C'est La Vie;That's life

Let me tell you that writing this kind of piece when I'm forced to time travel is not easy. For starters, remembering my childhood and reliving memories of old roads and dilapidated towns makes me feel as young as a fossiled dinosaur. Or maybe as fresh as a Harappan stone. Sigh. Ok, moving on, I am actually going back to the days when horse carts did exist in the Indian cities. I think some of the villages and small towns still have them but no more in the metros. In the 60's, our quaint part of the Chennai city had only horse carriages to carry passengers for short distance travel. Animal rights activism was unheard of then. And, of course, walking was also the most used mode of transportation to get around. Boo to you treadmillers. Then came the rickshaws pulled by humans. Very inhuman indeed, but no one knew anything different. And what about bicycles? Well, that was the popular transport to get to schools or offices. Boo to the cardios and....nah, forget it. I'm tired o

People in India take it for granted. Returned Indians feel uneasy and uncomfortable about it for a while. And, finally and sheepishily start accepting it. I'm talking about the " Sir " and " Madam " business. Almost everyone in the service industry in India seem to have that respectful voice one would use in front of a royal court when they talk to you. In a restaurant, for e.g., you order a coffee and they go, " Your highness, Madaaaam ....here's your coffee". Or something equally regal-sounding. The first time my maid addressed me ' madam ', I went "Huh, who me?". I didn't get it. What happened to my poor name which I have almost forgotten in the past months. Why the 'madam'? Sounded even feudal to me. And, strange. After all, coming from an egalitarian society like America, this reaction is natural. Right? But, thou aren't protesting too much, you may ask? To be honest here, I actually kind of like it. You want

So many changes all at once. Moving half way across the world is not so easy as I had thought. Originally what you envision is a casual adventure to the tropics, a romantic interlude with the motherland and loads of similar delusional thought processes. Reality is otherwise. Little do you realise that there is something called "packing" and the equally boring, laborious, hard process called "unpacking". Add the paperwork, house and school hunting, getting a household running and you start swearing never to move anywhere, anytime. So, forget about blogging. In my sincere attempts to turn into a 'couch watermelon', I haven't even got out of my recently assembled sofa for the past one month. Even if that meant staring at the daunting sea of cardboxes that were surrounding me. Yeah, I have gone through that kind of a dare. And, I'll be backkkk sooooon......see, my keyboard is excited too!

This is the running theory in most of the South Indian movies that I've ever seen till date. Movie heroes are always chasing bad guys. Repeat, re-repeat, re-re repeat. OK. We faithfully swallow that one. But, how the hero takes out the bad guy? That's what beats me. Let's see. First of all, the hero pretty much self-appoints himself as the savior of the society's evils. But what about his plan? Well, what plan? You know, the one which pretty much involves the most primitive weaponry in the history of mankind. No thinking whatsoever - just take an axe and cut someone's body part off? Gruesome. Last time I checked, even boys in a kindergarten playground probably exhibit better fighting strategies than our movie heroes do. We're choking by now but let's move on. After a horrendous battle, and after we scream and plead - enough, please I don't want to see one more drop of ketchup ever in life, the director mercifully decides to end our torture. Hero kills th

OK. We have just landed in historic, Queensy, Lordsy and the most "lovely" London. My fascination for British is fairly good. Let me admit. This is a nation which has historically proved that a handful of masterminds can take over hordes of mere brawns. A country that has given us the best in the literature and arts in the annals of civilization. Huge salute. Now, to reality. Maybe somethings are only good in dreams. What can I say? Using astute people reading skills that even a toddler can put to use, I realised something that put me off -completely. This "stiff upper lip" thing is so true. Gawd, these Brits have mastered the whole "sour puss" look to the tee - yes, pun very much intended. Ok, so I have this self-confessed weakness to admit. I like to talk to cab drivers. Anywhere in America, they usually reply. Even New York cabbies in their a la Bond style, mid-air flying escapades do stop. And talk. But, these Brit cabbies were so rude. I started on a

Great title, hah? But, if you think I'm starting a discussion on Einstein's theory or anything remotely sounding scientific.... oops.....you are on the wrong blog. Why? Because I'd have no clue what I'm talking about. That's why. On that bright note, here's the actual quote from the genuis himself - " When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity." I just wanted to see if this quote can be stretched onto other similar real life analogies. How about these? When you're shopping at the mall, 5 hours seems like 10 mts. Unless your wallet gets stolen, you shout with a maniacal laughter - Yoohoo, Yipee! I wish I had some more time. If you're waiting for a friend at the same shopping mall, a mere 10 minutes, (yeah, yeah, it includes cursing time) seems like a 5 hour cruelty. When your child is performing at a school play, 2 minutes of his/her act seem

