Seriously!?

Me: Ri , that is super messy eating. Please clean up the plate.

Ri: Why?

Me: Because kids who eat clean, have their dreams come true

Ri: Ma please that is just an old story you've heard as a kid. You know things don't work that way.

Me : 😱

Erm...!

So I am singing the Bimbo song and Ri is listening to me. For those you who do not know the Bimbo song , here is a bit of it: 

Bimbo, is a little boy
Who's got a million friends
And every time he passes by
They all invite him in
He'll clap his hands
And sing and dance
And talk his baby talk
With a hole in his pants
And his knees stick out
He's just big enough to walk

Bimbo, Bimbo
Where you going to go e oh
Bimbo, Bimbo
What you going to do e oh
Bimbo, Bimbo
Does your mommy know
That your going down the road
To see a little girly oh!

It is a lovely song. You can click on the hyperlink and listen to it too.

So I am singing the song and suddenly Ri stops me.

Ri: So, ma... This boy, Bimbo, he really like girls doesn't he?

Me: Yep he does

Ri: And he does not tell his mother that he is going to meet this girls.

Me: Uh huh...

Ri: So, ma... That is not really a great thing because he should tell his mother where he is going.

Me: That is right...

Ri: So, it is wrong behaviour.

Me: (Not sure where this is going) Yes. He should have told his mother.

Ri: Hmm... And still he has a million friends!

And yet again I am stunned!

It's Enough!

Two posts in a row with pictures of shoes... shows what I am going through!

IT. IS. ENOUGH.

I have procrastinated enough. I have thought enough. I have worried enough. It is time to to just leave aside all inhibitions and go ahead.

I have stressed enough. And then spent hours reading up on stress management self help write-ups. And stressed more and ended up with migraines more often than I would have liked.

And now, I have decided that it is enough. I am not going to go around seeking clarity anymore. I am just going to get clarity myself. Because now I know where it is. Clarity. Somewhere within myself. Sitting quietly in some tiny corner of my mind.

I have spent hours worrying. worrying about things that I have no control on. Worrying about things, that might not happen ever. I have been quite a freak. And now I am not gonna do that. nah. Because, the current love of my life, Eddie Redmayne, as Newt Scamander, said that worrying only makes you suffer twice.

I have been negative. I have absorbed the negativity of others, I have spread negativity. I have cried, I have yelled, I have brooded... But not anymore. I am done with that. I cannot control the negativity around me. But I can get away from it. I can control my own negativity. I know I can.

And I shall come back here and update once I have done that. All of that.

Till then... Bye! Bye!

Don't give up on fishes! They are super!

Vanyllope! The day he came home. Isn't he gorgeous!? 

Last year after we lost Nick, we got a new fish. We got Vanyllope (Named after Ri’s favourite character from Wreck-it-Ralph) on 5^th of December last year. Ri wanted a fish that looked exactly like Nick and Vany did look like him, except for the lovely blue shine that he (yes, Vanyllope is a boy fish) had all over him.

Vany has been a pretty happy fish, blowing bubbles, swimming away. And very soon he won my heart they way Nick had.

Last weekend I noticed him lying at the bottom of his jar. I tapped on the jar; no movement. I moved the jar, no movement again. I noticed that he hadn’t eaten his food either. I thought he died and I was really, really upset. But then I saw him feebly move his fins and swim a bit.

Vany looked different. He had lost all of that beautiful blue shine. He seemed all bloated and his eyes were bulging out.

Have you seen a fish so sad!?

SSM said he wouldn’t live anymore.

Unfortunately we do not have fish doctors around here.

I googled up the symptoms and most of them said that it could either be an infection or the fish was constipated. Well, I couldn’t just sit there and watch Vany die, so I did the sanest thing I could think of. I know, I know, sane and me do not go well together, anyway.

So the first thing was to change the infected water. Then I picked up Vany in a ladle (Poor thing so so unwell that he wasn’t even trying to struggle out of the spoon. I then took some gripe water in a dropper and fed a couple of drops to him. (Non-alcoholic gripe water)

I place him back in the jar with the fresh water and then I added a tiny bit of the powder from a Becosules capsule into the water. Because, well, B-complex = energy. And that is what Vany needed.

That was it. I had tried. Now it was just about waiting and watching. I kept checking on him every few minutes. Nothing. He seemed the same. Ri seemed worried too. He kept saying, that Vany is old and is going to die. He also wrote an entry in his diary about Vany.

Ri's diary entry - 'Vany is not well. She is a grandma now. Vany is old. We had given her gripe water and we had changed the water.' There is a picture of Vany lying on a bed there.

Next morning, first thing, I rushed to check on Vany. He was still down but seemed a little less bloated. Also the water was all hazy. I woke SSM and shouted, “OH MY GOD! Look what’s happening! Vany has been majorly farting hazy stuff!

