Dear Dan

Dear Dan,

I have learned so many things in life from you. I feel like writing it to you so that it would always be there no matter what. I learned from my life with you that affection need not be displayed and that it can be understood even when you are silent. I learned that having a fight would never alter your feelings or mine, now or forever. After a storm there will always be sunshine. I learned that God is truly love and he lives in us. 

I know there might be perfect couples out there but I love the way God paired us up. Perfect would be too boring. I love to wrestle with you, call you names, talk in the night till I fall asleep and fight for the last piece of chocolate in the fridge. Yes, I love being a kid with you. I find it beautiful that you are weird just like me. I love the way you give me my space, freedom and put up with my stubborn moronic behavior. I love to watch you sleep like a child each morning and I like the way you make me laugh (of course you have made me cry too – I never liked that :D).I love the way your ego works when after a fight you hold me in your arms in the night thinking I will never know because I am asleep.

When people told me that I would be making a grave mistake choosing to start my life with you, I believed in us. I am glad I did. Life was not a bed of roses, but we made it till here. Yes, the first few months were hard but I realized you are just like wine - the older you got, the better you turned out.

Of course you have your anger, impatience, and craziness that comes with the package, but Love does conquer all. Celebrating 2 years of our roller-coaster life together on this day, it just feels like getting married all over again.

The Prodigal Son

"As the Sun rises each day so will I rise to show the world that I am not a gas-bag"

These words were written by a really great person. Any guesses? It was by my brother - Gibson. It might have had a taste of corniness to it before but not anymore.

My brother was, in my words, a guy who never liked to be tied down, totally irresponsible, and a free-willed person. I grew up very close to him. We used to be a pair at home during childhood, always against my younger sister (yeah, we do that now too ;) ) However, as years sped I felt that he had an easy life (atleast that's what I thought). He was the apple of the eye to my dad. He had more freedom than me and my sister and I found that very annoying. When we were in our late teens we started having lots of differences and we fought a LOT. Then he left off to Chennai and as usual being a first-timer in Chennai, he had all the fun.

When his exam results came, he had  arrears in almost all subjects. Professors from his college would call home complaining about his laziness and poor attendance. My dad would be irritated and sad at times looking at his progress. Then he moved into his own apartment during second year and he became even worse with his academics. There was even a time when he was about to be debarred but thankfully that did not happen. He hardly came home, not even during Christmas. That was the time I found his diary, usually kept for writing contact numbers and codes. He wrote this line and also a page of how he would keep my dad proud and come out as a graduate. This he wrote when my dad went to Chennai to join him in college. My dad only went for Gibson's admission. Mine and my sister's was done by my mom. Finally, he finished college with 34 arrears.

Then he felt a little remorse so he joined Sutherland and decided to work and study. In the end he had 4 arrears - all maths. He was allergic to maths. That's when my dad fell sick. My brother took care of my dad for a month, washing his wounds and staying in horrid hospitals. He slept on the floor. There was no greater gift for my dad than to see his darling boy take care of him. I never expected that from Gibson. Noone did. In a month  my dad was gone and I still have the image of how my brother cried like a child in front of my eyes. He passed right the next semester becoming an engineer.

I went to Chennai last week, and I saw him in his car. He has an awesome job and with that he got a second hand car. He could get any car asking my mom if he wanted, but he wasn't that brat that was 5 years ago. He took care of us during our stay in Chennai. I was looking at him talk to everyone with such mannerisms. I felt swollen with pride. I can only imagine what my dad would feel at this instant, he would just give the whole world to him. I saw in him care and affection. I saw a responsible, hardworking, loving person in him that day. That's when I saw my dad in him and tears welled up.You are not a gasbag, I think you proved that to us.