I'm scared. Butterflies in my stomach jittery. Honestly. About what? Fashion woes, what else? The past few years, it's been a little nerve-wracking whenever I went back to India on vacation. It was odd that even my home city Chennai (whose heightened sense of fashion was somewhere close to stone age) had started changing rapidly. The dresses that I wore which were decently passable in the US, were getting scorned at and forcing deep sighs from all. Some sympathetic relatives even politely offered to buy some new clothes, if I could not afford them. Whoa, that did it. I'm usually not that bright, but something told me that my sense of style should take a huge hike and never come back. I decided that my passe clothes need to be burned right away before they continue to pollute Mother Earth. And, of course, the poor accessories had to be tossed in the bonfire too. I started on a savvy shopping spree, with a burning passion to turn into tres chic . Brand names to buy, fas

Let me shamelessly admit. I love them all. Harmless tidbits involving movie stars, Tv stars or anyone famous than me (which the last time I checked, shockingly includes most of the adult population) would be great for starters. If you're like me who loves to go through the gossip mags on shelves or even better, browse useless online web sites, but consciously pretend you never ever read them, please raise your hands. Ok, keep up the good work of "Mission TattleTalk" from getting destroyed by those bland non-gossipers. Who by the way, are really leading pathetic, platonic lives. Not even worth gossiping about. Back to juicy sound bytes, there are those personalized ones like getting the latest updates on our relatives and friends back home in India. Where, thanks to a zero-tolerance policy to privacy of life, everyone seems to have a deep, insightful knowledge of what the others around them are doing - who lost their job, who got married and living unhappily ever afte

There's only a thin, pencil, marginal, fine line between the two. Let me clarify. You see people with a lot of pride in who they are and what they do. These are the ones that not only sound confident, but also act that way in whatever they do. Graceful and giving others a chance to talk. More often, they don't even care what you think of them. You take one look at that them and go....."Wow, I'd kill someone to get that smug, smart look". They are our ideal idols, gurus, role-models....you get the picture. On the other hand, you see the other kind of people. Lots of self-confidence. Check. But wait a minute, what's this tagging along? A nasty overdose of attitude. Hmmph. Now, the scale tips all the way to a different category - arrogance. People who are immediate put-offs and downright annoying. If they are in an airplane seated next to you, jumping off into the troposphere doesn't seem to be a bad idea to you at all. Hey, at least birds don't brag. Get

Of the world of books, I mean. It's an ethereal feeling to slip into a world weaved in the over-active mind of a writer, completely immerse in that realm for hours together, mesmerized by a story and be one with whatever the characters are playing out that personal drama just for you and you alone and....and....and.... just when you are all wired up and trying to desperately know what happens in the next few lines - one loud, big snap. You have been woken up from your trance and slowly realize that someone is yelling or shouting at you. You have been forced to slip out, into the real, aka boring world. Reason? Maybe lunch's ready or there's yet another mindless chore. Whatever. Point is, you have been rudely interrupted and suspended momentarily in time. But, chill. You can and will always go back as soon at the earliest. And, prepare to embark that special journey all over again. So tell me, are you getting ready to slip in ?

Yeah, just like the Spiderman song, except for missing in action - a super hero sprawling his webbed feet on our windows. Talking about spider man and his neighborhood, here's an unfriendly thought. Ok, he gets bad guys and saves the world, blah blah, but can you imagine opening your curtains every day and peer into a grotesquely-dressed, not even remotely spider-like, eeriely-masked man staring at you? Eeeeek. Back to reality, our neighborhood is a very child-centric, a la Sesame street style. Only a brightly feathered, nasal-voiced yellow bird and an unbelievably over-hyped, shockingly high-priced, ridiculously-talking red moppet are missing from this pretty picture. What? You say, enough with the parental vent and the way too many hyphenated adjectives? Ok, fine. So be it. Strict sentiments from now on. Any given day, you can come around our locale and see children riding their bikes, scooters, roller skates or maybe hop scotch, hide and go-seek. Shrieking voices, chatters, whi

Our mugs a.k.a faces can be very fascinating. If you think about it, with a finite set of two eyes, one nose, one mouth and two ears, shape of the face and ok, let's throw in two cheek bones too - the permutation and combination of all of the above ends up what's unique to each of us. Forget the science, just aesthetically, it's mind-boggling. Don't you agree? Also, how we identify a familiar face in a crowd, instantly go through our brain's database, recognize that mug along with a name and that too, all under a minute (for most people) is beyond wonderment. For bumblers like me though, sometimes it could take longer than a minute.... or othertimes, how about....it could take, hmmm, maybe never ? Warning: An oxymoronic "funnily-sad", but true story coming up. I can never, ever forget the night of my wedding party. Maybe it was the bright lights or rich food, whatever, but I felt that my grey cells were starting to melt. So much was thawing away that when

