Was planning to write about the lovely seven day holiday we had in Goa but have just finished cleaning an upturned bowl of khichdi all over the highchair so my thoughts are currently in a different direction. Anyone who says what a joy it is to see your little tot all over the house and traipsing around the furniture is either single with no intention of producing children or is suffering from the empty nest syndrome, under which they are likely to romanticise the years spent in close proximity with their kids.
(Example: Me: 'Ma, I HAVE to keep the phone, baby is attacking the TV!'
Ma: 'Oh my god he can reach the TV now! Awwwww, sho shweet.....!!!!!!!')
Sorry, don't get me wrong. I'm absolutely enjoying this 'now you see him, now you don't phase,' largely spent chasing baby around various items of furniture. See, there are several advantages of having a to-be-toddler around the house.
First, there's the enforced spring cleaning. In an effort to make everything baby-safe and baby friendly, you finally throw away the wrought iron candlestand that was too hideous to be displayed prominently and too expensive to be hidden completely.
Ditto for the ceramic astray nobody ever used, the urli that gathered dust, the five year old paper lamp with holes and so on....
Then there's the exercise. Babychasing requires you to squat, bend, stretch and push every part of your not-so-supple body to its limits, which is better than what any gym, personal trainer or liposuction could do, just in case your post pregnancy thoughts were in that direction.
So messy khichdi bowls aside, the crawl and cruise phase isn't bad at all. You clean out the junk, save money on gyms and start inching towards a somewhat flat, at least non jiggly stomach (hopefully). What more could you be asking for?
PS: As you can see from the date, this blog was started on 30th and posted on 4th. I guess there were several messy bowls of khichdi in between
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Nine Months
Wasn't it just yesterday that the little tyke was inside my tummy trying to find a way out? Wasn't it just yesterday that he slept in the same position you'd put him in?
Hard to believe that same redfaced, poopy bundle is eating crackers, crawling, standing up, banging drums, saying maaaaammma, tyaattttttyaa on top of his voice and has two small teeth. Honestly, can't believe he's growing up so fast!
Very entertaining and very exhausting.
Hard to believe that same redfaced, poopy bundle is eating crackers, crawling, standing up, banging drums, saying maaaaammma, tyaattttttyaa on top of his voice and has two small teeth. Honestly, can't believe he's growing up so fast!
Very entertaining and very exhausting.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
A Change Is Always Good?
Hello Amigos,
Am back. Was being lazy. Too lazy to blog or read or even watch TV. I go through these phases once in a while. When all I want is to stare blankly at view from balcony/faded sofa cover/blank document/dinner on plate whichever is applicable. Of course these days I cannot be a complete vegetable. How can I, when there is an extra-energetic, drooling, smiling, eight-month-old who's all over the place, babbling, crawling, trying to stand and sometimes doing all of these at once?
In an attempt at good parenting, the other day we tried to cleanse the house of potentially hazardous things to make our home a safe place for baby to explore. Realised by baby standards, we'd been living extremely dangerously all these years. Going by the Babycentre.com and What To Expect checklist, we have house hazards like loose cords, tall lamps, tables with sharp edges, rugs and mats without non-slip pads, several bins and several unused electrical outlets.
No prizes for guessing how we spend our free time these days then. Now I know what they meant when they said a baby changes your life.
Am back. Was being lazy. Too lazy to blog or read or even watch TV. I go through these phases once in a while. When all I want is to stare blankly at view from balcony/faded sofa cover/blank document/dinner on plate whichever is applicable. Of course these days I cannot be a complete vegetable. How can I, when there is an extra-energetic, drooling, smiling, eight-month-old who's all over the place, babbling, crawling, trying to stand and sometimes doing all of these at once?
In an attempt at good parenting, the other day we tried to cleanse the house of potentially hazardous things to make our home a safe place for baby to explore. Realised by baby standards, we'd been living extremely dangerously all these years. Going by the Babycentre.com and What To Expect checklist, we have house hazards like loose cords, tall lamps, tables with sharp edges, rugs and mats without non-slip pads, several bins and several unused electrical outlets.