Children of Heaven

I absolutely love small children and I have always wanted to do something for orphans. One of my friends told me about a needy orphanage and I recently paid a visit to offer a treat. There were about 20 to 25 children huddled up in one small shelter. These were kids born to people having extramarital relationships, people who did not want to be burdened with the task of having to grow them up and other situations. Most of them were around 5 to 10 yrs old. The girls slept on torn mats on a cement floor and the boys in another building. Looking at all of them actually makes your heart melt, but if you ask them - they are just thankful for the food and shelter. They were real friendly too so if anyone would like to lend a hand - do help them out.

I have a real soft corner towards kids and I really hate to see children suffering in life. I am sure many of you guys read about the brutal murder and sexual assault of 2 small kids from Coimbatore, a few weeks back. I was totally shocked when I read the gory details of the story. The girl probably wouldn't even have known what happened to her. In a land where kids are considered to be blessings from God, I was unable to digest the fact that someone could do something that inhuman to them. The grotesque incident made me boil with rage. When I heard about the encounter (most probably a fake encounter) in which the kidnapper was killed, I was actually happy in a weird way. Believe me, if I had seen him at the scene of crime, I myself would have shot him without a second thought.

Every single day I hear some news or the other about kids being sold into labor, prostitution and drugs. There was a time when kids would be just running around here and there happily. Now parents lock them up at home in fear of kidnappers, child molesters and pedophiles. I cannot imagine how anyone with a sane mind would actually kill an innocent child. Maybe those people never had a good childhood to begin with.I guess that's where the problem lies. A few months back, I read a 11 year old boy raped and killed a 7 year old girl in Chennai. I mean, all I could think of kids at 11 years is playing video games and here's a boy who's on criminal records at that age!


I can't imagine what would happen in future - would a 5 year old smoke pot and go on a rampage killing people? Who am I kidding - there is already a 2 year old kid in Indonesia who's addicted to cigarettes. God save the world!

                "Children are like wet cement. Whatever falls on them makes an impression.”

The Evolution - Part 2

I managed to fill in the rest somehow. However, it might have a serious tone to it from the last part owing to me being not a child anymore. So read on :

13 Yr:    I found myself looking at the mirror more often than once each day and started to wonder if I was pretty or fat or ugly or thin. I loved listening to Backstreet boys, Spice girls and Westlife. I even used to collect posters of singers. It was also my last year in Bahrain, I cried when I left my school and moved to India.

14 Yr:    Had a tough time coping with the education system, school, food, life and everything. I could never have imagined anything worse than this happening to me. I found the world to be not so much of a nice place like I imagined. Gibson laughed at my school uniform  and my double braided hair ( it looked like a dog's ears for him). He told he’s going to join some better school but in 2 months time he joined my same school.

15 Yr:    Life was getting more bearable, I was getting really close to my sister. I enjoyed being with my friends and bunking tuition. I cut my waist-long hair till my shoulders for the first time in my life. I also started talking in Tamil more fluently.

16 Yr:    I wondered if I should go to Chennai for college after my boards. Everyone was going there and my brother was also calling me there. This was the part of my life where I fell in love with a person who I was going to be glued with for the rest of my life- yes my husband. The love-life looked all easy and filmy- the chocolates, the smiles, the hushed-up phone talks, the gifts.

17 Yr:    I joined a college here because of Dan who wanted me to study with him. Even my close friend Ranjana joined me. I suffer immensely during my first year and ended up having an arrear, sleeping in class, firing from the lecturers but the next semester I get the hang of it. At this point of life I come to know about dark things in the world and wonder if all this could be really true.

18 Yr:    I started sharing my sorrows with my sister and we bonded like anything. I go for occasional visits to Vellore for my mother’s treatment. In CMC Vellore I see the crowds of sick and handicapped and understand the value of good health God gave me. I started to wish the next 2 years would fly real fast so that I can finish college and go for work.

19 Yr:    I got placed in TCS and I thought everything is going to be awesome in future. I knew there was only one more year left and I could finally do something I wanted too. My sister applied for a college in Chennai. I cried because I missed her a lot.