Bored of the monotony. Take the visual effect around you. Same well-manicured trees, streets everywhere. Same stores, malls, gas stations. Skyscrapers, buildings. Houses look the same too. People are not wearing clothes any more colorful than dull, gray pigeons. We might as well be the largest collection of human clones ever. And, I bet you can go anywhere in America and it'll be the same. Save few vibrant cities like Frisco or the Big Apple. Everyday life is more of a humdrum. Same chores, same work. Restaurants, parties are hardly different. No variety, whatsoever. If you listen closely, you can even hear a droning, machine sound in the background. You say, what about taking a break? Yeah, vacations are great, but you got to return sometime. And, let the noisy drone begin. Maybe, there is something called "too much of a routine"? Interestingly, when we moved from India and landed in the US, this was what appealed to me most. I loved the certainty that life gives, a guar

I am talking about approval and acceptance. All of us like them. Regardless of age, regardless of who it's from, we crave for those acknowledgements of whatever we do. Agree? Small children need them the most and rightfully so. For e.g, the wee ones do a scribbly art work and look earnestly to the nearest adult with lots of expectations. One smile or nod from we, the grown up makes them so happy and motivates them to enthusiastically churn out more chicken-scratch-turned-picasso-work for the rest of the day. Until after 50 pieces of scrap, our patient smiles change to a little exasperation and the clenching of the teeth begin. Hey, we're all humans, not pre-school teachers, who the last time I checked, are zen masters at large. When children get to the age of building their newfound knowledge on the world around them and start airing them to anyone and everyone, again, those adult 'nods' sends a resounding assurance that the world is all right and that their small obser

I always end up volunteering for my child's class field trips, partly out of sheer guilt that I don't participate in other school activities and partly because, my daughter loves when I go with her. Not every day, you get to be a mini-celebrity in the eyes of your child and I wouldn't want to miss that chance for the world. Now, to the trip. We boarded a public train to San Francisco, noisy 2nd graders, teachers, parents like me, et al. My group had about 5 kids. I don't know why this happens only to me, but I always get the brattiest kids in the class. What gives? No clue, but as a result I always end up with a permanently jarred larynx. Like a broken record, I go,"Follow the line". "Hold hands". "No, no lunch yet". Only about 60,000 times. Sigh. But, the bratty kids turned out to be the lively ones too. When we went to the art museum, it was quite a comic scene. The museum had a docent to narrate mythological stories to the children. S

Let me sum it up in one simple line. After 16 years of staying in the United States of America, a number of X+1 equations planned, yahoo groups participated and debated to the minutae, spreadsheets filled up with so much statistical data that if these printouts are kept end-to-end we could have literally walked on them to reach the point of our destination, pros and cons beaten to the death, every vacation back home nostalgized and plans to return rekindled, then put out, finally......the moment has arrived. Yes, we've got our tickets to go back home. And, the feeling is sad, nervous, excited etc. but it's also sort of a relief, because at least, we don't have to take up this topic at the dinner table any more :-)

Are you a person who plans a lot or someone who does things at the spur of the moment? Heavy into detailing or the easy-going type? Hmmm, let's see how much your poor psyche can be tortured and drilled on this issue, till it can take no more and starts swearing &*#%@# back at me. Not that it'll hamper my thought process in any way, mind you. Read on. Planners are people who are always meticulous and at times, even ridiculously detail oriented. Usually, their actions are always thought out way in advance, broken into smaller tasks, deadlines laid out and executed to the tee, with perfection. Sounds like a corporate level merger plan? Nah. It could be as mundane as going for a haircut or washing their car. Highly cautious is these people's approach to life even if it borders on paranoiac tendencies, because they do not like any deviations in their plans. If their car needs a wash, darn it, they'd be standing at the carwash - even if it's raining cats and dogs out

So much is written about motherhood (by yappy mums like me), but little is spoken about fatherhood. Why? Because most dads would rather bungee jump into a deep, dark canyon than write their intimate, emotional feelings. Anyways, be as it may, I feel that this is very unfair and decided to appoint myself as the universal spokesperson behind every male who's either a brand-new, novice or a veteran father. Let's start with dads and daughters. They share an deep, unconditional love for each other that can last a lifetime. Also, fathers do have a fiercely protective bonding with their girls. It's that 'no-one-dare-say-anything-about-her' kind of feeling. This starts immediately after birth, right at the cradle, when a newbie dad refuses to hand over his baby to the nurse for a shot, and goes all the way to the teenage, when he wants to bash up all the boys who dare to have a crush on his "little girl". They (meaning experts, those ghostly people who only appear

