The Occasional Snack

There used to be a time when I could eat and eat and eat and not worry an ounce about getting out of shape. The big foodie that I am, it was a blessing, and I would eat the samosas and the chaat and the biryani and all of the idlis and dosas and parathas I wanted and could still look like a dream. I could indulge myself with all the 'occasional' snacks I want and never have to worry about needing to skip the next meal. But that seems like a lifetime ago. It is now the age of watch-what-you-eat-or-you-wont-fit-in-your-pants-tomorrow days.And thank god, for I am only a vegetarian - I shudder to think what would my plight have been had I been a non-vegetarian (with infinitely more choices!).

Like I said, I am a total foodie. A friend of mine had once stepped out for lunch with me (for the first time) and when he saw me clean my plate of 2 humongous pakistani parathas (almost dripping with oil and probably counting up to 2000 calories put together), chana, sabzi, rice and raita, he was rendered quite speechless. He simply said 'I'm impressed'. Later (when he knew me enough) he confessed, 'I thought that was going to be your dinner too :)'. Fast forward 9 yrs to 2012, if I had the same plate, I reckon, I'd wipe the oil off the parathas and eat perhaps a third of the contents of that plate. No, don't get me wrong, I can STILL clean the plate. But I will not, because that, I know, is going to be disastrous for my waistline.

Not that I am unhealthy or overweight. My annual visits to my doctor turn out all fine too. It is just those few extra pounds that don't add up, just those few extra pounds that inconveniently do tend to show!  
I went shopping in India earlier this year, and I was looking for some leggings..I found many in the 'M'(stands for 'Medium') size, but none in my usual 'S' (small), I called one of the attenders in the store and asked him where can I find the 'S'. He took one look at me and asked 'aapke liye hai kya, madam?'(Is it for you, madam?) , and I said 'haan' (yes), then he coolly said, 'yeh aapka hi size hai madam'(this is just your size madam). Oh, the horror of being insulted so! I hated the guy, his store and the leggings and stepped out with as much dignity as I could muster! My mom and her friends used to say I was just skin and bones, apparently, no more!

I was cleaning my wardrobe the other day (for I had just come home from shopping at the outlets and I had a bunch of new stuff to accommodate in my almost always cramped walk-in). And I was desperately trying to determine if I should pack and 'shelve' some of my clothes. You see, I have been in denial for too long - some of these trousers that I was eyeing standing there in that closet were 12 years old, right from the time I started working, and although, I would fit comfortably into them even 2 years ago, they are not so comfortable any more. But 'hope' being my middle name, I have been desperately clinging to the idea that I am just a few days away from losing those few pounds. It is these extra pounds that I thought were a piece of cake and that I believed I had control over. Wrong, and how!

So that brings me to the million $$ question - what can I do to get out of this situation - eat more healthy? I think I already do! cut down portion sizes? Can't ever do! skip some meals? ..are you outta your mind??? Exercising? - now we are talking...

I used to once harp around any of my friends who would listen on how I did not believe in planned/scheduled exercise or fitness routines, and how I found gymming to be an extremely amusing concept and how I thought if people could live responsible, disciplined and hard working lives in their homes, they would be as fit as can be (one of my many pet peeves, my friends have heard enough of those ;-) ). Turns out I was so wrong, and I had to learn it the hard way too. Looking at myself today, I don't have a cook or a maid who comes daily (or even weekly or bi-weekly or monthly, I have one but she comes at her convenience, meaning once every few months, apparently her calendar is too full these days!) and I don't have a nanny to give me a break from the kid and I don't even have a driver to drive me around town. I go to work every single day, I cook every single day (and no - no frozen foods or even semi home made meals in my home, every preparation is home and hand made, fresh every single day), I have to clean every single day, I do my own dishes and my own laundry (with some help at home,to be fair!), I do my own shopping and my own driving, watch my kid. I have guests come over all the time, and I have many interests that I pursue outside of my home. I go up and down the stairs in my home a million times each day! I would imagine all this would indeed keep me in good shape. Apparently, not. I still get to keep my extra pounds - Just how unfair is that! Now I know better - I need that exercise as much as anyone else.