20 Yr:    Tuticorin is all I could remember as I did my final year project here. I learnt to catch buses, get toasted under the merciless sun, share a bed with 5 girls, wait in queue to go to the loo and come exhausted home. Finally, all goes well and I become an engineer. I also missed my college life  a little.

21 Yr:    My better-half wanted us to get married so we struggled and suffered and we finally got hitched. I thought marriage was a bed of roses like in the big screen but soon I realized it wasn't exactly like that as it comes with a add-on package of ‘responsibility’. The first few months were the hardest but we made it through thick and thin.

22 Yr:    I master the art of cooking with few incidents of burning my hand, cutting my hand, opening the pressure cooker with steam inside, salt-filled food, hot-oil creaming over me and burnt-food. I also start to hold fishes, chicken, meat without wanting to throw up. I also truly understood the pain of losing someone precious to my heart when my dad passed on.

23 Yr:    Today, I am balancing life between family and work. I have the most remarkable husband who gives me so much freedom, a caring mother with her helping hand, awesome siblings who no matter what will stand by my side and generous-hearted friends who would do anything to see me happy. I understand now that the good people are not that good and the bad ones are really not that bad. I know that people can be the worst judges most of the time and the world can be cruel, but I also know that amidst all this I can truly learn to be happy and that somewhere down the lane I might be able to look back at all this and have a wonderful story to tell.

The Evolution - Part 1

I would be completing another victorious year of my life soon. I just thought I might pen down all the wonderful years which made me who I am today. Since the post is long I thought I'd write it as two parts, the first being this and the next one after a while. I scribbled only the first thing that came into my head at each year else I would need an entire book to fill. So here goes:

1 Yr:    I really don't remember what happened. When I was 1 year old I probably wanted to learn to walk properly or wondered why people were all being nice to me.

2 Yr:   When I was 2, my parents always played with me and cuddled me. I also noticed they did the same with my brother, who by the way was elder to me by just a year. I was also applauded for my extraordinary skills of calling my dad ‘appa’ and my mom ‘amma’.

3 Yr:   At 3 I found myself exploring the house, being stuffed with lots of milky cereals and putting unwanted things in my mouth- which of course was forcefully extracted out by my mother. I was also caught red-handed by a mean looking aunty for stuffing bread in between suitcases and sofa cushions; at this point my mom was at the hospital welcoming my sister into the world.

4 Yr:    4 was the year, when I was closer with my brother as we went to the same tuition for learning the alphabets. We both hated the teacher because she gave us lesser play time and kept asking us to write numbers and letters. She had a plastic scale too, that was never used for drawing lines on books instead  she used to seal temporary lines on our backs and hands.

5 Yr:    During my 5th year, I joined school landing in 1st grade directly. I felt alone and I missed sitting at home and watching cartoons. I never made friends easily. I also remember Gibson bringing all the stray cats, pigeons home and my mom chasing him and the animals out with a silver kitchen spoon.

6 Yr:    I moved onto the next grade, loved playing with the battery cars at home, my Minnie mouse and the small blue tub where our mom used to bathe all 3 of us. My dad always got me a strawberry ice-cream cone when Gibson and Gulbsy got a vanilla.

7 Yr:    I had a cycle with 4 wheels (2 on the side to help me balance). When ants used to die in my house, me and my brother used to kneel and pray to God to bring them back to life. The next morning we used to wonder why God never did that.

8 Yr:    Studies were getting harder, I took a decision not to marry because boys were tagged 'yucky' by my fellow girl classmates. I was the teacher, my brother was the banker and my sister was the customer cum student in our pretence games. We made sure we had the better roles because we were elder. Gibson also had a gang named ‘the hart foundation’ which was dedicated to our favorite wrestler from WWE- Bret the hitman hart. Gibson fought dangerous gang fights after we got down from our school bus with other supposedly dangerous gangs. I made sure I was always present to cheer for my brother.