I just finished reading a fascinating book -'The Kite Runner' by Khaled Hosseini . In the book, when the author talks about Afghanisthan and the cruelty of the Taliban, it reminded me of our short stay in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. 15 years ago. A bad dream, but worth penning about. At the outset, Riyadh appeared to be a beautiful garden city, with well-maintained roads, glamorous malls and people literally rolling in money everywhere. All this wealth in exchange for one birthright - your freedom. That's the skeleton that was taking rap lessons in the closet. Yes, I'm talking about the terrible human, especially womens' rights that would go on in a country that's stinking rich with its oil money. Being the capital city, Riyadh was trying to implement the Shariat Law to the maximum at that time. Hope things are better now. Saudi women had to wear a full burkha covering their faces and we, the foreign women had to wear an 'abhaya' or a veil that could show o

So, who has the authority to administer advice - especially the unsolicited and unwarranted ones. Joking, of course. Sometimes, they can be unwise too. It's a common assumption, actually more of a misconception that the older you are, the more prerogative you have to pass on pearls of wisdom anyone who's even a day younger to you. Why is this clear pecking order amongst us? Do you think there is any truth that connects age and wisdom? Yes, agreed that our collective life experience increases with age, but there's no guarantee that they are a penny's worth. People can live in their own cocoons and grow upto a maximum enlightened level of a caterpillar, even at their ripe old age. Frankly, they have little to offer. To put politely, just yawn these people's zany words away or else you'll be doomed for life. Of course, there are wiser souls (you and me, who else?) who may have a treasure box full of experiences and are bursting to let them all out to the neares

A honest confession from moi. My memory for anything to do with numbers is hopeless to the point of an impending neuro-surgery. If you are pathetic like me, join in my woes. If you're a number whiz, feel free to gloat. Go ahead, you've my permission. When it comes to remembering appointment dates, birthdays, anniversaries, telephone numbers - nothing registers in my brain cells. In fact, I think all members of the digit family love to gang up and play gags on me. First, they would cleverly attempt to sink in, making me faithfully shout every time, "Whoo, I got this down!". And, proceed to jump with joy as if I've nailed down a complicated astro-physical calculation. My euphoria has a short shelf-life though. At a world record speed of about a fraction of a second, gone...vanished...kaput....I lose everything. Feels as though a miniscule eraser has suddenly been projectiled into my brain, wiping off every single data and making the entire area a clean slate. But, e

Simple enough a question - how unique are you? Anything special that could describe you and only you? Nothing personal. "You" have just been promoted as the poster child for all of "Us" on planet Earth. First, let's eliminate the obvious ones. Names, relationships, jobs held etc. All that is a part of you are but is not your whole self, your inner core. Your physique could resemble other people, so no again. And, you and billions of people have the same insides -nerves, bones, grey matter etc. too. We are all not space aliens except that loathsome '------' (freely substitute with anyone you hate). So, clearly no. That leaves our minds as the only choice. We all have crazy, yes, but uniquely crazy minds. Right? But....wait a minute. We can and do share how our mind works with people all over the globe. Even if we have narrow interests or hobbies like playing a bazooka or collecting lawnmovers, we'll be able to find that exact person - thanks to the fr

In the 400s, Attila the Hun was a notorious barbarian who terrorized and savaging Eastern Europe so badly, that the mighty Roman Empire was on the verge of devastation. In hopes of saving Rome, Pope Leo I, the bishop of Rome, rode out to meet with the feared Hun general. Most Romans thought that was the last they would see of Pope Leo. But, in a dramatic face-to-face meeting, Attila thought he saw he saw a halo around the Pope's head. The cruel conqueror who feared no army, was awed by the Pope and thus he decided to spare Rome. >>> Mysterious is the mind of these monsters in human forms? Attila's death was even more bizarre. After a feast celebrating his latest marriage to a beautiful and young woman named Ildico, that very night, he suffered a severe nosebleed and choked to death in a stupor. >>> The fate of a savage barbarian finally ends because of an everyday, harmless and most innocous of all things such as a - nosebleed?

Have you had sleepless nights wondering what could possibly be the connection between Wisdom as in knowledge, sense, insight, perception, astuteness, intelligence of the mind and a part of the human anatomy that gnaws, crushes, chews, crunches food particles? I'm talking about the unglamorous wisdom tooth. Read on. After what I thought would be just another routine, boring exam, it was a rude shock when the dentist peered into my wide-opened mouth and with that grave look that he always has as if he has just performed an open-heart surgery, proclaimed that my "wisdom" tooth doesn't look alright. Wisdom where? Wisdom what? How come no one ever warned me till date, that my brain has started transferring its finite wisdom to - for heavensakes, why of all body parts, something so yucky as teeth? One can understand the need for additional storage, but there's plenty of other body parts that makes more sense. Just when I start hyperventillating, he drops another bom