But with everything else going on around me - how in the world am I to find the time for exercise! I try, I really do. Waking up earlier to get some extra exercise time/sneaking in a quick workout when the kid has a play date or when the husband takes the kid to the pool or Tennis or something/signing up for some class. Don't laugh, but I have even done the let-me-add-some-moves-to-my-time-in-the-kitchen routine (my 5-yr old finds me hilarious at such times). And these things all help, they most definitely do - only if I consistently keep at it. And that, my friends, is a major, major commitment. Unfortunately, I think I have arrived at that point in life where, I might be successful in losing a good number of pounds if I work on it for a few weeks, but I will gain them all back in less than 2 weeks as soon as I stop whatever it is that I am doing.To stay determined a particular week to wake up an hour early is one thing, but the realization that you have to do that for the rest of your life is quite another thing. Every time that realization hits, my motivation abandons me and I am on my own. And what's worse, waking up early also translates to sleeping an hour less each day. The very thought horrifies me!

I guess the choice is pretty simple - either continue to fuss about how you look and what you can't wear or sweat it out to get into better shape, and for me it looks like I have now found a middle ground where I do a relay with either one. Work out a few days and slim down a bit and get some compliments here and there and when it gets to be too much work, step out of the alert mode and eat well, sleep well and get some well deserved peace of mind, until I get all worked up again about all those extra pounds! I hope that doesn't mean maintaining clothes in 2 sizes though, since that may not be very welcome news to certain folks in the home department ;-)

Of simmery summers and spirited souls

Spring is back and summer is soon going to be here and brings with it a multitude of memories - memories from a different era, a different world and a different age. This is a really random post that just pours them all out. Read on if you have the time and the patience!
I used to be a scrawny little girl, with a couple of pigtails sporting bright ribbons, red or white mostly (you see, in my world back then, there was never a need to be color co-ordinated, the school happened to prescribe those colors), wearing simple, cutesy frocks, with a smile on my face and a spirit to match (my mother has told me many a time over the years how I always had that smile on back in those days and how it had always made her proud - so much better than the frowns I seem to embrace so often now-a-days!). 

We lived a simple life, my family and me. Dad and mom both worked. We were happy children, happy with what we had, happy with where we went and happy with whom we had. We lost our grandparents very early in life and have very few memories of them - summers always meant staying in town and sticking together as sisters. My sister was elder to me by 4 yrs and was a BIG influence in my life all through my childhood and much beyond (she still is, in a lot of ways!), I would read only the books she endorsed(enough to keep me occupied most of the time actually), and believed in everything she stood by (sustainability was a household term, even in those days, thanks to her!),kept only the friends she approved of, watched only the shows she enjoyed (we didn't watch much TV anyways, my mom had a strict no-tv policy and only the Sunday kids' shows on DD were exempt at home - on a side note, I think I employ my mom's devices when it comes to Mrigank's TV watching routines, much to the chagrin of my grew-up-well-versed-with-TV husband). I remember during the summer of 1988, sis brought the unabridged,original version of Maxim Gorky's 'Mother' home and I pounced on it as soon as she was done. When I got back to School in June (I was going to be in Grade 7), my english teacher asked us during class 'What do you want to become when you grow up?'. When it was my turn to speak, I stood up cool as a cucumber and said 'A revolutionist' ;-). Poor Mrs. Padmini was rendered quite speechless. Yeah, a bit crazy in the head, I'd say too, would blame it on the sister though :p Really, She was my role model, my ideal, my super hero and my little world revolved around her throughout the formative years. I would be so proud of being her little sister and would brag about her to all my friends. In retrospect, I am so glad my sister was as good as she was, and managed to set a very good example for me in many ways(she has diagreed on that, before, and will do so again, I am sure, but...!). She taught me to read, and to think, to believe, and most importantly to take a stance. The best and most valuable gift I got from her is attitude. She set the foundations and how!! :-)