No prizes for guessing how we spend our free time these days then. Now I know what they meant when they said a baby changes your life.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Two Weeks' Notice
One day, two weeks back: Rash goes and interviews famous person.
Evening, same day: Rash thinks of writing the story that very evening after the beta sleeps, like a true-to-her-job-reporter. Thought stays for less than one fleeting second. Rash reaches home, puts beta to sleep, has a glass of wine with the husband, watches some Reese Witherspoon movie, remembers story in the middle of movie and decides to definitely write it the next day.
Process repeated everyday (except weekends, when Rash excuses herself from her backbreaking workload)
Finally, one everning, two weeks later, she decides to put finger on keyboard.
7 pm: The beta is sleeping. Rash decides to sit with a nice relaxing mug of coffee before starting work.
7.10: Checks blogs. After all, he doesn't sleep at 7 every evening, does he?
7.30: Checks mail. Replies to every friend who has ever written to her, including person who assigned story.
7.50: Chats with friend in London on Skype. It's important as friend has exams and needs that goodluck wish.
8.30: Ooooops! oooops! ooops! That's quite a lot of time gone! Goes and checks on beta. Adjusts his blanket, checks the speed of the fan, opens one window, shuts another, dumps toys in basket, smiles fondly at beta. Repeats process.
8.35: P is home.
8.45: Decides to spend some quality time with P. She sits and reads the India Today's Bangalore supplement. He watches football highlights. They decide to have beer. It needs to be chilled. Rash goes and switches off the computer. Decides to restart work (which she hasn't started yet, except open the notes she scribbled during the interview) after dinner.
10.30: Switches on computer. Checks if there are new comments on her blog. Reads eight blogs. Chats with friend on gmail. Goes and checks on beta. Rerun of 8.30 action.
10.45: Has minor fight with P over possession of computer. Tells P she is working against a deadline and NOT BLOGGING. Writes a two line intro to justify her claim (and to show P in case he returns to check).
10.55: Tries to decipher own handwriting from interview notes.
11.10: Figures out most of the interview and decides to start. However, there's a blog in her brain. It's itching to be written. Now. Rash brushes thought of blog from her mind and gets back to story. Writes two lines.
11.30: Itching gets stronger. Rash tries to visualise person who assigned story as meancing, nasty editor standing with deadline stick over her head. Giggles.
11.34: Giggles some more at the imagery.
11.37: Non-stop giggling.
11:40: Itching stronger than ever. Rash is not a procrastinator. She decides to blog. Her brain needs to be free to concentrate on the story after all.
Evening, same day: Rash thinks of writing the story that very evening after the beta sleeps, like a true-to-her-job-reporter. Thought stays for less than one fleeting second. Rash reaches home, puts beta to sleep, has a glass of wine with the husband, watches some Reese Witherspoon movie, remembers story in the middle of movie and decides to definitely write it the next day.
Process repeated everyday (except weekends, when Rash excuses herself from her backbreaking workload)
Finally, one everning, two weeks later, she decides to put finger on keyboard.
7 pm: The beta is sleeping. Rash decides to sit with a nice relaxing mug of coffee before starting work.
7.10: Checks blogs. After all, he doesn't sleep at 7 every evening, does he?
7.30: Checks mail. Replies to every friend who has ever written to her, including person who assigned story.
7.50: Chats with friend in London on Skype. It's important as friend has exams and needs that goodluck wish.
8.30: Ooooops! oooops! ooops! That's quite a lot of time gone! Goes and checks on beta. Adjusts his blanket, checks the speed of the fan, opens one window, shuts another, dumps toys in basket, smiles fondly at beta. Repeats process.
8.35: P is home.
8.45: Decides to spend some quality time with P. She sits and reads the India Today's Bangalore supplement. He watches football highlights. They decide to have beer. It needs to be chilled. Rash goes and switches off the computer. Decides to restart work (which she hasn't started yet, except open the notes she scribbled during the interview) after dinner.