Order. Order. Order. Pounding on the kitchen table, hearing out both the plaintiff and the defendant (a.k.a your children), meting out fair justice.....sound familiar, moms? Yes, i'm talking about Mothers' self-appointed role as the Supreme judge in a domestic jurisdiction. It's an everyday affair for most of mothers. And, their clientele ranges from 2 to 20 year olds. Complaints ranging from hitting, pinching, clothes-swapping, name-calling, teasing, vase-breaking etc followed by complete claim of innocence from both the parties who loudly start protesting, "I swear I didn't do it, Mom". Now, you get ready to dorn your imaginary black robe and prepare yourself (for the zillionth time in this week alone) to take on the Lady Justice role. Crucial moments like these could make you either a hero or a villian in your childrens' eyes. The implications could haunt you throughout your life. There's enough dramatic moments that could outbeat a judge finaly

No, no, this calling is not about reforming or for that matter, anything remotely useful. To reveal a bit of my narcissistic side - I just wanted to see how many of you out there as 'cocoa nuts' as me about chocolates. First, let's go through a checklist to see if you pass the unofficial "Chocoholic" test (made up by an entire team of eminent "psy-choco-logists" from the prestigious University of Uselesstudiesford) - 1. Have you ever dreamt roaming around the cocoa plantations of Brazil, unabashedly indulging in drinking to what you hold with highest regard as the ambrosia from heaven - a warm cup of hot cocoa? Of course, half way through sipping, your wild dream may be rudely cut short by a spear jab on the back. You've been accused of trespassing by an angry South American native and chances are, you'll probably be roasted alive along with the next batch of cocoa beans but hey, it was all for a good cause, right? 2. Do you wish Valentine's

If you are an Indian living abroad, you must have heard this imaginary time zone, that we're all supposedly living in. If you are a newbie, read on. IST i.e Indian Standard Time is to arrive atleast 2 hours behind any given, scheduled time. You'll be unceremoniously banished from the 'desi' club and lose your badge of honor, even if you go a minute earlier. I have no idea who's the brain behind this acronym. But, my wild guess is that, it belongs to a body full of lazy bones - all 206 of them. Indian parties, especially, follow this IST rule to the core. Everyone will be late. You have to. Unless you wish to see your host in his pajamas or the hostess sans makeup. Looking at you with embarassment. You look quite puzzled and politely point out that the party time has been printed as 1.00pm. Lo presto, your watch shows exactly 1.00pm. And, they would go, "So what? You dumbo. Nitwit. That doesn't mean you should come exactly at that time. You did the same for

I'm talking about the "Hinglish" (Hindi + English) medley of songs in Bollywood movies these days. Regional movies are holding their language forts. It's only the Bolly songs that drives me bally. Really. Most of the songs have such a mix of English and Hindi. It's all so confusing that my brain gets pretty much fried by the time a song is over. Constantly switching from English to Hindi and back to English again, drives me up the wall. Even a novice in hindi like me can tell you that it's a beautiful and rich language with tons of vocabulary to choose from. So, why unceremoniously borrow? You know what my wildest dream would be - Collect all these film lyricists and lock them up in room. No food or water until they get all their songs out in chaste Hindi. Or worse, order the Chinese "word" torture....make them listen to all their lyrics over and over again until they promise to pen better. The Angrez have left a long time back. Please get over it, f

Anything on mystery and adventure. Or Suspense and thrillers. These books were a big part of our daily staple when we were growing up. And, boy, did we have insatiable appetites for them all. It all started with the prolific writings of Enid Blyton. The outrageous adventures her characters go through, all set in a faraway place, catapulted our minds beyond imagination. Then, came the Hardy boys, Edgar Rice books. Even comic heroes like Tintin, Asterix etc. were suffice for our hungry minds. Anything that had even a faint whiff of an adventure, we would grab our imaginary backpacks and be ready to travel along with zest. From adventures, we later moved on to the mystery series of Poirot or the legendary Holmes, which used to race our pulses and send us down to a dark and underground world, so removed from reality. We used to get all these treasures from the dingy and dusty libraries nearby. The books were so old that the print would be barely visible through the yellow and parched paper

All of us do it time to time. Yeah, those harmless white lies that spurt out of our mouths without even a second thought. Almost as a primal instinct. You know, the teensy-weensy lies that start from our childhood. A sudden, shooting stomach pain that surfaces, just on the day of a math test. The fake fishy one, that parents smell a mile away. How, you ask? Well, one, they're clever. Two, because we're still amateurs at this game and have a long way to go. Our brilliant brain has skipped some minor details that goes into the lying process. Like the fact that we came up with the exact stomach pain only last week, right before that science exam. We could have at least moved the anatomy a bit this time - maybe to the hands. But, then, if we had been that smart, we would've studied for the math exam, eh? Anyways, since parents love moments like these for its pure entertainment value, smirkingly go, "Oh, that's too bad, honey. I guess we'll take you to that kind, ge