My mom was a teacher by profession, and sounded and acted very much like a teacher (she still does sometimes!) She is one of the coolest,strongest and bravest women I have seen. Summers would be the one time I would see her chill; afternoon naps are always a luxury for working women, and a luxury that teachers get to enjoy over the hot summer months.So she would be done with the morning routine of cooking, feeding and cleaning and would call us sisters to set the stage for that perfect afternoon nap, we would pull the curtains over all the windows in the living room, get a couple of buckets of water and enough sholapur blankets (the thick, cotton ones, very solid!) and would dip them in the buckets, drain out the excess water and hang them wet (and sometimes, if mom wasn't watching, they would be dripping too!) over the windows .
Yeah, crazy - I know, but hey, we didn't have wood floors or carpet to worry about, and it was scorching hot, what else could we do with no a/c around? We even would use the water to wet the walls on really bad days! We would then switch on the fan full speed and there, the perfect siesta spot! But that was never tempting enough for us girls. We would sneak out of the house and hang out with the neighbours' kids in the verandah playing boardgames, carroms,chess and the like, and doing artwork, sharing horror stories and other weird stuff or just reading. We were a bunch of kids around the block mostly around the same age group, my sister was really the oldest of us all, and we spent many a summer day hanging out together. (yeah, it's inexplicable, but as kids, we definitely were immune to the insanely hot weather). I still have a bunch of drawings and paintings we created as kids over many summers. It was only later on, when we got an air-cooler home, (one of those mobile ones that can stump you out once filled with water and when switched on) that we girls started craving for that nap by the cooler. At nights, the whole family would sleep on the floor by the cooler in the living room. The bedroom and the beds would be abandoned all of the summer months, no one wanted to sleep on those factory manufactured mattresses, they just made the summer feel all the more simmery. When the sun wold begin to set, my mom would send us sisters to the terrace and have us splash water from the overhead water tank all over the terrace to help cool the roof over the house for the night. It's a weird thing that I can't explain, but I used to love the smell of water on the scorching cement floors.  I think I still do :)

There was this one time, my sister decided we (us both and a couple of neighborhood kids) should play some (indoor) cricket. We had a ball but unfortunately, didnt have a cricket bat. Resourceful as my sister was, she rummaged through dad's stuff at home and pulled out a 3-ft long, heavy, metal file (a file, as in the 'tool') and said, this can double for a bat. We agreed. When it was her turn to bat, my sister swung the 'bat' heroically and as it made the trajectory that it is supposed to, it headed straight for my sisters eyeglasses (she wore corrective lenses and so did I, a few years down the line) and cracked the glass set inside the frame into a thousand neat pieces. Luckily for us, mom was in the neighbors' home (or she would never have let us play such a crazy game in the first place!) and my smart sister decided it is best to admit guilt in the presence of our neighbor rather than wait until mom gets home (so we could be exposed to a scaled down version of mom's ire). In the evenings when it would get cooler, us girls would head out for some play time. We lived in a gated, defence community that was a safe haven for kids, with lots of room to play! I remember the games we playes back in those days - I spy, Biscuit (it was a silly variation of tag where in a kid getting tagged can save himself by simply uttering the name of a different kid to be followed), Help and Chain (please dont ask me what that is!) and four stones (no, I wont elaborate on that either :) ). We almost always came back home with bruises and scars (and like I tell my son now, they always made us stronger :p).

My poor father was the only one who had no special routine set aside for summers, except that he had 3 girls at home with much time to kill on hand. Daddy loved to pamper us - he would get us fancy pens, and gifts and take us out and bring home the yummiest Samosas (he always got 6, 2 each for my akka and me and one each for mom and himself. But my mom would just take the filling and give us the rest and we would split it into 2 parts for the 2 of us), and curry puffs, pastries, plum cakes(the kind that Hyderabadi bakeries specialize in!) and so much more. This would just become an everyday affair during summers, because we girls would be bored hanging around all day long and would need something to spice up the start of the evening. The other thing that my dad would do at the start of every summer was to get a new set of books for summer reading from Vishalandra book house in Hyderabad which we would finish reading in no time at all but would draw inspiration for our artwork from, all through the summer. Still have those books lined up in the shelves back home in my room! Daddy would also take us around on his 2 wheeler shopping for the next academic year, new books, and book covers, and labels and pens, and School dresses and Shoes and socks and ribbons and stuff. I remember the one time I made the annual trip to the local 'Bata' showroom for my school shoes, and we noticed that the store was all barricaded. A little enquiring and my dad realized that the South African Cricket team were shopping inside, he got so excited that he sneaked upto one of the windows towing me along and after a good half hour of 'star' gazing (my dad was, and still is a BIG Cricket buff), it was time for us to get inside for our shopping. We went in, picked my shoes and when we ready to get the billing done, my poor dad realized he was robbed of his wallet. Must have been some pick pocket by the window! My dad would sit and help us cover our books with the protective brown paper sheets that were used to cover them well. And then he would stick the labels and fill them in with our names and class and subject in his beautiful hand. Always admired his handwriting, wish I could write like him!

