Magical, indeed

Hello, there.

Yes, it is I. No, I did not drop into a black-hole, travel across time and help launch human-kind into an alternative, more sustainable world.

I did, however, do something even more impressive — I launched a baby out of my hoo-haa, even though he refused to come out for two frigging days after the signal turned green. More impressive than that – he's still functioning, after almost an year and a half now. We haven't broken him or had him replaced during the warranty period or anything. Parenting FTW!

Motherhood has certainly managed to evoke a lot of emotions that seem to have been lost under the layers of flab all these years. Some of these emotions, I do not even have words to express.

Take today morning, for instance. All was peaceful in the household. I was getting ready for an appointment, the H was taking a shower, and little !xobele was eating his breakfast while monkeying around – an integral part of his daily routine. Now, our little light-of-life is quite the clean freak. He might splash around on his own pee, he might try to catch cockroaches on the road. By God! He might even try to stick his face into the toilet to see what alternate universe it leads to; but what he cannot stand is a dirty hand. And it was because of this wonderful little quirk that I did not find it weird when he suddenly walked up to me in the other room and stuck out his hand, nor did I think twice when I wiped the brown gunk off his hand with my fingers.

Only to be followed by a moment of dawning realization and utter panic. You see, he was eating peanut butter with his breakfast; which is why the brown gunk made sense. But also a fact that needed to be considered in the situation — he was not wearing a diaper. Suddenly, it did not seem quite so obvious as to what the source of the gunk was.

The whirlwind of emotions I felt at that moment, I do not think I can ever put into words. That divine feeling as I realized that sniffing my fingers was really the only way I could decipher the brand of the brown gunk — priceless. I do not kid when I say that seconds seemed like hours. I caught hold of little !xobele's hand and held him in place lest he decided to run off to stomp on the more questionable possible source. My mind raced to think of a solution that did not involve my nose-buds, but panic conquered all.

I did, however, in that frozen frame of time, realize that this was something... special. Something I would never have been blessed enough to experience if not for parenthood.

The story does have a happy ending; it was peanut butter, after all. As excruciating as it was to lift up my hand to my nose, I got through it. Hey, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?

Don't such stories warm your heart and make you realize how intense and beautiful the Journey of Motherhood is?

No?
Ok. Suit yourself.

I shall be off, now. I need to hide the toilet brushes before little !xobele comes back. I caught him staring at them today morning and I am pretty sure he thinks they are giant, funny toothbrushes.

Magical, I tell you. 

Winter is coming

In less than a month. Oh you know what I mean! So I thought I would post a photo of myself.

Me - 1st from right. Top row.

Selfie

My Pregnancy Portfolio - Bear with me for this

The emotion that runs through when I come across a flight of stairs

Press Release about Product Release

So the biggest Product Release I have ever worked on is going to happen in three months - I am going to push out *what is hopefully* a human being. (Though I wouldn't mind an alien...sometimes I think an alien is more probable. Unless you know, I release a tiny Kung Fu Panda. Now that I think of it, the rate at which it's kicking but then, sleeping through all ultrasounds, I think Po is the more probable outcome)

And yes, I am completely aware that two posts ago, I gave tips on avoiding this subject. And no, I did not give in just because random aunties asked me to. Or because my GoT responses did not work. I assure you, they still do. You can still use them all you want. 

We just decided it was time to produce a minion. And you know, train it to do minion-y stuff for us. So be nice to us, people. Else things like 'Nibbles, poop on her hand' and  'Tiny darling, why don't you puke on his nice bald spot?' will be very common place in your life.

Yes, Nibbles is the name of the minion right now - after the diaper toting grey mouse in Tom and Jerry that is constantly hungry. No, I am not eating to my heart's content and blaming it on the minion. Well, maybe a little bit. But you can't prove it! Ha!