We as a family, are always late. For everything. And, it's not that bad at all. Read on. Think of any mode of transportation that involves a schedule -buses, trains, flights and we'll be always behind. With 2 kids and 6 pieces of luggage, it actually makes it kind of exciting. Really. Ah, the thrill of making that rush into the airport. The glee of checking in as the last person on the line. Hoping nervously that your online booking would have gone through, and not erased mysteriously by the mean airline computer. It's like playing out an intense, nail-biting drama - minus the screeching violins in the background. If alive, Hitchcock would have enough ammunition to make a movie, titled - "Suspense at the Airport". What can i say? The master has missed his magnum opus. So, folks, i highly recommend this new adventure for all of you. Try for yourself. Be late for the airport next time. Especially, if you are dwelling in one of America's most boring suburbs like

So, do you live to eat or eat to live ? Food gourmet or Food gobbler ? Food gourmets are easy to find. They are camped in or near the kitchen area most of the day, with only an occasional break to watch the Food channel. They are always busy experimenting on an exotic cuisine, seriously peering into recipe books and fussing over their pots, as much as a chemist over a petri dish. All their efforts are worth every sip though, for every entree that these geniuses create, tastes like a manna from the heaven. So, you better dorn your apron and put on your best show, if you invite them to a party. Else, brace for some harsh critique, because they can smell your food a mile away and wouldn't hesitate to call you up for some 'friendly advice' on how your soup has one rotten tomato in it. It's not so much about you that they care, but an errant soup can stir their soul deeply. Food gobblers on the other hand are easy to find too. Any room, other than the kitchen would be a

It all started with the day i joined the exclusive and universal, Mothers' club. The day my first born arrived. With fireworks and sparkles. The initial moments when my baby arrived have been etched forever in my memory. The strange, but ecstatic feelings when i saw this small, delicate as a porcelain, baby in my arms. I thought to myself - is this what the hullalaboo of 'miracle of life' all about? The pains of labor seemed to have all melted away and frozen into this tiny person. Can a baby who is looking so vulnerable, make such an impact of steel? Well, it did, for me. Mesmerizing is what i would sum it all up. From that day, all my ideals of working till the day i drop dead, seemed to take a back seat. From a career woman, my priorities started to take a paradigm shift. I couldn't think of anything else except to be with this bundle of joy presented to me. I was even surprised at myself for such a conviction. My entire life started to get streamlined at that junctu

Mine and hopefully, if you've a pear-shaped body like me, yours too. I'm talking about weight management. Actually, in my case, i'm doing nothing. My weight is the one who's managing me right now - ordering me to eat non stop, instructing me not to get up from the couch and steering me a mile radius from any gym. In short, not helping one inch. I want to fire it for such a high-handed behavior. Once i figure out how. My saga of yo-yo dieting started almost since the dawn of this century. Why so long? Because i haven't yet grasped an iota of how it works. And, that's not my problem at all. It's just that these diet gurus can't seem to make up their mind and keep changing the rules. At their own whim. Just when people settle down on the Atkins diet and the body starts to shed a few ounces, springs up another South Beach diet which asks you to do something else. Stop it, you guys. Remember that you are provoking people who are half-starved. Any minute n

Not the metaphorical one about 'life is a rollercoaster' kind. I am talking about the actual one. The mammoth coasters that zigs and zags in mid air, taking your intestines for a jolly ride. You can never get me on one, even if i have to lead the rest of my life as a sop. No siree, i'll save my share of torture for something else. We sure go to theme parks faithfully, time to time. My kids love them. Why? Because they are children. And, they're genetically programmed to like everything opposite to what their parents want to do. Always. You like beaches, they hate water. You like walking, they like slouching on the couch. You like camping, they'll cringe even if you go anywhere near a tent. And, once in a blue moon, if you both agree to do biking, you bet it'll be raining outside. That's Karma for you, folks. Back to rides, i always choose the one that is not more than few inches off the ground, not spin around too much, and of course, it has be slow. After a

That's how it feels after i hang up my mother's phone call. Almost every time. She always has an endless list of adages, stories with moral endings and time-tested maxims in her arsenal and never fails to bring them up with the same passion, in all our conversations. She'll even tell me things that i won't have use now, but will need them after 15 years. And, if you're in blues, you have to be ready for those extra doses. I sometimes groan and complain. And, love to tease her about it, but in my heart, am soaking them up all. Like a sponge. It's good to have someone tell you all about the basics of life - even if it's again and again. And again. Though, when i am listening, the words seems to pass like an arrow from one ear to another and nothing seems to have actually sunk into my gray matter. But, they all come back. When they're needed the most. See, life gets very edgy somedays. Especially when complex questions like 'why does my garden get

