Need a tickle

If wishes were horses, mine would gallop to Neverland. I am in desperate need of fantasy-like happiness.  Lately I have been seeing a spate of blog posts that are somber, gloomy, introspective, dark,  contemplative……anything but happy. Daai Rascalas, what is this I say (Quickgun Murugun ishtyle)?  How and why should you be feeling blue when the pink is so in your face? Did you know how many shades of pink exist? I checked on Wiki- there were at least 20 . So then, I need to see some happy feet tapping,  need to hear a few guffaws, need to read some mindless lines. Evil will do too. Happy, evil, wicked, bitchy. Anything but sad and depressing. Its not easy making four meals and day and still being happy- but I am, and the reason behind this was my Sybil-like virtual personality that mingled with free spirited, happy bloggers. Now these happy ones are getting gloomy, the way I sometimes get, too. But there is a famine in the blog sphere or what?  Dai Tracer Bullet, write something funny or else I will turn you into Susie, I say. And similar warnings are going out to all u fellas who are either not writing because you are ‘depressed’ or are writing depressing stuff- you better brace up, because my mood soo depends on what you write!  And I am running out of YouTube searching for funny videos.  I know, what I am essentially asking is for you to be in a better frame of mind, just to make me feel better, coz i am feeling the exact same way. A little selfishness won’t hurt. 

And for those who still can’t seem to bring back their charming smiles, these should help.

 

 

 

 

 

Hope you have that wide grin all day long, dearies!

Bed time stories/conversations. Part 2.

Dad: Ok, which story.

MishMash: Mmmm Princess story, papa.

Dad: OK. Once upon a time there lived a princess..

Mish Mash: No papa. I want Witch story.

Dad: OK. There once lived a witch..

MishMash: Bad Witch, papa.

Dad: OK. There once lived a bad witch. One fine morning, she caught a boy walking and said- abracadabra, turn the boy into a sheep. She wanted to keep the sheep in her cage..

MishMash: No Papa. She says- Abla-ca-dabla- turn the boy into a chocolate.

Dad: then

MishMash: the boy turns into a chocolate. The Witch eats him up. *Bursts into a giggle*. THEEEE END.

Dad: Hmmmm

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MishMash: Nobody loves me. *Sulking  at the other end of the bed*

KG: Why do you say that (head buried behind a book. A desperate attempt to escape the torture of narrating the 6th story that

night.

MishMash: Nobody is telling me a story.

KG: But papa just finished telling you 5 stories. You should go to bed.

MishMash: *almost ready to cry*

KG: Ok last one?

MishMash: OK.

KG: Once upon a there  lived a Good Barbie. She went to school every day. (a desperate attempt to make school sound fun to her)

Mishmash: No ma. No school story. I want Bad Barbie story.

KG: Good Night.

MishMash: Amaake Keo Laab korena (nobody loves me) *breaks into sob*

(papa hugs her, tells her ‘cocodile’ story. 

All the three live happily ever after.

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MishMash: Ma, I want a ‘real baby’. (Holds her blue baby boy doll in hand)

KG: *completely taken by surprise* – what's a ‘Real baby’, Meeshu?

MishMash: Real baby, ma. We’ll change nappies.

KG: Hmmmm. Papa was thinking of a lovely pup or may be a kitten, which one would you like more?

MishMash: Real baby, ma.

KG: Hmmmmm. What do you plan to name the ‘real baby’.

Mish: mmmmm – Go Lego Go and Dola (Go Diego Go and Dora)

KG: 2 names for one real baby?

Mish: Ya mum.

KG: hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

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Maternal musings

I thought of you the other day,

when I retrieved an abandoned sock, a broken toy, and a stainless steel spoon,

from under the television table.

There still lies a forsaken Marie biscuit and a bikini that her Barbie wears.

 

This morning, I found you again, in my mind,

when she carelessly snubbed the home made banana bread,

which I toasted and served with a dollop of butter, for breakfast.

‘I like the mall one’, she announced in a rather lax manner.

