No time to stand and stare….

laughterbubbles Travel - Cities and Towns

I am busy de cluttering, reorganizing files, throwing away tons of useless stuff, and leading a laid back indolent life. There is no kid at home to feed, drop or shop for. The work is on auto mode, and so far the empty nest is not biting at me.

A few days ago, people who are not used to see me doing nothing, said I couldn’t keep living this way. I should find some work! Knowing the old me, it was a very well meaning and concerned statement. I have always given out this image, that if I am not busy, I shall wither away and die.

I have spent years and years being “busy”. First school, the need to excel (not in studies!!), college, early marriage, coping with a new set of parents and grandparents, family crisis, kids, their schooling, my 19 hour work days, the need to prove myself, my further education, then the kids going off! Whew! When did I breathe?

I have a huge lacuna in my music files, off those years when I was newly married and kids were skirt pulling, attention seeking toddlers.

Now, I look into all household and work responsibilities in the morning. Then I am free. And indolent. And laid back. And lazy. Some days I watch downloaded serials for hours, some days I DJ and mix music endlessly, and other days I read incessantly. I party most nights, and find friends who can help me with that.

I absolutely, adamantly with stomping feet, vehemently, refuse to be useful any time soon. We live in a world of the unknown, and soon an emergency will draw me out of my sloth state. For nothing remains the same forever.

I sit now and watch butterflies flit across the garden. I watch my favorite tree bloom and shed its beautiful flowers. I slurp honey collected from a neighboring beehive. I have a beer in the afternoon and wine with my husband at night. I meet friends, and write love notes to my kids. I blog. Its all one big “I” right now.

Blooming trees andfliting butterflies.
Blooming trees and fliting butterflies.
my time to stand and stare.
my time to stand and stare.

This summer my elder one read books, woke up late and was basically a retarded non-productive human being. When I chided her, she made a statement, which has made me sit back and think. This is definitely the one time they can be most productive, but this is also the time when they can bask under the protective atmosphere of their parents and not worry about the next meal or the next promotion. Four months in college, are spent, working furiously, trying to prove her self to herself. Cooking, cleaning and basically always remaining alert. At home she lets go. Someone else is doing the worrying, feeding and protecting. When will she be able to do this in future?

We all get so busy in our lives, that, we forget to count the stars.

Now I sit and think. A lot of me has changed. I have shed the overcast cloud of influence of one person who had me in her grip for as long as I can remember. Free from her power over me, it now does not matter that she is angry or upset with me. The lightness of being is terrifying. It is taking some getting used to. With barriers dropped I am doing things I have never done. Making friends and becoming a non-biased, non-judgmental person.

All this reminds me of a story. A busy white collar, climbing the ladders of success and promotions, had a flat in a small road in Goa. While a shabbily dressed but peaceful looking man, repaired his flat, the white collar could not help feeling distressed at the laid back attitude. He asked the Goan “ Why don’t you work? “ “ What will happen if I work?” asked the Goan. “ Well! You will earn money. Get rich. Buy a house and then retire. Then you can live a peaceful life” The Goan smiled and said, “ Why should I break my back and earn money, to do what I am already doing?” Not necessarily, what we want to teach our children, but there is some element of truth in it.

This is another crossroad in my life. I am walking down one path. I might not reach the end, and might turn back and take another road. But for the moment every scenery of this path is breathtaking.

 

 

 

T is for Travelling

laughterbubbles The people around us! , , ,

The formula of my life has changed.

(Kid 1 + Kid 2 * Grade 12 = Gone for Undergrad ) * 4 years = Empty Nest.

There fore Empty Nest * What to do? + Work on automation = Travel.

There fore Travel * Travel= Travel (2)

Therefore Travel (2) * Packing + Shopping = Crisis.

 

I have never packed in my life. Ever! Well except for this once, when I was returning back from my course in London, after 3 months. The husband does it for me. I pull out all that I need to carry, and leave it on the sofa. He comes in and sweetly packs it all in and asks if I have anything left out. Yes! I agree! He is adorable. When we were newly married, I, like all good wives, offered to pack. Sometime later I heard him clearing his throat, trying to find a way to tell me to buzz off! I think I was a bit offended then, but trust me, now it’s a sacred pact between us. I shop, he packs.

