A jealous mother and some conspiracies.

In the one (almost) decade I’ve known you as a partner, and over the last four years, as a father, there’s much I’ve learnt of you. Some facts were interesting, some fun, some horrifying and quite a few bits of it were confounding things. But lets strictly talk about you being a dad.

So, from the time when you didn’t quite know what ‘positive’ in a pregnancy test really meant, to filling forms to admit your 4 year old in a public school, your progress has been good. This is not me rating you. Its your pink marshmallow. She  will vouch for anything that has ‘papa’ in it. Actually, only she will. I’ll tell you why.

I still hate you for holding her the first time, before I could. (I should have sued the hospital, man. Chcha.). It was then, that a bond was made. A special one, which I haven’t figured yet. Something that makes her run to you, even if its me who bakes her the best cakes and buys her ALL the pinkness she demands. Its got something to do with you holding her first. I know and am convinced, it was a big conspiracy theory. And it all began there.

Because you worked late nights and passed gladly as a nocturnal being, ergo, had almost the entire night  to play with her in her early years. She being a night child herself, obviously liked being in your arms in those twilight hours, watching you, fascinated, as you effortlessly balanced her in the folds of your left arm and attended con-calls with your right. So there, you had an advantage of a night job. (That’s when you and her, I suppose, made little pacts, eh?)

Even when she was unwell. Severely sick. She preferred you. Why? You held her firm while they poked those nasty needles into MY poor baby. I couldn’t bear to do it. But she mistook my maternal fears and instead, looked at you as her papa in shining armour, while you coochie-cooed into her ears and distracted her when she was poked. You cast your spell there too. Very clever.

Then, you take the most unfair advantage of being the taller one of us. Why, she likes being perched on your shoulders more than she does on mine. The view is better from yours, but obviously. How unjust. Really. She puts her face on your head and also gives you a little head massage. Just not done.

The beach. I like photographing you both - to ensure she has memories for later. So you pounce on this opportunity and dash with her into the waters? While she looks into your eyes, hands clasped tight, like you were God or something. What's the big deal about getting into the water, anyway? And you will never hold my camera while I take her in, won’t you? More conspiracy.

The puzzles you solve together are done, ALWAYS when I am cooking dinner. Easy way to keep me out. Easy way to tell her, see dad is so much fun. If this is not treason, what is?

The trampoline. It cannot take my weight. And I admit, I’m a wee scared of it. Does that mean you both jump on it all Sunday morn and mock me? Besides, I know you jump less and sleep more on it.

Oh well, dinner time takes the conspiracy cake. When you feed her, she likes it better. Of course she does, and will. Why wouldn’t she, when you help her eat faster, by eating little spoons from her plate, yourself? And both of you suppress giggles when I come to check on you both. You think I haven’t noticed it? Such wrong means to make her yours.

She thinks big of you, just because you can ice-skate? And I cannot? And you do all sorts of things to annoy me. Slouched on the couch, both of you, watching meaningless animation, for hours. I know, that’s another way of gaining brownie points, no?

The worst, perhaps is bed-time. Your stories. I won’t allow them. I’m telling you. Should you tell her The Ali Baba story as many times as she demands? And must you read her 10 stories always? That sets a bench mark, no? So, there. I’m so convinced of a plot. Of a big nasty understanding between you both, that began right from the moment she was taken out of ME.

Oh there’s more. I have a slip disc, hence I cannot try that Super-Girl thingy you do with her- taking her high her in your hands and swooshing her mid-air while she goes yipppiieeee I’m the Super Girl! But how would she know the meaning of ‘Slip disc’? I can’t blame her. And, last but so not the least, what can I do if I like to shop and you both don’t?

However, today, being Father’s Day and all, I’ll let you hog some limelight. Since she thinks of you in a rather big way, and would take away my brownie points if I don’t wish you a happy one.  Hope you and your four year old have a good time.  And I hope to God almighty, you stop playing conniving games with me. There will come a day, when she will realise.

But for now, just for now, we’ll settle with (just for her) :

My Papa Bestest.

Happy Father’s Day. Whatever.

(My entry to  BlogAdda’s Father’s Day competition)

(Dad’s Pringoo gift.)

My First Crush

First crushes are meant to be special. The kind that make you blush even after 30 years of the said cra(u)sh. Some talk of it with a sparkle in their eyes. Some die laughing, talking about it. Some brood, like forlorn Devdas-es, over it. Why, some even marry their crushes.