 

When she called out to me for the fifth consecutive time today,

for  a refill of chips and for Disney to be changed to Nick Jr,

I thought of you, again.

I think of you often, these days,

because, in her I see myself,

and I marvel at how you

brought up a mule, to be a lady.

Yes, I think of you often, and in awe, Ma.

The ode

Got this over email via Poo. It reminded her of my post  Ode to Paracetamol. :-). I couldn’t agree more.

Thanks, Poo.

For now, I have nothing more. Hopefully words float in my head soon, and my fingers itch to write.

So long, then!

Love in the time of swine flu

That I am reading Marquez, has little to do with this post. But yes, swine flu or Cholera, a pandemic creates a pandemonium of sorts. We’ve been reading about swine flu for  a while now, and like most others hoped it didn’t affect any of us. We joked about it, when people had a normal flu, but deep inside everyone hoped to heaven and hell, that it was not of the swine variety.

It was the weekend before the last, when Ann came over for the last time before she left for India. She was down with a little throat infection, and so was Meeshu. Both were on their way to recovery, and we were planning the weekend, and exchanging frantic notes about what had happened years back in college, (when she was not exactly a friend of mine), laughing at the silly and foolhardy stuff we had done back then, over cups of tea and glasses of wine. I woke up on Sunday morning with a sore throat, fever and a miserable headache. Since all plans had to be scrapped, I decided to read through my fellow blogger’s spaces and found IK’s blog talk of a kid he knew, was affected with Swine flu, in Kolkata. The poor little girl had gone via Melbourne and was quarantined in India. That piece of information was enough to plant a seed of doubt in my head. I Googled, Binged and did every possible internet search about Swine Flu. Came to know that the symptoms are like normal flu, and very infectious. So my thoughts went to Ann- had she caught the flu…did she give it to me? Why are we feeling so sick? Why isn’t Ann still feeling any better- she had been sick for a while… . So this was swine flu after all. Ann and I sat on the couch nervously laughing, and deep inside, petrified. We decided to see the doc the next day.

That night, believe you me, I didn’t sleep a wink. I thought of my loved ones, friends, told my thank yous, I love yous- silently. I clutched Meeshu and even cried a tad bit, thinking of the worst that was to hit the family. I had back up plans, thought how Raj would manage his lunches and dinners when we were quarantined, and even thought of telling Raj, he should think of marrying again, if I died. ‘For Meeshu’s sake’, I wanted to tell him, then thought the better of it. I didn’t want to pass on my nerves on the poor man, who was going through a tough time at work, himself.

Next morning, at our favourite Chinese doctor’s clinic (I know, almost sounds like at our favorite Chinese restaurant), we waited with our faces hung low, fingers fiddling with our phones. I wanted to SMS Ma, saying I loved her. I wanted to tell her all my books were Meeshu’s property. I wanted to SMS my In laws and tell them, they had to find a bride for their son. I wanted to call up dada and tell him, he was the best. I was thinking of which friend to call first and express my (un)dying love. Meanwhile, Ann hysterically kept SMSing,  wanting to know what the doc had said.  Mercifully, the doc called us and asked- so what can I do for you today? With a straight face I told him- I am scared we have the swine flu. One look at Meeshu and he said- no way. I don’t think you have the swine flu. Then he went on to explain the big difference between a normal flu and swine flu. That, both were similar and the latter was way more infectious and that even if we did have Swine flu, we’d not die. The ones who are likely to die are the old who didn’t have any resistance or very young babies. After a little more gyan, and a thorough check up, we left the clinic.

Once out, I wanted to cry. Really. It might seem like a joke to you guys, but this took me through a medley of emotions- some funny and some ominous. I realized what my family and the universe around me meant to me. I realised I had done very little in my life, and that I needed to live more, laugh more. At that note, I instantly SMSed Ann-

Babe, tried reaching you. Come back home right now. Don’t need to explain a thing to your colleagues. Our worst fears have come true,  we have the swine flu, and we need to be quarantined. :( :( . Don’t worry, and call back asap.

I needed a good laugh, you see.

