My first Solo Trip

Off I Go to San Francisco.. was the tag line as I boarded the flight. I was travelling for a week's business conference leaving the hustle bustle of my daily routine. I was excited to go somewhere all by myself and the icing on the cake was that it was sponsored by my company. Though a little apprehensive about leaving my son for so long, I must admit I was looking forward to it. All my life I never travelled out of my comfort zone. My parents were always over protective about me and never sent me anywhere alone and post marriage it never occurred to me that I could travel alone. But then - "Off I go.. to San Francisco."

My colleagues and manager played good hosts and made me comfortable at the foreign land. San Francisco as a city is buzzing with people and traffic, is unpredictable climate wise and to my surprise has few homeless people too. Few streets have the view of Sea and not to forget the Golden great bridge and Bay bridge which are quite a sight. Despite the beauty that lay in front, though I liked the change in place, culture and lifestyle, though I was sinking and bringing in some peace to my mind, my heart was agitated as I left behind something that I call MY HOME.

To my surprise I wasn't jet lagged much, owing to the fact that I usually don't get much time to sleep. I noticed the soil to be more fertile and rich in Organic matter than our soil (insignificant it might be to many). As a result of which the fruits and veggies were bigger in size than ours and I bought loads of fruits to eat during my stay. Meat less food and alcohol free drinks were difficult to procure. Amidst the cold food, water and climate the only thing that kept me free of flu was my vial of Zinda Talismath. Yup! I would highly recommend it to my friends.

Just a week's travel on work didn't leave me with much time to travel but fortunately I could take out friday (thanks to my Boss) to tour San Francisco. yippee! I also took the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) all by myself with Google to assist. Since I was equipped with an international SIM and mobile data, I confidently tread the roads of San Francisco scarcely taking my eyes off google Maps. I was too scared to get lost. But Alas! Taad goes away the internet signal for couple of minutes and that was when I missed my husband the most. I scampered my way here and there until the signal restored and hopped onto the bus, a little shaken but confidence restored on my stars.

The places I visited were:

1. Japan Town
2. Marina District
3. Palace of fine arts
4. Golden Gate bridge
5. Sausolito
6. Contemporary Musuem - did not venture inside
7. California Academy of sciences - did not venture inside
8.  Conservatory of flowers - did not venture inside
9. Tenderloin: Which is a place for poor and single people, where most of the transgenders of the city reside.
10. Alamo Square: Which has victorian styled houses
11. Financial district
12. Fisherman's Warf
13. Pier 39
14. Alacatraz prison - did not venture inside
15. Lombard Street
16. Pier 39,41
17. Coitte towers
18. Levi's plaza
19. Ferry building
20. Southern Pacific Company
21. China Town

The weekend was spent with my friend's family at Fremont and that was the best part of my trip.


Interesting Encounters:
There are interesting people everywhere. You only have to strike a conversation:

1. Writer:
On my journey from Pleasonton to San Francisco, in the BART, I happened to sit beside an Indian, who had also come to visit the City all by herself. She was a pretty cool woman because she makes it a point to travel alone to various countries every year, leaving behind her husband and son. Later she told me that she was a script writer for daily soaps of Star Plus. Boy! I never met any writer till then and this writer looked and sounded like any of us. And I realize - "Thats what every one is - HUMAN. Like all of us".

2. Awaara:
While returning from our ferry ride at pier 43, we hired a Taxi and the driver was too old and grumpy. As soon as we boarded, he said that he wouldn't accept cards because that seemingly causes him some problem and said he wouldn't follow any car but go at his own pace, as he was the car was his own. He complained on how people whiz past on roads scaring him not caring for theirs or others cars. Man! I would want him to try driving in Hyderabad. Every other minute he would raise his wrinkled hand at  a vehicle on the road finding fault with its driver. Accusing UBER of stealing his daily bread and cursing San Francisco for its raising traffic and pollution, he drove us as we sat silently hoping for the ride to end. He then asked us "Are you from India?" We gave a hesistant "Yes" in reply not expecting what would come next. He said that he was from Ukraine and came to San Francisco 57 years back, when the place was calm and serene. He said in his husky old voice, "Back then when I was in Ukraine, Indian movies were famous. There was one actor Raj Kapoor and his movie Awaara, I watched it 15 times." and started singing "Awaara gu (he used Gu for Hoon but sang in perfect tune).. Taa dadada.. Awaar gu.. Papa tadidadi taadidaadi tadidadi dadi taadidaadi.. Awaara gu.. yaa gardish mein gu aasmaan ka taar guu.. Awaara guu." He was now filled with child like enthusiasm which brought a youthful spark in his eyes. He recounted the old days when his friends would come to him with the request to sing Awaara Gu. I played the video song of Awaara Hoon on youtube for him and he started kissing Raj Kapoor. I wanted to add that Raj Kapoor was long gone. But held back as I didnt want to spoil the aura of the moment. I was never a fan of bollywood or movie buff and never had any high regards for any movie star. But if a mere memory of it could bring back the spark in a grumpy old man's life then I think I should change my views about movies and movie making. As we got down the taxi, the driver thanked me for the video and asked "Do you know who I am?" as I was about to reply "Shasha," when he chimed "I am Awaara." and he went away singing "Awaara gu.." nodding his head in old Dev Anand style.

3. Abdul:
My cab driver from Fremont to San Francisco Airport. This guy was a young tall and muscular guy. He asked me my country and I proudly said "India" with my nose held high and then we started conversing in hindi. Abdul is from Afghanistan. He wanted to study but basic education is a luxury in Afghanistan. Thanks to Taliban. He went to Pakistan to learn english and came to India to write a scholarship exam. Abdul had high regards for India because Indian government is helping Afghanistan with scholarships to study in India. Though he failed the scholarship test, his friends passed and were studying in India and said that Indians are very friendly compared to Pakistanis. He worked few years in Software companies  at remote locations but returned to Afghanistan to join armed forces with US against Taliban. He says its easy for Afghani Army men to get a Green card to US. When I expressed my surprise, he said that Trump is in favour of  Afghanistan and welcomes them to US. Abdul also gets free food from US government and $70 per day in the US. He says he hardly spends his earnings. The US government is taking care of his expenses. I asked the most obvious question, "Did you like US?" for which he replied, "The country is big, views and scenic beauty is good, roads are wide,  but their hearts are narrow. You never know when they stab you from behind. They might flash a smile at you but you never know when they can turn against you." His country might be small, backward and might be at war but that was his home and wanted to return as soon as he gets US citizenship and US passport. Because not many countries offer him a job with Afghani passport. With a US passport in hand he could go and work anywhere and have a decent life back home. That was a bright and hopeful man I met as I closed my trip. And I returned to my land, not forgetting the good things he said about India. If an Afghani could find his nation desirable than US, then that's a learning for many of us.



Learnings:

1. Shopping: Shopping in US is costlier than in India. Considering the fact that most of the products in US are made in China, I would rather prefer to buy them with rupees instead of shedding dollars.

2. Food: Be very specific about your choice of food. Vegetarian doesnt mean without egg. Water doesnt mean without ICE. Darn! But water at room temperature is also as cold as ice. Be careful and extra cautious while they are mixing drinks. Because they don't know you are a teetotaler. And most important of all, don't forget that you dont have anyone to carry you to the room if you pass out.

3. Traffic rules: Do not cross the road like in India. There is a signal for pedestrians crossing. However, pedestrians are the boss of US roads. Where there is no zebra crossing, pedestrians can feel free to cross the roads and all vehicles come to a screeching halt. All you have to do next is ignore the swear words that follow. (anyways, you wouldn't understand the accent.)

4. Queue: There is a queue for everything in US. Whether you want to get the train or bus, grab a quick bite or rush to the loo, please join the queue.

5. Travel: Travel as much as you can if you want to know the world. Stay in you cocoon only if you want to die ignorant.

A random summer weekday

It was like any other weekday for me. Waking up early, preparing breakfast and lunch, gulping down my breakfast in hurry and rushing to office in the hot summer sun. After not so tiresome work at office, I find that its already 5.30 p.m. and pack my bag to head back home. As soon as my scuttling feet reached the exit gate, I met the most unlikely thing for a summer evening, a cool waft of breeze. It was already getting dark and the sky was so very cloudy. WOW! I stood doing nothing and looked around just WOWing for a couple of seconds with the breeze soothing me.

