A little on melancholy, on a friday

I am feeling strangely melancholic. Despite today being a Friday. The day began with reading about MJ. I wanted to perk up, so made myself a hot mug of soup and went down to the park. I even pinged Scribbler telling her the sun was flooding in the park and was shouting out to me to come out. I went with the book, the only source of supreme pleasure, to me, at this point in time. But more on that book a little later. Let’s deal with this melancholy, first. Its not like me to feel this way on the fifth day of the week. Needless to say, it is horrifying me- I am slowly becoming of one of those wives, husbands dread coming home to. I think R would much rather make train trips all day long to escape my all day direct telecast of exaggerated and daramabaaz outbursts. Which makes me think- does he miss getting off the station deliberately or does he really lose track of time while playing Sudoku on his wretched Blackberry? He missed getting off our suburb station thrice, now. Three times can’t be because of Sudoku. Your wife and children should ideally excite you more than numbers, after all?

I digressed and how. Wasn’t I talking about the sun flooding in the park? So I went and barely had I finished my mug of pumpkin soup (I have a rare taste), the sun decided to give me the slip. Or maybe he wanted to play hide and seek? And I don’t like clouds- not the Sydney ones. I like white clouds- not grey ones, always threatening you, and making you scurry under trees , lest you get drenched. Much to the cloud’s delight, I did scurry home and was wondering why this happens- why one doesn’t  get enough of what one wants? Sunlight, for starts. Am sure this has an answer which doesn’t sound as philosophical as the question does. Maybe, I should pursue it today. That should make my day feel less forlorn.

Duck it. I much rather curl under my sheets with the heater warming my feet and let ‘The Gruensey Literary and Potato Peel Society’, amuse me. What a delightful book. Haven’t read one like this in the longest time.

 

(PS: I can’t for my life of it understand why I pinged R these words:

me:  ..why are men- black or white. why dont u like shades of grey?
why don’t u appreciate poetry, or melancholic women…much rather understand them
I wish there were some Wordsworth type of fellas left..I'd have gladly eloped with one of those kinds)

 

He is sure to miss getting off the train today.

RIP , MJ

No matter how dire a life someone led, no matter how illicit, no matter how outrageous, no matter how revolting his deeds, no matter how beautiful, or how ugly – when someone is no more, always pray for his soul. Always. When someone goes, remember the good things. Remember them for what they leave behind. So when MJ is no more, pray he is indeed in a better place.  Thank you MJ, for making my growing up years so memorable- I’d never have tried dancing in front of the mirror to ‘I’m Bad’, had it not been for you.

R.I.P, MJ.

 

And for those who are posting guile messages about MJ, isn’t it rather pointless?

I am a cool parent. Hmmmmmmm.

When I was on the threshold of marriage, I had many opinions, like young, rebellious, educated women of 25 did. Now, when I think of some of them, I cringe. Even, when all alone, I look for a blanket to hide my face. Some other opinions, I still hold forth, vehemently. In a few years these so called vehemently held views will be a cause for much embarrassment, I know. But till then, let me pass of as the fire brand woman, an appellation I so love. Of the many points of view that I held, my stance on parenting was perhaps the most lucid and thought through. These views were based on my own experiences as a child and more importantly on how some of my friends were brought up. As you might rightly suspect, my observations of my parents brought forth views of – what parents shouldn’t do, and ideas I picked from my friend’s parents- things that parents must do. Of course, like a zillion others out there, I always about thought my parents are so wrong, and my friend’s, neighbor's, cousin’s, so cool.

One of the parenting guidelines I believed in – I will not break my head over what happens in school with my kid, especially, homework, exams, and all that twaddle we ‘faced’ as kids. My husband was a step ahead of me- he announced proudly to guests at home one day- my child will not be forced to study. Ahem. All this when Mish Mash was 6 months old. Mish Mash is 3 today and goes to pre school. We were glad she was going and learning stuff. As a few weeks pass, we hear from parents in India, whose kids are about Meeshu’s age or older. They ask- so has she begun writing? Are you teaching her the Hindi Script? You guys will have it hard when u come back. Its different here, in India.

