every challenge, every thrill that i go through, reminds me that they went through the same, in another age, with me and my sister. I wonder how they did such a fine job of it? Times were different, resources were less, but we were always contented. I always admired my parents. Now i am in awe of them. I wish to be at least half capable as them.

>>Being a mother has given new friends,and neighbours who did not know existed before. AND- i met ALL of them through V. A walk to the park or the grocer is never complete with some random stranger( to me) stopping by to say hello to V and introducing themselves as mama/ nana/ dadi/ chacchi of one of V's friends. He is a very social child and everyone in the complex knows us a V's mom and dad. If not for him, we would still be living our ignorable existence as 'that couple who appears once in a quarter for meetings'.

>>Motherhood has made me an utter romantic . Seeing TB transition from being my best friend to the one i wanted to spend my life with was a dream come true. Watching him as a father has been one of the most fulfilling things in life. The love in his eyes when he looks at V, the way he melts when V calls him 'acha', the mischeif in their eyes when they plan to tickle me....
Most of the times, i watch them quietly from a corner and fall in love all over again with TB, and with the son who looks exactly like him. I have moments when i feel my heart could burst with love, times when i feel my heart melt to a mush and never hesitate a hug or a kiss- be that to the son or the father. Five years ago- i would have sniggered at myself and said " so teenage".
Now i am that.

I'd like to cheat and write another 20, but it may not stop there. So i'll stop now. And writing this hasn't been easy without V around.


Can't think of anyone who has not done this tag yet..if there is someone, feel free.

One place i'd never want to be in...

is being the parents of these boys.Over the last week, everyday, i get up to very descriptive narrations of the event, what transpired, timelines...pretty much everything i wouldn't really want to know.

The first reaction as always is anger, on wondering how foolish can people get. Over the weekend , somehow this has turned to angst - for the parents of these boys. The reports have been detailing the background of these boys, their parents and there seem to be clear divide...a bunch that had a reputation, and one bunch who were the 'boys next door'.

How does one react when they find out that their child- is a rapist/ theif/ murderer.., someone on the wrong side of law? Do they succumb to first instincts and protect they from the world, or do the right thing- emotions be damned?

As the mother of a boy...this question haunts me. Once you are a parent, the focus of your life shifts to bringing up this little person at home- teaching them right and wrong,preparing them to face the world that waits outside, showing them the various paths life takes,teaching them to be respect and honour women,showing them to act as good humans- isn't education all about this?

Then the child becomes 18 or 20 and leaves home...and all you can hope for is that the values you passed on, the little things you believed and preached to them will hold good.I do belive that the atmosphere and upbringing one has had has a lot of 'influence' in the person's character.

But just' influence'. It does not ultimately determine how a person turns out to be. That scares me.

I stayed in a hostel from the age of 15-20. The first time away from home,first time in a mixed college. It was a new world altogether. For someone from a quite, laid back village in kerala- the metro was a revelation. So much of freedom, so much to do, and no-one to admonish. I have seen friends and classmates sway either ways- some who believed their value systems and stayed course. Some very capable one's taking the freedom a little too much, and end up on the wayside. I was fortunate to have the sense to stay my course- a lot of it had to do with the family, but hey, it could have gone otherwise.

There are people i know who relate to these boys in question- and no, they were not from affluent families and such.For them , it was making the most of opportunity when it presented.Principles be damned- "Who's going to know anyway?"was the standard response.

The only people who have my sympathies in this entire drama are the parents of those boys- torn between the urge to protect their kid from the world and lay him bare to the world for what he has done. That must be so difficult.

15 years from now on, or maybe earlier, i will send off a boy from my house into the world- all by himself. While i will pray that he has the strength and resilience to brave the world, i will also pray that he turns into a 'good human being'- someone who knows his place in the world and respects it. And god forbid- if faced with a situation like this- have the courage and conviction to do the right thing.

What else does one do?

Absence makes the heart

...completely forget the existence of two humans called parents.


I'm all set to sue that guy who said otherwise. I trusted his wisdom and send off a kid for vacation, hoping he will miss mama, pine for her and shower her with wet kisses when they meet in another month.


One week ,and we are in long distance rejection mode-"I have no time to talk to mama" because


I am watching the cat eat.
There is someone coming(a mile away)
We are watering coconut trees
I want to eat breakfast( is this my kid????)
I want to watch Lion king/ madagascar/mr bean( another guy i'd like to beat the sh** out of)


All those bollywood "maaaa" type visions........ i am SO trashing them.

Vacation update

It is almost a week and this is what V has been doing.