The autowalas honked at me volunteering to take me home. But I decided to walk. It was a 30 minute walk from office to home and I wanted to  savor every moment of it. As I was walking home, I felt the sudden cravings for corn. The one they roast on charcoal and you get to eat with salt, lime and chilly powder. Oh so YUM for a cloudy day like this. My mouth was watering as I thought of it and is still watering as I write. I was scanning every corner of the road as I walked, but did not find any good man selling corn. There were people selling bhajjis and pakoras. They would have served as the best snacks for a cloudy evening if I wasn't following the no junk diet. I was busy scanning the other side of the road for corn for quite some time and decided to look at my side of the road too for the life saver corn. And I realize that I was inside the compound walls of a play school.This play school had its gate (which was open) on the road and my corn scanning eyes missed it. The confused me continued walking inside the compound looking for the exit gate which was no where to be seen. I did a U turn and came out the way I came in, conscious of the people staring at me. But I just gave a smile as they couldn't see me. No, I wasn't invisible but my face was masked with my scarf to cut out the pollution.

I quickened my pace towards home as it started drizzling. On my way home, there is a vast area of government owned open land filled with greenery. It was like any other open space you see in hyderabad, filled with plants and bushes, plastics and waste strewn here and there. But the unusual sight that caught my eye was the peacock. Yes. While the peacock stood there contemplating if the drizzle was enough reason to dance, my heart was already tap dancing not just for the summer drizzle but for the fauna that existed very close to my home. I stood there for sometime marvelling at the most handsome male creation of God and sighed for not being a peahen. I continued my slo mo walk and reached home. Deprived of corn I consoled myself by feasting my eyes on the handsome peacock.

Of Stories

Most of my childhood was spent either listening to stories or reading them. So I wanted to dedicate sometime everyday to tell a story to my son. In fact I told him stories when he was in my tummy. Once he was born, I got him lots of picture books and started narrating him the stories. I wouldn't read them but would just tell him the stories and let him correlate them with the pictures in the book. Not just from books, but most of the times I tell him stories of mythology, stories that I heard from my grandmother and stories from our day to day activities.

When he was around one and a half year old, he would ask me story about things he saw at home. Like story of a fan, story of AC, story of the bed etc. And I would weave a story around the objects and amuse him for a while. I enjoy story telling most of the times but it gets redundant when he asks me to repeat the same story again and again for tens of times. Or it gets challenging when he asks me the next day to repeat the previous day's story because I would not remember what I had told him. Thats when I realize I am growing old at a rapid pace. He loves stories of duckings, kittens and rabbits the most. He hates moral stories. Whenever I try to drive some moral into him, he cuts me off. For instance, one day I told him the story of a naughty monkey who had the habit of poking into others business and in the end he had his tail cut due to his attitude. He paid atmost attention to the pranks played by the monkey but when it came to the conclusion, he quickly cut me off and asked me to repeat the story from the beginning.

Needless to say, these days it gets difficult to tell him any story that has moral attached to it. So there go the panchatantra stories, in the archives of our bookshelf. Sometimes we sidetrack from the main plot of the story due to his inquiries into other irrelevant details. For e.g. I am narrating him the story of a baby goat that wouldnt sleep and instead roams around the country side with his dad. All of a sudden he interrupts and asks me about the huge fan. Only then do I realize that there is an image of a huge fan of a wind mill in the background. So, I detrack and tell him the story of the fan while the goat family lay forgotten on darkest of  the nights, lost in the country. On other such instance while narrating him the story of a selfish crocodile who is mean to every animal of the forest that comes to drink water at his lake, there is an image where the crocodile hurts his jaw while clearing his teeth with a toothpick and lo! My son wanted to know what the lizard was doing there. Needless to say it was another insignificant creature placed on the colorful background of the page along with the bees and butterflies. But we had to make it the protagonist of our story. Sadly, the next pages wouldn't agree with our plot and had to be ignored and torn. Narrating story itself has become a suspense thriller for me because, I wouldn't know what story would be demanded from the book I read.

Very recently, I got to know about homeschooling which meant teaching children at home instead of sending them to school. But my son learns nothing more than scribbling on the walls at home. Since I don't have the patience of homeschooling, I decided that I would teach him something new everyday. I showed him the climber in our garden and told him how different it is from the other plants and trees. I showed him how it climbs taking support and grasping objects coming its way. I also showed him how the tiny cucumber formed under the yellow flower of the climber. After few days we also noticed it grow in size. Yesterday as a bedtime story, I told him that God has created us with eyes, ears, nose, mouth, hands, legs and tummy. But internally there is a lot going on. I told him that we have wind pipe going to lungs and food pipe going to stomach and the food pipe is thin and any large objects that we swallow gets struck in there and chokes us and that is the reason we have to bite and chew our food patiently. The toxins and dirt we eat go to liver which cant hold the dirt for long and we get diarrhea and hence do not eat dirt. the kidneys take care of the water and dump the waste water into bladder, which when full, you get the urge to pee. I told him we inhale and exhale air with our nose that goes to the lungs. I showed him how his tummy went up and down while breathing. I put his tiny palm to his chest and urged him to listen to his heart beat. I rolled my fist and showed that was the size of the heart and it pumps blood to our body through thin pipes I said pointing at the green veins of his hands and wrist. Well, this elaborate story or lesson of body parts and their function did catch his attention. Yesterday while sleeping, he kept looking at his tummy going up and down in rhythm with his breathing. Occasionally he put his hand to his chest and showed his fist to me confirming his heart was still beating. When I mentioned the bladder, he said it was not full and thus, talking of the body parts, we drifted to sleep. Looks like in the coming days we will come up with a new genre of stories. Stay tuned. :P

PS: There are stories everywhere. Pick up the one that suits your mood and lose yourself to it. Just for a while let yourself drift with the seemingly impossible and abnormal possibilities of the stories world. That is how creative you can get as a kid. I can't thank my son enough to rekindle the child in me.

Rameshwaram - my experiences

I decided to go to Rameshwaram. Alone, with nothing more than a backpack. But my husband was alarmed at this idea. When a celebrity can drown in a bathtub, the chances of me surviving the sea coast seemed bleak to him. So my darling husband accompanied me and with him came along the bickering. But I must say, he did a great job booking the tickets and planning the entire trip. I don't think I could have travelled without him. So we headed to Rameshwaram leaving my son with his both set of grand parents. At the airport, we missed our son dearly and he was the topic for most parts of our conversation. Thats when I realise that life changes after having children, we can never be the same husband and wife, instead we transform into father and mother. Here is the summary of the rest of our trip.

(March 16th)Hyderabad ----> Madurai (Flight via Chennai)
Madurai -----> Rameshwaram (Bus)

Rameshwaram:

For me, Rameshwaram was a just a holy place (for hindus) where Lord Ram dwelled along with the army of monkeys. My sole intention in going to Rameshwaram was to visit the temples, holy places and the historical Rama Sethu. But what I saw and experienced there was much more that I had expected. Rameshwaram is an island (in Bay of Bengal) thats connected with the mainland through the Pamban Bridge and Pamban rail tracks. We booked our stay at Jiwan Residency which faced the beach and was separated with the sea by just a road. In short it was an awesome view from the hotel. There were many boats docked at the coastline and nets spread to dry. To stand there and look at the endless sea and the drooping sky touch was like meditating. It was like viewing a massive art piece live.

The following day (March 17th), we visited the following places:

1. Satchi Hanuman temple: A very old and small temple of Hanuman/Bajrang Bali.

2. Ramar Padam/Ram Jharoka temple: This temple is on Gandhamadana parvatam and it is said that after defeating Ravan, Ram and Sita rested at this place. It is said that this place has Lord Ram's original footprints. But I was disappointed to see that it was a man made stone engraving not the original footprints.

3. Vibheesha Teertham/Kodanda Rama temple: this is the place where coronation of Vibheeshana was done.

4. Panchamukha Anjeneya temple: This is a temple that has an idol of the not so common 5 faced Hanuman. What is interesting about this temple is that it has the floating stones that were used to construct the Rama Setu. And I saw them floating. It might not be magic. But there must be some science behind it and I want to know the science involved.

5. Dhanushkodi beach: The drive to this beach itself was awesome. The thin stretch of long road had sea on either sides. This is the tip of land from where Lord Rama along with the monkeys has constructed the Rama Setu with floating stones. I was expecting the floating bridge to be available to a common man's sight and I had confirmed the existence of the bridge in the satellite image of google. But the fact is, the bridge is submerged in the sea (could be due to sea levels raising) but you can see formations of sand dunes on the bridge which lay irregularly above the sea level and lead us to Sri Lanka. I do believe this is the bridge constructed by the monkeys and engineered by Nala and Neel. Though I dont think the floating stones are a miracle. I strongly believe there is science involved behind the floating stones and we knew that science back those days. As per the local people we spoke to, the stones are made of limestone and are nothing but the coral stones. Though I saw many corals in the beach, none of them were floating like the ones at the Hanuman temple. When asked, the locals told me that the corals have to dried in sun for a couple of months for them to float. So, brought a tiny coral stone from the beach to confirm this theory. Most of my free time at Rameshwaram, I continued my investigation on the floating stones. Not like a scientist but rather like a common googler.