Mish Mash’s dad, who had once said lofty things about what his kid will do, and won’t, is faltering and panicking. Mish mash’s fire brand mother with cool parenting solutions, biting her nails in apprehension- when will Mish Mash learn to write her alphabets? Her peers are doing it already in India- its great that she knows her shapes and colours, but what happens when she goes back and can’t cope with writing- Gaye Doodh deti hai or Gaaye humari mata hai, in Devnagri script?

So then, a pink writing board is bought home. Another piece of plastic, that crowds the little brat’s room. The father and daughter sit every evening with ‘alphabets’. While the dad goes about writing on the black board, as if it was his childhood dream to own one, Mish Mash is busy sketching gibberish  the other side, on the white board.

And I haven’t stopped panicking. Next Monday, she needs to do a ‘Show and tell’ at her school. Her dad wants her to show a plastic pink strawberry cake. I couldn't be bothered with what she showed- I have to prepare her for the elocution. Well, not elocution exactly, but well, she does need to say something better than just say- mummy doesn’t give me cake.

The feeling in my stomach is similar to that of what I felt before entering a stage to say that long speech, which dad had written down for m, for the competition. I gotta  get her to tell those lines right.

Bloody stressful, I say. And yes, so much for those lucid and well thought through parenting guidelines.

A 31 gun salute, dude :D

Even Mamata didi coming to power did not shock me as much. Shiney and his Hazaron Khwaishein kaisi kaisi, wasn’t hugely shocking either. Pakistan winning T20 was, anything but shocking (I think our neighbors really deserved a break from all the abysmal things happening there). BUT, when Raj dawned the event manager’s cap and actually made an effort to put together a flawless surprise party- my first ever in 31 years, I had my eyes, lungs, guts out in shocked disbelief. And it was so well thought and replete with paper cups, plates, forks, spoons, wine-shine, beer-sheer, biriyani-shiriyaani, cake-shake, gifts-shifts, that I have been in awe of this man I had so underestimated in these many years, since yesterday. Why, take a bow Jr Sadhukhan, you are quite the dude!

I apparently gave R and Ann some very anxious moments. Especially when I told them, I didn’t want to go out, but sit all day in my hideous woolen pants(something I picked up from a cheap chinese shop) . So they said they were taking me to  a ‘fine dining restaurant’, and woolen pants and jumpers would make me look like a buffoon. Am I glad or what to have changed into my ‘Happy Birthday’ clothes…coz had I insisted and remained in those pants, I’d never have forgiven R for this surprise party, one bit. No really, you got to see me in those woolen pants- they are something :D.

So, not all is lost at 31. In fact it seems all the more promising. Though R insists that I wear more elegant and graceful clothes and accessories now on…somehow he still cant cast a glance at the red shoes I bought for the big day. But methinks I have just begun, and red shoes only mark the onset of my splendid journey into the thirties (now that I am officially, fully, really, on the other side of the fence). I have more purple and oranges to buy, and am not going to give a try to graceful dressing, yet.

Yesterday after everybody left, rooms cleaned up , garbage thrown down, fb/orkut wishes replied to, emails answered to, surprise telephonic calls done with, skype conversations finished, gift wrappers torn open,  I realized the sheer number of people I am surrounded with, virtually, in thoughts, physically, and in their hearts. I don’t think I ever gave  this a thought before- I am so lucky to have oh so many loving people in my life! And when such positive, warm wishes come your way in abundance,  you really feel it. Its like mass prayers offered- they always help.

Ok , at 31 I needn’t get mawkish.

Love to all.

 

Oh, BTW, have you tried just typing www.butkintuparantu.com on your browser? Try it. :D

I like

Scribbler’s tag comes bang on time. A time, when I have been single mindedly digging on things I don’t like, cursing, cribbing, sulking and more on those lines. So, drawing up my laundry list on things I like seems like just what the shrink prescribed.