Mine was a tad different. I was on a ‘lookout’ for a crush. At the time when one’s ‘crush hormone’ is predominant, umm at about 12-13 years (?), I just couldn't make do with Pete Sampras, Charlie Chaplin (!) or Rambo, all three who adorned my wall. Even When Aamir’s QSQT released and all the girls around me were swooning, my crush-hormone refused to surface. I was in no mood for poster boys, film stars (though exactly at this moment, I’m very very weak-kneed for Shah Rukh Khan. I really could die for him, you know). I wanted the real thing. Even if it could just have been our neighbour’s son, who was kinda ok looking, besides the fact that he smiled at me, often, without reason. But I didn't budge.

You see, I wanted my first crush to be as real and special as possible. So I waited. Waited patiently while women around me walked about with picture postcards of Tom Cruise, Pierce Brosnan, Sanjay Dutt and of their first crush-and then steady boyfriend from their apartment complex/colony. And then, like Om Prakash Makhija in Om Shanti Om says that kickass dialogue which translates to- ‘the universe conspires to make your deepest desires come true’, I visited Bangalore the very first time in my life, with a friend. While she went her way, I was left to spend the day with a friend I knew for many years. We went to a pub. For the very first time. Then for a movie. And then walked aimlessly on MG road. It was then, out of the blue, he bought a stuffed toy (a dog), from a roadside vendor and gave it to me. (Come to think of it now, the toy was hideous, and anything but cute.)

What happened after that was what tripped me. He took me for a ride on his motor cycle. That did it. I saw the moon, stars and the sky like a digitally mastered painting. I knew I was sitting behind my very first crush. BUT. That guy. He didn’t have even an ounce of oh-my-whatte-sweet girl-like expression on his face. He was his usual 'good friend' self and out of the blue asked me who this other friend was who I had come with.  Apparently she was 'striking' and to my horror when he finally met her briefly the next day, he shamelessly flirted with her. All this while, not one glance at me, ok. Not ONE. Instead, before leaving he gives me with very 'brotherly' hug and gives me some even more 'brotherly' advice. Sheesh. I wanted the earth to split.

That day on the bus back to Hyderabad, I was crying like Meena Kumari, whose love was not just going to be lost forever, but an even worse fate would meet it. Her so called  love would remain a secret- an untold, un-felt one sided, sidey love story.  I decided to blame it all on that furry –not –one –bit- cute- anymore- dog.

Years later when ma washed that stuffed toy (Her OCD Highness), I told her about it and laughed until tears rolled down my eyes. Many more years later, after I got married, I met him again. In a Pub. And told him.
That time, we both laughed till our sides ached and the table next to ours decided to move to a table far away from ours.
This post is my entry to Blog Adda’s My first Crush Contest.

The suicide

The good part about being here is,
one can get away with a lot,
almost everything.

Controversies, slander, extra-marital affairs.
But what you don't realise is,
there are people here too,
and they are as real,
as the ones you meet on the road,
in the supermarkets.

All lurking around.
Waiting for the next juicy tid-bit.

You know, I've realised,
its worse than the real thing.
Too many people, too much invasion.

Sure, I invited them over,
indulged them, shared too much.
Now, its getting a little out of hand.

Emotions are running high,
jealousies abound,
excessive familiarity,
as much contempt.

So, how does one get away from here?

Shall I do, what in reality would hurt too much?
It would be legal too.
Let me kill myself,
That’s the best way to get away, from this.

ACCOUNT. DELETE. FOREVER.
Just a couple of clicks and gone.
How easy is that?

So, I have solemnly decided to commit suicide.
Virtual suicide.
And this is my last note.

Everything, everything is possible virtually.
Even death.

(Note to readers: ok, so i will be dead soon. And you can find me only in the other side of this world- the real world. Not here, the virtual side, where everyone  likes to inhabit in. And yes, I’m only joking. I just liked the word-virtual suicide. :D :D You really thought, i can do it? Virtual or real, i love living far too much to die. And love all you lurkers for making my boring life so much fun :D)

Happy 33rd, hero.

To the only bearable-bong man I know-

I see there is no point in being general and vague. No point in wishing you ‘a very Happy Birthday and hope you have a great year ahead’ type of ambiguous wish. For what ‘great’ really means, only the person wishing knows.