The one time I had to pack all on my poor own,  was when I was returning back home after 3 months. And as the date to depart neared I was horrified and biting my nails in desperation. I had not packed a bag for a 2 day holiday, and now here was 3 months worth of luggage, equipment, shoes etc staring accusingly at my face. Needless to say, I almost cried but managed. Of course the bag looked like it had just about survived a war. Things were caught between the zipper. The bag looked pregnant and  like it had jumped out of a comic book. And then it was over weight, and I had to pay excess. I have sworn throughout the flight at them check in women! The husband did not catch even a glimpse of the bag until it was unpacked.

Bursting at the seams.
Bursting at the seams.

A cousin was traveling abroad, from school. I happened to be visiting them, and there was a lot of excitement around her packing. She was allowed to carry only 1 bag, and the well meaning mom had packed in some food too. The bag was filled in and emptied out approximately 4 times ,by 5 different people, amidst sighs and growls. Finally her grandfather came in, cleared everybody out and proceeded to pack. When my cousin saw the bag, she was sure he had left out almost half the things, because no way was the bag going to look so happy and non explosive. It should have been bursting at the seams. She went back to check, but everything seemed to be in the bag. We were all, marveling at his dexterity and engineering skills. She told me later, that when she had to repack it for her return journey, she was in tears. Because there was no way anyone could replicate what he had done. She had to buy a handbag and carry it in the cabin, AND leave some stuff back.

Recently on our return journey, there was a huge back up for check in. We went into the next counter and asked them to help us out, and just as well or we would have been left behind, not just our scheduled flight, but I think even the next one. There was this man from Qatar, (we peeked at this passport cover!) So –  man, 1 wife (thank god. For after you read this, even you will agree that a second one would have given him angina pains that day!) 4 kids, 2 maids and, get this – 21 pieces of large sized luggage and 4 cabin bags. I heard the wife, ask him if she could go and sit on the chairs with the kids (age 3 to 8) and he waved her off. Every single piece of luggage was over weight. He would weigh one bag, find it over weight (this airline will charge you for an extra bag, but no bag can be over weight) and his maids would proceed to pull out random things from the bag and stuff it into another bag. Once the weight reduced it would go through, but the next bag would be over weight. Again the maids would pull out stuff and shove it into the next bag. Then that would be over weight. And the saga continued. And the man patiently handled every single bag. I must say, only, on this one observation, that the woman was one of the luckiest I have ever seen. I still want to know if the check in guy, just gave up and let it go, or he painfully, went through the entire procedure. I also want to know, how much that last bag finally weighed, after all the – passing – the – excess – into – another bag; finished.

husband

The husband packs really light. I could never make up my mind and carried way more than I wanted to. One day we had to change trains, therefore change platforms, therefore run down and up 3 flights of stairs, all the while pulling that heavy bag. I yanked my shoulders so badly, that I had to visit a chemist for a pain killer, even before we checked into our hotel.

Singapore-Airlines-Excess-Baggage-Fees

Now we travel light, but come back a wee bit heavier. I separate from the husband when we reach the customs, because the cheeky man always carries back more alcohol than he is supposed to!

 

 

Chicago

laughterbubbles Travel - Cities and Towns , , ,

This blog is dedicated to Akshat T. Thanks for your suggestions. We tried every single place you suggested and you are now my official go to person, if I visit any city you already have.

Devyani N. Who visited Chicago, instead of Ireland!!

Chicago was 2 days of sheer debauchery. A friendly change from crowded busy and unfriendly NY.

Places to visit. 

Millennium Park:  This is in the centre of Chicago. Huge, with loads of things to do. There is the Crown Plaza, with the water fountain and digital face. It was hot, and kids were playing in the water fountain. I felt like joining them too.

Crown Plaza
Crown Plaza
View from Millennium Park.
View from Millennium Park.

 

Cloud Gate – know as The Bean, for its legume shape. I found this to be one of the most fascinating pieces of sculptor, I have ever see. I could not stop marvelling at the brains behind this fabulous design. When I researched, ofcourse it turned out to be an Indian. Anish Kapoor – 2006. Its a pure stainless steel structure, but the way it has been choreographed (there is not better word for it) is stunning. With every angle one sees myriad designs and reflections.

photo 5 (8)

Sky line reflected from the Bean
Sky line reflected from the Bean
Reflection - THE BEAN
Reflection – THE BEAN

Theater – There was a Jazz festival going on. Open seating. People had come with garden chairs and picnics. I dont know much about Jazzz, but I believe the artists performing were fairly famous. 