10.30: Switches on computer. Checks if there are new comments on her blog. Reads eight blogs. Chats with friend on gmail. Goes and checks on beta. Rerun of 8.30 action.
10.45: Has minor fight with P over possession of computer. Tells P she is working against a deadline and NOT BLOGGING. Writes a two line intro to justify her claim (and to show P in case he returns to check).
10.55: Tries to decipher own handwriting from interview notes.
11.10: Figures out most of the interview and decides to start. However, there's a blog in her brain. It's itching to be written. Now. Rash brushes thought of blog from her mind and gets back to story. Writes two lines.
11.30: Itching gets stronger. Rash tries to visualise person who assigned story as meancing, nasty editor standing with deadline stick over her head. Giggles.
11.34: Giggles some more at the imagery.
11.37: Non-stop giggling.
11:40: Itching stronger than ever. Rash is not a procrastinator. She decides to blog. Her brain needs to be free to concentrate on the story after all.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
I miss my bookshelf. Back in Gurgaon I had an open bookshelf right in the living room. Yes, not a good idea I know but when we moved in, there was this empty space on the wall and it was just shouting BOOKSHELF.
I love books just the way they are. I don't like it when books are bound and when books are encased in meticulous protective covers. And I don't like it when books are inside a closed shelf or almirah, usually with a wooden door. It makes me feel like I'm cut off from my books. I need to see them as I pass through, go about my daily work, cook, have a coffee, fight with husband, babble on the phone....during everything. Practically speaking, open shelves gather dust and there are more chances of people walking away casually with your books (especially when shelf is in living room) and never returning them but then being practical isn't everything, is it?
When I was a kid, one of my aunts would always gift me books with little notes scribbled on them. She had been an avid reader and if marriage, motherhood and the demands of a trying joint family had put reading in the backseat, she always tried to buy me something she herself had loved. Yet another aunt (dearly loved, except for this) would insist I cover the books she brought me to protect them from dust. In fact, once she put hideous platic covers on most of my books when she came to visit us in Orissa. I waited for her month long visit to be over and then proceeded to gleefully yank the covers off.
This is why I terribly miss my open shelf back at the flat in Gurgaon. I'd only one but there were plans to cover one whole room with such shelves and then go bookshopping to fill it up.....
Out here I have no dearth of storage space. But it is all closed in, very practical. This keeps my books from being spotted by flinching friends, cobwebs and dust. And sometimes, even by me.
I love books just the way they are. I don't like it when books are bound and when books are encased in meticulous protective covers. And I don't like it when books are inside a closed shelf or almirah, usually with a wooden door. It makes me feel like I'm cut off from my books. I need to see them as I pass through, go about my daily work, cook, have a coffee, fight with husband, babble on the phone....during everything. Practically speaking, open shelves gather dust and there are more chances of people walking away casually with your books (especially when shelf is in living room) and never returning them but then being practical isn't everything, is it?
When I was a kid, one of my aunts would always gift me books with little notes scribbled on them. She had been an avid reader and if marriage, motherhood and the demands of a trying joint family had put reading in the backseat, she always tried to buy me something she herself had loved. Yet another aunt (dearly loved, except for this) would insist I cover the books she brought me to protect them from dust. In fact, once she put hideous platic covers on most of my books when she came to visit us in Orissa. I waited for her month long visit to be over and then proceeded to gleefully yank the covers off.
This is why I terribly miss my open shelf back at the flat in Gurgaon. I'd only one but there were plans to cover one whole room with such shelves and then go bookshopping to fill it up.....
Out here I have no dearth of storage space. But it is all closed in, very practical. This keeps my books from being spotted by flinching friends, cobwebs and dust. And sometimes, even by me.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
In Which I Bitch
I was at this quiet Daily Bread store in Indiaranagar the other day, debating between yummy Mediterranean Bread v/s equally yummy Garlic Bread and generally feeling happy at the sight of so many desserts, when the door opened and in walked a strong waft of VERY EXPENSIVE PERFUME. She insisted on buying only chocolate donuts as 'Maira' loved them, or so I figured from the conversation she had with VERY EXPENSIVE RAYBAN, her hunky companion.