Since, I have the legal right to be and sound like your better half, I have half a dozen clear-cut wishes for you. Wishes that, I have realised in 6 (soon to be 7) years of marriage, bring utmost joy to your being.

1. Here’s wishing you get to eat cart loads of Kosha Mangsho and Luchi .

2. Here’s hoping the emails on your Blackberry never cease to decline in numbers. I know the joy your heart feels each time it goes buzz with a new email alert.

3. Here’s hoping Sydney remains extremely cold over weekends, just so you don’t have to head to the bath.

4.Here’s hoping that there is soon a dedicated channel that shows repeats of House MD, all day long.

5. Here’s hoping your injured shoulder heals soon. Just so you can then say- it has healed after so long, I don’t think I should risk injuring it again by going for tennis/exercising.

6. Here’s hoping you win that one million lotto you’ve been thinking of for so long now. ( But am really hoping you stick to the plan of letting me have 1/2 the share.)

And besides these, here’s hoping you, my dearest, that there are endless evenings, great movies, beautiful holidays, 24X7 mish-mash entertainment, more wine, more family time, more everything and  kickass health.

For you, my hero, deserve the best and nothing less.

Happy Birthday.

A pile of whatever

So, what I wrote in the previous post was sheer hypocrisy. You just saw the other side of the Gemini me. I have no business crying foul over those Dolphins, when I have no qualms chewing on a chicken leg. I should just shut up.

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Mishmash is very unwell. As I type she is kissing my left palm silly. She says she loves me more when she is sick. I’m heartbroken and lost for words.

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June is supposed to be ‘our’ best month. The happiest one, full of excitement. So far it doesn’t feel quite that way.

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R let Mish watch House- MD a few times. When she was delirious in high fever in the middle of the night she goes- ‘My brain is stuck. There is too much blood. I’m that’s why allergic to my brain. And So I cannot pee.’

NEVER NEVER take the effect of television on children’s minds as a joke. Everything is getting registered in the heads, their subconscious. Don’t ever underestimate what their heads can and cannot process.

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Last night’s dream was better. Mish saw me and her dad. I was mermaid, he was the prince. I rescue and marry him. She wasn’t present at the wedding because she was busy driving a spaceship which has fire in its behind, left-right-left-right.

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The Cove.

When was the last time you really saw a hard hitting film/documentary? I still cannot find an appropriate emotion to describe what I just saw in 92 minutes of unbelievable footage on Dolphin/whale/Cetacean slaughter and trade in Japan, in this astounding documentary called,  ‘The Cove’. 

The Cove is not just another ‘animal rights’ documentary with compelling footage of gore and cruelty . And it goes beyond just gaining awards (its picked up quite a few, including an Academy and audience choice in Sundance). The Cove is a thriller of sorts. Just that this thriller, gives you no cheap thrills- just a big lump in the throat, by the time you finish watching it. And this lump, strangely remains.

Aren’t Japanese and Chinese followers of Buddhism (most followed religion) ? And aren’t Buddhists the most peace-loving and non-violent people? I know I say this at the risk of sounding absolutely illogical and incongruous, for we are humans first. And I forget, we humans are the most abusive and ungracious lot of all species. We are the most evolved, ergo the most powerful, ergo think we are greater than nature. We have the right to kill, slaughter, wreck , destroy.

What kind of people buy stuffed dolphins (guilty), pay big amounts to watch them entertain us  (guilty) and then, pick up packaged meat of the same dolphins from super markets?

And what kind of government tries to cover up and promote a trade like this? I was confounded when I learnt, the Mayor of the town of Taiji (a whaling town in Japan, where a large source of income for most comes from commercial hunting of Dolphins)  had proposed to introduce dolphin meat in all public school lunches. I don;t know what horrified me more- the high levels of toxic mercury Dolphins have in them that will be fed as a compulsory school lunch item or by the mere fact that these kids will be fed Dolphins.

The scene at the end where very high end hidden cameras show a beautiful blue ocean go crimson red while the hunters continue to hit, push and kill these so, so intelligent and loving creatures, nonchalantly will remain in my head for a very long time.

Sure, there are a million other issues, and saving Dolphins might not be your top most thing to do for your environment – but knowledge enlightens. This film will make you more sensitive, cautious and loving towards everything around you. And, Love is ALL we really need.

A must watch. For details on the director and cast go here.