Out door Jazz FEstival
Out door Jazz FEstival

Willis Tower : Where the sky deck is located – on the 103rd floor. It’s a crazy experience. Once stands on a glass floor. And when you look down, huge container carrying trucks look like miniature dinky cars. Not meant for those scared of heights.

photo 5 (6)

Navy Pier: It was a bright summer, wednesday evening. We went for a show (Cirque – Shanghai Warriors – amazing) and then roamed around the pier. Typical american peir. Open spaces, loads of restaurants and bars, and shops. Worth spending an hour or so. If you are lucky you might catch a fire work show.

photo 5 (7)
Sky line from the Navy Pier

Magnificent Mile and Oak Street: Shopping areas, boutiques and great restaurants. Walk!

Wicker Park: Local neighbourhood. A little further from central areas, so we could not visit. But I have been told its worth a visit.

Architectural Tour : The boats take you around Chicago, can be done with or without a meal and drinks. Again we could not make it. But heard its worth it.

Places to eat. And DRINK

The Aviary: What a concept. Its merely and only a bar. Very little eats menu. One can choose a 3 course or a 5 course cocktail menu. We took the 3 course one. There were 4 of us and 12 drinks. The mixes, the ingredients – pure mixology genius. Its an experience and one must absolutely go there. Lets leave aside the fact that we were walking at odd angles after this.

Aviary - Bird CAge. Bar tenders and Mixologists at work.
Aviary – Bird CAge. Bar tenders and Mixologists at work.
Flaming drink - second course.
Flaming drink – second course.
4 drinks 4 different tastes. Weird ingredients which make so much sense to the pallette.
4 drinks 4 different tastes. Weird ingredients which make so much sense to the pallette.

The Publican : Belgian brewery and restaurant. With close to 160 different beers. Communal tables. Definitely worth visiting. PS – even the food looked good – though we did not eat there.

Signature Lounge : The view from this place is crazy. Its on the 96th floor and has fantastic drinks. We had a ruby martini, which had lemon shorbet dissolving in it and leaving behind mild notes of citrus. If possible book a place by the window, difficult but worth it.

The view from Signature lounge.
The view from Signature lounge.

Fig and Olive: We went there for drinks as well as lunch. Wonderful place, fabulous service, great food, great music. Must go. Booking required.

The Girl and the Goat: We could not go there as we had no booking. Booked solid for atleast a month in advance. Our friends managed a walk in. They said it was fabulous.

Pump Room : Our first meal and Chicago and it was unforgettable.

Spiaggia : Even though we reached drunk and left even more drunk, I still remember tasting the food and going all round and goggle eyed. Great wines. Try for a window table. Book. BTW: fantastic service. They indulged our drunk rambling.

photo 3 (3)
WIne colllection in Spiaggia

The Chicago Deep Dish Pizza : We had it in Lou Malnati. A must go, but go with time. Many different venues. Loooong cues. And amazing pizza, though the deep dish cheese did a number on our stomach. I also heavily recommend the thin crust pizza. We had a taste, and regretted not having an appetite to eat one of those. The spinach one was outstanding.

The other places where its available are Giordano’s. We did not eat there though.

Next: From the makers of Aviary. We heard about it, but it was under renovation. Name’s so, because it changes menu and CUISINE every few months. Innovative to say the least!

I loved Chicago. The vibe, the zest and the view. I would go there again in a heartbeat. Place for foodies and those who love their alcohol and are willing to experiment a bit.

The Trade.

laughterbubbles The deep well of words. , ,

My very well meaning, but utterly crazy batch mates, insisted I go beyond a blog! So here is a sample, of  a “Beyond the blog – plunge” – written a few years ago.

GO  L.V.G.A !!

The breeze was balmy and she sweat freely. But the sea always called her. Alone she would walk by the beach, the waves calming her tumultuous mind. The fishermen had gathered. She knew most of them by face. Every day at the same time she would walk past them and stand and watch their catch, some of the fish yet thrashing, side to side in their struggle to survive, wildly trying to breathe in an atmosphere which was stifling them. She would stand  and watch them, mesmerized by their need to survive. Wasn’t it easier to just give up and die?