9 Yr:   I was Mother Mary in our church play. Some boy was Joseph, I was embarrassed because all the kids made fun of us. I resolved to be Angel Gabriel or Elizabeth the next year. Secretly, me and my brother put dead rats on the entrance to our neighbor's door and made their mean kids scream. Noone messed with us. We were rewarded at night with spoon marks on our back by our dad. We understood at that point  they complained.

10 Yr:  We got our first family game; Gibson liked to shoot ducks while I liked playing Mario. Gulbsy always saved her candy for me from school. I still liked Gibson and thought her cheap ways of saving candies to win me needed to be improved, though I did eat the candy. I was Mother Mary this year too. Sigh.

11 Yr:   I started trying to be cool at school which did not turn out very well. I did study well and always ended up in the first 5 ranks. This did me no good in making me ‘cool’.  Gulbsy wrote in her bible, “I love Gibsy so much but I don’t know why she doesn’t love me”. I am not impressed.

12 Yr: I met my sweetest friend Sabeena. She had an amazing voice. I also started talking on the phone a lot for the first time. This time it was not only about subject doubts but included class gossips and movies. I had come for a vacation to India and I never wanted to step foot in it again.

Black 'n' White

I was in my mom's place yesterday and we were just rattling on about the happenings around. At one instant my mom told me the fat aunty who lives behind our house wanted a bride for her son. The conditions which she put forth for the prospective bride were in simple words, 'she should be a young, white and beautiful' gal. Well for the fat aunty, white = beautiful anyway.

I was thinking about this phrase and felt a surge of amusement. I know how her son looks. I am not discriminating here but it feels weird and foolish to demand a young, pretty and so called 'white' lady for her early thirties hefty-looking son. I mean come on people, see the disaster on your side as well instead of being choosy.

Oh, but I almost forgot. She has her justification for that - he's working abroad with hands flowing with money. Amazing isn't it? any bidders?

Its super cool when society has invisible rules in marriage like " I am a rich foreign-working man so I am entitled to have a babelicious wife. But hey, its alright... even if she's dead ugly to me you can sell her to me paying a few billions so that she has the rights to have babies and add my name to hers". (This isn't called dowry in their dictionary - no, its just the bride's daddy's duty because he was the ultimate reason for her not being 'white'). Don't even get me started on wanting 'traditional brides' because apparently women who wear jeans and other 'western' attire are looked down upon by the righteous people of our society because of the DISGUSTING (huge stress on this word please!) way they are bought up.

Ah well, some things are really interesting around here, isn't it?

Incredible India

Independence day is just around the corner and I thought why not write a post on my experiences being an Indian. Back in my childhood days I never liked India. Yes, me and my siblings used to come here for vacations and the only thing we were gifted when we went back were huge mosquito sores, heat scars, and my grandmother's edibles. My siblings and I made it a point to tell that we were Bahrainis because we were born there. Such was the detest towards India.

Then came the point in life when we had to move to India permanently on April 6, 2000. The mosquitoes made a feast of our blood during the first 8 months of our stay. Then I guess they figured out all the juicy taste had gone and so they left us alone (partly also due to All Out- God bless the makers of the repellent!) We studied in schools here and we detested each day of the year. The sole aim of our heart, mind and soul was to study, finish college and go abroad where we thought we belonged. We missed our friends, the food and life back there. It just added to our growing resentment to this place. Whenever my dad took us out in his ambassador car we would complain about the bumpy roads, the leaking sewage, the posters, the power cuts, and everything we laid our eyes upon. My dad was like 'one day you will understand' and we heard it as bla bla bla.