SSM woke up with a start and screamed back, “WTF! Are you out of your mind”

Well, obviously Vany farting hazy gas was not a big deal for the man.

Anyway, I changed the hazy water again and gave Vany some fresh water. He refused to eat again today. But a few hours later I noticed that he was slowly swimming about a bit and sitting on the V of the plant in the jar to rest before going back to the bottom.

By the day end the bloating had come down.

Started moving about a bit

Next Day Vany was not bloated anymore but the colour was not back yet. No food again

The day after, Vany did eat a bit.

A day later, the shine did come back a bit.

Vany was fine.

He has been fine since the last two day. Eating his food fine. Not yet as active as he used to be. He does not flare his fins either when I show him a finger. Not show him a finger the way you show you finger to idiots. You do not do that to fishes. I mean, when I point a finger to him.

So he does not flare his fins when I do that anymore, yet, but that could just be because he realises now that I am his mommy.  

This post is not about tomatoes and bugs!

A tomato truck - amazing things from a holiday

We had a wonderful holiday last year, to Coorg. I just totally missed writing about it here till today. Because I have a bad memory and because I have been having a tough time writing. Also I have got lazier.

But I came across the photographs of the trip today and I remembered that I had meant to write about it. So here we are.

Coorg was great in a lot of ways - Our first family holiday to the southern part of the country, SSM’s first long drive to the hilly terrain… Oh and the crazy, spicy pork. Crazy because it was spicy to the extent that it could kill. Not crazy otherwise. More of a murderer. Crazy murderer.

But, two things in the trip really made the trip worth it’s worth. (Something totally crazy about that sentence too) So, I will talk of those two things specifically here.

We were taking a walk around the resort. It was huge. It was luscious. It was beautiful. It was doing to us what nature’s grandeur always does – mesmerising, rather more than that. We were enjoying the various shades of green and that is when we chanced upon this –

Snake eating snake - Awesomest thing ever!

This awesome snake was eating another snake. I mean, WOW! I think it is the most awesome thing I had ever seen. It was just brilliant to sit there and watch the snake gobble up another. I know that happens, but to see it happening is a sight that will be fondly etched to my mind forever. Ri loved watching it too. Only SSM seemed a little queasy seeing it. He is not particularly fond of snakes. So seeing a snake being eating should have made him happy. But then, he is a little weird.

I wanted to go searching for more snake eating snakes but SSM was already freaked out by the earlier snake and he dragged us to the room - which got us to this distracting sight –

The bed snake :|

Why? Why? Why? Seriously why would anyone do that towel art on our bed? What were they suggesting? So why did they have that, that towel sculpture of the tool on the bed. SSM and I stared at each other for a moment. Ri jumped on the bed and started showering the flowers all over.

Me: (in a hushed voice) I think we are giving out incorrect vibes to the resort people.

SSM: (in a hushed voice) I think you are incorrect and it is not what you think it is.

Me: (in a hushed voice) I think you are blind. It is so obvious.

SSM: (in a hushed voice) Let's just take the hint then.

Really… That was just too much snake for a day. Phew! :D

And one of my best holidays!

An extra picture of a bug because I love you guys for reading this crap.

And I need a holiday soon...!

A normal conversation and a lesson about rules.

SSM: So, how was the flight?

Me: Oh, good. Finished reading an awesome book. I'll tell you about it.

SSM: Alright. And did you eat something good on the flight.

Me: Well, thanks to you, I had to have upma and masala tea.

SSM: Thanks to me? What do you mean, thanks to me?

Me: I asked you to web check me in on seat no 6A!

SSM: So? It wasn't available! What has that got to do anything with you eating upma.

Me: If I was on 6A I would have eaten the grilled chicken with rosemary and caramelised onion sandwich, and a manchow soup.

SSM: So that got over by the time the tray reached you?

Me: No, they still had it!

SSM: So??? Okay, I know where this is going. This is not gonna make any sense. I know it. But tell me anyway.

Me: As a rule I only have the grilled chicken with rosemary and caramelised onion sandwich, and the manchow soup when I am on 6A. Any other seat and I will eat upma and drink masala chai.

SSM: ????

Me: It is a rule. My rule. I live by that rule.

SSM: So even if you feel like not eating upma, you still will?

Me: Yes! That is what rules are for. You follow them.

SSM: Nonsense!

Me: No wonder you are so undisciplined.

SSM: I am sorry we even had this conversation. Lets stop talking for a while.

Me: Okay. But next time remember... 6A.

A birthday gift.

There are days when life springs upon you some beautiful gift. No, I am not trying to get philosophical here. I am talking about real material gifts. Yeah, that happens.

And it happened to me a few days ago…

Remember my aunt, Mummy. You can read about her here.

Well, a few couple of months ago I had visited my parents in Bombay. Every time that I go to Bombay, my mother brings out some thing or the other that she would have stored away years ago and now doesn't know what to do with it. (Which is a lie. She, just like all mothers, want to give away all the lovely things that she has ever stored (and that is quite a bit) away to her daughters.)