6. Viloondi teertham: This place has a small spring of fresh water right beside the sea. It is believed that Lord Ram quenched Sita's thirst at this place.

7. Krishna Temple: This is a temple maintained by a Gujarati Trust and I must say it is well maintained. Also, to see a bunch of Gujaratis living in Rameshwaram came as a surprise to me. Rameshwaram showed me how prejudiced I was in many ways. I, who thought Rameshwaram to be nothing more than a religious place for hindus also found that Rameshwaram has good number of Muslim and Christian population. It also has water sports. This came as a surprise to me. It meant that I need not go to Andaman for snorkelling.

8. Ranganatha Swamy temple and Agniteertham: This is the temple, where Lord Ram has installed a Shiva Linga and prayed to Lord Shiva after the war with Ravana. Agniteertham is part of the sea right in front of the temple. It is a common belief that bathing in agniteertham and the 22 wells of the Ranganatha Swamy temple cleanses one of his/her sins. I didn't bath anywhere other than our hotel's bathroom. I want to carry my sins on my shoulders to my grave. The fact that I couldn't see the Rama Setu hit me hard and any local I could strike a conversation with, I had asked if there were boats that could take us to the bridge but never got a positive reply. In one such attempt, I asked one person at the prasadam counter.

Me: Rama Setu, how to go?
Stranger: Yes yes. Dhanushkodi.
Me: From Dhanushkodi to Rama setu. How to go?
Stranger: No Rama Setu. Pura in Sea. (he meant it was in sea)
Me: Sand. We can see. (I meant the sand dunes)
Stranger: Yes.
Me: no boat to take us there?
Stranger: BOAT no. BUS yes.
Husband: Apparently there is a bus that will take you to Rama Setu. Would you like to go? He teased.

9. Abdul Kalam memorial: This place was the most crowded place in Rameshwaram. This shows what a man Kalam was and what place he holds in our hearts. The memorial has memories from Kalam's days at ISRO and DRDO. It has a brief description of Kalam's childhood. In short, this memorial provides a glimpse of Kalam's life. It has Kalam's wax statues, grave and his belongings that carried for his last meeting at Shillong. Here, I chanced at reading the poem "My mother" written my Kalam and was moved to tears. I came out of the building with a heavy heart.


I might have missed out couple of other places. But this is all I remember as its almost a week since my tour. But there were few experiences that are worth sharing or rather blogging I must say.

Auto/Cab drivers: My husband is always interested in politics of the nation, state or region. So this is what he uses as a weapon to strike a conversation with the cab drivers. Unlike the Hyderabadi drivers, the drivers at Tamilnadu are less aquainted with hindi. So while conversing with the drivers, we can't talk long sentences in hindi/english. Instead, my husband speaks in broken sentences, pausing as often as the situation demands.

Husband : "Which party, strong?"
Driver 1: confused look.
Husband: "Amma party or Karunanidhi party?"
Driver 1: beams and says Karunanidhi. Entire Tamilnadu Karunanidhi.
Husband : Kamal Hassan and Rajini new parties? Who will win?
Driver 1: no more interested.
Husband: winks at me and says "He must be a huge fan of Karunanidhi."

Husband: "Which party strong here?" to another driver.
Driver 2: "Amma party" and is happy that an outsider is interested in their politics
Husband: "Stalin?"
Driver 2: confused.
Husband: "Stalin good guy? bad guy?"
Driver 2: says something in tamil, hindi and english mixed
Husband: speaks somthing in hindi, english and some other gibberish. Sort of confused at his own diction and keeps quite.
Me: Since it rained the previous day, I asked, "Do you get north east monsoons or south west monsoons?"
Husband: gives me murderous look.
Driver 2: Increases the speed, keen at getting rid of us.

This last one is remarkable. He has a squealing tone and like the other drivers spoke broken hindi to communicate with us. But what makes him stand out in the crowd is his confidence while speaking hindi.

Driver 3: Company wala (he meant ola). Bolta, "this app not responding. Please close." main chup karta. (showing us his mobile which hung by a polythene cover in the auto.) Not to forget the high pitched squealing voice.
Husband: Scared and shocked while getting into the auto. Took sometime to understand that the driver was complaining about OLA App.
Driver 3: Kaha jana?
Husband: Ice cream works kondapur.
Driver 3: Company wala bataya. waha pe chodta.
Husband: ok. location dekhke chod do
Driver 3: Company wala bolta. waha chodta.
Husband: ok
Driver 3: Compay wala .... yet again the same thing.
Husband: tired to reply or comment.
Driver 3: scolding and shouting at the people crossing the road. Cursing the people driving the cars. (in tamil)
Husband: silent.
I prod him to ask his favorite question to the driver but my husband is apparently scared. Finally I found one driver who "Chup karata" my husband.

The SEA:

All my life I had seen only the beach at Vishakapatnam. The tides are wild here and beaches crowded. But the beach at Rameshwaram was still and serene. I never imagined the sea to be so tame and shallow. The waters were shallow and clear. I could see the snails at the bottom. I collected many shells and have brought home a small treasure trove from the sea. Given below are few pictures.

One morning when my husband was asleep, I sneaked out of our hotel and stood gazing at the sea, taking in the warmth of the sun, while the fishermen sat there spreading their nets to dry. I spoke to one of them and found out that they start from shore at around 1:00 AM to catch fish and return by 7 or 8 in the morning. I also found out that they go 12 miles into Srilanka to catch fish. This not only meant that the fishermen are adventurous but also they are getting us foreign fishes to eat (at no extra charge). WOW! But coming to think of it, they are risking their lives daily for a living, leaving their lives to the mercy of sea and Srilankan navy. 

I wanted to walk along the coast during the nights post dinner. But couldn't. Because my husband accompanied me dragging his feet complaining about the humidity and the atmosphere being sultry. So as to avoid jumping into the sea, I went inside the hotel, leaving a part of my soul at the sea. Today, as I pen down this, my heart still aches for a glimpse of the huge masterpiece, to drag a swig of silence from the still sea to calm me. I don't know what meditation feels like until I stood at the shores of Rameshwaram, talking to no one but listening to the silence of the sea.

Rameshwaram - I dearly miss you.

Trip to Shilparamam and my musings

We went to Shilparamam over the weekend. Since we live in a tiny teeny apartment, my son doesnt get to play outdoors and the plan was to give him a little outdoor playtime. Shilparamam has many handicrafts stalls, an amphitheatre, a function hall, rabbits, ducks any many more things. But our area of interest was the children's park and to be more specific, the slide in the park. My son is quite obsessed with Slides and was pretty much excited and headed straight towards it. But alas! the park was crowded. Apparently the school children (of a girls school) have come for excursion and were having the time of their lives. They too seemed to be obsessed with slide and hence there was a long queue to have a ride on everyone's favorite slide.

My son, who is scared of crowd, maintained a good distance from the slide. He stared at it for sometime and then amused himself with the sand. In the beginning, I protested but gave in. I watched him as he happily played in the sand and consoled myself that its sometimes good to play in the sand and expose ourselves to the germs and microbes as it builds immunity. I joined my son and drew few shapes in the sand but eventually we got bored and started staring at the slide, hoping the children to leave. God finally answered our prayers and we heard the teacher whistle. She was calling the girls to assemble together to leave. As I was expectantly noticing the proceedings, the events that followed rekindled my school memories. Hearing the whistle, the girls scurried and hurried towards the slide, sliding and quickly coming back to form a queue and climb it. They were squeezing every fraction of a second to enjoy. The teacher came with a cane to hit them, and the girls giggled and dispersed from the slide only to return once the teacher turned her head. The girls were quickly sliding, landing on top of the other and giggling uncontrollably. They neither flinched nor complained when they dashed into each other. They just continued forming a queue and sliding. Dirty clothes, sweaty faces, dusty hands, dusty legs but happy faces. Such a lively atmosphere was enough to brighten up my mood. Such sportive girls. One of the girls noticed my son and volunteered to give him a slide ride on her lap and all she got was a "touch me not" look. Yeah! thats my son. But the other little ones present in the park, gladly agreed and allowed the school girls to carry them and slid together happily as we stood watching.