"If life gives you lemons, make lemonade. " Joan Collins made this quote and it's my all-time favorite. Figuratively, what it means is when you have problems in life, make the best out of it. Though what problems Ms. Collins (who is a rich, British actress) could have beats me. Maybe on the day she came up with this quote, her make-up man didn't come on time or one of her films bombed. Whetever. Point is, if she could have worries the size of lemons, you and me should have some, at least the size of grapefruits. So, let's talk about issues. What? You say you don't have any worries. If your personal life is impeccable, at least go and grab some public issues - global warming, coming elections etc. please. Back to earthlings like us who seem to have a lifetime supply of lemons - what's your personal style when problems come your way ? If you are in a tight corner, which requires a lot of work from those grey cells, what would be your immediate gut reacti

>>>I say this is one "child left waaay behind". All those who agree with me, raise your hand. Ok, there's hope for you. All those who don't think so, please go back to school. You need help. Right now. "[I want to] make sure everybody who has a job wants a job." -- George Bush, during his first campaign for the presidency. "I would like to thank Nasal Beard for that warm welcome." -- George Bush, thanking Hazel Beard, mayor of Shreveport, Louisiana, in 1992. "Rarely is the question asked: is our children learning?" -- George W. Bush "I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family." -- George W. Bush "The most important job is not to be governor, or first lady in my case." -- George W. Bush "We must all hear the universal call to like your neighbor as you like to be liked yourself." -- George W. Bush "Well, I think if you say you're going to do something and don't d

I mean corporal punishments. Thankfully, not now, but did exist when we unlucky souls were in schools. Some of our teachers were angels from heaven, but, i am going to handpick only the nastiest of the lot here. Kneeling down outside the class, running around the school ground (think hot, very hot), writing something absurd like "I'll never do this again" 100 times - you'll thank your lucky stars to get these routine ones. Our teachers were way too clever. They always came up with new and novel ways of punishing us. Like hitting your knuckles with a ruler? Caning? Could have put Adolf Hitler to shame. Or, maybe they all took personal training from Attila the Hun. Well, i wish they had put these hard work in their teaching strategies. We would have won gold medals and made India proud someday. One of my math teachers was even creative when it came to punishments. Boo to the same ones, she cackled. I should go down in the annals of history for innovative torture, she sw

No, no. Not a real one. Whew! What a relief.... It all started innocently. My daughter wanted a small baby doll. I lodged a loud protest, about how the house is exploding with dolls already, followed with my best and heavy sarcasm and betting about how long it would take before the new doll would be buried along with 10,000 of it's cousins. Any child would wilt under these verbal assaults, but on my iron-willed one - it made no impact, whatsoever. Could have at least spared my larynx. As usual, she won the case hand-down, after pointing out how the baby doll is essential to make her life complete and cleverly putting it down under Santa's wishlist. And, thus one more member got added to our family. Literally. Overnight, we have all become part of the doll's family. I have been promoted to a grandma (deep groan), my husband the grandpa (deeper groan) and my older one the aunt (for a change -sigh). Ok. Even then, we took it in spirit. Doesn't matter, we told ourselves

An emergency and i had to do it. That is, leave my kids behind and take a long 20 hour flight to India. I was a nervous wreck by the time i even went to the airport. It was years since i boarded a flight without the company of a tot. Can i do this, really? Finally waved my byes, and got my luggage checked in. After the initial panic attacks, i sort of settled down. Did some reading and just took some time for myself, engrossed in my thoughts. This was strange, even surreal. Now, what? Nothing else to do. No bathroom visits, feeding sessions, heck, not even one complaint of boredom to hear. When i boarded the plane, i looked at everyone around as if i was seeing the world like a newborn baby. Is this how co-passengers look like? In all our previous trips, everybody around me always seemed like blurry images scurrying here and there. Who has time to observe people when you have a toddler or a preschooler tugging your arms? After a few hours of my newfound freedom though, was i havi

I am going to make some sweeping generalizations here, so bear with me. Or don't. I'm planning to air them anyway. Some things on aging that puzzles my mind.... Let's start with children. They always want to get older and can't wait to do all the things adults do. In playing games, they like to be grown-ups. Why? Because they don't know how boring our lives are. Seriously, that's why. And, even pre-teens wait till the day they can drive the car, hang out with friends, wear makeup, go to movies, have their own life etc. Comes adulthood. 20's to 30's. Peak of our youth. We're too busy with setting up our lives. We have a hard time thinking about our new freedom to create debts (i.e buy a new house, car etc), explore the world, go up the corporate ladder, keep up with the joneses etc. Do we care about getting old at this point? Probably not. Then comes the mid 30's until 40's. Even then, we don't like to admit it, but our bodies are re