So this time around she climbed up to a loft in the house and bought out something wrapped in newspaper. Mummy had got this for her from Japan, she told me, as she unwrapped the newspaper. Out came the most pretty looking, white, with pink cherry blossom, ceramic jar.

“Do you want this”, she asked. 

I? Of course I do. It was one of the daintiest thing I would ever own.

“Are you sure, you don’t want it”, I asked her. Already knowing the answer. It is always the same after all – No, I have a lot of jars.

So there I was admiring it. I opened the lid. The inside was stuffed with newspaper too. I let that be, closed the lid, wrapped it in the newspaper again and packed it in my bag immediately.

Back home I kept the jar safe in a cupboard. A few day ago, I suddenly remembered about the jar and fetched it to store some orange drops. 

As I got the stuffed newspaper out from the jar, it seemed unusually heavy to me. Prying through it carefully, I stumbled upon this.

This. Most. Gorgeous. Glass. Pendant. Ever.

I just held it in my palm for a while. I was love at first sight. It was BEAUTIFUL.

I then called up my mother and asked her if Mummy ever mentioned the pendant to her. She said no, which was weird because Mummy was not the sorts who would forget to mention something like this.

So I don’t know, if that pendant was ever meant to be mine, or if it was a mistake. But I know one thing that it is my most beloved thing for the moment and I am not going to part with it.

So if anyone else in the family is reading this, don’t you dare come claiming and asking for it, because I am not giving it to you.

I will take it as my birthday gift from mummy and wear it all day today as I celebrate 35 years of life. I was, after all, her favourite niece.

Happy birthday to me. :)

Goodnight, buttercup.

As I was putting Ri to bed tonight, after the two favorite bed time stories (Julia and buttercup, and golpoland (made up stories by me)), he said he had a few questions. And these were his questions. (No, I am not getting into the answers. This post is just about the questions.)

When you  grow up will you become an astronaut too because I would want to take you with me in my rocket to Pluto?

Why do astronauts wear helmets on the moon?

How do we breathe?

Why do we have food pipe and wind pipe?

Oxygen and carbon dioxide is funny na... What are lungs?

What is heart?

Why do we have bones?

Why do we have private parts?

Why do women have breast?

When I am 100 years and then a baby again, will I eat breast food from your tummy?

Why do we give my old clothes and half my birthday toys to other children?

Where does money come from?

And then...

Mama do you know who is my favorite best ma’am? More favourite than my school ma'am, it's you!
Love you. Goodnight.

Good night, baby.

He is five already.

Let's stay crazy always.

He used to cry when he got annoyed. Now he uses words like 'eeyu', 'yikes', 'yup' and 'nopes'.

He used to stare at me in wonder when I would tell him stories. Now he tells me, "Mama, don't say shit/damn. It's a bad word"

He used to gurgle when I would sing lullabies to him. Now he recognises songs by their prelude.

I used to hold and rock him to pacify his crying. Now he wipes my eyes if he sees me in tears.

Oh, he has grown up. And grown so soon.

He dances to Mama Mia with me. He tells me stories. He sings me songs. He fights with me, he argues.

He tells me, " Mama you've got it wrong. You don't know anything." And then, again, he tells me, "Mama, WOW, you are super"

He crafts with me and works my sewing machine like a pro, almost. (He remembers that I promised him two years ago that he can use my sewing machine when he turns five. He reminded that to me this morning.)

He makes me cry and he makes me laugh. He makes me feel like a goddess, and sometimes a demon. He makes me feel safe and then makes me worry like hell.

But he always has and always will make me feel awesome.

Love you, baby. And a very happy birthday to you.


PS. Please dance with me to Mama Mia always. Or till I turn 92.

Some days are happy and some days are not...

 

That is how I want to remember him always-blowing happy bubbles.

Nick died. 

I reached home on Friday and saw him lying peacefully at the bottom of his jar. He had been with us for almost nine months and, while many would say that he was just a fish, I couldn’t help but cry. I will miss him. He was a good fish, a good friend. I did not want to flush him off but wanted a proper burial for him.

The next morning was spent explaining death to Ri. And when he finally did and realised that Nick will not come back, even if we show him to a doctor like he suggested, he burst into tears saying he loved Nick and he wants him back. I was happy that the kid has his heart in place.

I wrapped Nick in a newspaper and asked SSM to go am bury him. (It is nice of SSM to oblige in spite of not really wanting to) Both Ri and I bid goodbye to him and prayed for him to be happy in fishy heaven. We watched from the veranda as SSM buried him. I shouted out to SSM to put some flowers there. He looked up and did a major eye roll (He was on an eye roll spree that day. I will come to more eye roll bit later) but he is a nice man so he did offer some flowers.

I told Ri that tonight when we all sleep, Nick will become a star and be happy up in the sky. We were fine then.