Later that evening, we watched the girls playing kabaddi. Falling on the ground, not minding the bruises and scratches they got. These girls are from a government school and were happy, their teacher was bossy but friendly. The girls were naughty but not rude to the teacher. When the teacher hit them, they didn't shout back. They didn't protest or form a group arguing with her. They sheepishly smiled at her and pleaded for extra time when she came with her cane. That was how we were in our school. These days a teacher hitting a student is considered a crime. I wonder why. In my opinion, a little hitting to discipline the child shouldn't matter. That was how we were treated in our school and we turned up well. On the contrary we are doing everything to entertain their childish tantrums which mature into teenage tantrums. Not sure if thats the way to raise responsible citizens. Also, we don't let our children play in open, in mud or sand. We are careful as to whom they play with and dont let them mingle. We make a big deal of their scratches and bruises. And doing so, we forget that we are snatching away their childhood from them. They are missing all the fun we had. Foolishly we are hiding them from nature. By over protecting them, we are doing them more harm than gain. Occasional cuts and bruises make them tough. Playing outdoors is good for bones and overall development- both physical and mental. Playing with other kids they learn to adjust and learn the art of making friends. We are social animals and we have to socialize. Lets try to give our children the childhood they deserve. Let them build awesome memories of childhood like we did. Dont let our love for them impair them. Because we won't be there to protect them forever. Its their life and they have to fend for themselves. Lets raise them to be tough, independent and sensitive beings.

Not sure if this makes sense but may be I am delirious due to lack of sleep.

Puppy love

It was like any other colony of a suburb. Independent houses and no apartments. Mud roads and no cement or tar roads. Every house had rangoli drawn at its gate and flowering plants adorned the compound walls. It was a busy colony where men left for work in the morning and returned in the evening. The women were left at home busy gossiping. They hardly had time for anything else. They were busy peeping out through the windows, checking who was having affair with whom, which house had guests and whether they arrived in big cars or on public transport. They did not understand the concept of privacy. They were interested in what was happening in others' family. They spoke about whose son was loyal to his wife than his mother, which lady was having trouble conceiving, who had got new clothes and from where, who wore heavier jewellery than others, which boy scored good marks and which one got spanked for bunking the class. There were many such topics discussed during the day, all of which went into the men's ears during the night. It was a colony that always buzzed with controversies, arguments and boasts.. Everyone lived happily gossiping their day into dusk.

Unnoticed by all the people was a bitch. A bitch in pain, a stray bitch. Like all other stray bitches, she struggled to find food to satiate her hunger pangs. Soon she learnt that the garbage dump was always abundant with food for her. She made it her home and ate over it and slept on it throughout her pregnancy. None of the busy inmates of the colony paid attention to it. The children were scared of the bitch's canines and maintained distance. Finally, its pain ended and the last of the puppies was out. She licked them each one after the other as they suckled her milk and slept. She slept over the garbage dump tired and spent. It was the next morning when Gopu saw the cute little puppies huddled beside their mom. They were six of them. He offered a biscuit to the bitch who ate it gratefully. Soon, Gopu emptied his pack of biscuits and ran home. He fetched some water in an empty coconut shell and gave it to her. He slowly neared the puppies and touched one of them. It felt heavenly until his mother dragged a kicking and crying Gopu inside, scolding him for touching the filthy puppies. Watching this, Shyam's mother said, “What is wrong with Vandana? Why is she angry with poor Gopu for feeding the bitch?” she went close to the bitch and Shyam followed her lead. “My! Look at them. See Shyamu! Aren't they cute?” Shyam took it as an encouragement and said. “Mom! Look at the puppies, they are sleeping on prickly thorns. Poor creatures.” he rushed in and got an unused doormat and placed it down for the puppies to sleep. Rupa, who was disappointed to part ways with her doormat, couldn't reproach her son publicly after her take on Vandana. Slowly everyone competed with the other in helping the puppies and the bitch. The bitch was happy and never barked at them because she knew they were helping her and her puppies. She was happy that her puppies were well fed. She never barked at the children who came to play with her puppies. She trusted them and knew that they didn't mean any harm. The children splashed water on them and gave them a bath daily which relieved the felines in the scorching heat.

Though it had started as a competition between the inmates of the colony, soon they grew fond of the puppies. The fatherless puppies were loved by humans who discarded fatherless babies as bastards and termed husbandless women as whore. They liberally and wholeheartedly gave them food, bones, biscuits and water. The puppies were sometimes allowed into their homes to play. The scampering, trotting and jumping puppies added bliss to the colony. The puppies's well being was now part of their discussion. What they ate in the morning? What could be given for lunch and dinner was spoken and thought of. The colony stood united on matters concerning the puppies. The puppies came waging their tails when the children returned from school. The children threw their bags and ran to play with the puppies. They played fetch ball, chased the puppies and were sometimes chased by them.

The bliss the puppies brought to the colony was magical. A bond of trust enveloped them until one day. The day when uncle Laxman started to office like any other day. He took out his car from the parking. A naughty and playful puppy ran to chase the car like it always did. But alas! It went under the tyre because uncle Laxman was reversing his car. That day, uncle Laxman didn't go to work. The children didn't go to school and their parents did not protest. It broke their heart to see the puppy writhe in pain. The bitch was in tears and the puppies huddled behind their mom, scared. The entire colony mourned the puppy's death. The bitch who never barked at the boys, barked when the boys picked up the dead puppy to bury. Few of them did not cook food at home and those who cooked left it untouched. The five puppies now reminded them of the lost puppy. The bitch now preferred eating from the garbage dump over the food offered to her. The puppies did not come running to the children as they were not six. They no longer played with the children. Instead, they sulked behind their mom. The inmates of the colony could do nothing to gain back the feline's lost trust. The bitch regretted trusting the humans and the humans regretted for failing her.

The magic spell was broken. Once more, the colony degraded to its previous state. The puppies soon grew into dogs, Stray Dogs who were stoned and sent away from the colony. The dogs ran away and found their abode at the dump yard which was much more bigger than the tiny garbage dump of the colony. Their mother, the bitch was taken by another dog to serve its non motherly needs.

Accumulations

We all think we are the most superior species on the planet. God has created various animals - herbivores, carnivores, omnivores. We have the predator - prey hierarchy. We have a food chain. And I think man sits at the top of the food chain and top of the animal hierarchy.  What makes us special? What makes us sit at the top? 

The basic need for survival is food. Other animals either kill or are killed for food. But humans can choose whether they want to kill or not. Humans can cook and add flavors to food. But we didnt stop with flavors and cooking. We started wearing clothes and building houses for ourselves. Here, I must say we surely are superior. But then we started marking lands, we started acquiring wealth and riches. Not just food and water but we started thirsting for money, wealth and property. For our shelter we need a home but why do we need many houses? Guest house, farm house, leased out house etc. When the animals die, they die. They dont seem to fight to leave their mark on the planet. But we humans dont want to stop with death. We accumulate wealth and leave it behind for our offsprings. Whats the point? We cut down forests, snatch away the natural habitats of animals and cage them in zoo. Why? because we sit at the top of the hierarchy.

The animals fight to survive. But their fights are limited to the herds of their territory. We humans fight not just for survival but also to satisfy our ego. We find reasons to fight over caste, creed, region and religion. Our fights span across countries. I wouldnt be surprised if we decide to wage a war with martians some day. 

We think. We analyze. We invent. We invent machines and gadgets to simplify our life but destroy the eco-system. We want an easy life, but end up in messing up others' lives. We are top of the hierarchy, because we drew the hierarchical chart. Because we forgot the basic fact that true bliss is in co-existing with nature but not in modifying, manipulating or destroying it. Thus we are trying to dominate nature and are investing time and money in inventing are re-inventing technologies. We have messed up our life styles and have complicated our lives to the extent that we cannot live without our ACs, automobiles and many other gadgets paving way to various diseases. We have dominated nature to the extent that the very air we breathe in every second has turned into poison. Lets not forget that we are part of the nature and by being indifferent to it, we are calling our own doom.

2017 - A Restrospection

Another year down. Another year old. Lot of learnings. Testing, depressing, rewarding. Lets get started.

I started my year being a SAHM and ended up as a working woman/mother. I have heard many people say many things, giving varying opinions on whether a mom should work or not. Amidst all this, I got my much needed break and time off from my multi tasking life this year. But also learnt that anything slower than the rat race doesn't go well with me. So got back to the race.  All my life I was striving to the best at whatever I did. But now I just want to be a good mom. And I am mighty scared I might fail.

Talking of my son. He has started going to school this year. Has acquired a bicycle, scooter and bike. He speaks telugu fluently though not clearly. He has started showing his true colors in school. Though he has made many friends at school, he doesn't want to go to school and cries every single day we dress him up to school. His favorite kitchen set and my kitchen utensils are long forgotten. Automobiles are currently trending his heart. At present, he is the most pampered and spoilt kid I have ever seen. I hope to change that in the coming year and will need all the luck in the world to favor me. He likes watching tom and jerry, zool babies and other such cartoons on youtube. Something that has to be minimized in the coming year. A great fan of ice cream, chocolates and sweets and drives me nuts when comes to healthy eating. There were many instances when the mentally and physically exhausted me broke down in front of my son. On one such instance on failing to refrain my son from fiddling with the electric plug points, I started sighing and crying so much that my husband started reprimanding my son as to why he made me cry. The confused kid didn't have an answer. The poor guy thought I was crying because he was having the time of his life. Oh boy! just writing about it gives me goose bumps.