There was only one choco dounut left, which resulted in a mini and goodnatured tantrum. At this point Rayban insisted on driving her anywhere just to get the donuts. 'Ok wait let me check with Maira,' trilled Perfume and snapped out the tiniest of mobile phones. Rayban watched worshipfully. So did all of us.
I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia: this is so, so Delhi, I thought. I could've been standing outside Big Chill in Khan Market watching dressed-to-kill-diva throwing a tantrum on being asked to wait. Then guess what happenned? Daily Bread guy gave Rayban directions to their Church Street outlet. Perfume trilled again before wafting out: 'But where is Church Street? We're not from here. We're from Delhi. Let me ask Maira's driver.'
See how well I knew that city? I could've cried. But I laughed instead. And not because four choco donuts were already in my goodiebag.
There was only one choco dounut left, which resulted in a mini and goodnatured tantrum. At this point Rayban insisted on driving her anywhere just to get the donuts. 'Ok wait let me check with Maira,' trilled Perfume and snapped out the tiniest of mobile phones. Rayban watched worshipfully. So did all of us.
I suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia: this is so, so Delhi, I thought. I could've been standing outside Big Chill in Khan Market watching dressed-to-kill-diva throwing a tantrum on being asked to wait. Then guess what happenned? Daily Bread guy gave Rayban directions to their Church Street outlet. Perfume trilled again before wafting out: 'But where is Church Street? We're not from here. We're from Delhi. Let me ask Maira's driver.'
See how well I knew that city? I could've cried. But I laughed instead. And not because four choco donuts were already in my goodiebag.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Coorg
Photoblogging is so much easier. I could have written on and on about our drive to the Tata Coffee plantations in Coorg on a very rainy weekend, but the somewhat cranky beta (he's teething) has slept and there are scores of blogs I want to read.
So I'll just post some pictures. From driving out on a rainy morning to the greenery that almost made my eyes hurt.
It rained all the three days we were there, so we stayed put at the guesthouse most of the time, sipping endless cups of chai/coffee, increasing our girth by hogging whatever was offered (did not love famous Coorgi Pork curry much)and driving out once in a while. Would've loved to have done some nice walking round the plantation but hey, it's only six hours away. And rain or shine, with a view like that, how could you even complain?
So I'll just post some pictures. From driving out on a rainy morning to the greenery that almost made my eyes hurt.
It rained all the three days we were there, so we stayed put at the guesthouse most of the time, sipping endless cups of chai/coffee, increasing our girth by hogging whatever was offered (did not love famous Coorgi Pork curry much)and driving out once in a while. Would've loved to have done some nice walking round the plantation but hey, it's only six hours away. And rain or shine, with a view like that, how could you even complain?
Friday, May 26, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Ok, call me whatever name you will but I'm waiting to watch Da Vinci Code. According to a friend of mine, these days I 'revel in simplemindedness.' She does have a point there, though. Throughout my pregnancy, delivery and those first few days of adjusting to the wobbly li'l bundle of poo and pee, easy reading has been my motto. Except for Possession. And My Name Is Red. The rest are largely re-reads and include old classics, thrillers and a whole of chic-lit romances. And a fair bit of Calvin & Hobbes. Does that say something?
PS: Cannot imagine Tom Hanks in the role though. Much as I love him.
PS: Cannot imagine Tom Hanks in the role though. Much as I love him.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Why is it that when you ask for a DVD of Pride & Prejudice (the BBC TV series) the shop assistants invariably come up with Bride & Prejudice? And this happens after you explain it is the TV series that you want, not the latest film starring Keira Knightley and certainly not the Gurinder Chadha washout. Surely Colin Firth doesn't resemble Aiswarya Rai?