We decided to spend rest of the day crafting. So I made a kandil (lantern), SSM made a phanush (sky lantern) and Ri helped us with it. He also made a sort of a cardboard man. Cute.

And I did some sewing.

So I made this.

Tell me it looks lovely.

SSM: What is it?

Me: It is a book quilt? Isn’t it nice?

SSM: Erm, yes. Nice. But what exactly is it again?

Me: Sigh! Winters are coming, the books feel cold. They need a quilt too.

SSM: *Eye roll* (See, second time in the day) You got to be kidding me, right?

A warm and happy book

Me: No, I am serious. See, doesn’t the book look warm and cosy?

SSM: *Deep breath* Will you ever stop being crazy?

Me: What? This is an awesome creation, okay? And beside keeping the book warm, it has many other advantages.

SSM: Like?

Me: Like when I want to hide from people the book that I am reading.

SSM: Okaaaay. And why would you want to do that?

Me: Because people might want to steal it

SSM: *raised eyebrows* Yes?

Me: Or because I might be reading porn or worse, Durjoy Dutta. I wouldn’t want people to know that, right?

SSM: You know you are never going to use that thing, right?

Me: YOU ARE WRONG. I am going to read every book in that quilt for the rest of my life.

SSM: *Eye roll. Again.*

Because everyone needs a quilt

Please someone tell him that EVERYONE needs a quilt!

***

I miss Nick. :(

A memory and a dream. Both unrelated and weird. Because I am fighting a blogger's block.

This post is just a memory flash –

Sourced from the internet.

The first ever audio cassette that I owned as a kid was Mr. India. All the other cassettes belongs to my father or my sister. And then on my 7th birthday, my sister gifted me with Mr. India. Oh, I played it in loop that day and for many more days. I sang. 'bijli ki raani main hu aayi' instead of bijli giraane mai hoon aayi' (They both make sense) and I blushed ever time 'kaante nahi katate... I love you' played because that was almost equal to porn for an innocent seven year old, born in the 80's.

Sourced from the internet. Of course

The first ever video cassette that I owned as a kid was 'Maine Pyaar Kiya'. This time, it was not a gift. I stole it from the local video library. No, I did not go one night, break the glass with a stone, enter in and rob it. That would have been cool. But I just borrowed it and never returned it. (Yeah, I have done that with library books too. Come on, everyone does that with library books.)

I was down with chicken pox as an eleven year old and the only memory that I have of the quarantine is having read Heidi and watching Maine Pyaar Kiya every single day. Every. Single. Day. (The movie. I did not read Heidi every single day. That is not possible for a slow reader like me) I mouthed every dialogue with action and expressions. Even today if ever I come across Maine Pyaar Kiya while shuffling through the television channels, I immediately stop to watch it and my lips move with the dialogues.

Maine Pyaar Kiya remains and will remain my favourite movie ever. And well, Salman… Sigh!

***

The rest of this post is a weird dream (Rarely do I remember a dream but this was so weird and sort of sweet that I could recall it clearly the next morning) -

Nick blowing happy bubbles

Remember Nick? Well, I dreamt that Ri had a fork in his hand and he shove that in Nick’s jar, piercing Nick. So Nick was dying and I see him fly out of the jar towards me. He lands on my palm and I pet him and tell him that he will live.

I put him back in the jar suddenly the room is filled with all sorts of flying fishes and Winnie the Pooh characters. The all start singing a weird song in and extremely high pitched voice. All together.

Suddenly I see Nick coming back to life, swimming. I was happy. He was happy. But then he started growing at an alarming rate. I saw him turn into a merman. A horrible looking merman-red tail and a green moustache. He couldn’t fit into jar anymore. He was struggling to stay inside. Finally the jar shattered and Nick the merman emerged out. The other fishes and characters vanished.

I ran to him and hugged him. I told him that I was so happy he was alive... but that he can’t live with me anymore because I did not have a jar big enough to accommodate him. He had to go back to the sea.

I handed a huge saucepan filled with water to Nick so that he could duck his head into it and breathe. (Yeah, I know the gills need to go in too but the ‘me’ in the dream did not think of it.)

Anyway. I then took him to the sea (to chowpatty :/) and let him go.

I then woke up sweating and fretting about the fact that Nick had always lived in 'aquaguard' water, what if the sea killed him!

***

If you are wondering why I wrote such a random post today, it is because someone told me to just write whatever comes to mind because that is the only way to fight a blogger’s block.

If you are wondering why I wrote two totally unrelated write ups, it is because I was lazy to write them in two different posts.

***

I just feel better today.

And I shall finally eat mete chorchori tonight.

I have been having this insatiable craving for mete chorchori for the longest time now. Like for ever, Since 20^th June 2015.

I have also been through crazy highs and lows for a real long time now. More lows than highs.

What with days of not wanting to get out of bed, to days of browsing through Pinterest all day long trying to cheer myself up with pictures of chocolate cakes, glazed chicken and pretty quilts, life has been pretty crazy.