What are we going to name the little one? We did think of little Copernicus or little
Mufasa or a little Schrodinger (and then definitely get a cat and call it Schrodinger's cat. Then teach Nibbles about the experiment, confusing the kid for life). But a friend pointed out !xobele is a rather nice name. I agree. Little !xobele it is. Don't anybody dare try and steal the name - somebody will-a get hurt real bad.

As with any product release, I have 'pressing' issues - issues that make me visit the loo a million times a day. Last week, I developed a huge heat boil on my eye. I looked exactly like Quasimodo- only instead of the hump on the back, I had a bump up the front. Radiant pregnancy glow, my ass. :D 

Ya..so to sum up, don't be surprised if you see me rolling along some sloped Bangalore road in the next few months - the rate at which I am going, we will probably need to sell our car and buy a tow truck. Just step aside, let me roll by, wave a hi maybe, but don't try to stop me. Nature did not provide me with brakes. Chances are, I will roll over you. 

Don't say I did not warn you.

The Lorax

You know it's time to get your eyebrows done when you look into the mirror and see:

GoT it, I say!

There is no denying it - as much as it pains me to say this - I am 27 years old.
So are most of my friends.
A recent survey among them has revealed that most need to tackle near and dear ones, random aunties and uncles, or younger cousins even, asking them about
a. their pending marriage
or
b. their pending spawning

So to make things interesting the next time this subject is broached, I have decided to propagate the art-of-GoT.
Here are a few samples:

"Your life will be so empty if you don't have kids right away"
"You know nuthin', aunty-o"

"What do you mean it's too soon to get married? You are a girl - no boy wants to marry an old cow!"
"WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS?"

"Why do you think all your friends are married?"
"Valar Morghulis"

"You are next in line, eh? Eh? Eh?"
"Dracarys!"

"Why won't you get married?"
"Winter is coming"

"Your biological clock is ticking. Make babies before it's too late."
"WHERE ARE MY DRAGONS?"

"I just told your mother about an alliance - your second cousin's maternal aunt's grandmother's sister's daughter-in-law's nephew. I am going to be responsible for you finally getting married, see."
"A Lannister always pays his debts"

"Give us one good reason you won't marry this boy who is oh-so-wonderful on paper."
"Hodor"

Extra points for assuming the tone and expression of the character.
What say?

PS: GoT is Game of Thrones. If you do not know that is, you must be that frozen early man they thawed back to life.
PS Reloaded: Hodor

The Fog

Pathways were no more clear, the destination blurry.
Faces moved past, unrecognizable.
People belonged to the world, yet not my world.
Closest friends, dissolved.
But voices. Voices rang clearer.
Whispers deafening.
And in that dense fog, I found an intense sense of clarity.

I found my contact lens.

PS:
I recently had to go the 8 kms between my house and the eye doctor to get my eye checked up. Broken glasses. Forbidden contact lens. Invoked a lot of emotions, I must say. :D

Manchurian...Baby Corn Manchurian

I made baby corn manchurian yesterday.
Alas, that is the last mention of the dish on this blog post. The post is about the inspiration that struck while I was making it, when I opened the wrong container and found some aval (flattened rice/poha stuff) inside.
Me: I think I am gonna play matchmaker today.
The H: Hmm?
Me (walking to the microwave oven): Aval, meet Avan (Oven)....Oven, meet Aval. *turning to The H* See?
The H: You are simply brilliant!

It's awesome when your sudden inspirations are appreciated, isn't it? Ignoring the sarcastic undertone, of course. :D

Tiny Treasures

I am a good friend. Always have been. One of my better qualities.
How else can you explain these little notes...each one a treasure - a message to touch, inspire and evolve - that I left all over my friend's room while she was at work?

You just know..

You know you are destined to make up puns and PJs when:
You are dreaming, and somebody says something in the dream that triggers a pun.
Your dream pauses for a minute.
Your subconscious tells the pun and your subconscious giggles at itself.
The dream then resumes.

#truestory

Tea Party

So I wrote this when my cousin mailed me saying her two and three quarters year old daughter hosted a pretend tea party on her birthday.