After my marriage, I started to visit several places in and around. Slowly, my opinion started to change. I started loving the fresh air, the hills, the paddy fields spread out like green carpets, the coconut trees swaying with the wind, the beaches that give you a calmness inside, the wildlife and so on. Every morning when I go for work my eyes sink in images of small children running to school with their powdered faces, cyclists carrying wood and piles of other stuffs, people going to work on their scooters, the garbage cleaners strolling their carts trying to keep our area clean,  women selling fish and the smell of food coming from other houses. I started accepting a nation where people smile through their hardships, where affection for family knew no bounds, where everything seems full of colors, where rain brings wealth and happiness, where traditions are weird but amazing and where freedom is understood in its full form. Finally I knew where I truly belonged.


So for all you people out there who felt the same way as I did, take a trip around India. There might be garbage, corruption, poverty in several places but just look at the remarkable progress we made during the last 10 years. When I came down here there were very few cars, rare fast food and only the rich could afford a mobile phone. Now, everywhere I go I see great looking cars, hotels and fast food at every nook and corner. Every Tom, Dick and Harry has a cell phone now. There are so many graduates now and people are changing their opinions. With the broad mindedness of the present younger generation there is no stopping in progress. If in 10 years I could see such a huge change I can imagine how it will be after some years.

When I left Bahrain one uncle told me, ' All the best.. In Bahrain you know how lifestyle is but when you go to India you will know what life is.' I can't believe I still remember those words but I guess I can understand what he meant now. And I am truly proud being an Indian. So have a great Independence day guys and let the feel of patriotism rock on!

On Road Spectacles

Recently, I have been traveling in and around by car a lot of times. I love observing places, people and anything that grasps my eyes and makes me wonder. These might be some of the scenes you would have noticed as well:

Macho Bikers: They are the breed that maintain a speed of minimum 80 even in crowded areas and narrow streets. They are young and pumping with energy and they need to dissipate that energy some sort of way. They do this by skidding, wheelies, 360s and going under lorry tires as well. They are recognized with their skull caps, thick silver bracelets and chains, colorful shirts that reveal their bare chest or shades (adorned at night too?) They get cursed by grandmothers, grandfathers trying to cross the road and also by some other people who don’t appreciate their ‘fast and furious’ road skills.

Farmville: I am sure you must have come across this 4 legged class. They chase you or try crossing the road without knowing traffic rules. Few of them don’t feel shy to display their excretory skills while some are talented in eating posters glued to the walls. Some of them cross the road on their own pace and some of them feel tired mid-way in their exodus and lie down, never budging amidst the blaring horns. A few dig their own graves on the tar platform. And no… there are no lost and lonely sad pink cows that give strawberry milk here.

The Piss formers : These are a caste that loves the open air approach I guess. They stand and spray on sides of roads, bus stands, hotels, highways, lakes, drains, buildings, homes... wherever humanely possible. These mostly consist of the bold and brave masculine race. They don’t mind even if the whole world watches- a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, right?



The Family Pack: I really wonder how they manage to fit a family of 6 on a bike. It seriously seems to be a talent for Indian men to pack and balance their flock on one bike and reach their destination. Not to forget, the poor bike deserves credit too for chugging and pulling under their monstrous weights.Incredible India!

 

So, just in case you see a cycle being a mini Saravana Bhavan utensil Store…

Or men putting their lives in danger…

Or our very own Michael ‘Shoe’maker in 6 wheels…

You know that you are on an Indian Road!!!

The Wise Guy

This is an incident which I can never forget. It was something that was funny and it also taught us a good lesson. Let me get to it then.

Last year, my parents, husband and sister went to some place in Tirunelveli district. My dad took us there telling it was a great place to spot some birds. We went there on a Sunday afternoon in our car. It was situated in some remote, sun scorching village. We arrived there and went up the tower that was exclusively built for bird-watching. Yes, it was quite a beautiful place with a bed of water spread in front and trees further beyond. We saw some ducks and we could see a few storks as well. In a distance, not very clear we could see swarms of pelicans and their nests beyond the waters, perched on the trees. We were not able to see much and my sister was complaining about the distance.