Unfulfilled craving for mete chorchori has just been adding to my woes.

Hence yesterday on our way back, I had been pretty grumpy.

SSM: What happened?

Me: Nothing.

SSM: Okay. (Continues driving)

(Silence for some time as I grumble in my head about how SSM never probes me after I say ‘nothing’)

Me: So remember, how on 20^th of June I had told you that I am craving for mete chorchori and you had said that you get the best mete chorchori only in North Kolkata and you shall get it for me. It has been ages since we have had that conversation. I guess this is what nine years of being married does to people.

SSM: Eight years. Seven and a half, actually.

Me: What?

SSM: We have been married for seven and a half years.

Me: Of course. Seven and a half. I remember. But that is not the point. Just because of your fixation for North Kolkata, I am starving to death.

(I notice SSM roll his eyes at that.)

Later that evening at home.

SSM: Why do you have dark circles around your eyes?

Me: Because I haven’t eaten mete chorchori for ages.

My Ma-in-law (she is a sweetheart) on hearing our conversation, laughed, and promised that she would be getting mete and cooking chorchori for me today evening.

And that is how I get mete chorchori for dinner tonight. :|

 ***

(I shall vote this as my most random post ever. But I am ecstatic since morning just thinking about dinner.)

***

Update: Mete dinner last night was the best dinner ever.

Introducing Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington aka Nearly Finless Nick

Ri and I had gone shopping together last weekend. SSM was going to pick us up on his way back from the hospital where my Mother - in - law was admitted. (She is fine now, thanks for asking)

This meant that Ri and I had ample time to shop without being hurried up. So all the shopping from the grocery list was done and more and then we went to the alley where they sell fish and meat. Apparently they also sell live fishes and there, in one of the tanks, floating in a plastic pouch with water just enough to cover him, was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington in a tiny pouch

I immediately felt sorry for him and Ri fell in love with him. So we had no option but to adopt him. After all he deserved better than that tiny pouch. See how sad he looks in there. He also seemed to have a rip in his fin. (Though the guy at the store did not agree to that bit about the rip and insisted that the fin is perfect and this is how it look, I refused to believe them.)

When SSM came to pick us up and saw Nick in the pouch his immediate reaction was - that fish is not going to live till we get home. And I said, do not call him that fish. He has got a name - call him Sir Nicolas or Nick. Though I do not think that you deserve to call him Nick. You are not on first name basis with him yet. As a reaction, SSM rolled his eyes, which Ri and I were only happy to ignore.

We also had a conversation that reminded me of this post.

At home, in the jar - Nick is as happy as he can be. He loves it there. He loves playing around the roots of the money plant there. He also goes and sits on a root that forms a loop in there. And goes around it.

See how he get into the root loop and comes out from the other side. That is his favourite play.

SSM said that fighter fishes react violently when they see their own reflection in a mirror. I told him that Nick is no usual fighter. He is a calm happy fish and that SSM should not even try to agitate him with a mirror.

But SSM being SSM, he did get a mirror and kept showing it to Nick. And. Nick. Did. Not. React. Ha!

See how happy he is and how lovely his colour is.

SSM then said that Nick is either blind or loony. And I told SSM that if there is anyone loony in this house, it is him... so he better not say a word against Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington.

Hatred!

Sourced from somewhere on the internet

She and I, we are sisters, but she has always treated me with disdain. She always wanted what I had. She always got what I had. Either by snatching, bullying, pleading, stealing…. She always got her way.

She was good, nah, better than I was, always, in everything. So they always gave her what she wanted. I was never the one they liked.

If I had a doll, she ensured she had two of those. If I got a book, she had to have it… and others too. It continued through the years – workshops I attended, she got them too… dresses I wore, she got better. She even managed to woo the boy I secretly yearned for.

And then when I was devastated by my miscarriage, It wasn't mere coincidence that she conceived a month later. I knew it wasn't.

And today after all these years, I have got my chance. The revenge I have been waiting for, all these years. Today we are together far away from home. No one knows we are here; it was our little secret – sister secret.

I take out my wand, point it out towards her and scream my favourite word “CRUCIO” … Again and again and again and again… and finally I utter, “Obliviate!” and walk away.

Four, and he melts my heart.

I was dropping Ri to school in a cycle rickshaw the other day and then – this conversation:

Ri: Mama, will you stay in my house.

Mama: Which house, Ri?

Ri: When I grow big and then when you grow small and I have a house, will you stay in my house?

Mama: Yes, I will stay in your house.

Ri: I will love you loads when you stay in my house.

Melts my heart.

***

When I heard the news of my aunt passing away, I started crying in the bedroom and that is when Ri walked in. He stared at me for a while and then – this conversation:

Ri: Mama, are you crying?

I nodded my head.

Ri: Mama, why are you crying?