I was way liberal with my son this year. But its high time I concentrate on disciplining him. My husband has partnered with his friends and opened up an ice cream store this year, finally finding a valid reason for ignoring me. Talking of my career. It had been a unique experience attending interviews. Not because I was facing interviews after a gap of 7 years but due to the prejudice the interviewers had for a working mother. Though the technical questions changed from one company to the other, one question remained common. That was "How will you manage office when you have a baby?" I believe that was the major reason I was rejected couple of offers. But there are few people who are not very judgemental about a working mother's capabilities. And I am thankful to them that I have a job now. It is not about the money. But the feel of coming out of the shell, pushing your brain to think beyond the household chores. Waking up in the morning and looking up to a new challenge or learning at office. Above all, making awesome friends at work. At this point, you must be thinking can women be friends? And my answer is, atleast I have many female friends who are very helpful, supportive and suggestive. For example, I told them that I have five white leggings which are turning yellow. Though they did not have a solution for it, they had the heart to reflect my concern unlike my husband who turned a deaf ear. 

I had many resolutions for the year. All of which lay successfully broken. Let 2018 be a fresh beginning for a new set of resolutions (to be broken or kept? lets see). Another year of madness awaits.. 

The Happy Ending

There are stories. Millions of them. Many of which end in “and they lived happily ever after”. The happy endings. Such are the stories people liked. And such were the stories of his movies. His acting skills were applauded by everyone. Our best actor of the year. Requests for interviews flooded him and he was humble enough to oblige them. But to act off screen wasn't as simple as it was on screen. That one question he dreaded, that one question he avoided haunted him in every interview. He smiled outwardly in reply while his insides churned and burned. At the age of 35, the world doesn't seem to be happy with just his acting skills or dance moves. They wanted to see him married. Because that is what a society wants. A tall, rich and hansome guy married. They didn't care if he was uncomfortable with the question. All they wanted was an answer. “When?” and “With whom?” Rumours were spreading that our hero might as well be a gay.

On a cloudy evening, he sat sipping toddy in his farm house, far from the lime light where he could cast away his smiling mask. He sat amidst the mangrove trees where the cool breeze caressed his face and blew his silky hair off his forehead. He sat there sipping toddy with blurred vision of his teary eyes believing that nature could heal his pain. When he thought he had finally found peace, the koyal sang. The melody of its voice stung his heart and his wound bled, his pain rose. With the song, came the rain. It came down as fast and heavy as her memory attached to it. For him the rains not only brought the scent of damp soil but also the memory of their first rain together, their first kiss. The memory of the water dripping from her hair onto her marble skin. They had played like two innocent children, splashing water onto each other. They giggled like they had drunk, danced like mad. They hugged each other because that was the best to do in a rain. It was ecstasy. What more did he want but her by his side for the rest of his life? But alas! The dark clouds thundered in warning scaring his lady love. The thunderbolt of his superior caste hit him and his love for her. His lady love was kidnapped and threatened. Because that is what a royal lineage demands. A rule breaker to be punished, an intruder to be bullied. All he could do was pray for her safety. He promised not to taint his family with his love. Because that was the only way to ensure her safety. He did not fight for her because it wasn't a scene of his movie. Such were the rules of the society. His forefathers were the kings who ruled the land. He couldn't insult the royal lineage. But he realized this a little too late. She left him and with her took away a piece of his heart. His heart still bled from this wound.

Today, she was taken away by someone else. Someone who was not as superior as him in caste. Someone who was not as rich as him. Someone who was not as tall and handsome as him. But someone whom she felt safe with. Someone who was manly enough to take care of her and her needs. What else could pain him more than seeing his girl happy in someone else's arms? Almost half a decade later, he couldn't get over it. Her memories haunted him. He regretted for not fighting for her, for not protecting her. But regrets couldn't undo the done. He lay there under a mango tree while the koyal quenched its thirst, while the peacock found its dancing mate, while the toddy in the pot stood diluted with rain. He lay there sprawled, craving for her presence, starving for love.

Today nature had stung him like never before. He decided to take it without protest. He lay there drenched. His blood shot eyes, red with the incessant downpour of tears that refused to stop their duet with the rain. Finally, she came as his eyelids got heavier, as his head lolled drowsier. He knew that nature might betray him but his toddy couldn't. She came as dry as dust. She came for him, to shower her love. To tell him that she loved him like the good old days. She came behind his shut eyelids where they didn't taint family's reputation, where they weren't born of any caste, where there was nothing but love. He drifted into his world of dreams, into his happy ending.

DREAMS

We all have dreams, one silent wish and a hope to see that wish fulfilled. But with time we realize that our silent wish was lost unheard, our dream remains a dream and our hope, the tiny ray of hope goes bleaker and meeker until it becomes non existent. We are told not to lose hope at any point in life. But it is better said than done. Who could know it better than Chunnu and Munnu. No. These are not their names. These are their pet names. We don't bother about their original names, which their village itself has long forgotten.

Chunnu was 10 years old and Munnu, his elder brother was 12 years old. Their dad owned agricultural land like all others in the village. But unlike other boys, they were rich. Rich with the treasures of their own kind. Treasures that gave competition to the magpies. They had many shells of different shapes, size and colors. They had their broken teeth buried in the ground waiting to turn into gold some day. They had peacock feathers hidden in their yellowing books which were omens for good wealth. Most important of all, they had shiny wrappers of sweet delicacies gifted by their uncle from abroad. They spent their time piling up their treasures and boasting about them to their friends. They didn't care if their clothes had a patch sewn to cover the tear. They didn't care if their clothes were ragged and rough due to excessive usage. Neither did they bother if their clothes shrunk with time, refusing to grow with them. Carrying their tattered and torn school bags they went to the Zilla Parishad School in the morning and in the evenings, they whiled away their time under or on top of the Neem tree in their farm, watching peacocks eat corn from their land. Their mother toiled during the day, watering the crops, filling water from the well, feeding the bulls, negotiating with the field hands for plucking and sorting out the grains. During nights, she cooked and tended to her family, when not beaten out of shape by her drunk husband. Chunnu and Munnu helped their mother at the farm to compensate for their father's absence at work. They accepted their life with its shortcomings and were happy because they believed they were rich. Their lack of proper clothes, their worn out shoes, torn socks, yellowed books did not dampen their spirits because it was the same with every other student at the Zilla Parishad School.

One day Chitra, their cousin from the city came searching for them in their farm as the lazy lads were swinging their legs sitting on a branch of their Neem tree. Chitra's dad Veman and Chunnu, Munnnu's dad Vijay were brothers whose land lay beside each other without proper demarcation. But their trained and experienced eyes knew where each one’s land ended and where the other's began. Veman and Vijay had one interest in common. Liqour. Cheap Liqour. They boozed together everyday. But the only difference was that unlike Vijay, Veman didn't thrash his wife as she was settled in the city.

Veman was intoxicated by his distant cousin Sindhu when young. He married her when she was 16 and he was 23. She was an enthusiastic girl and was bright at studies. With Veman's encouragement, she completed her graduation post marriage, much to the dismay of her in laws. Veman would toil hard at the farm and would fix dinner for his aged parents and pregnant wife who was intent on completing her graduation. They had Chitra and Veman tended to his daughter while Sindhu busied herself with studies. The couple was happy with each other and their baby. Nothing could possibly go wrong between them with a husband as caring and supportive as Veman. But Alas! Veman's world collapsed when Sindhu got a job. He was proud of his wife for getting the job she deserved. But he was in a fix. He couldn't accompany her to the city as to what decent job could an uneducated man get in a city? Moreover, farming was his only area of expertise and he wanted to stick to it. Veman's parents insisted Sindhu to stay in village. But Veman left the decision to Sindhu. So Sindhu went and also took their daughter with her to provide her with better education at a better school than their village could provide. Chitra missed her father. Her father, who had taken care of her like a mother when her mother was busy with her brains. It broke her heart to leave him every time after her monthly visits. Veman was beyond grief to see the two most precious ladies of his life leave him. His parents died lamenting at their son's bitter fate.

During the toughest phase of Veman's life, Vijay came to his rescue. He showed him light. He made his brother realize how grave a mistake it was to educate his wife when he himself was uneducated. But what was done was done and they couldn't reverse it, but it could be numbed.  Though for a while. He introduced Veman to liquor, the pacifier of all griefs. He taught Veman that heaven could be sought with this 10 rupees bottle. In the beginning Veman would puke after every swig. But eventually, his body accepted the cheap liquor as his mind accepted his fate.