My – I likes:

1. I like it when I have a cuppa cha in my hands. The whole world seems a better place to live.
2. I like it better when someone makes the cuppa for me.
3. I like it best when it comes in a pot. (I must stop with the cha fixation)
4. I like to hear the click of the door knob, when Raj walks in at the end of my rather wasted day.
5. I like it when friends give surprise visits. Actually I like surprises of any kind. Mostly of the pleasant variety.
6. I like the warmth of my electric heater.
7. I like Bollywood. Anything and everything related to our Hindi fillum industry. SRK too…goes without saying.
8. I like the smell of detergent and fabric conditioner on my bed linen.
9. I like cooking an insane amount of food. Especially entrées for a party.
10. I like day dreaming about summer holidays spent in my village, Kanachchanda.
11. I like the feeling of scalding hot water on my skin in Sydney winters.
12. I like soaking in a hot tub with Srikanto singing in the background, and a nice little book in my hand. A beer by the side, makes the picture, perfect.
13. I like  conversations, laughter, mindless banter, with happy people.
14. I like cozying up on my sofa with white wine, a subtitled French film and Raj by me. The Pizza man should ideally be on his way with barbequed chicken pizza, garlic bread with cheese and jalapeños.
15. I like the joy I feel on discovering crumpled notes in my jeans pocket. Especially 100 buck ones.
16. I like chillies. Crisp, green, fresh chillies. when added in big numbers to my biriyani and curries, makes the dinner most gratifying.
17. I like arm chair travelling. It generally involves travelling to an exotic island with masseurs waiting at the airport to take you straight to the spa.
18. I like going through old emails from special some ones and laughing my backside off, at the endearments we called each other, at different point of our lives.
19. I like my ISD calls to ma.
20. I like listening to certain songs and thinking of memories associated with it.
21. I like it when Meeshu says- Tumi amaake aar love korona. (you don’t love me anymore). Mostly, when she wants a round of fussing and kissing.
22. I like watching couples hug. I always brings a happy tear to my eyes.
23. I like getting into my fitness gear, and taking those extremely rare walks by the bay.
24. I like the aroma of food in the evenings.
25. I like turning home into a pan patti, by playing songs from the 80’s and 90’s. Yesterday, there was an overdose of - ‘chehra kya dekhte ho, Dil mein utar kar dekho na’ and ‘chura ke dil mera goriya chali’. No wonder, Raj realized its not a good idea to work from home.
26. I like seeing comments awaiting moderation in my inbox.
27. I like sun, sand, deck chairs, beer and the food that comes with it, but only in Goa.
28. I like my weighing scale when it shows even a 100 gms less. Its an incredible feeling.

 

I can go on the entire day, and its surprising there are so many things I like and yet passionately think of things I hate.

Go on, make your own list and gloat.

June

I can’t say it is my favourite month. It ideally should be, what with all the birthdays and anniversaries of my favourite people falling in this month. Its more festive than the alluring months of Sept-Dec. It begins with my parent’s anniversary, followed by a cousin, nephew, and my only husband’s birthdays, which fortunately or unfortunately fall on the same day. Then comes our engagement anniversary (how many of you even remember this day of your life?) and then, my very own birthday, which I can really do without from this year on, you know.

Needless to say we save just about nothing, in this much dreaded month. But then again, its a different story altogether that we don’t save all that much in other months either.  Its funny that I should dread it – on one hand I worry about what best to buy my man, who is increasingly getting more and more fastidious about things around him. And on the other hand I worry about saving. Talking about my man, its strange how much he has changed. Suddenly gadgets don’t interest him, books are boring, clothes aren’t all that special a gift and a 6 course hearty, exotic meal, is a regular affair at home anyway. This is what happens to couples, who are in way too much love, I reckon. or may be its a sign of old age ;) .I mentioned a spa holiday to see his reaction, only to hear- Spa with Meeshu? You must be dreaming.

Yesterday, we saw ‘The Bucket List’ together and while watching, he made a casual comment about how we must all have our private times and holidays, alone. On Facebook, my virtual agony aunt, I asked my friends to suggest ways to please my finicky man on his birthday. The answers that were generated can  practically be converted into a book which should be titled - how to keep off your husband’s hair and make his birthday perfect.

I’ve got my hints.  This year, lemme settle for a ton of love and a few flying kisses and perhaps, let him just be.