We were standing looking hopelessly around when a man came in a moped. He looked kind of clumsy and shabby. He wore a lungi draped around his waist. A typical villager we thought when he got down from his moped. When he came climbing up the tower with a pair of binoculars, we were a little surprised as mostly villagers don't possess these kind of gadgets. He continued to look at the birds.

It might sound rude, but at times me and my sister have this bad habit of ridiculing people whom we don't know. This time my sister began. She was standing behind the man who was engrossed in watching the birds and started mocking in English in a loud way, " Gibsy, tell this wasted guy to give us the binoculars too na? we are simply sitting here right! look at him staring.. selfish guy!". I was smiling at this when the shabby dressed villager turned and spoke in a perfect English to my sister, " Here ma'am, you can take a look if you want too.."

You should have seen the eye-popping look on my sister's face. Boy, did she feel embarrassed! The so called village man was a researcher who had published 3 papers on birds, won medals and visited the States often to conduct and present seminars. He spoke with such knowledge and intelligence that baffled us. We gave him the binoculars back and thanked him. He sure did prove us who was the wise guy. It was indeed a memorable, funny incident but we also realized never to make judgments based on outward looks. 

 "Appearances can always seem deceptive"

My Unforgettable Hero

This post is about a man who made me understand the virtues of being a human. My dad. I am clueless as to where to start when my mind is swimming in an ocean of beautiful memories.

The oldest memory of my dad would be back in Bahrain when we were tiny tots. He would take us out of our tiny abode and buy us ice-cream cones and we would stand in the street licking it to glory. Whenever he came home from work he would carry a bag of goodies for all 3 of us. Then all of us would sit cross legged in a circle and eat our dinner, laughing, talking or joking. When we had our summer vacations, there would be a ring on the door bell with a parcel of hot sandwiches waiting for us. Even after I got married, he would visit me frequently carrying a bag of my favorite pastries. I can still imagine the sly smile on his face when he unwraps little surprises for us. His eyes would sparkle with happiness looking at our delight. Seeing us happy was all he ever lived for. He always taught us these old proverbs and sayings. Yes, it used to bore us to death but now it all makes sense when he is not there.

He would ride on his Karizma and end up with his hair standing funny. I used to ride with him to the fields, colleges, shops holding him smelling the scent of his shirt. How I miss those precious days. He never used to accept the fact that he was old. He always believed he was strong and he truly was. 

He even had nicknames for all of us. Mine was 'newdles'- a mixture of noodles and needles highlighting my thin frame. I still remember the times me and my siblings used to make fun of him so bad. He never took anything to his heart and would retaliate with equal ferocity. We all would end up rolling with laughter. There were sour times too but it just made us bond all the more.

The thing about him that was so remarkable was his caring and generous heart. He would do anything for people in need, never thinking twice. I remember an incident in which a beggar was standing in my neighbor’s house. My dad was just about to start the bike when he saw a dog charging towards the poor fellow. He quickly went and shooed the dog away and told the beggar to be careful. I know it might sound so irrelevant to others but it made my dad look like a hero to me. I love his humility though he did take pride in things that needed it.

My mom, brother, sister and myself are here today because of him. He was like a friend to us. I can never imagine otherwise. The feel of his rough hard-toiled hands, his sweet wicked smile, and his funny tag names for all of us will always be alive in me. Though tears well up each and every day I think of him, I know he is peaceful and safe in my God's hands. 

“Happy Birthday Daddy...” We love you and miss you too… a lot...more than any word in this entire world could ever describe.