Chitra was happy today as she was on her monthly visit. She was 12 years now and loved her dad as always but couldn't stay longer with him in his village as the city was more comfortable. She wore her new dress. A floral blue gown that swept the floor as she haughtily approached the tree where her cousins were perched. “I have a good news.” she yelled. The boys jumped down crushing the dried leaves under their feet, causing the dust to rise. Chitra crinkled her nose at the raising smoke of dust.

“What is it?” they asked in unison.

“Uncle Vinod…” She paused for the words to take effect on them.

Uncle Vinod worked in Dubai. They didn't know what he did there but he brought them goodies wrapped in shiny papers. Which meant they could grow richer much to the envy of their friends. They were liberal enough to share the candies and chocolates with their friends. But the precious wrappers were kept with them. They gave an ear to ear grin on hearing his name.

“Thats not even the news.” said Chitra.

“Okay. Tell us what it is. We don't have time. We have to feed the bulls. Better be quick.” barked Chunnu angry at Chitra for acting smart.

“It is uncle Vinod's son's birthday next week. He is turning one and uncle Vinod is throwing a party at the city. All of you will come to city for the party.” she said happily because she could be the boss at the city. Her cousins' didn't know what a mall was. They haven't been on an escalator or an elevator. City was her realm and she could avenge them for making fun of her inefficiency at climbing trees, for her fear of feeding the bulls and for everything else she was uncomfortable with at their village.

Chunnu and Munnu didn't seem to be excited about the birthday party until their uncle came the next day to invite the relatives in person. He was loved by the villagers for his humility. Vinod was Vijay and Veman's brother in law. He was married to their sister, Radha almost a decade ago and was blessed with a baby boy after a long wait. The couple rejoiced and decided to throw a party on the occasion of his first birthday, as was the custom amongst the rich. They flew to India and stayed at the city to host the party, as their village wasn't comfortable enough for their baby. Vinod went to the village with invitations. He not only brought the sweet delicacies wrapped in shiny papers for his magpies but also brought new pair of clothes to wear for the occasion. He not only arranged a bus for the villagers to commute to the city but also bought them new clothes to wear. The villagers were happy to see how rich Vinod had become over the years and were happier to see how liberal he was with giveaways and gifts whenever he visited them.

Chunnu and Munnu were jubilant. Not for the shiny wrappers this time but for the clothes they got. They had never worn such fine clothes all their lives. Like all other villagers, their mother bought them clothes from a merchant who sold clothes on his bicycle with overstuffed bags. He sold sarees, shirts, pants and frocks for various age groups. New clothes from this man on the cycle were no objects of excitement or joy as they were not as fine in making as the ones given by uncle Vinod. They lost their new look after first wash. Moreover, the boys of the entire village wore similar clothes as they were all bought from the same man. The clothes given by uncle Vinod were different. White shirts with black pants and straps that went around their shoulders. Two similar pairs of different size for the magpies. What was magical about the dress was that the straps were detachable. They carefully folded and placed their clothes in their respective boxes. They couldn't wait for their baby cousin's birthday.

Chitra too was excited about her baby cousin's birthday. But for a different reason. She had gone to many birthday parties in the city but rarely attended a function with her dad. All the functions of her relatives were held at the village because all her relatives hailed from there. On very few occasions when her monthly visits coincided with the functions at the village, she attended them with her dad. But her dad had never seen a party at a hotel in the city. He never saw the theme based decorations and the myriads of balloons floating in the air with curly ribbons hanging down. She bought a new red frock with frills that stood like an umbrella from her waist to knees. She had told her dad on her previous vist that he ought to wear a red shirt for the party and that her mom would also wear same color saree for the party. By now Chitra knew that she couldn't show her cousins the elevator, escalator, malls or the tall buildings as they would come for a couple of hours and confine their stay to the hotel where the party was being held.

Finally, on the much awaited day's most awaited party, Chitra and Sindhu waited for Veman outside the hotel. Sindhu wore a red shimmery saree with matching lipstick, bangles and sandals. She was the most polished lady of the village. She loved her husband for all he had done to protect her interests post marriage and baby. Both the ladies of Veman were fidgety until the bus from village arrived. As Veman got down the bus, Chitra ran into his arms. Veman came in a red shirt as promised and was clean shaved. Though he did not drink when with his wife or daughter, Sindhu knew about his drinking problem. His bodily changes made it obvious. She insisted Veman to live with them in the city as she was earning enough for all of them. But Veman preferred his village over the city. It was his comfort zone. Sindhu went up to her husband and led him inside. Chitra was too occupied to ask for her cousins.

Earlier that day, Chunnu and Munnu woke up before dawn. They got dressed for the occasion and combed their hair making a clean partition at the left. They couldn't wait to flaunt their clothes at the party. They were excited about being filmed in their new clothes, dreaming about posing for photographs at the party. They were too excited to have their breakfast. Their mother, a tanned, thin, slender yet tough woman was happy to see her children dressed up like princes. To her, they looked like movie stars by the country side. She wore the saree given by Vinod. A green crepe saree with thin silver border. She couldn't see her sons starving until the party and was chasing them in an attempt to shove some food into their mouths, when they heard him arrive. He saw the three of them, all decked up in new clothes in a festive mood. His eyes showed he was drunk. He slapped her and she fell down with a thud, her ear bleeding. He kicked her in the ribs. “You wore this saree? Accepting gifts from other man! You think he is a man. Do you? You whore!” he yelled as he raised his leg to kick her. Chunnu dashed at him and caught his foot making Vijay to stagger and fall.

“Don't hit her.” commanded Munnu. Vijay got up and smacked his sons on the back of their heads.

“These clothes have made you heros. Eh? I am the head of the family. Bow to me. BOW TO ME!” he yelled, the words slurring from his drunken mouth. Chunnu and Munnu were seething with rage. Their dad hit their mother very often. But how could he hit her today? How could he spoil this special day? He pulled them by their shirts as they began to run away from him. “What rags have you chosen to wear? Clothes that are not given by your dad?” His tugging at their clothes and their resistance to move closer to him, caused their shirts to tear. PRRRRRR..... And a bomb exploded in their hearts, shattering their dream. The dream of trotting to the city in their fine clothes. The dream of looking rich and polished at a party in the city. The dream of being filmed and photographed. What followed next was not registered by them. The blows they got, the cuts she bled from were none of their concerns now.

The bus came and left and with it left their last ray of hope. Chunnu and Munnu lay on either side of their mom with their heads buried in her lap as they wept. The slender yet tough woman sobbed, not for her aching ribs or bleeding ears, but for her weeping darlings whose clothes were torn, hair was pulled and cheeks were puffed. They wept until their tears were exhausted and remained as silent and still as a stone, gazing into nothingness where their dream lay shattered refusing to mend, finally accepting the fact that they were not as rich as they had thought and neither as lucky as the family in red that was rejoicing its reunion at the party.

Reasons for heart attack

Top 10 reasons for heart attacks: (Purely based on my research)


Reason 1: You are playing with your son and all of a sudden he vanishes. Doesn't respond when called. You panic until you pass out to find him squat onto the kitchen platform playing with all possible lethal weapons.

Reason 2: You have taken your son to the shop on a fine day when all of a sudden he darts out onto the road, heading into the speeding vehicles.

Reason 3: Your son is playing with the mouse (The laptop's) and decides not only to wrap it around his neck but also tighten it. (I wish he could strangle me instead and spare me the scare)

Reason 4: Your son is trying to climb the wall on 2nd floor. (The one without grill)

Reason 5: Your son is hanging from the curtain whose curtain rod is just bidding its own time before its fall.

Reason 6: Your son brings his toys and towels to shove into the flames of your stove.

Reason 7: Your husband is yelling at you for leaving the gas on and you see the little one smile accepting his mischief.

Reason 8: Your son breaks a glass and commands you to stay put and volunteers to clean it up.

Reason 9: Your son is standing on his bicycle to unlock the refrigerator. And worse, sometimes is left hanging from the refrigerator until rescued.

Reason 10: You are on the ladder doing your cleaning and sorting when he not only climbs behind you but also shakes you furiously. (Tell me what would you hold on to in such case, the ladder or your son or your faith in God)

The doctor asked me the other day if I had any anxiety issues. Damn it! When my pulse couldn't be normal in the safe haven of a hospital, I can't imagine how wild it could get in the vicinity of my son. The only solution that comes to my mind is hostel. No. Not for him but me. (i dont think any hostel would keep him)

P.S. Reason 11: when someone asks me "When is the second one coming?"

