After a really, really, really..

...long time!

I don't know where to begin (again). So will start off with what currently runs in my mind. Know all these Indian authors right and how they write, right?

'...and as I was holding my mother's hand I realised that she has changed. She no longer keeps the door of our flat open when Pinky aunty keeps hers open. Must have changed after Pinky aunty stopped calling her for pujas and started having new new friends..'

"'Ok..' snapped Amma to Raju uncle who owns the local grocery store... uncle also doesn't offer me chocolates these days..''

'"Let me finish this...", Said Mom. Normally she would finish my book and then start reading hers..'

'"Where were you, I was so worried'', Mama asked her beautiful forehead creased with worry.. All my replies of, "Ma, there was a meeting.." wouldn't pacify her.

'''Give these to Kannama Akka..' Amma said one day. " But Amma..." I spluttered, "Those are my pattu pavadai and anna's Lego blocks..'. I had no answer when she asked, ''when did you last use them?"...'

Oh my God... Looks like I am turing into one of those mothers.. and hello this was supposed to be funny. Why does it read otherwise?

May be when T writes her book she'll include all these and more! And V.. he would still be building his blocks!

Back again?

The only way I can find my way back here is by writing a post on...whatelse,the kids.

A few days back V showed me his English reader and started giggling. I had written his name on that and having mentioned his section correctly, had written the class as UKG instead of class 3. T who was near by was so amused that she welcomed her older brother to her class the following day!

Cut to present...

T and V  are up to something...

T-  V (no anna here:-\ )What are you doing... Why so much confusion?

V - Hey... Do you know the meaning of confusion..

T - Yes. You remember that day when Amma wrote UKG instead of class 3 in your notebook? That is confusion!

Needless to say, the girl hasn't taken after me.

Chocolatey entertainment

As always this is a late take on something that has been written and raved about a thousand times. Movies are a good way to ward of stress. But as a policy H and I don't watch films in theaters. Actually it's been five years since we visited a cinema, so it is easy to make it into a policy! A couple of weeks back we left V with my parents and went to watch 'Crazy' Mohan's "Chocolate Krishna". Though a social play would have meant a more meaningful time spent, we zeroed in on the familiar brand of comedy the reason for which I will state at the end.

It was the well known 'Crazy' brand of comedy with the occasional display of magic thrown in between being an added attraction. The 'story' was on predictable lines and Mohan also manages to give a message at the end. What we loved about the play was its tight script and the fact that it was over in less than 90 mins without a break. Though with familiar film BGMs added to the play it did look like those famous 'film-trailers' from one's college days, it was a light-hearted time-spent. And wonders, though no one follows rules strictly not a single mobile ring tone was heard inside the hall!

Coming to the reason. It was the beginning of the third trimester and I did n't want to be left squirming with a jumping baby inside in a cinema theater what with all the sound effects and visuals. Also some time in these five years I happened to tell H that a few weeks before I was born my mother watched 'Omen'.Since H thinks the film has had a definite bearing on his wife's behavior he did n't want to take any chances with film choices for his children.

A Note to..

...all pedestrians, motorists, auto-rickshaw drivers (I have to address them separately), all those who think the whole world is a parking lot and many others.... from a fellow pedestrian, ex (for the time being) motorist and one among the rest.

-Thank you for staring at me , but that does n't mean you can flash lights on a broad day light, indicating me to move to my right when there is hardly any space to stand.
-I've struggled with a heavy bag on one shoulder and a kid on the arm and no auto would stop. Why is it that only when I don't need one all the auto rickshaws slow down and make walking harder?
-Neel Metal Fanalca is doing their bit to the city by stationing their huge garbage bins on the road turnings. But the motorists cast an angry glance at me when they turn sharply at a very high speed. I can only manage to stand a few inches farther from the bin...not any closer.
-Every time I look at the road, I get confused. When did this become a parking lot? One can walk (or try to) on the pavement, but is how is one supposed to drive a car or ride a two-wheeler between a car parked haphazardly and the electric post?
-Dear sirs (assuming sirs, by the bikes parked), I am unable to hold my umbrella straight when your bikes are parked like they were straight out of a modern-art picture frame even as the branch of a tree, lying low sways precariously as I struggle on the so called pavement, trying to avoid being splashed at by a bucket of dirty water from the nearby tea-shop. Not to mention the oncoming traffic to whom people on feet are invisible.
-And lady... I understand you want to take the right- from your car indicator that flashes 'right'. But why do you have to swirl to your left, take a u-turn (almost) on the road that is on your left, indicating right all the time? Wrong.
- To all the others who make life on the roads, a roller-coaster ride/walk/drive for many like me... It is very hard to learn one's lesson in a hospital. Take care and thank you for letting me live long enough to write this.

Some people are like this only-2

The 'park-pannata-paravasam types' (The Parking pesters!)


 I am a selfish motorist. Especially when it comes to parking my vehicle. I park in the inner-most parking space, because I want my scooter to be safe -Who cares about others getting more space to park because of my actions...
I use the center stand, even if it requires some extra effort. I don't want my scooter to fall down - Who cares about others getting more space because of this...

On one of these occasions, after having performed my selfish acts I come down from the shopping mall, child holding one hand, big shopping bag holding the other, walk towards the scooter, when a young motorist, tries to park his vehicle just behind mine...