Birthday wishes in advance, my dearest.

 

(On a connected note, I think you must get back to your scotch you know, its a tad weird the way you sit with lemon, Lime and bitters on a Saturday evening. That’s what’s wrong may be).

My two pence on curry bashing

Friends and relatives from all quarters have been enquiring about our well being, owing to the recent attacks in Ozzie land. Loads of exasperated status messages, headlines all over OZ and Indian media, bloggers at their emotional best, frantic tweets over the cyber space, and my personal encounters with racism in Sydney, has got me thinking.

I was at our local mall looking at hair pins and clips. I saw a white woman try on one of the hair products, so I thought it was ok to try on. I was about to do it and that’s when a woman standing near by came rushing saying- ‘you are not allowed to try it on---its for health reasons, not because you are a …you know’ (this was 6 months back). I was so dumbstruck that I simply bought the hair pin and walked away with tears welled up. It was a stupid thing to do- why did I walk away?  I should have taken the issue head on. I didn't have to be rude or create a scene, but I certainly should have solicited an apology. These instances are very common here. I have faced similar accounts at other places too. Racist behaviour is rampant in Australia, just that it is understated and restrained. And more than that, it goes unreported. The issue is burning now because it took a violent, nasty  turn, else it would have remained obscure for more years to come.

The most irking thing about the whole issue is how some of us are quick to point a finger and say, things are equally bad back home in India, with the MNS and so on. But that’s not the point at all. There is racism everywhere- we are all racists in some way or the other. Tell me, didn’t you ever mock at your south Indian neighbor's curd rice habits? And don’t tell me you never almost spat at the  Hindi speaking guy in Tamil Nadu. You might also have been the one to have rejected an  otherwise nice alliance that came your way, because she/he was ‘dark’. But just because we have prejudices ourselves doesn't  justify a boy getting stabbed with a screwdriver. And just because we have issues to tackle ourselves back home, we should shut up and not vice our antipathy for what’s happening here??  Joe Pinto  articulates it just right, he says- please resist racism of any kind.

Please for goodness’ sake stop saying India is equally bad, so we have no right to preach what's happening Down Under. It sounds stupid and ignorant. We were equally ashamed and enraged at what happened when the MNS beat up Biharis and non Maharashtrians, and the media gave it equal amount of importance, as it is giving to the issue here. In fact the media is right in going over board reporting the cases from oz – if we as a nation don’t show that we care for our fellow citizens abroad, who will?

Over the years Australia has seen a huge leap in Indian student enrolment in universities and most of the students opt for  Permanent Residency. One of the many factors for students coming to Australia for further studies, apart from competitive fee structures in comparison to US/UK universities (which is a very big deal in these times – think of the ROI), was safety.  The ‘Australian Way’, as the locals often quote, referring to their laid back, friendly, chilled out attitude, was what attracted people a great deal. but may be all that is changing after all. Too bad. Too bad for the government, too bad for the country’s economy.

I certainly don’t understand local rights – local rights to jobs? Indians are equally jobless here, in the downturn. And if they think Indians have been taking away jobs that are rightfully theirs I’d like to contest here- why were Indians given those jobs at the first place? With arms wide open the Australian government took in people, in heaps, to help nourish the Australian economy. Do these little minded idiots even realize that their Government has time and again recognized and commended efforts of  Indian diaspora to the Australian economy? Do they even know under their Government's ‘Skilled Migration Program' (06-07) over 15,000 professionals migrated seeking PR? I don’t think the Government needed to do that if the country was self sufficient on the ‘skilled labor’ scale. And if these dimwits have an issue they should take it up with the government, and also may be take university education a little more seriously.

These ill informed obtuse heads are a shame to their own country.  We are here on a short stay- and we still think this is a country with a great attitude- a happy nation. And not all of that will change with these attacks, because Australia is indeed a beautiful country with lovely warm people, but for these ignorant set of hoodwinks. 

We must raise our voices, and get Kevin’s government to do a lot lot more than just verbal assurance and set up police reference groups who make suggestions that are as racist as the ones they are fighting against, sample this – stop speaking in your native language! Now what was that?