Ice Cream Works, Kondapur

My husband had always been thinking of opening a food outlet of some sort or the other. I let him postpone his thought and dream because I was scared of the risk involved and majorly because I felt he wasn't mature enough to handle it. I hadn't seen him take up anything seriously in life. For me he was a man in his thirties with his brain and heart frozen as adolescent.  But man! how wrong I was! since the plan was finalized for the ice cream franchise, I saw a complete transformation in him. I never saw him work so patiently and hard. I was skeptical till today about his friends' and his ability to deal with business of any kind. But I am happy that I was wrong. Finally his dream has a location. And its Ice Cream Works, Kondapur. They had opened it on Nov 12th, 2017

I had never written a review in my life. But I am writing one for my husband and his friends. This is for the ice cream shop that changed the careless and carefree midnight biryani eaters into more matured beings. Now that my husband's dream has a physical location, let me write something about it. 

I have never been an ice cream lover. Not that I dont eat ice creams but I dont have any unusual cravings for them. And when my husband told me about their Calcutta Meetha Paan flavored ice cream, I laughed at him. I remember the paan ice cream I ate long back at "The Great Kebab Factory", the one that I left unfinished. But this one at Ice Cream Works was awesome. I tasted a few flavors. Will try to list them but not sure that i will get the names right. 

New York Walnut fudge - (My favorite so far)

Calcutta Meetha Paan - (High on public demand)

Seetaphal Rabdi

Madagascar (something close to this name. dont remember the complete name. But was good)

Pink Guava

Imli with Chilli

Moti Choor laddu

Ate one Hazel nut flavor but dont remember the name

I liked the ones I ate. Imli with Chilli was average because I dont like Imli (Tamarind). But I think the tamarind lovers will like it. There are around 40 different flavors of ice cream. They seemed different from the regular flavors to me. May be because we have our money invested on them. But then, I asked the customers if they liked them and their expressions said it all before their words could. Besides ice cream, they have Sundaes, Waffles and Ice Cream Shakes which I haven't tasted. But so far we have got good reviews from the customers and we find few of them have already revisited with their friends. There are plans to tie up with Swiggy for home delivery.

You can find us on zomato. And please do visit the parlor and drop a review on zomato.

There! I did my part to encourage and applaud the good work done by my husband. Its your turn now. Please spread the word.

The Tastiest Omelette

My son had always been a fussy eater. Like always, I was struggling to make him eat today. After watching him spit reasonable amounts of rice, I asked him if he wanted omelette. For which he readily agreed. But leaving him alone in the living room while I was busy in the kitchen would be catastrophic. So my smart brain, gave me a smarter idea. I asked my son if he would make the omelette. He readily agreed. Man! the enthusiasm in his face is worth millions (to me.. That is). 

He broke the egg with my help and mixed a little salt and pepper. He beat the egg without spilling, while I was unnecessarily fidgeting. Some part of me, somewhere inside was telling me that he would drop the bowl and its contents. Not that we didn't have more eggs at home, but we didn't have any room freshener at home. But then, my son behaved like a gentleman this time. So I lifted him and helped him pour the contents onto the pan. I flipped the omelette myself and shifted the final product to the plate. 

I asked my son, "Who made the omelette?" He replied, "Mom." 

I asked him, "Who broke the egg?" "Me" he replied. 

"Who beat it?" "Me" he answered.

"Who poured it onto the pan?" "Me." By now, he had realized what I was trying to convey and gave me an ear to ear grin. I love to see my son smile. But love it more when he smiles for the right reason. I might not be the best mom. I sometimes break down and talk to so many mommys for help. My son is stubborn and indisciplined in many regards. But moments like these are the rays of hope trickling down the dark clouds of confusion. My fussy eater ate the omelette without complaint and when I asked if it was tasty, he said "Yes." with a radiant face. The omelette didn't have any special ingredient but the fact that it was a fruit of his effort made it tasty for him. 

I remember posting about his love for his kitchen set last year. But he came over it in a couple of months. I am sure after few more trials his enthusiasm for self made food would also die. But for now, I choose to cherish this moment. I realize its not the quantity of time we spend with our kid that matters but the quality of time we spend with them does.

Who am I?

I have always been on an identity crisis. I am a mother, daughter, sister, wife, daughter in law, a working professional. But I am yet to identify the true me. I don't know my destiny. Not sure if I am on the path that would lead me to any destination. Yet to figure out my aim in life. But then there is an identity crisis of the other sort that bugs me every now and then.

A couple of days ago I was asked if I was a Reddy. Many ask me if I am a Brahmin. I was also asked if I belonged to Telangana or Andhra. The very last week I was asked if I was a Choudhary. These are not the type of questions for which I have direct answers. I was born in Andhra Pradesh but did not live there. I was brought up at Telangana but wasn't born here. I can't associate myself to any one of the two states because I believe I belong to both the states. If truth be spoken, I am an Indian citizen and belong to India.

To talk about my caste, I am proud of my parents under whose upbringing, I never had to bother about my caste. It was not until my engineering that I got to know my caste. In a country like India where the caste hierarchy is strictly followed, I know very few people have the previlege of marrying out of caste. And I am one of them. I can neither relate myself to the caste I was born in nor to the caste I am married into. If truth be told, and facts be spoken, one's caste was based on one's occupation in ancient India. The rules of caste system were broken and the social hierarchy was infiltrated when people started venturing into various fields of work other than their family occupation. Technically speaking, my grandfather came out of his caste when he quit farming and took up a job. We have been rule breakers since long. So lets stop pretending and accept the fact. I am a software professional and so is my husband. According to me we are of the same caste. But no one would buy this logic. So be it. I don't want to fight or argue to prove my point. I am not offended when someone questions me about my caste. But I feel sorry for the present state of our nation. We say we are a developing nation and are yet stuck entertaining the age old demon of caste system. We are happily bound with the shackles of our caste and call us a free country. I can't marvel enough at our double standards.

Let us all build an identity of our own. But lets stop tagging ourselves with a caste. I think the world will be a better place to live in with a little less discrimination.

To school

It always felt good to go to school after the summer vacations. A new academic year, a fresh beginning, the smell of new books, new uniforms, new shoes, new bag. But this time its my son who would go to school. Yes. He is big enough to go to school now. After much contemplation, we finalized the school that fits our requirement. We went to his school and it was awesome. In fact all pre-schools are awesome. The walls are painted with cartoons, all class rooms are filled with colorful toys. There is a play area with slides, rockers, ride-ons and the list goes on. Basically I love the ambience of play school.

As we were speaking about the fee structure and transport facilities with the head mistress of the school, PHAATTT. My son broke one of their sturdy, unbreakable toys. I was scared the school would reject to admit him. But since my son did not exhibit any of his other feats, the headmistress didn't seem to mind. So, the single salaried us, paid the fees which is more than the consolidated fees for 4 years of my engineering studies. Yeah. I know its hard to digest. Bravo us! The single salaried us, who paid the fees. It enlightened my soul so much that I decided to kick start phase 2 of my career. Because we have to educate my son for the next 2 decades in the least. Sigh!

I am pretty much excited to see his school bag, books and uniform. Oh! his books. They are so cool. They have colorful pictures everywhere. Just the feel of owning them is heavenly. I quickly covered and labeled them as per the instructions given by the school. My husband doesn't understand why I am so excited about anything that has to do with my son's school. And that is one more item on his list of "non decipherable qualities of my wife".

Few of my relatives, are astonished and question me as to why am I sending him to nursery at the tender age of 2 and a half. Man! For all you know I should be sending him to the army school for the riot he is. Besides, I want him to play with kids of his age, make friends and learn to share toys rather than bullying me and his dad. I am dying to see his teacher after the class tomorrow. I feel so sorry for her. But since we have already paid the fees, I don't think the school authorities have the right to reject him now.

I can't wait to send him to school. Because, I can finally take the blame off me and blame the school for my son's mischief and lack of discipline. 

Amarendra Baahubali and Devasena

Baahubali 1- The beginning shows Devasena bound with chains, staying loyal to her husband, not giving in to Bhallaladeva's power. One would think, who would do such a thing in present times. Now, when the rate of intolerence in a relationship is high and when marriages are breaking apart at lightening speed for no big reasons, which gorgeous princess would stay loyal to her dead husband and why?

I get the answer in the conclusion. i.e. Baahubali 2. Baahubali 2 shows us the love story of Devasena and Amarendra Baahubali. Devasena is portrayed as a bold and brave princess, someone who wouldn't compromise her self respect for anything in the world. Amarendra falls for her. Not just for her beauty but also for her bravery and her pride. The pride that comes from doing what is right. The pride that comes from being just.