What a perfect day for an outdoor tea party it is!
The sun is shining.
The birds are chirping.
The colorful butterflies are fluttering by.
And what a turn out! 
There is Mr.Gummy, silly as he is, wearing his bright yellow rain coat.
Next to him sits Lady Lola in her beautiful gown, her hair braided with pretty flowers.
Naughty Monkey Moop is sitting at the edge of his chair, trying to put sugar cubes into his mouth while no one is looking.
Donkey Dan is laughing his wonderfully infectious laugh while Joko, the Clown, honks with his big red nose and moos like a cow.
Then sits good old Lucy, smiling and looking upon everybody with a sparkle in her eye.
And there comes Mother, with a pot of steaming hot tea and cakes!
How everyone cheers!
Shush..I cannot describe the party to you anymore. My tea is getting cold, and I'm afraid Monkey Moop is going to eat my share of the cake. 
Good bye now!
No wait! 
Oh wonderful! Mother has got extra.
Would you like to join us?

How to Bug a Friend Early in the Morning

You: I pinged you. You ignored me. Head down sad face
Friend: Chin up eeeeeee face!!! :D
You: And as she grinned like a maniac, a minuscule mosquito made it's way into her wide, open mouth
Friend: Heehawhaw poraaamai*...
You: Little did she know that the sound of her laugh mimicked to perfection, the mating bray of a donkey. Somewhere nearby, donkey Jojo's quest for it's soul mate began.
Friend: Kazhudhaiya vechu oru kaadhal kaaviyama?? Ezhudhi mudichutu give me credits for instigating ur innovation :D **
You: But did she realize she was more than mere inspiration? Did she realize that she was the lead actor, the heart and soul of this beautiful Ballad of the Bray?

*** Silence ***

* -  ~Insert Donkey braying noise here~ Jealousy

** - A love story with a donkey? When you are done writing it, please give me credits.

Blah

S: I don't know if its the industries they work in, but my friends seem to think they are surrounded by crooks and cheats.
Me: What industries do they work in?
S: Oil, Banking, Fast Moving Consumer Goods
Me: So the people in Oil are too oily, you cannot bank on people in Banking, and the Fast Moving Consumer Goods people always try to pull a fast one on you?
S: Thu

Is it sad that this conversation was the highlight of my day?

Love Note

I remember the first time we met.

You took me by surprise.
So perfect, so beautiful.
How you stood out in the crowd,
All eyes drawn to you.

You came closer.
My heart beat faster.
The closer you came, the more I started falling.
 Falling unexplainably love with you.

It was love at first sight.
But was it meant to be?
Would getting to know each other,
spoil this first wave of pure, unhampered love?

Its been close to half a decade now.
We have had our share of bad days,
Days when were not at our best.
But I still love you as much as I did that day.

Perhaps even more.

My dear blueberry cheesecake,
This is my ode to you.
To our love.

Day 6: Of Pangong, Peace and Paneer Pakodas

I think no amount of words and no amount of pictures can capture what I see and feel today - the sparkling streams, the wild horses running along side the roads, the Pangong lake teasing us, subtly changing her appearance as and when she pleased, acting as the window to the Sky's Soul; the quaint little tents overseeing the lake, the chilly winds, the warmth of Maggi and paneer pakodas. The sheer bliss and calm that washes over me.
I choose to write no more. I will, instead, show you. Mind you, these pics do absolutely no justice to this Prima donna.