Mama: I am crying because I am sad about something.

Ri:  (wiping my tears with his little hands, and holding my hand) Mama, cholo, let’s play with my train set. You will feel fine then.

Melts my heart

***

You are four years today, little one. You are really small and yet you can comfort me like no one can with conversations as these.

Yes, playing with the train set did make me feel better.

Yes, I really want you to grow big and have a lovely house of your own.

And no, I will not stay with you in that house because when you move out to your own house, I plan to turn your room into a sewing studio for myself. :| :D

Love you a lot and love you forever, baby. A very happy birthday to you. Just stay happy. Always. 

I can't think of a title for this.

This is probably the most nonsense post ever written in the history of blogging.

***

SSM and I go to drop Ri to school every morning and on our way I come across this broken dilapidated carving of Lord Shiva on wall; somewhere near the market place.

I am sure this was a piece of art once upon a time

This carving has been intriguing me for a long time, rather, nagging me. Because everytime I see it I get this feeling that it resembles someone and I can’t figure out whom. You know, it is that annoying, irritating feeling - where you can’t place your finger on something and it keeps screeching at the back of your head wanting you to tear your hair apart – that feeling.

So that has been going on for long.

***

You know how people have comfort songs, songs that they listen to when they feel low and not too great about their lives. I too have a comfort song – Yeh jo thode se paise from the movie Papa kehte hai.  While I love the song, the picturisation (Microsoft gives me a red underline on the word ‘picturisation’ and does not give me spelling suggestion. So I am not sure if the spelling is incorrect. I will leave it as it is) of the song always soothes me. I always feel thankful for my existing life and happy that I did not decide to venture into Bollywood.

***

So last week as I was watching the song on Youtube the realisation dawned upon me that the reason why that Lord Shiva carving seemed familiar was because the lips exactly resembled that of Mayuri Kango’s lips. 

See... same lips

Serious. No kidding. Check it for yourself. Are they not the exact same lips. The person who carved this Shiva, had to be a fan of Mayuri Kango. I was so impressed. I have total respect for the guy who did this awesome carving. What a fan!

And I finally got freed from that nagging irritation of trying to find who did the Lord Shiva resemble.

***

PS: This post is not meant to offend any Lord Shiva worshippers (including myself) or Mayuri Kango's fans (including myself).

Realisation: I can really write crap when I am upset.

The 100th post and I have nothing to write.

Don't ask me why I have black ink on my thumbs. It will not make any sense.

This is my 100^th post and I don’t know what to write. 100 is huge; I wanted it to be super and then I have been at a loss about what to write.

My initial thought was to write a quilting post.

The first time ever that I heard about blogging was when I started searching the internet for quilting and sewing project, so it kind of seemed fair.

And then last month my Aunt (mother's sister), who made me fall in love with quilting, (I called her Mummy, everyone called her Mummy) passed away. Mummy was 86 and no, she was not old. She was a quilter and the best I have known. While I was probably her most pampered niece, the best gift that she ever gave me was quilting.

Yes, she was my inspiration for quilting. Seeing her quilt and seeing her quilts as a child was what drew me to this wonderful art of quilting. She was the only one in the family, I could discuss quilts with. Our last conversation too had been about the beauty of traditional Log Cabin quilts and how it was her favourite pattern.

 And so, her death brought in a huge void into my life. Until… Untill I realised that a quilter never dies.

Made by Mummy

I wake up each morning and there is the appliqué wall hanging that Mummy made, hanging on my bathroom door.

I open Ri’s cupboard to get him dressed and there is the quilted organiser that she gave me when Ri was born.

I get into the car and there is the lovely Log Cabin quilt she made that I use as a lap quilt every time the car gets cold. (That is almost all the time.)

Yes,  a quilter never dies. She lives through her art and the love that she has gifted you all the while. I know it is surreal, but she does live on.

This is the last wall hanging she made.

The beautiful trapunto quilting

***

Talking of surreal, I realised that I haven’t updated you guys about this story:

Remember the kitchen ghost, well, he seems to have moved in to my bathroom. And he has got friendlier and actually says “Hello” to me every time I am done peeing.

The first time I heard that deep hollow ‘hello’, almost in my ear, I must admit, I was pretty startled. I was brushing my teeth and I almost swallowed the toothpaste when I heard it.

The second time I heard him, it was past mid night. I opened the door; woke SSM up and asked if he heard anyone say ‘hello’. He grunted something which sounded like ‘Oh you are so kind’ and I felt really happy. I said thank you and went of to sleep. When I reminded him the next morning about how kind I was, he said that he had asked ‘are you out of your mind?’ (I don’t think he remembers. people usually do not remember what they say in their sleep.)

The next time, I was quite sure that it was my kitchen ghost because I hadn't felt his presence around the kitchen for a long time. And so, I started diligently replying to his greeting.

And then one day this happened.

Me: (walking out of the bathroom, turning back toward the bathroom) Hey there, hello to you too!