Dinner times in Summer were especially fun. We used to live on the second level of a 2 level building and had a pretty balcony attached to the unit. There were huge 'flame of the forest's shielding the balcony from prying eyes outside of the unit (I always thought our balcony had a 'Jurassic park' look to it during the monsoons) The balcony was home to 9 pots carrying rose plants bearing roses in different colors and shades. So once my mom would be done with the cooking, we would carry the pots, pans, plates and the rest over to the balcony and sit and have a nice meal while squatting together on the floor in a circle around the food (with all those power cuts doing the rounds in the neighborhood, this was the way-to-go for most families around in the neighborhood I guess). The only thing that had me worrying in Summer would be the army of newly hatched baby lizards doing the rounds all through the day and through out the house. Especially so in the balcony. So I would have my dad and sis scout every inch of the area(rose plants and all) and detect and shove away any offenders around.  Every once in a while dad would bring home a family pack of Dollops ( Ice cream - butterscotch was our favourite flavor at home) and we would all gather around the dining table and finish the whole pack :-) (oh no, we never saved any for later, since the power cuts never let the refrigerators do their job in peace)

And the mangoes! Ah, the mangoes! There was never a summer day with no mangoes to go with a meal. And how we loved our mangoes!! My mom would tell us that we should eat all the mangoes we can in Summer because that's how our body stocks up Vitamin A for the entire year(I know, that's stretching it a little too far ;-) ). Dad and mom would bring home the largest, juiciest and most succulent of mangoes through out the summer. But one can never get enough of them, mangoes!

Those were the days, summer vacations always lasted just enough number of days and we were almost always ready and happy to go back to School when it was finally time to go. I could, and would give anything to get those days back. I miss the comfort, warmth and security of my home and the wonderful times I spent with my folks back in those days. The times have changed and so have the people, my parents are not as young and strong anymore, I try hard to keep them so atleast in spirit. My sister lives 10,000 miles away and we dont even have time for a few phones each week. Hours turn into days and days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and months into years. And with every passing year, the pain in my heart just grows and the longing I have to be with my family stays just so.

I wish I could tell my son now, how precious these years will always be for him. But I guess, he will know some day. Just like I do, now. Only, it will be a little too late.

A homage to my friend

Homage to my friend

We lost a dear friend and a most wonderful human being, Guru Venkatesh Gopalakrishnan this Saturday, after an 8 month long battle against Cancer. Guru was first diagnosied with Stage IV lung Cancer in July 2010 and had endured multiple Chemos and radiation with the hope that he will win this battle but it was not to be and he finally succumbed to the disease. Guru was a non-smoker, a teetotaller and a vegetarian and the doctors have no idea what triggered the disease. But most important of all, he was a fighter, he valued life and thought it was worth living and he fought till the very last minute and never gave up.

Since I have always thought writing helps me give a voice to my thoughts and feelings, I wanted to write something here to describe the grief that has overtaken my existence these past two days, I wanted to say many things describing how beautiful a person Guru was, but turns out, I am quite at a loss for words. My mind is empty, I can't think of the right words. I have tears in my eyes and my heart too. I spent the past 2 days with the grieving family and am finally sitting alone this afternoon thinking about everything that transpired. The 'why' is just killing me. I would like to believe I am a rationalist and that there would be a reason why this had to happen to him, and right now, we don't have any answers. I hope I have the strength and clarity of mind to help his wife and two kids and the rest of the family to pull through this ordeal.

Guru will always be missed and will always be remembered, and he will continue to live in our memories and hearts.

Happy Valentine's day!

I don't need a bunch of red roses to make my day brighter.
I don't need chocolate to remind me of how special the people in my life are to me.
 I don't need jewelry, perfumes, cakes, dresses, watches, gadgets and what not in gifts to tell me that I am indeed loved and wanted(and no, I don't give them either). I don't need a Valentine's day to remind me of all the love in my life.

A hug, a kiss and a few words of love are all I need.

On this day of special sentiment, I wish you all to have a beautiful day filled with love and care. I know that a lot of the above things mean a lot to some of you, but I hope you don't get swept away by the wave of meaningless consumerism that hits people the world over on this day every year (A BIG 'thank you' to the corporations)! And I hope this makes sense to at least some of you reading this right now :-) (And if it doesn't, it is perfectly alright! Please do have a delightful day! :-) )

The sale

We were selling a car for a friend last week and went through the usual protocol. Take some pics, put together an ad on Craigs and then, play the waiting game (which is basically the toughest part if it's a big sell). Fortunately, the car was a reasonably new one in excellent condition and a stick-shift in that, so was much in demand. We got a few calls the very same day and managed to schedule some appointments with some prospective buyers.