I have a pet peeve. Yes, unbelievable, but true. It's about the names that the Indian movie industry have come up with for themselves in the recent years. I hope some of you feel the same way, because i'm liberally including you all in the "we" here.... It all started with Bollywood. Like the storyline of our Hindi movies, shamelessly copied after their global counterpart - Hollywood. We gritted our teeth, but thought - why not? It is not too bad. Bombay-Bollywood. And, the analogy is right there too. Both are the biggest churners of reel, in the world of cinema. Now, our regional moviemakers had started fuming already. Does this mean they are nomenclature-challenged? Totally made-up word. DO NOT GOOGLE. Anyways, let's look at their names. The term Kollywood was equated with Tamil movies. Supposedly, for the area in which majority of the studios are located in the Chennai metro. We're getting a little antsy now. Do we have to go this far? Next, came the Telugu

Our house in India. The same one that has solidly stood the test of time for almost 36 years. A house which has seen us children play inside it, plant a garden around it, study, eat and sleep in it, grow up and get out of it, come back again and again to be a part of it. So many changes happening, yet, in some ways, remaining the same. Reeking of nostalgia. Helping us to refresh our childhood memories. A house which my mother would proudly flaunt as a place where only good things have taken place. Yes, it's true. It has always been a loving care giver of the sick but never once borne a burden of the dead. But, every rule has to have an exception. My father's strange obsession to the house in which he wanted to spend his last dying moments was very puzzling. Here he was, getting ready to part with family and friends and yet, he couldn't bring himself up leaving these stone walls behind. I asked him why. A part of me even felt envy. He reasoned that it was a testimony to his

I am a citizen - not one, but to two countries. And, proudly proclaim that it's a privelege. My motherland, India. Growing up, one never felt that being patriotic is an emotion that was supposed to be exhibited in any way. Yes, there were Independence day celebrations, but never a thoughtful pause about the significance of the event. History books didn't do justice either. The only time that we showed an exuberance, was rooting wildly for our nation during cricket matches. That was then. Now, all that has changed. After many years outside the country, my passion for the homeland has increased multi-fold. The joy that planning for a trip back home brings, the building of a bridge to catch up with relatives and friends. All in a weather that's as warm as it's people. And, ah, the excitement when the flight lands on the Indian soil - still the same, year after year. Now, to the adopted home. First, to historic Boston. The initial years, it was just curiosity to explore a n

A daring thought came to us. We patted ourselves for even trying to attempt it. We declared that our Hawaii trip would be a - hold your breath -gasp- a gadget-free trip. Ladies and gentlemen, you can let go of that oxygen mask now. No laptops, dvds, electronic toys, gameboys etc. Nothing except a cell phone for emergency. I think a cell doesn't even count as a gadget. It should be re-classified as an extended body part. Of the ear, logistically. The first day was the worst. All of us looked around. What are we supposed to do? Talk. You mean with each other? Huh...please, that's too much to ask. Then, what else? It was too late to go to the beach. Let's see. Maybe, play games. No electronic ones? We laughed nervously. Suddenly we had a 'brainwave'. Well, what did you expect?- remember, we were in Hawaii. Hint, hint. Ok, it was a bad joke. Back to the idea - we thought - how about some old-fashioned word, vocabulary ones, board games? Alien concept, but it worked out

Everybody has friends. Some you have grown up with and some you have met later in life. I am sure all of you have at least one. You do, right? Don't count those Cyber ones. You ask why not? Because i don't have one and i want to spew venom on some of you that do. Simple. Back to the 'real' friends - one you can share ideas, interests, debates, gossips, things that you never share with anyone before. Or, sometimes, just plain vent. Friends that know you from childhood are even more special because they are the ones who know you the best - good, bad and the ugly. They understand every single thought that comes to your mind even if you don't spell it out. And, never pass judgements. No pretentious attitude in their company. They can cut you down to size if you act smart with them. You know how the conversation goes when you start bragging,"I bought a new car, the best one in the market, ya da, ya da.....", and they go," This is the nth time you're ta

....narrows down your wallet. A lot. Vacations have become very expensive these days. Don't agree? If you need more proof, come near my house and feel free to listen on the huge 'gasps' and 'oh nos!' when our travel bills come in. It's great when you start picking out exotic destinations. You get excited and start planning every detail. Go online. You shout - brace yourselves Expedia, Orbitz, Trip advisor - here we come. Carefully pick your dates. Crowded holiday weekends. Nah. The air fares go upto Mars. So, you cleverly avoid the peak times, yet, pick out a time when there are no hurricanes, cyclones etc that visit the tropics. Speaking of disasters, one thing that scares the bejeepers out of me is the dreaded "T" word. I can't even print it. Hint. Ocean - waves - recede - wash away. Moving on to hotels. So many options - enough to give you a headache. Does it have a suite, a swimming pool, is it child-friendly, is continental breakfast included,