There was an unusual excitement amongst them today. “What a catch! Kya maal aya hain haath mein!” they exclaimed. Indeed it was a catch. She was a catch! And she was caught, between the struggle for power and the union of two rich families. One day suddenly, without being asked, her life was changed. It was an exchange a mongering, a trade. And she had no say in the matter.

As she walked, her mind weaved, hitched and always stopped on him. The man she met on the beach, the man who was her life and the sweet breath of love. The man, who was now, walking towards her. The radiance and love from his face caught her straight in the guts. Even after five years of knowing each other the love grew and strengthened. He was tall dark and lean to her petit small build. But today she would perhaps, kill that radiance forever.

She told him, before he could even touch her. A smoker thinks he is immortal and cancer can never touch him. Lovers think their love is forever and the ending always happy. They always knew this could happen, but knowing does not diminish the pain. He held on to the intense longing to touch her, but there had to be a cut, a long viscious slice, made by the lethal blades of a family barter. Without a word, tears streaming down his face, he turned and walked away without a backward glance. She had killed his spirit without bleeding him.

She herself was bleeding from the inside. For a long time she stared at his bent back. She knew he weeped and his soul sobbed. But she could not cry. Her emotions were dead. She walked on, until she reached the shore and the waves tickled her feet. The sea had always answered her questions. This time her soul decided. She walked into the sea, waves lashing at her. Kept walking. Somewhere far behind she thought she heard shouts. But she kept walking till her beloved sea claimed her.

Around the same time, fishermen snagged a heavy object in their nets. “What a waste of a life” they said. “ Such a handsome man, so tall and lean”

She was right. It was easier to die than struggle forever.

 

Ganpati Bappa Morya, and my freedom of speech.

laughterbubbles The people around us! , ,

This year has been the culmination of my growing grouse against the Ganpati Festival.

The growing up years were spent, sitting on our compound wall and whispering prayers to every Ganpati idol that passed by. And 5 off them passed us, every 2 seconds. After an hour of doing this, I was desperate to get off the wall and play our running games, but the rest of my friends felt uneasy, leaving their fervent prayers and turning their backs on all the surplus idols passing by.

Lokmanya Tilak, he of short foresight, turned this festival from a small family affair into a political fiasco, in 1894. I admit it was done in goodness of his Maratha heart, but like everything in India reaches a crescendo, this has gone beyond limits. The Hare Krishna, Isckon sect, the Osho followers, the Shri Shri Ravi Shankar herd, everything has gone beyond proportions and into the political stratosphere.

The welcoming of the Elephant God, with pomp and drama, the invites for darshan, which have become a social gathering and a compulsion, the loud Bollywood music blaring through illegal speakers, out of tune aarti, traffic jams, unnecessary dispersion of wealth, and massive upheaval of our lives. Everything leaves me feeling bleak and angry.

Many years back, my mom who writes dances ballets based on Hindu mythology had created one where the lord refused to come to earth when called for Ganesh Chaturthi. He complained that in the years gone, he was loved for himself. He heard prayers and hymns instead of trashy Bollywood rukus, ate good home made sweets instead of cakes and chocolates and was treated with respect. I find that so very pertinent now.

I know I have just earned the wrath of a lot of friends and my sister, but this festival needs to be saved. Last night I saw the sea in spate, and people trying to immerse the idol. All the idols kept floating back. But once the idol had touched the water, and the devout had carried that little bit of the sea sand on the same platform that previously carried their idol- they left that very same God, to whom they were fervently praying to for days – without a backward glance. The next day the cleaners came in and swept aside all the broken idols along with the garbage and the days poop and pee. The permanent effect was a sea with more toxins, sea life harmed, for a mere few days of utter devotion.

I believe myself to be largely non superstitious. I’ve shed those last ounces I held, when I was faced with this festival once more. I believe in a universal force and see it in God. And my only prayers to the Lord are to keep his feet on the top of my kids’ heads, so that they remain grounded. And use those very same feet in a swift motion, on their backsides if they so need.

Rites of passage.

laughterbubbles The people around us! , , , ,

From that tiny fetus swimming and kicking in my stomach to the time I held a hungry, squirmy yelling kid in my arms, to now, when he leaves our home and flies the nest, we as parents have come a long way. The rites of passage have been happy, sad and sometimes heart breaking. This kid, our last one in particular has given us a few heart attacks, but many many more happy times. And to think we had him in the most unplanned and disorderly fashion, in the midst of life changing decisions the family was making.