Would love to post regularly enough. But I turn completely lazy the minute beta is fast asleep and so does my mind. And it's so much more fun to read blogs than write. At least, these days it is :)
On a different note, am experimenting with photography. Actually, that's a hip and not-so-motherly way of explaining the 700th photograph you've taken of your child in the last one week.
Would love to post regularly enough. But I turn completely lazy the minute beta is fast asleep and so does my mind. And it's so much more fun to read blogs than write. At least, these days it is :)
On a different note, am experimenting with photography. Actually, that's a hip and not-so-motherly way of explaining the 700th photograph you've taken of your child in the last one week.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Rang Diya
Finally, finally, finally managed to watch Rang De Basanti. On the big screen. In love. with the movie. with everything in it. No point in saying much about it. It's best watched, which most people have done by now and formed their opinions I guess. Inky, thank you for putting up the translation of Ik Onkar. My day starts with it very often now.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
A will be four months tomorrow. back after monthlong trip to both sets of grandparent's. The child's grandparents, not mine. After being pampered for more than a month, have forgotten how to manage home plus kid. But cannot complain as kiddo sleeps at night. That's what everyone says incl. the kid's doc. Haven't worked for almost a year now. How time flies.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Shucks! I wasn't aware that we were a country that still practiced 'sati--the custom of a widow throwing herself on her husband's funeral pyre'. Helpfully explained also. And here I am, terribly afraid of even the smallest burn. Going to temple to pray for husband's long life instantly. Strangely, I missed out on this bit of info before I got hitched or else would've insisted on a pre-nup. Even now, I can't recall a sati in my family or anyone else's (despite it being still practiced as Canadian freelancer, Mei-Yin Teo informs us) except for that sad instance of Roop Kanwar all those years ago, condemned by every sane (I said SANE, so don't argue about Roop Kanwar being glorified, revered, etc) person in the country.
I'm pissed. They call themselves an online travel resource just for women.? Don't they do their homework or check facts? Or are they content to stereotype, just because it is India?
I'm pissed. They call themselves an online travel resource just for women.? Don't they do their homework or check facts? Or are they content to stereotype, just because it is India?
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Happy New Year
Began 2006 with several changes in life.
* Had the quietest 31st Dec in 10 years. Had lessons on 'New year TV programming' from mother in law who I've discovered is extremely with it in these matters. Wonderful son woke us up exactly at 12 so that we didn't miss out on the celebrations. Heard fireworks. Both inside the room and outside.
* Became part of the evening ramp...oops...pram show in the apartment complex. Open daily from 4 pm to 6 pm, this entitles you and your little dribbler to a free membership at the in house mother and child club, apart from giving you an opportunity to check out each other's weight, babies, strollers, toys and peadiatrician. Is that how it's spelt?
* Discovered New Age Dad in P. He actually wakes up for the 2.00 am feed...then wakes me up and goes off to sleep.
* Shopped in less than 15 minutes. Bought four tops and three pants. Tried them all. In less than 15 minutes! It's possible. Just have a squirming, ready-to-bawl infant at hand.
* Discovered endless capacity for babytalk. Esp at 4 am. Again, c'est possible. Just have 'I'll-bawl-right-now-if-you-don't ape-Donald Duck-infant' at hand.
* Became Blog lurker. V afraid son will wake up as soon as I start writing comments on somebody's blog and I'l;; end yuop wit embrassaring spelling mistakes likeh this one.
Happy 2006
* Had the quietest 31st Dec in 10 years. Had lessons on 'New year TV programming' from mother in law who I've discovered is extremely with it in these matters. Wonderful son woke us up exactly at 12 so that we didn't miss out on the celebrations. Heard fireworks. Both inside the room and outside.
* Became part of the evening ramp...oops...pram show in the apartment complex. Open daily from 4 pm to 6 pm, this entitles you and your little dribbler to a free membership at the in house mother and child club, apart from giving you an opportunity to check out each other's weight, babies, strollers, toys and peadiatrician. Is that how it's spelt?
* Discovered New Age Dad in P. He actually wakes up for the 2.00 am feed...then wakes me up and goes off to sleep.