And so it happens that this father and son pair come over, the son was going to college and his generous dad was looking to buy a nice car that the boy can be proud of and can also put to good use. I was just back from work and was already in the kitchen working my usual evening shift with my son in tow. So I didn't interfere and let the man of the house handle the visitors (besides, he was the one 'dealing' ;) ). And then these people were gone and we got on with the rest of our evening and with our lives in general.

A couple of days later, Sashi sends me this message 'The car is sold!'. 'Who bought it?' I ask (as if it really matters who bought it). 'The dad who first came with his son to look at it' He pings back.

And almost as an afterthought, he pings again 'I'd have been surprised if they didn't buy it. The young man..'(he meant, the son) '..was quite open and naïve and he told me and showed me very clearly how much he liked this car. I suppose he needs to sharpen his business skills ;)'

That was a very interesting thing Sashi said, I thought.
The young man was probably just being honest in showing his sincere appreciation for a thing of beauty and value and such is the sad state of wordly affairs that we, grown-ups, in all our wisdom choose to look down upon that simple honesty as 'lack of business skills' or as not being 'wise'. Wait, didn't we always consider honesty to be a much-valued trait in people?

And when I spoke my thoughts to Sashi, he shrugged it off, 'Such is the world, and I don’t think it’s related to the times. It’s always a game of one-upmanship and whoever does that successfully gains materially. It defeats the purpose of character building and a virtuous life, for sure, so it’s up to everyone to figure out what’s more important to them, and to what extent.
I do see that part about it being “sad” but such is the way it is and I don’t see any value in attaching emotions to it.' he says

So, simply put, we are actually telling our children that if you want to have a comfortable/successful life, you have to be manipulative and fake. It's probably not as black and white as that but it sure isn't as nice and rosy as I'd like it to be either. What do you think?

Are you hungry yet..?

The husband believes 'Cool Mom' is an oxymoron. His take on it - moms simply aren't made to be cool. They can't help but fuss. Over a kid's food largely. Atleast, that's what applies to his (read 'our') family. And once the fussing starts, but of course, the 'Cool' is lost. Literally.



I had maintained my disavowals to his contentions for a while, but of late, as much as I hate to say it, as I see myself and all the desi moms around me, I am forced to agree. (Not that the non-desi moms are any cooler, their kids are mostly not picky eaters, so they don't have to fuss over food, but they do fuss over other things though!)


I open my eyes to the world every morning, and pop, comes the question into my mind - what's the little guy gonna eat this morning? '...ummmm..let me see, he had pancakes yesterday so that's ruled out, I have run out of the french toast sticks, so no..not a possibility, have the idli batter, but he doesn't eat the idlies without the Sambar anyways..shucks, I should've made the Sambar last night! but yes, maybe I can make some grits - will take longer than usual for him to eat, but isn't this the weekend, awesome! let me get started..' and I drag myself out of the bed, give my teeth a quick brush and rush into the kitchen. As the men get going in the bathroom, I get the grits out, dice the butter and fold it in, add in the milk and pop it into the microwave, set the numbers and hit Start. I hear the boys coming down the stairs and the microwave beeps. All set, that was quick! But wait, the battle hasn't even started yet, has it?


'tadaa...' I start the dramatics..'look what Mummy made for you, Mrigank!'

The kid comes running..'What did you make Mummy?'

'I made yummy, yummy grits!'

'But I don't like grits :-(' (wearing a perfect pout on his face)

'don't be silly, Mrigank' (with a sinking feeling in my heart) 'you LOVE grits!'

My emphasis on the word 'LOVE' makes him change his track 'But I don't WANT to eat grits today..'

'Why..?' (I manage to blurt that out while I try to find an alternative route in my mind)

'Because I don't want to eat' (the pout stays intact)

'But Mrigank, if you don't eat breakfast, you won't be strong for the day, and if you are not strong, you cannot play, and if you can't play, your toys will be all so sad. You don't want to make your toys sad, do you?'

'I want my toys to be sad' (and he says that while he continues to 'toy' with his 'toys')

'oh, too bad Mrigank, then they don't want to play with you anymore. Please leave them alone' (what convoluted logic.. my head spins a quick spin as I think about it)

'but I want to play with my toys..'He whines. (he recently picked up the whining from a friend of his who whines his way to success in everything he does!)