The day he cut his first tooth was a delight. We were as it is struggling with feeding, with me wanting to feed him for a few more months and he struggling to break out and venture into the world of chewing and masticating. This fellow with his puppy fat and soft skin, whom I forever kept in diapers only, so that I could cuddle him any time I felt like, started school. The sight of him in a brand new uniform – Had I known then, that it would lead to this day, I would perhaps have kept him home. But again life has to spin and move.

Days of fever, heart breaks and happier days of winning matches, being chosen to lead the school in games, friends leaving, new friends, voice cracking, girl friends and girl friend issues, studies, SAT’s, Essays and now here we are.

It’s time for the kid to leave. I’ve already sent off the first one. It was heart breaking enough. We know in our hearts that this is their step into the real world. They might never come back home. Their rooms will remain empty for months on end and one day we shall hear that they might not occupy that room again. We don’t know, we think, but it’s a damn close possibility.

But whatever the future holds, what ever their lives lead them to do, we parents have years of spit, poop, pee, gurgles, laughter, love and hugs to hold us together for the rest of our lives.

 

 

Thanks!

laughterbubbles The people around us!

The Blog feed is going to get very erratic for a while. The second and last kid is leaving for college. It’s a time of great pride and utter panic. I lie back most days and think of things which might never come to past, and that’s the time my friend’s voice echoes loudly in my head. She has taught me to look at things positively. I am normally not a morbid person, but sometimes my mind can evoke ghosts and all that is toxic.

I have many people to thank in my life, for no one achieves anything in isolation. So here is my outpouring of thanks to the many people who have taught me various lessons in life.

One traditionally begins with their parents, but I will not. I have to start with my two sets of grandparents.

I saw my paternal grand father for all of one and half years of my life. He passed away too early. But I remember him. Dad says the last few years he lived for me. And when one is told that someone lived only for you, one toes the line when going off track. Grand-mom, is the soul of generosity. Unconditionally, she has bought up various children of various distant cousins and all were treated like her only child – my Dad. No one has a count of how many people she has got home and taken care of through myriad diseases and illnesses.

The maternal grand father invoked a love for books, which I passed on to my daughter. Grand mom was something else. On her, I want to write a book. She has taken care of me through out my life. She is no more, but I owe my first thanks to her for all that is nice in my life.

Dad was a maverick parent. He taught me to iron, make the bed, plait my hair, and other stuff which Dad’s don’t teach. I’ve seen Dad be pleasant to the most disgusting of people. I’m volatile and could never understand it. But now that I have kids of my own, I get the point. Whatever discipline I have in life, is because of him.

Mom always said that “What ever you do, do it to the best of your ability”. I’ve passed that one on to the kids as well. Love for music, creative bent of mind, wild adventurous nature – all Mom’s gift to me.

My aunt. She was there for me when I was at my rebellious best. When no one made sense, she got into my head and sorted me out. My career in cooking and love for creative food comes from her. She was and will be the get- set- go of my life.

My elder sister – my back bone. Never known somebody with a more quick wit. Adore her, for all that she is. She is my “go to” for all sorts of troubled spots I get myself into.

The younger sister, with her unconditional love,is my “always there” pal. I love her immensely. There is no specific reason – I just do.

The husband – he needs a book of his own – written by me. I have lived with him more years than my parents. My support, in all things mad. He keeps me safe and I keep him wild! That’s our pact!

The kids- my life line and my heart and soul. I have to thank them for being born, for being my kids and making my life a huge wide bowl of spice and all that’s nice.

The friend – she knows who she is. She will hide the body of the person I murder, and only after that, slap me for getting into trouble. The universe bought her late into my life. But the universe never makes false entries and exits. I am saner because of her.

My Sister- in – law- That one person who has kept the family tingling with love and acceptance.

The other: sister – in – law. And her two adorable kiddos. How dull life would be without them. Another one, with mad sense of humor. She met with an accident some years back, and I never ever, saw her shed a tear. To be able to smile through such pain… if I know someone like that and not learn from her? Who would be a bigger fool than me?