 

(On a serious note, I really pray for those who have been affected by this deadly flu. be careful, fellas)

Anything for a bit of Bangla

Arnab: I really wish he was a bong, you know.

Patrali: Barabari. Don’t you think that’s asking for too much- a bong doctor in Sydney?

Arnab: Precisely. Just the way you said ‘Barabari’ – it describes the situation , in exactly the way you want to convey. One word. And it says it all. If the doc was bong he’d understand my miseries better.

Patrali: English will suffice, for your little aches and pains. Moreover, you are obsessed with medicines. I think its a bong trait.

Arnab: Pat, if our doc was not Chinese, he’d never have sent me for a CT scan. Its just a ‘chien’ that goes up my temples, early in the morning. And it begins with a ‘shurshuri’ in my nose. If our dude was bong, he’d know its just common cold or a bad case of sinusitis. And would have prescribed normal antihistamines or some such. And more importantly I could have just said those two words and conveyed accurately, my symptoms.

Patrali: If you knew the diagnosis, why did you bother going to him? Besides, you are always popping Dispirin and Crocin, down your throat.

Arnab: oho, you won’t understand..have you ever tried having a Dispirin after an afternoon siesta?  Your body becomes- ‘jhorjhore’ …I can’t explain..And I so wanted to tell the doc that after the ‘chien’ up my temples my head has this horrible ‘dhuk dhuk’ like Konark Express. And the Khosh Khosh in my throat- see its not exactly itching - its Khosh Khosh.

Patrali: A headache, Arnab. Why won’t just saying ‘A headache’ explain the situation?

Arnab: Its the satisfaction of talking in Bangla, Pat. There is a shookh in speaking Bangla... I miss it. You feel complete explaining stuff in your mother tongue.

Patrali: You sound like a la MNS member from Maharashtra. Are you planning on leading one in Kolkata when you get back? All non-bongs go back?

Arnab: Trust you to make an extreme situation out of anything.  But seriously Pat, don’t you miss talking to people in Bangla? Aren’t you utterly bored of speaking English at your workplace, park, daycare, doctor, supermarket…?

Patrali: hhhhmmmmmmmmm I could do with some Oriya.

Arnab: Yea..that’s what I am trying to convey…yesterday when my colleague was trying to explain desperately how her 3 year old was throwing a tantrum at the toy store and that he just couldn’t understand the syndrome… I wanted to tell him- ‘dada, its nothing- its ‘bayena’ and every kid gets over it soon. Don’t try to beshi beshi matha ghamao over such things…

Patrali: Is this some sort of a hint?

Arnab: Yah, lets go back.

Patrali: WHAT?! All because you can’t speak to your doc in Bangla??  I need a better reason. Also the Bangladesi shop sells awesome Rui-Katla, better than the Ameerpet market.

Arnab: Hmmmm…*looks forlorn and sad*

Patrali: *makes a face and talks to self* I should have known what i was getting into, in Falaknama express itself.

Arnab: I promise to get you an Oriya cook, if you agree to go back.

Patrali: I want a written apology for what you just said! Tell, me why didn’t you just marry a bong?

Arnab: Will you find me one, at this age?

Patrali: *Grumbles* Buro Boyeshe Bimroti. we leave in 6 months.

Arnab: Pat. This is why, I married you.

Antihistamines

I saw Mickey become Ravana,

the rice in the pressure cooker looked like porridge.

I travelled to India on a Tuk Tuk to meet ma

and brought back a plate of Beema’s Andhra Biriyani for dinner, lest I had to cook.

I fell asleep in the shower,

and visited Moon in New York,

She fed me Bhapa Chingri and asked me to go back to Sydney.

Smiling, I went to Girish Park to meet my mini-me,

met Thakuma but missed Dada,

Ma seemed miserable, Dad was smoking.

Meeshu wanted more rice and more fish,

I apparently gave it, and fell asleep on the couch, a good 20 minutes.

 

(Antihistamine induced sleep sucks…or may be not…I met my 11 year old self, ma, Thakuma, and also had Beema’s Biriyani. Send me sunshine my blogger friends..in desperate need of it.)