Now, this is one of those selfless fellows who allow other vehicles to run over theirs or do not bother if their bikes fall down. The towing people have a field day thanks to such guys.

Spotting the guy about 10 meters away, I run like a mad horse (pulling the child and bag along) and telling him to -puffing - wait- panting - for me to take my vehicle away. The guy stops, waits as I struggle to remove the scooter from its space, keeping an eye and screeching when the child runs towards the road.

After a minute, I move aside, when the guy simply parks the bike in the space where he originally intended to (behind the parking space I had vacated) and walks off....


The 'edatha kodutha madatha...' types (That - is - not - your - chair-Chandler/That-is-my-seat-Joey types)


At the beach, we finally find a spot where the little archeologist can do his digging with his sophisticated tools and sit down (well almost) when a family of four or five or six with about three or four or five children, (It took me a few seconds to figure out that they were humans, this number confusion must be ignored) puts down a sitting mat, and the children on it, a foot away from us, causing us and the sand to fly. We move a good five meters away and I get a sprain in the neck by constantly turning my head, almost going in circles, to make sure that we don't get hounded again.

The 'at-you-service-or-so-I-think' types


We go to a (newly opened Dosa-Idli)  restaurant, finish our meal, wait for the bill when this guy comes with a plate of 'Paper-Roast' and deposits it on our table.

H: This is not ours
W: But you asked for 'Paper - Roast' saar
H: No..I asked for the Bill

The man, flustered, does the same at about five tables - beyond us - and then comes back to the table next to ours, because it is their 'Paper-Roast'.

The 'auto-gapla -cycle-ottara' types


We wait at a very congested junction with my 'Nermai-erumai-karumai' (Can't translate. It would mean something like I am fair and I expect you to be fair kind of thing) husband stopping the bike exactly 2 cms before the 'Stop' line and leaving about four feet on his left for a two wheeler or even an auto rickshaw to pass through and take the road on the left. The signal goes green and some thing hits V's leg. It is a bike's indicator. The motorist is in such a hurry that he leaves space for the rest of the world and comes crashing onto us...... to take the left. I don't know if he even realized, but the person seated behind him has the courtesy to apologize.

Drying clothes on a rainy day...

...is one of the most physically and mentally challenging tasks. First, the clothes accumulate, thanks to the kid running to the water and the parents running behind and all three getting wet, or to the fact that the amma ignores the unpredictable weather and leaves the umbrella behind, or to the previous days clothes that smell and feel wet like they are just out of the washing machine. Then, all of a sudden one realizes that the open space available is big enough to dry a few handkerchiefs and piles all the clothes into a bucket and carries them to the terrace on the fourth floor.

Living on the first floor despite the presence of an elevator does n't help as one still has to climb a flight of stairs, some of the steps of which are slippery thanks to the overflowing or dripping water from the terrace. After that one has to constantly look at the sky, put the clothes on the line, squint at the clouds to check if the black ones are really floating towards the said terrace or if it is only an illusion. Just as one finishes putting all the clothes on the line and comes down, again gingerly stepping on the steps, the black clouds close in and it has suddenly become dark. At this, one dashes out to the terrace again, this time with the kid coming along since he had found out that he was left behind the previous time.

One checks the clothes and tells herself that the clothes seemed to have become a little dry and carries the heavy bucket and the crying kid, huffs and puffs all the way down only to find that it is indeed drizzling outside. After a small pat on the shoulder to self, one begins to dry the clothes in the balcony and irons the half dried ones. Just then the sun comes out all scorching and one puts one's big foot in the mouth, removes all the clothes, takes them out to the terrace again, does a small jig at the sun and son, dries the clothes, comes down, and after the exhausting work, amma and child take a nap. Only to wake up and find that it is pouring outside. One looks out expressionlessly and goes back to sleep again.

It is another story that all the clothes were soggy and wet and dirty because the loose sand on the terrace had stuck to them, what with the wind blowing hard,  and all the clothes had to be washed again, and the process of drying...repeated as above!

Morning and on the road musings...

Well...one really can't 'muse' in the mornings, what with the husband and kid to be rushed off to school and office ...err...the opposite respectively. Also, one can't think when one  is accelerating the scooter, braking at vantage points, holding the standing kid tightly between one's legs, enduring the child's constant 'amma athu enna?', followed by a harried amma's don't stick your hand out, staring at brainless motorists, checking the elusive expletive just in time before it reaches the brat's ear, desperately honking and indicating before reaching the school and depositing the child. After all that, further endurance and heart-break at the little one not even attempting to say 'Ta-Ta'.

The real fun starts when one rides back home. The BP suddenly touches normal, the air seems fresh, motorists less annoying and one actually waits until a horde of buses, vans, cars, scooters, bikes, pedestrians, stray dogs pass by. Suddenly there is so much time!
                                    
On an aside...

When I scoured the city in my scooter on work, when I was all young and bursting with excessive enthusiasm - eons ago- I used to look amusedly at mothers who rode their children to school or otherwise. I remember seeing perennial frowns on those faces. I used to brazenly chuckle to myself, thinking aloud, under the protection of my helmet, "Poor women, they probably began riding only after marriage", or "Poor women, what monsters their husbands must be to let their hapless wives endure the city's noisy, polluted and risky roads" AND "Lucky me... I have mastered the art of riding...I would n't have a problem many years down the line"...

Little did I know!