And because this blog is getting big, I am stopping here. My life has been full of the most wonderful people. Some are still here and some have exited by choice. Many have not been mentioned. I have to thank them all and will do so by and by.

I do believe, very firmly, that one changes everyday. If nothing else you grow a day older.

Things Lulu taught me.

laughterbubbles Dogs , , , ,

Lulu came into our lives when my daughter was 7. Lulu needed a home, and my daughter needed a friend. From that day, to this day, these two have remained bonded in a way I cannot explain. Lulu is no more. But she will always be with us.

I was told that dogs at home, absorb all the negative energies of their human family. Whether this is true or not, I cannot say, but it was heavily vindicated in our household. The kids hardly ever fell ill. There were only two humans who frequented our house that Lulu hated. She would bark, growl and complain incessantly till they left. Later one was found to be a thief. After that if Lulu did not like someone, neither did we!

Lulu left us with deep and profound lessons of love and living.

photo 2

photo 1

1) Sit in the sun. It’s healthy, and a great source of Vitamin D. Let your body tell you whats lacking.

I complained to the vet that Lulu sat in the sun for too long. She told me to let her be. She feels the need for the healing sun and she takes it.

 

 

IMG_0112

2) Stare at open spaces. Dream little dreams. Let your imagination run riot.

 

 

C'mon lil one. You can do it!
C’mon lil one. You can do it!

3) Play with your younger sibling. Years later, when he/ she sees the picture they will love  you more.

 

 

Yeah! It itches just there!
Yeah! It itches just there!

4) Chat with your parents’ friends. You might learn a few things.

 

 

XOXO
XOXO

5) Kiss your kids!

 

 

Come here! Let me hug you!
Come here! Let me hug you!

Love you girl!

Love you girl!

6) Cuddle with your loved ones! It leaves you with a warm squishy feeling.  – Hugs!! Dont forget hugs!

 

 

Curl up and sleep.
Curl up and sleep.

6) Take a nap when you want to.

 

 

Sit with your friends and chat!
Sit with your friends and chat!

7) Sit with your siblings and friends. Pose. Take pictures. Make the most of the time with your friends.

 

 

I just dont like this!!!!!
I just dont like this!!!!!

8)Complain – make your disapproval known. You never know, one day you might save a life.

 

 

May god always have great stores of rats and cats for you to chase!
May god always have great stores of rats and cats for you to chase!

9) Be who you are. You will leave behind loving memories. No one will ever forget you.

 

 

 

 

 

We went to school too!

laughterbubbles Travel - Cities and Towns

My daughter is already in college. This year the son spreads his wings too. And come September we have an empty nest, empty rooms and two desolate dogs. These dogs already have my love, but now they are going to be the sole recipients of crushing hugs, spur of the moment outbursts of violent cuddling. That’s how I intend to make up for the two missing kids, who kissed them on the mouth and let them sleep with them, even if they had rolled in poo. And I don’t think my kind of love is what the dogs are looking for. Most often they see “the look” in my eye and run far away.

Both the kids have done IB. (International Baccalaureate). It’s a fearsome, two-year program. I tried with my daughter, really did, to understand the way they study, the way their subjects are structured. I gave up, within 2 minutes. Physics paper 1 and paper 2. Paper 2 is alternate to lab. (How can you alternate to lab?) English did not have any textbooks. Why? Because it wasn’t literature. It was not even grammar. “What is it then I asked?” She said “Mom, I am buried here in a mess. I have a 500-word essay to submit, another mid term due and 3 assignments to complete. I cannot explain this ++++ to you!” I backed off hurriedly, and after that I would enter her room with extreme trepidation. There would be assorted files all over the place, with scary looking scribbled papers poking out. Each paper had the value of 2 years of hard work.

I really felt bad for them kids. We had it so much easier in life.

 

My batchmates. We did not need FB to stay in touch.
My batchmates. We did not need FB to stay in touch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had 49 students in our class, not 15. We had more friends.

Our classes were called standards, not grades.

We had one class, not multiple divisions.

The teachers’ knew us. They did not have to hold up our I cards to see our names.

We HAD no I cards. Our faces were our identity.

Gurkhaji knew each child’s going-home schedule. Fernandes bus child, BEST child, Mommy pick up child etc. Unknown security guards did not monitor our entrances and exits.

We had school from 10 am to 4 pm. Not unearthly hours of 7 am to 4 pm.