SSM: Erm… What was that?

Me: What?

SSM: I just heard you talk to… no one… in the bathroom.

Me: Oh, that. That is not no one. I was exchanging pleasantries with the bathroom ghost.

SSM: (after taking a deep breath and a long pause) You might want to explain.

Me: There is nothing to explain. There is this really nice ghost in the bathroom who, I think is in love with me, and says hello to me in a really sexy baritone. So I just think it is polite to reply.

SSM: Oh my God, you have completely lost it this time.

Me: What? No! Serious! He does. It is true.

A few days later SSM and I were in the bathroom together. (Groan, No! You perverts! He had done peeing and I had entered the bathroom to brush) And that is when the ghost greeted me again.

Me: (all excited) There! There! Did you hear that. Did you hear the ghost say ‘hello’.

SSM: Yes. Yes. I did. That… your ghost…is not a ghost. There is a problem in the cistern. It makes that sound few seconds after you've flushed. Did you not realise that all this while.

Me: That is a lie! Oh dear. The poor ghost lives in the cistern.

SSM: NO! There is no ghost. It is the sound the cistern makes. STOP IMAGINING THINGS!

Me: YOU ARE JUST JEALOUS THAT THE GHOST HAS A CRUSH ON ME! DAMN YOU!

SSM sighed and left. I am at peace with my ghost. I have kept this ghost stories book in the bathroom for him to read. Staying in the cistern can be quite boring. I also read it aloud to him some times. I think that makes him happy. His ‘hello’ definitely seems happier.

***

And talking about ghosts, I have to tell you guys that I have been extremely impressed by Facebook. Ever since I realised that Facebook can sense the presence of ghosts and spirits, my respect for Facebook has gone up drastically.

 I mean who could have thought that while I was trying to upload this picture on Facebook, it would actually ask me to tag a ghost in a banyan tree. Super impressed! I only wish it had done a face recognition and identified the ghost for me too. Tagging would have been easier. So I just ended up tagging it as Gechho Bhoot.

***

And so, since this is supposed to be my 100^th post, and I really had nothing much to write, I will just post this video of  Ri singing a song from the movie 'Patalghar'. I wish my blog a happy 100^th post.

And thank you, all my readers for loyally reading this crappy blog and showering so much love. I really love you all, much more than I love ghosts. (Okay, that last bit is a lie, but I do love you a lot)

People in the metro are weird

Kolkata metro

My friend, DD and I entered the metro; I noticed a vacant seat; I pushed a couple of people aside and ran towards it; I GOT THE SEAT.

That is not what this post is about. I was just happy about getting the seat. That does not usually happen and I really wanted to mention it here. So that is that. Done.

This post is about the conversation that followed between DD and I. (DD did not get a seat, ha. She was standing there in front of me leaning against the pole. So we had to speak quite aloud to converse.)

DD: That was crazy the way you ran to grab the seat.

Me: A.W.E.S.O.M.E. Awesome is the word. It was awesome the way I got the seat.

DD: CRAZY. By the way, why do you flare your nostril when you are excited.

Me: You mean like this? (flaring my nostrils)

DD: Yeah, why do you do that.

Me: I guess I am related to dragons. I guess... I am a dragon.

DD: No, I am a dragon. look I have dragon teeth. (She twists up her mouth to show me her teeth)

Me: No way, girl. Those are vampire teeth. Totally vampire.

DD: No. I don't like vampire.

Me: Doesn't matter. You are a vampire. I don't like vampires either. I prefer zombies.

DD: WTF! Vampires and zombies are not even related. They don't fall in the same category. That is not even a comparison.

Me: They of course are! They are all related. Vampires, zombies, ghouls, dybbuks... they are all related. And that is irrelevant. You are a vampire and I am a dragon. AND THAT IS COOL.

Then we suddenly realised that people in the metro were giving us weird looks.

I know they were doing that because I shoved few people to get my vacant seat.  But hey, come on, I do deserve a seat once in a while. People in the metro can be really weird at times.

***

PS: I just realised that this is my 99th blog post. Which means my next post has to be really special... Gosh, that is a lot of pressure!

I fear he is growing up too soon

Sleep time is usually a challenge because there are a lot of hurdles to cross there - conversation about school, a story, few songs, some Chhota Bheem talks...

And then this is what happened tonight:

Ri: Mama, S Aunty's car wheel has broken down. I have told her that my ma can make wheels. You will make a wheel for her on your sewing machine tomorrow.

Mama: (feeling super happy about the confidence Ri shows in her sewing capabilities) hmm, I will make it. (And then getting impatient to finish all the exciting talk before sleep talk so that he sleeps quickly) Hey Ri, tomorrow is Saturday. Yipeeeee! It's a holiday. What do we plan for tomorrow, Ri. You want to do some sewing with mama. We will read a lot of books, alright. And hey, we haven't made cake for a long time. Let's make a chocolate cake tomorrow. And let's build new Lego houses. (Pause for a breath.)