• Meet 200 relatives at grandfathers uncle's "Navati"..all of who recognized him.
• Watched 13 elephants decked up at a procession.
• Run to uncle's house 100 meters away- before breakfast, after breakfast, after bath, after nap- through the day- because, the 15 year old uncle has two birds, dozen fishes, many cats, two dogs and several other pets- AND, he lets him play with them.
• Collect hoardes of money as "Vishu kaineettam".
• Meet an aunt and hold a 3 month old cousin on his lap- offer to take her home and give her cerelac.
• Visit a voting booth and see the drama that is election politics- pretty early i say.
• Get grandfather and grandmother addicted to "Lion King". Every evening i call, all three are watching it!

What papa and mama have been doing.

• Laze around
• Insignificant stuff..
• Join new lending library
• Make home made paani- puri and eat 100 in one sitting.
• hmmm..errr* blush*
• Invite themselves to friends houses for lunch/ dinner/ drinks/ anything.
• Eat Junk food, and some more

Sigh!

Life..so fickle

This was supposed to be my weekend of redemption. It is not very often that one gets a three day weekend, all by yourself. All those books, the forgotten library membership, unopened DVD's...i had grand plans!
Someone above had grander plans~

I mopped and moped on friday...called V 8 times, till mom told me to get a life. Wallowed in loneliness, made mental note to discuss the option of kids no: 2/3/4...with TB , re arranged V's cupboard, crossed off kids no 3 & 4 from mental note, gave off clothes, and moped some more.

Saturday was my day to do stuff..it was all going as per plan..till,
...the gentleman who lives 9 floors above us fell to his death, while i watched~ There was no screaming, no melodrama, nothing. He just fell, right under my window..while i watched. I ran out , down the stairs, called out to the neighbours, to the security..to everyone around.


He did not move, he just lay there, one look and we knew it was all over. The son was called for...he saw his dad at pooja and then step outside to do "suryanamaskaram". The doctor from the neighbouring block pronounced him dead ...and the body was moved from the road where he lay. The ambulance from the hospital arrived, and refused to take his body..it was not a medical emergency anymore.

What dignity is left when you die? His body lay just where the stairs ended , with no loved one's around, by chance or by design, the son in a state of shock being tended to by neighbours. The living one's obviously needed more attention. I sat on the stairs, and watched the body, now covered with a new borrowed sheet. I felt guilty to leave him there are walk back into the house...almost as if the very act of being the one who saw him in his final moments had made him family. I just couldn't walk away. Neighbours came, peeped- harriedly led the children away. The saner, more straight thinking souls called for the ambulance, and the police.

The cops arrived, two full hours later, look futile statements on who saw what, where did he fall, who pronounced him dead etc...and the ambulance took him away.

I went home, not believing that this had actually happened. It was just two days ago that this man was walking his granddaughters. Life is just so..fickle!

I could not bear staying at home , the image just came back to haunt..locked the door and walked out and came back in time to see the body being carried to crematorium. This was so...not right.

I waited for TB to come and broke down.

It has been two nights of sleeplessness, of dismembered dreams of the same sequence, but with a different protagonist each time. Death has not been new...it just seems to find a novel way of etching itself hard enough into my psyche.


I hope the gentleman rests in peace. Every time i see the dark patch on the asphalt, unyeilding to repeated washes, those moments come flooding back..

I need to find peace too, with myself. And it is not going easy.

Shifting loyalties

When V went for his vacations the first time around... my mom was very edgy. Will he stay on his own? Will he start crying for mama and papa? Will he eat without us around?

She told me to book an open ticket, just in case....
Her concern was shortlived...i think it lasted for two mintues post landing at home.

V is off for his vacation again. He leaves tomorrow...And the child has his priorities very clear. He has been packing his stuff for the journey from the day mom arrived-
A broken car, a packet of chocos for the train, two noddy underwears and one belt(no clothes) and such.I see mental preparation too..he insists that grandmom sleeps with him, feed him, give him a bath. Parents are...well, ignored!

Second time around, mom is still a little edgy.

Will they stay without him? Will they start crying for him? Will they get home on time? will they eat well?- the 'they' in reference being the childs parents this time.

I think we'll book an open ticket, just in case.....

If you hear croaking ..

...................in all probability ,

That's me trying to say something.

A miserable groan, whine and squeak-conversation complete- Nothing understood!

Please stick around while i go in search of that elusive sensory perception.

It's here

Dizzying smell of jasmines
Sapped, dazed,and sticky
Rivulets down my spine
Soles sticking on tar
bright orange aamras from the dairy
wilted greens on vegetable carts....
mango juice stains
Overpowering odours in the train
cold comfort of curd rice
starched stiff cottons
drained and dazed evenings
longing for cool breeze

Summer is here....

A little too early,not any less intense.