We had throw ball and athletics. No fancy tennis and basketball courts for us.

We had one PT teacher. PT stood for Physical Training. We did not have a fancy team of PE teachers. It was never Physical Education for us. It was just plain fun in the sun.

We were known by our names. Even to the office staff.

The teachers knew the records of our pranks and academic falls and rises. They did not have to look us up in fancy filing systems.

Our teachers when we were in school.
Our teachers when we were in school.

The teacher, who taught me in KG class, had also taught my 10 years older sister in KG class, and my 10 years younger sister in the same class. They did not change every “Semester”.

Most of them are still teaching in our school.
Most of them are still teaching in our school.

We had terms and not Semesters.

We got a holiday in pouring rain. We did not have to rush to school to show our sincerity.

We played honest to goodness interschool sports, in semi playable grounds. Fancy in-house tournaments were never organized for us.

We were hit at least once by our teachers, and our parents applauded it, instead of marching into school with cavalry and names of politicians.

Our parents could never enter school for the heck of it. Corridor walking parents were not allowed.

We beat each other up and took care of our problems. Parents never heard of our issues.

We did not have fancy canteens, catered by fancy restaurants. Infact we did not have a canteen.

We had a huge garden to play in. Not a rugged concrete passage.

We had ranks and marks and percentages. We did not have grades and percentiles.

We had 2 tests, mid term Exams and 1 final exam, which determined the status of our promotion to the next class. We did not have TOK, EE, IOC, IA, II, WL, PP, CAS, and other combinations of vowels and consonants.

You see, we went to school too.

 

Snoring!

laughterbubbles ROFL , , ,
Anything for this kind of peaceful sleep!
Anything for this kind of peaceful sleep!

A while ago, someone questioningly pointed at the husband’s dark circle, and in answer he scowled and pointed at me. It was a very deep and profound statement, delivered with out a single word being said.

He has been having sleepless nights –  Because I snore. Loudly.

I remember a weekend out with my grand mom and grand dad. I must have been thirteen years old. Just before we were retiring to bed, grand dad called me out and took me in a corner, and whispered conspiringly, “ If you feel you are hearing a steam engine at night, don’t get scared. It will only be your grand mom snoring.” I remember snorting with laughter, till I fell asleep.

It’s that same sound that jolted me out of bed one night. It was a fearsome growl mixed with deep sonorous snores. Nothing soft and gentle about it.

The first time I heard myself, I woke up and jumped out of bed, with my eyes still squelched shut. I was looking around for an intruder, my mind running all the moves of kick boxing, that I had ever learnt. The husband, who was obviously awake, said “Come back to bed. There is no one else in this room. No one will dare enter. You were snoring and sounding like a wounded lion.” And he went back to sleep, before I could start snoring again. I was wounded too and really worried, because I was getting these terrible bad vibes of being thrown out of the room. Which was okay by me, except the bed in the other room was not very comfortable.

Snoring is not the only thing I inherited from my grand mom. I inherited her dark circles too. Most days my eyes look like I have been socked a good one. My nights go something like this – “ I am snoring? Oh! Good Lord! That’s for oldies. I am not that old. Oh! Boy! I better loose some weight before I turn 40. It will be really difficult to after wards. No wonder those jeans don’t fit me. Should I buy new ones till I loose weight, or hang on to these. Hang? Hell! I forgot to hang the kid’s uniform in his room. He’s going to charge around. ……. “. And so on and so forth. The mind is running all over the place when awake and making the oddest dreams when asleep. So – of course I have dark circles!

Something had to be done about the snoring, My friend swore, that her husband’s snoring almost disappeared after he started doing yoga. So I started too. Except the teacher loved to talk. Incessantly. And all about how great he has become after he started yoga. It took all my newly found yogic calm, to not assume kick boxing positions, in lieu of yogic positions.

I have learnt what I need for my snoring. It has definately helped. Now I’m trying to get hold of my dog Oreo. He sounds like my co-wounded lion, when he sleeps. And he sleeps practically the whole day and chases rats the full night. I’m trying to teach him yoga. The bugger keeps running away. And just as well, because he looks at me judgementaly, like I have lost some of the brains on the floor, while doing the inverse yoga moves.

Dead to the world, snoring Oreo.
Dead to the world, snoring Oreo.