'Stop whining Mrigank, you know I don't like it' I am now all blanked out 'Mrigank, what would you like for breakfast?'

'I don't want grits'

'Ok, I won't give you grits, what else would you like instead?'

The kid is silent.


His dad makes the grand entrance now
'Good morning, me lady, what's for breakfast?'

I roll my eyes and ignore his question. He takes one look at the bowl of grits and drops his jaw -
'Have you started already? leave him alone, won't you? He just woke up! Can't be hungry yet'

 'Please Sashi, I know what I am doing, it's 9:30 already, way past his breakfast time at the daycare'

'Maybe he'll just have Brunch'

'No, that's gonna be too late, he will get hungry and cranky before I can make something for brunch'

'do as you please, you won't take my advice anyways. So what are we having for breakfast today?'. Ignore that question if you have to keep your sanity, my mind tells me.


Back to my conversation with my son. The dad exits the scene shaking his head a bit.
'Mrigank, how about some breakfast, baby?'
'I am not a baby!' (more whining)
'ok, big boy, what do you want for breakfast?'
'Nooo, I am not a big boy, I am only a little, big boy. I will become a big boy when I grow really big like Samay and Nikhil anna' he bobs his head up and down as he tries to explain this point of view to his rather silly mother.
'Oh really, Mrigank??!! Wow..!! so do you want to grow really big like Samay and Nikhil anna?'
'Yes' more bobbing..
'Then I think you should eat breakfast'


Sashi, meanwhile, has walked back into the room, and with hardly any idea on the direction our conversation has taken the past few seconds, he says, 'Mrigank, do you want to tell Mummy that you will eat your breakfast after a little while?' in his very matter-of-fact way. I glare at him. He bites his tongue and throws a 'Sorry!' look. Too late.
'Yes. I will eat my breakfast after a little while, Mummy'. How convenient! I let out a big sigh and am thinking just how exhausted I already feel this morning. 'Okay Mrigank'


I go and sit on the couch, wait for a few seconds and then say 'Are you ready yet for your breakfast, Mrigank?'
'Nooo..not yet..' he coos..
'How about you tell me what you want to eat and you can take a little while and get ready to eat while I cook? Is that a good idea?'
'uh-huh'
'okay, what shall I cook for breakfast, Mrigank? Maybe some upma?'
'hmmmmm...' he taps his little fore finger on his chin 'I am thinking, Mummy' he asserts.
'Okay baby..How about upma, or maybe waffles?'
'How about...Dosa?'
'Okay, can I make brown dosa?' (praying that he will say yes, because that is only quick fix dosa I can make right now, the 'white' and 'green' dosa need fermented batter!)
'Yes' he commits absentmindedly...

I rush back to the kitchen, set the tawa to heat and get going on the batter..wheat flour, rice flour, curds, ajwain, a coupla shakes of salt and one of pepper and some red chilli powder..I consider grating in a little carrot and some Cilantro..decide against it..too risky! Mix it all up and spread the batter on the tawa for the dosa..a quick flip and a little more grease (elbow and otherwise) and the Dosa is ready..make one more (I am ambitious, you see!) and I am ready. 'Are you ready yet, Mrigank?' I call out.


'Yes, now I am'


'Do you want to read a book or do a puzzle Mrigank?' 'I want to do the spiderman puzzle today' Life is easy. I fish out the ziploc bag with the Spiderman puzzle, put it on the island, seat my precious 3 yr old on the bar stool and as my dear son begins to set the puzzle on the kitchen island, I begin to feed him the Dosa, a piece a time..just like his puzzle. He eats in peace for as long as the puzzle lasts (conveniently long time, thankfully) and then says, 'I am not hungry, anymore!'. Thank dear lord for that, I think.


I let him go and breathe, finally. I walk over to the couch where the husband is busy biting into his bagel. 'So, I see you seem to be enjoying your breakfast'.
'yup, aren't you glad you don't have to stuff me as well?'
'Stuff? nonsense, I don't stuff him'
'True, you don't'
(He thinks he is an enlightened soul and avoids all arguments, or atleast the ones not too convenient for him ;-) )
'So what do you think we should do for lunch?'
'Please, we are just having breakfast'
'yes, you are(and I am not, I'll probably just eat brunch). But I have to think ahead and start cooking now, if I have to get it ready and in time for mrigank's lunch'
'Harini! haven't you just fed him and to your heart's content too???'
'Yes, but I am not talking about feeding him right away. The kid won't skip lunch just because he had breakfast, will he? Would you do that yourself?'
'I don't have an opinion, please do as you please' (retreating to safer grounds, so to say!)
'That I will, but I want your help in deciding the menu for lunch..'
'Let's think about it a little while later, okay?'