On Shivagami's orders Amarendra takes Devasena to his kingdom but not before promising to uphold her self respect and to shield from insults of any form. And he stands true to his promise. Doesn't he?When he tells his mom that she has erred by promising his brother, Devasena's hand for marriage without Devasena's consent? It doesn't stop there. When Shivagami orders for Devasena's imprisonment, our tall, muscular and handsome hero stands by his lady love protecting her. Thats what a true man does. Protect his lady love from the ills of his own family. That is what we all want. Just the words, "You are wrong" to be uttered when they are wrong. The words "She is right." to be uttered when we are right. Not just pointing out fingers at us for every God damn reasons. Now again, most of the men would stand by their lady love against all odds BEFORE MARRIAGE. Because he yet has to officially own her. Because there is still a risk of losing her. Because there is still the insecurity of someone better proclaiming her.

The best part I liked in the movie is the scene when the pregnant Devasena is brought to trial in the court for chopping some pervert's fingers. She stands tall in front of the king and Shivagami. She never falters for a second because she knew she hadn't commited any crime. Then comes our tall, mascular and handsome hero who stands by his wife. Wow. Amarendra Baahubali not just supports his girl friend but also his wife. Bravo Amarendra Baahubali! Thats such a unique feat - Standing by your wife. That is what all of want. A husband to stand by his wife when she wasn't wrong. A husband who would protect his wife's self respect and not call it her ego. And yes for someone like Amarendra Baahubali, we would stay loyal until our graves.

I was never a movie buff but I knew that Rajamouli is a great director who never gave a single flop to the industry so far. I was awed by his movie "Eega". But I never gave a heck to Rajamouli as a person. For me, he was yet another director like all others. The graphics shown in the movie are great and the experiment done with the movie itself was a bold move by the director as we all agree. But just for portraying the characters of Devasena and Amarendra Baahubali, I bow to him. I think we all have a lesson to learn here instead of cribbing for a better climax fight or talking about the upcoming Mahabharata project (which may as well be rumours).

My tryst with painting

Painting was one of my hobbies when in school. I had used acrylic, poster and water colors. I never used oil paints until was gifted a set by my brother. Well, I was never a pro at painting but had good instincts at the strokes I delivered with my brush. I never pursued my interests later and never took out the time to get myself trained at the said art.

Many years later, my brother gifted me set of paint brushes and oil paints. Voila! I was so very happy and couldn't thank him enough. But on second thoughts, I believe it was so cruel of him to think that I could use those costly paints without feeling guilty of wasting them on my long forgotten art of painting. But nevertheless, I decided to put them to use one day. To bring out the hidden talent in me(which is still hidden). And sat down to paint the below painting.

But I realised that I neither had a color palette to mix the colors nor any thinner to use with the paints.

My brilliant brain gave me the idea and I used a plate for a palette and the asian paints thinner which gave the strongest stench. I patiently gave the strokes for the sunrise trying to avoid the stench in the background and was quite happy with the effect. But would have been happier if I hadn't smudged the already colored portion again and again forcing myself to redo the painting again and again, thereby wasting the colors again and again. And my paper now looked many times thicker than its usual self.

Now when I washed my brushes, I realised I couldn't wash them with water. So I made a failed attempt at washing them with the thinner. And as a final attempt to clean my brushes, I wiped them with a cloth. This is what attempting to paint after a decade taught me. Painting is a lot more messier than crayons or color pencils. Paints don't color just paper or canvas. They can also color your flooring, clothes and hands. Its impossible to paint without unintentional smudgings. Now you know why my sun has a black spot. No. Its not the ozone depleted spot. I am yet to figure out how to wash my brushes they are still stiff hinting the need of proper washing. Nail paint remover? Do you think I should give it a try?

P.S. My painting still carries the stench of my thinner. 

The side effect

He saw her from the other end of the room. Her hair mangled and messy, jumping her non patterned jumps, dancing without rhythm, singing without tune and giggling unusually loud. He let out a sigh. He knew that she couldn't be normal again. Never again. He could never get his wife back like the good old days.

Life changes after marriage. It was true and his life did change post marriage.It was a welcome change. But now, five years down the line he was on the verge of losing his wife. His heart ached to see her like this. He was tired of her insane behavior. He just hoped she could get back to her normal self. But he knew that it was impossible now. What she was facing now is a side effect which could not be undone.

She came running towards him and paused to take a breath. Her insanely happy eyes smiled at him. "Care for some dinner?"  she asked. He nodded in reply, not taking his eyes off her, noticing the wiry strands of hairs sticking on her sweaty forehead and back of her neck. "Momma! No. No." cried her son clinging to her leg and said "Jump. Jump and Sing" Untangling him from her leg, she went to the kitchen, sending a flying kiss in his direction and assuring to return in two minutes. Not bothering to wipe the sweat of her brow, she let it trickle down onto her shirt while serving dinner to her husband.

Not eating together was yet another side effect of parenthood he thought. He silently ate his dinner while the momma and sonny duo continued their JUMP JUMP and SING SING game. He sighed silently and thanked his stars that in this mad mad world, he atleast got his food on time. It was the only sign that he was not yet forgotten. And then came his son running towards him and landed face down onto his dinner. "Yet another side effect" he sighed.

SAHM me

FYI - SAHM stands for Stay At Home Mom. Its been a quarter since it became my identity. I quickly jot down the changes I see in my life.

In the beginning, I was pretty scared and started looking for some crazy work from home jobs. But quickly enough discarded the thought. I found that as a working mother I was multi tasking my head off and now I find it difficult to concentrate on single task at a time. So I planned to meditate a bit daily. Which is obviously not going as per plan. But eventually I got used to single tasking or lets say not multi tasking. 

We are facing small problems like managing finances with single salary and by end of every month we have pulled it safe so far. There is one major problem I am facing due to lack of office laptop. Because the MS office subscription on my personal laptop has expired. And if you find any typo or grammatical errors on my blog then its Microsoft to be blamed. Because, how the hell can they not give me unlimited access to MS Word after purchasing a Windows 10 laptop? 

Talking of advantages, I am leading my life at a much much slower pace when compared to the past 8  years. On few days I don't get to see my dark circles. I have a tidier and better organized home than before. The best of all is getting to see my child grow every second right in front of my eyes. Even better than the previous one is that I get to watch more movies with  my husband. And I bet he can't ask for anything more. Okay, here's a better one, he gets freshly cooked food served hot, thrice a day.

Life has been such a roller coaster ride so far. Thanks to my husband for being there and supporting my decision of quitting the rat race that I was part of. Few of my relatives who were not happy with me working and leaving my baby with his grandparents, are now pitying me and asking why I quit? Many of my friends told me that it was a very bold decision to quit my career and now I understand why they called it "BOLD". Its one such experience which is hard to forget. Kudos to my son who keeps me going. And thanks to my husband because if I don't thank him very often from now on, there is a risk of cutting my pocket money. :P

Kitchen set

I bought a kitchen set for my son much to the dismay of my neighbor who is a mother of a 3 yr old girl. This is the one which comes with stove, burners, oven, chimney hub, tap and sink, frying pans, cups and saucers and cutlery. Yes. Its that exhaustive. And my neighbor couldn't get the logic behind me getting it for my son when her daughter doesn't have such exhaustive set of the so called girlie toy. My husband laughed when I got the pink color kitchen set. Few thought I was wasting money buying such irrelavant toys for my son. But it was an immediate hit with him. As soon as I assembled it, he gave me a cup of tea from his set and washed his hands and face from the tap provided at the sink. Needless to say, I was on cloud nine.

I don't know if I qualify being called a "Breaking the stereotypes" mom. But, I saw that my son almost, always mimicked me when he saw me cook. His favorite play toys were my frying pans and cookers. He has a bat and ball. In fact lots of balls of various sizes and colors. But the fancy he takes for my kitchen utensils is nowhere in comparison to them. So I got him this toy set, respecting his interests. I bought it hoping to put an end to the clinging and clanging noises he made with my steel utensils. The neighbors were complaining you know. They thought it was my way of venting out on my husband. OUTRAGEOUS.

Few of my acquaintances laughed at it (The kitchen set I mean. Not the venting out part). Few were of the opinion that he would become a famous chef in future. Few said that I was lucky and in few years I would have a helping hand at kitchen. And here is what I think. I will be happy if my son learns to cook because thats one basic need of life. Every person with the ability to cook doesn't have to be a chef. About the helping hand part, I must agree that I am looking forward to it. To make my point clearer, let me summarize my thoughts. "I got the kitchen set for my son because I would love him to pursue his interests. And to teach him that there is no such thing called a boy's job or a girl's job. Times have changed and its all a matter of our choices."

On a very recent update, he has taken fancy for my compact and lipstick. Do you think I should give them to him and let him paint himself? No... No...Don't go away. Believe me, I promise to listen to you this time.