* Shopped in less than 15 minutes. Bought four tops and three pants. Tried them all. In less than 15 minutes! It's possible. Just have a squirming, ready-to-bawl infant at hand.
* Discovered endless capacity for babytalk. Esp at 4 am. Again, c'est possible. Just have 'I'll-bawl-right-now-if-you-don't ape-Donald Duck-infant' at hand.
* Became Blog lurker. V afraid son will wake up as soon as I start writing comments on somebody's blog and I'l;; end yuop wit embrassaring spelling mistakes likeh this one.
Happy 2006
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Possession is not an easy read. Especially when you seem to be constantly feeding. And burping. And changing nappies. And rocking baby to sleep. And feeding yet again. And cleaning. But the book's been lying with me for a while and my ever-understanding online library finally wants it back. At the rate I'm going shall surely return it unfinished. Like many other things in my life since Nov 22, 2005, this will also be a first. Not significant enough, however.
Friday, November 18, 2005
First Khushboo and now Sania Mirza. Now don't these ladies know better than shooting their mouths off about sex-vex, pyaar-vyaar and saying sorry later?
I can still digest Khushboo's comment. After all she's an actress and we Indians are aware that all actresses have loose morals, no? So, we can ignore her when she says something absolutely unIndian like this. But Sania? First she addresses press conferences in foreign wearing T-shirts with bold messages instead of wearing nice zari salwar kameezes (full sleeved) and Malabar Gold jewellery. Then she goes a step ahead and supports Khushboo. And then she has second thoughts and says she's been misquoted.
Arre bhai, can't these girls think before they speak? Ek to bina soche samjhe kuch bhi keh do. Woh bhi sex jaise sensitive topic par. Don't they know that good Indian girls are allowed to have sex with only one man, their husband? And if the husband pops it or throws you out of the house, the good Indian girl can end up having sex with Man No. 2, provided the parents have procured her a husband again. After all, this is our glorious Indian culture. Everything is ok once you're married. Sex -- safe or unsafe, marital rape, domestic violence, catching the HIV virus from hubby, everything. The important thing is to be married.
Which is why the ABVP activists are right. Sania has hurt the sentiments of 'Indian people'. Well, thanks to all these cable television, shopping malls, Hollywood films, BPOs and what have Yos, there are many people who'll cry foul and say Sania has actually made a mature and responsible statement, is being forced to retract it and that we should move on with the times, etc, etc. But what do they know? Haven't these people watched Hindi films? Don't they know what happens to girls who have sex before marriage? See what happened to Sharmila Tagore in Aradhana, Parveen Babi in Deewar and so many other heroines? Agreed they didn't practise safe sex, as preached by Sania and some Miss Universe (again, model+foreigner=loose morals) but that's not the point, is it?
In fact, in all this brouaha, I'm quite confused what the point really is.
Which is why the ABVP activists are right. Sania has hurt the sentiments of 'Indian people'. Well, thanks to all these cable television, shopping malls, Hollywood films, BPOs and what have Yos, there are many people who'll cry foul and say Sania has actually made a mature and responsible statement, is being forced to retract it and that we should move on with the times, etc, etc. But what do they know? Haven't these people watched Hindi films? Don't they know what happens to girls who have sex before marriage? See what happened to Sharmila Tagore in Aradhana, Parveen Babi in Deewar and so many other heroines? Agreed they didn't practise safe sex, as preached by Sania and some Miss Universe (again, model+foreigner=loose morals) but that's not the point, is it?
In fact, in all this brouaha, I'm quite confused what the point really is.
Is it about an unmarried girl having sex with an unmarried boy? Quite possible. It is not only unthinkable and against family values as shown by K-Serials but absolutely corrupting for most of us Indians who have no idea of how babies are born until they tie the knot. Forget all those newsmagazine cover stories that claim more and more Indians are having sex before marriage. Forget realities like Delhi Public School MMS scandal which show that kids are not only doing it but being pretty brazen about it too. These are after all a small part of the Indian population who have been brainwashed and corrupted by MTV and all these newfangled movies like Hum Tum and Salaam Namaste. The majority of us are pure-minded, uncorrupted, blindfolded Indians with strong value systems. We take two steps backward for every one step forward. And we simply can't stomach any talk about sex. Safe or otherwise. Prevention is better than cure. Haven't they heard?