Ri: Mama, why are you talking so much? Sleep! (Turns to a side and goes off to sleep)

I have new guppies and they love Salman Khan.

I was at Shantiniketan last weekend.

No, that is not a big deal, because Santiniketan is the place where I lived in my past life and had a romantic encounter with a snake charmer who later strangled me with silk cord because his snakes refused to strangle me… 

Yeah, that was crap.

But I keep going to Shantiniketan because I love the place. So that really is not the big deal.

This time we also visited Lipi Di. (Now, that is a big deal.) Now, if you have visited Shantiniken and not visited Lipi Biswas, you have really missed something. So the next paragraph, I shall write a bit about her because she is a bundle of awesomeness.

Lipi Biswas's Pottery Studio (Picture taken from the internet)

Lipi Biswas is a potter who lives amongst nature. Her home is ecologically built by her and her husband, Bidyut Roy who is an artist. Lipi Di has her studio in Shantiniketan and she makes beautiful ceramic pottery. You can know more about her here and here. And next time that you are in Shantiniketan, do visit her.

So while we were at Lipi Di’s place enjoying some lovely coffee, She asked Ri if he wanted some guppies. (Guppies are tiny colourful fishes.) Before Ri could say a thing, I jumped and said, “of course he wants some guppies.” 

SSM gave me a glare almost instantly. It is amazing how instantly his reflexes work some times. It is even more amazing how I choose to ignore them. The only reaction that Ri had was – Do the guppies eat ants – which meant that he totally wanted the guppies as well.

But SSM started being difficult just then. Statements such as these started flowing out of his mouth: We have no place to keep guppies… They are in natural environment here – let them be… We already have birds… The guppies will die by the time we reach Kolkata…

Lipi di was sweet enough to say that the guppies do not need much space and they can stay easily in a jar. That was all I wanted.

I had decided by then that I may leave SSM behind but the guppies go with me. (SSM drives the car so I couldn’t possibly leave him behind as much as it was tempting at that moment)

When Lipi di left us for a moment, SSM glared back.

“Are you mad?” he asked. I wonder why he keeps asking me that all the time.

“We take the guppies or I take a billy goat from one of the villagers back home. You decide” I hissed. (I half hoped that he would agree on the billy goat)

“Are you mad?” he asked AGAIN. It is like his mantra.

“Listen, no one says no to free guppies… or free anything” I hissed again. (Wow, I have been hissing quite a bit. I am now starting to believe in the snake charmer crap I wrote in the beginning.)

“The fishes will die. How on earth do you think they will survive all the way to Kolkata?” SSM asked.

“They will be fine. I will take them to Kolkata alive.” I replied

“They need oxygen and vitamins and blue and you need to change their water regularly. It is a hassle. I know; I have had fishes.” SSM argued. (It was a one sided argument because nothing that he said in that statement made any sense to me.)

“Look, a billy goat!” I pointed out.

He replied with something that sounded like a groan confused with a grunt.

So, finally, Lipi di gave us thirteen guppies; in a tiny bottle; and they looked super happy.

Guppies in a desi daaru bottle

Ri was super happy too. We made a plan to build an ant farm in a jar to feed the fishes.

I was super happy because the guppies and Ri were happy.

SSM was the only one super upset. He should have just agreed to the billy goat offer.

SSM made a final feeble attempt. He said, “Imagine how disturbing it will be when we eat fishes as we watch the fishes”

“I agree”, I said “We should have a code word every time we mention that we want to eat fishes so that we do not cause trauma to the guppies”

SSM gave up.

The guppies enjoyed journey back to Kolkata. They seemed extra happy every time a Salman Khan song played on the car stereo. They swam like crazy then, and THAT moment created the special bond between me and the guppies.

Guppies in the car enjoying the ride and dancing to Salman Khan songs

They reached Kolkata, alive. Ha! To SSM.

I placed them in two glass jugs. I then added some money plant twig to the jar and shouted aloud loud – the plant is to give you oxygen and food, my little ones – loud enough for SSM to hear.

SSM shouted back – two more days and they will be dead. (They are still alive and kicking swimming.)

Look at them - playing 'let's strangle each other with the roots' (Okay, Now I totally believe that snake charmer strangling me, crap)

In the jar

The same evening at dinner,

Me: The dead swimmer

SSM: What?

Me: The dead swimmer – that is the code

SSM: Code for what?

Me: Code for whenever we want to eat fish, so that the guppies don’t know that we are eating fish.

SSM just walked off from the table then. I have a feeling he did not enjoy his dinner much.

***

PS: The guppies love ants.

*** Since SSM has jinxed the life of my guppies so much, I am going to use this post as one of those spam campaigns that run on social media these days. So all you need to do is leave a comment on this post to give life to the guppies. Each comment on this post will give an extended life of two months to each guppy.