A Classic Wedding

Lately I have been to a couple of Classic Christian weddings here in the kanyakumari district and I have seen a common touch in all of them. I thought it would be fun to share it along and bring a smile. The wedding season (like summer season, winter season, mating season) is concentrated during the May and December months of the year. The D day starts with the bride and the bridegroom being woken up in the wee hours of morning for getting the preparations done on time. The bride is dragged off to the marriage hall and smeared with all kinds of weird unmatched colors on her face that makes her look twenty years older (the bridegroom has a tough time believing if she was the one betrothed to him) and then all the family’s jewels are hung and nailed on her. And remember the rule – “the more jewels she wears the more prestige and honor for the family”. And then the ground breaking (literally) music of a troop is heard and the bridegroom comes and is welcomed with sandal smearing and rosewater sprinkling. Then the couple walk off to church wearing a heavy yoke of flowers that symbolizes they are captives to each other for the rest of their lives. And after uttering a mouthful of vows that will be broken the very next week of their marriage, they are happily married.

Then they stroll off to the banquet hall where the newlyweds smile all the way with guests pouring in on the stage and giving them all kinds of gifts and small little envelopes with a few bucks tucked away inside. Drops of sweat start appearing all over the couples face and yet they manage to give that never fading smile by wiping them off.

The bridegroom holding an Olympic torch-like bouquet in his hand constantly thinks if he did the right thing getting married. The feast is the awesome part of the wedding with people rushing to grab places and they don’t mind trampling anyone on the run. If you are lucky to get a seat, you seat yourself with a table which is dripping with rice, curry and leftover payasam from the previous person who sat there eating his way to glory. Then you have to swallow faster than you can chew so that the person waiting near you to finish up can sit in your seat and have the same uneasy feeling of being watched while eating as you are. The dessert consists of smashing the banana into a pool of brown and white mixed payasam and slurping it up with your fingers. Oh, and if the liquid drips back to your arms because of gravity, lick it again please. The whole melodrama is enacted again in the evening for the reception.

The frenzy ends with the newlyweds posing for a few more shots – holding hands, hugging, and all to show people who see their albums 10 years later that they were truly in love back then. Whether it’s the hypocritical relatives who smile never-endingly or the noisy children or the music that rips your eardrums apart or the quarrels that breakout for silly customs or the women who come in eye blinding saris and chunks of gold, Marriages are indeed made in heaven, don’t you agree?

The Way To A Man's Heart

It is very hard to win a man's heart ( yes, at times). We wives have tried and tried and finally - Eureka! I've found it! - It's through his bottomless pit called the stomach.
Before I was married I had no clue as to why people say- the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I even literally imagined if there was an opening from the stomach sideways to the heart or something. But it is during this one year that I understood the various enchantments that the cuisine had on man's belly.

Me and my husband argue for a million and one reasons which keeps us both in the state of egoism for a while. While he is at it the clever wife goes to the kitchen and coddles up some dishes adding extra aroma boosting spices so that they attack his sense of smell first. I also bang some dishes to say 'I'm still angry with you' and continue to the dessert making part.The prey comes to the kitchen after a while to take a view of the food that's making him hungry and knows he has to act fast to solve the battle. So as a sign he slowly nudges my shoulder as if to say 'Hey I'm sorry'. Yes, the tower is falling...I pretend as if I did not feel anything and keep stirring the spoon, making teeth-biting noises. And with no choice left, he wraps his arms around me and I smile knowing I've won. I know I'm evil - but that's not the point. Men love food and that's the only thing other than women that keeps them happy.

So the old sages were right in saying that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. No wonder after marriages I see the stomachs of men getting really huge. Probably, so that the women can squeeze themselves in and work her way up to the heart! So the bigger the stomach the more the man loves you..no wonder my husband's love for me is growing for the past few weeks real fast ;)

All Work & No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy

Yes, I'm back after such a long time - thanks to my busy work and office life. To all of you who love sitting and hitting the keys 24/7- this isn't what you should be reading. Hey, I have nothing against my job or anyone's , this is my personal opinion.