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Are We There Yet?
Am feeling a bit low, so I call S in Mumbai late at night for a pick-me-up chat.
'OHMIGOD! Boy or girl?!!!!!' S screams into the phone.
'None. The baby's still inside. I called to just talk.'
'Oh...and there I thought...' S sounds like a punctured balloon, before adding, 'listen am at a party. Will call you later.'
Humph! So much for 4 am friends!
Take it from me. Week 40 breathing down your neck is the worse wait of the nine month narrative. Worse than waiting in the line at State Bank of India. Worse than waiting to pay the MTNL bill on the last day. Worse than being 43rd in line at the slow moving check in counter of Air Deccan.
Babycentre, my online bible is asking me to be patient. 'Only 5% of babies are born on their exact due date. Why not practice breathing and relaxation techniques while you're waiting?'
Yes darlings. And why not learn the salsa while I'm at it? I wouldn't be writing this, if I were that relaxed, would I? Why can't I be part of that percentage of women who have babies ahead of schedule? According to mother, all the women in my family belong to that lucky percentage. Except me of course. Don't think it'll arrive anytime soon.
'Read it nice children's books,' says Kahini, when I call her to whine. This is supposed to make baby feel wonderfully excited about the world and make it come out faster. Kahini, if this works, you shall patent this idea, make money and sponsor me at Toto's for life as your first experiment. You're lucky I do not know the names of fancy lounge bars. Am off to Crossword tomorrow to buy books. Send list.
The advice keeps pouring in. By now I'm confused about what they're meant for.
'Play relaxing Western classical music'
'Run your hands over your tummy a lot'
'Sweep the floor. See how phatak se all our maids have babies?'
'Go for regular walks.'
'Go dancing!'
'Have sex.'
'Freeze on the name. You have? Refreeze.'
'Sleep as much as you can.'
I hang up in exasperation and decide to be calm, poised and patient. Have no idea why everyone starts wondering and muttering if you haven't had the baby by the time you've hit 40 weeks. Don't want to make baby feel I'm impatient mother and come out in a hurry. That way would be setting bad precedent for its entire life. And I do not wish to be affected by people. Especially by glam women with washboard abs at restaurant reception desks who tend to ask, 'so how long?'
P calls. He's heard from Mr T whom we met at Lamaze Class. Mrs T had baby girl. One whole week before D date.
I call to congratulate Mrs T. 'You haven't had the baby yet?' she is most surprised, 'What did the doc say? How much more time?'
Ugh ugh ugh.
'OHMIGOD! Boy or girl?!!!!!' S screams into the phone.
'None. The baby's still inside. I called to just talk.'
'Oh...and there I thought...' S sounds like a punctured balloon, before adding, 'listen am at a party. Will call you later.'
Humph! So much for 4 am friends!
Take it from me. Week 40 breathing down your neck is the worse wait of the nine month narrative. Worse than waiting in the line at State Bank of India. Worse than waiting to pay the MTNL bill on the last day. Worse than being 43rd in line at the slow moving check in counter of Air Deccan.
Babycentre, my online bible is asking me to be patient. 'Only 5% of babies are born on their exact due date. Why not practice breathing and relaxation techniques while you're waiting?'
Yes darlings. And why not learn the salsa while I'm at it? I wouldn't be writing this, if I were that relaxed, would I? Why can't I be part of that percentage of women who have babies ahead of schedule? According to mother, all the women in my family belong to that lucky percentage. Except me of course. Don't think it'll arrive anytime soon.
'Read it nice children's books,' says Kahini, when I call her to whine. This is supposed to make baby feel wonderfully excited about the world and make it come out faster. Kahini, if this works, you shall patent this idea, make money and sponsor me at Toto's for life as your first experiment. You're lucky I do not know the names of fancy lounge bars. Am off to Crossword tomorrow to buy books. Send list.