'No, I have to start cooking now, because I dont want to get stressed out later'
'Stressed out about what?'
'About feeding Mrigank'
'You just fed him, right?'
'Yes, but that was breakfast'
'Please..'
'If you are not going to help me decide, you better cook the lunch yourself. Will you do that?'
'Sure, I will'
'Then start now'
'Harini..'


'It will take time Sashi..it is already 10:30 and he will be ready for lunch in about an hour and half..and also, we have to..'

'..and then...'
'.also...'
'..parathas need to be served hot...'
'....need to buy yoghurt too...'
'..Sashi, can you please get my VPN connection going while I finish feeding him..the webex begins in 10 mins..'
'... but he doesn't like it soggy...'
'...yes, I have to go, but I told Sheela I will feed Mrigank and come for the dance practice, it's ok...'
'..it's a dinner party, but we should feed him something before we start because...'
'..he didn't eat the pulav..'
'..I think the dal is too spicy for him..'
'..eat fast mrigank, I have a deployment to take care of in 20 mins...'
'..he would've liked the rasam, but you shud add the tadka...'
'..leave some for Mrigank, sashi, you know he loves bhindi...'
'..Mrigank, baby ..eat now kanna!'
'...no, I won't eat before I feed him..you can eat if you want, you have your priorities all wrong..'
'..yeah, I have my music workshop starting in 10 mins, but how can I go if your son doesn't eat...'
'..he is not eating now all because of you!!'
'..you don't know how to feed him..and you dont want to learn from me!!' (that one usually leaves the husband in splits, and that makes me-really, really mad!:D)


And so goes the day..and Mrigank's fussy mom (and his dad's nagging wife) spends her entire weekend (and week, of course!) planning and replanning the family's many meal agendas..


And every night, when I am in bed and I think of everything I did for the day..it occurs to me just how consumed I am with these episodes.


Yes, Sashi is so right..I am anything but cool when I am thinking about attending to my little 3 yr old's tiny tummy. And I wonder, is it going to change ever? Oh yeah..the 3 yr old won't stay 3 for ever..and his tummy will only grow with time but, will the fussing stop? And will the cool return? Only time will tell :D


Meanwhile, once in a while, Sashi keeps asking 'Where's the cool girl I married?' ;-)

My 'tune'ful driving buddy

I was listening to my morning dose of NPR today and it suddenly struck me how wonderfully mellow every host, every guest and even the guys who do the commercials sound on the channel (not that there are very many guys doing commercials, its only just the ones announcing the sponsors for the broadcasts) . There is a certain crisp, musical element in every sound that comes out from within the confines of their studio(s). The even more amazing thing is the perfect harmony between the multitude of sounds that are generated. Even the refreshingly unique snippets of music that they play between broadcasts blend in perfectly with the rest of the show.


Do they really go hunting for people who sound nice to be aired? Maybe. If the hunt were for the hosts themselves. But for guests too? Can't be! They can't afford to pick their guests on the basis of how musical or symphonic they sound!


So now that makes me think, maybe it is not the people or their voices - perhaps it is the actual content of the show - the subjects they pick, the questions they ask(or not ask!), the coverage provided. But then, isn't all that a part of their website too? Now, while I know I respect the web page per se (or even their facebook community), I am not half as fascinated by it as I am by the radio channel itself. So it can't be just the content.


Is it the fact that it is 'radio'? One interesting thing is when I am just 'listening', I am using just one of my 5 senses - my sense of hearing and I, am using it in full-on mode, with all my attentions being focussed on what my one fully functioning sense is receiving, and processing just that and nothing else (other than the data from the road signs and the cars on the road, of course! I don't want to get into trouble with CMPD now!). Hence my ability to dissect what I receive is enhanced many-fold. And considering that NPR already presents some great stuff, the total effect on my mind and body is extremely pleasing to the mind and the body. Kind of like reading.
So it is a combination of these two things that makes my morning rides with NPR extra special - the content of the programming and the fact that it is radio. And now that I have understood this little secret, I think I will appreciate my dates with the channel much, much more :)
Happy tuning in, to NPR!