I'm sure all working people would have come across varieties of species in your working environment- the hard workers, the slow ones, the workers who have fun, the ambitious employees, the 'pain-in-the-ass' workers, the so called 'ass-kissers'... yes loads of 'em. I have seen many and yes, you all must have too. For all those of you who haven't- you surely will. Here's a link to a poem that I really liked. [link]

There is something disturbing in a few. There are people who love their jobs s much that they fail to see the other beautiful things in life. Now don't get me wrong here, work is important but never more than family. So many of them sit late, work extra hours neglecting their closed ones. And I really can't understand WHY? Get a life people! I have made it a rule in my life that I will never sacrifice the time I keep for my family to be invaded by my work. The world has made people think that they have to keep competing with every living soul on planet earth to be someone in life. That's crap..you can be someone by focusing on your family and close ones for a start. Why work on a Saturday when you can take your kid out to a beach and have your wife holding your hand, or have a laughter filled get together with people whom you forgot even existed during your 5 days of bee life. Never give up your family for a measly good name or extra pay.

I know so many people who just work their entire life away from family and country and come for just 30 days to spend with their home. I just keep wondering what do they really earn in life? Their kids hardly love them and it takes a while for them to even understand ' hey, it's my dad/mom'. I know for some people its different and they just want to provide a better future for their kids.

Don't ever keep your work above home. Always spend how much time you ever can to bond with your household. Never say a no when they ask you to take them out during weekends and don't ever unleash your stress and anger on them. I know my dad used to do this and now we are so closely knit that we have to talk to each other every day no matter where we are. And I want to have an exact same life. Do the work assigned to you instead of being overtly smart and everything will click at the right time.

In the hope of winning something don't lose everything you've been gifted.

A Complete Woman

Yesterday I went to meet my classmate who was my friend and relative as well. She was married and had a baby 3 months back. I had been paying her visits frequently after the baby was born to see how both of them were doing. I saw my friend who had pretty much recovered the pain she went through after the surgery, she was coming to me holding a tiny bundle. I saw Leah. She was beautiful.
Her eyes were observing everything. She was trying to understand and sink in the new world that she had just entered a few months back. I watched her trying to hold my finger and she spoke a language that only God and his angels could understand. All of a sudden she was laughing so loudly and a small sweet dimple appeared on her right cheek. I looked at my friend as she was proudly watching her baby smiling.
I wondered looking at the beautiful miracle that was going to be a pretty woman one day. She will grow to face challenges and all the things that is a part and parcel of life. And finally be an extraordinary woman that her mom is. I am sure all women are extraordinary. Only a woman can endure pain and sacrifice and give something so beautiful as a baby to this world and laugh through pain and sleepless nights.
Every mom would have had this beautiful pain and looked at her child's face to encourage her to go ahead the rough road in life.This is the point of life when I think how much my mom has given up and endured for us. She would eat leftovers when we would eat all the chunks of good food.. she would pray with tears for us in wee hours of the night .. she will call us when the world has forgotten us and she has got the power to outdo the best chefs in the world with her recipes which are filled with love and warmth.That's what makes my mom completely amazing.The will power of a woman is extraordinary and that is simply why a woman is so extraordinarily beautiful from the inside. Here's wishing my mom and all amazing women out there a wonderful Woman's day. Keep spreading the love and make this world a beautiful place!

My Sweet Valentine

Everyone must have had a wonderful valentine's day yesterday, hopefully. Mine was a surprising one. I had my usual Saturday days- cleaning, cooking, TV. I was watching TV when an advertisement came on TV about valentine's day questioning if we bought the special gift for the special someone. I was thinking, its 7 yrs since I know my husband and I'm pretty sure he'll never even remember its Valentine's. I went to sleep after a short prayer. And I was woken up at 12 in the midnight and wished and given a gift. Boy, what a surprise that was! I felt a little bad i did not get anything for him but he never cared about that. The moment was magical as if I fell in love all over again with him... and that's when i realized that love never loses its flavor when shared with the right person. I had someone with me who never got tired of my constant wars, tasteless dishes, annoying habits. I looked at him when he slept and thanked God for the best Valentine's gift he had ever given me.