The advice keeps pouring in. By now I'm confused about what they're meant for.
'Play relaxing Western classical music'
'Run your hands over your tummy a lot'
'Sweep the floor. See how phatak se all our maids have babies?'
'Go for regular walks.'
'Go dancing!'
'Have sex.'
'Freeze on the name. You have? Refreeze.'
'Sleep as much as you can.'
I hang up in exasperation and decide to be calm, poised and patient. Have no idea why everyone starts wondering and muttering if you haven't had the baby by the time you've hit 40 weeks. Don't want to make baby feel I'm impatient mother and come out in a hurry. That way would be setting bad precedent for its entire life. And I do not wish to be affected by people. Especially by glam women with washboard abs at restaurant reception desks who tend to ask, 'so how long?'
P calls. He's heard from Mr T whom we met at Lamaze Class. Mrs T had baby girl. One whole week before D date.
I call to congratulate Mrs T. 'You haven't had the baby yet?' she is most surprised, 'What did the doc say? How much more time?'
Ugh ugh ugh.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
The bhadroloks at Bengalimatrimony.com are trying very hard to achieve what my parents couldn’t. Marry me off to a good Bong boy. Trivial details like the fact that I’m married and about to produce a child with that man do not bother them, even after I’ve sent an email to inform them of this mildly preventive fact.
I’ve also pointed out that I never registered with them in the first place; else I’d have done so with my real name. Certainly not as Rani, as they insist on addressing me. If I had to register with a false name I’d have gone for something exotic like Zarmaine or Finnouala or Caramia. Certainly not something as common as Rani. Even though she is Bong, actress and therefore supposed to have high recall value in the minds of us Bongs.
Despite these glitches the more I get spammed (6 emails so far) by the bhadraloks the more I see what I missed out on. The chance to meet a nice brainy boy called Shomshubhro or Bishwopriyo, with wheatish complexion, a collection of Panjabis (kurta in Bongspeak) gifted by mashis during Pujo, and a degree from top US University or at least from IIT. And of course a mother. We Bong girls do not look for anything less than that.
Blame it all on my folks. They didn’t exactly lead me in the right direction and point out the advantages of a Bong-Bong match. I was let loose to look in all the wrong places and landed up with a kalchaarless fellow who is laughing at the bhadralok’s persistence and is asking me to look for something called Jainmatrimony which will provide him with options as well. Bengalimatrimony ne meri ankhen khol di. Bas thodi der se.
PS: My sincerest apologies if your name happens to be Shomshubhro or Bishwopriyo. Or even Zarmaine, Finnouala, Caramia and Rani.
I’ve also pointed out that I never registered with them in the first place; else I’d have done so with my real name. Certainly not as Rani, as they insist on addressing me. If I had to register with a false name I’d have gone for something exotic like Zarmaine or Finnouala or Caramia. Certainly not something as common as Rani. Even though she is Bong, actress and therefore supposed to have high recall value in the minds of us Bongs.
Despite these glitches the more I get spammed (6 emails so far) by the bhadraloks the more I see what I missed out on. The chance to meet a nice brainy boy called Shomshubhro or Bishwopriyo, with wheatish complexion, a collection of Panjabis (kurta in Bongspeak) gifted by mashis during Pujo, and a degree from top US University or at least from IIT. And of course a mother. We Bong girls do not look for anything less than that.
Blame it all on my folks. They didn’t exactly lead me in the right direction and point out the advantages of a Bong-Bong match. I was let loose to look in all the wrong places and landed up with a kalchaarless fellow who is laughing at the bhadralok’s persistence and is asking me to look for something called Jainmatrimony which will provide him with options as well. Bengalimatrimony ne meri ankhen khol di. Bas thodi der se.
PS: My sincerest apologies if your name happens to be Shomshubhro or Bishwopriyo. Or even Zarmaine, Finnouala, Caramia and Rani.
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