Day 5: Of Magnets, Magic and Merging rivers

This morning, we have been promised of a magical feat- to see cars defy gravity. After a very mellow day, we are all more excited than usual. 
However, we first stop at the Military's Hall of Fame. A museum that explains to us how the Indian borders are being protected day in and day out, by our soldiers. We see videos and exhibits about how the soldiers train, braving the cruel weather and unforgiving peaks. We learn of the history and culture of Ladakh. For the first time in my life, it hits me how much these unknown faces sacrifice for our well being. But how do we, nestled safely in our homes behave? By looting, raping and exploiting each other. A sense of sadness clings to me. Along with astonishment at my own profoundness. Wow. I know, right?
With this new-found insight about myself, I am whisked away by our car to the Magnetic Hill, which boasts that from a particular point, the vehicles move upward on a downward slope. The drivers stop for the demo, puts the car on neutral gear and lets go of the steering wheel. We all hold our breath. And the car moves downwards. Our hearts break, our heads refuse to accept defeat. We make the driver do it again and again. We finally console ourselves saying the slope is bare minimum, so it must be something that's pulling the car. Some elderly drivers scoff and laugh at our wishful conclusion. 
Much much later, Google tells us that the point is actually an optical illusion. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, the lack of a visible horizon tricks the mind and makes people think the slope is upwards. But we are no ordinary humans, I guess. Our minds are simply too sharp to be cheated. Ha!
But right now, we are all putting on a brave face. And we are hungry. Just in time,we pull up to a Gurudhwara. The Sikh temple is huge and beautiful - and pretty much in the middle of nowhere. We find out why- legend has it that there was once a demon living on that very hill, terrorizing the villagers who lived at its foot hill. Guru Nanak, during His travels, came across this village and sought rest. When the villagers told Him of their demon shaped problem, He sat at the foot hill, praying and meditating. The demon, angry that anybody would want to pray against its endearing form and charm, pushed a boulder down to smash him. But the boulder magically softened like a marshmallow and just became deformed when it hit Him. The angry demon walked down and kicked the boulder, only to have a foot shaped dent form on the boulder. The demon realized Guru Nanak's greatness, apologized for being a big meanie, and turned into the friendly-next-door-demon who helps fold laundry and fetch water. 
And this very Gurudhwara houses this magical boulder.
Now I am telling this story in great detail because it appeals to my sense of mystic. And also because I find it very funny to imagine a demon kick into a boulder and get its leg stuck in there. I, in fact, have a whole cartoon running in my head now.
So with a goofy grin on my face, I turn to leave when the volunteers stop us and ask us to have lunch. The grin growing bigger, we proceed to the lunch hall. We are served with a very simple menu, and very ordinary dishes- yet they all taste marvelous  We wonder at how the meal is so simple, yet mind blowing. My sense of mystic tingles once again. How much food can make a person happy, the husband and I give a contended sigh.
After the lunch and some dessert and tea, and with a more happier mindset, we move to the Sangam. Its the point where the Zanskar river and the Indus river merge, and flow on as the greater Indus. And the whole route leading up to the point is beautiful. Brown and sandy mountains, capped with white snow; green patches of land kneeling near their feet and lapping up water from their sparkling, tiny streams flowing around them- you know, the whole works - again a sight that no camera can truly capture. 
We finally reach the Sangam. We are delighted to spot the clear demarcation between the rivers till the point they merge. We decide to walk along the bank of the deceptively calm  and peaceful river. How some monkey like antics led to my pants getting ripped at the knee, I will not elaborate. Inner poise, apparently, is not one of my strong points. But it is, over all, an inner peace evoking evening. 
We reach back home and decide to while the evening away in the market. We discover a quaint little roof top restaurant, which boasts of an 'interesting' view of Leh. And it is. As we sit there, sipping our mint-lemon tea and eating the indescribable paneer pakodas, that the husband and I realize how unconventionally idyllic this place is. And how, given the chance, we can lead a simple yet fulfilling life if we stay here. So we spend the rest of the evening making plans to open a south Indian restaurant here and settle down; far, far away from our 9 to 5 jobs in the concrete jungles.

Day 4: Of Bombs, Bandhs and Bakeries

So what simply must happen when a day goes unbelievably smooth? Murphy must pay a visit, of course. The magical day we had happens to coincide with The Dalai Lama's birthday. And somebody just has to celebrate by planting a bomb in Bodhgaya in Delhi. 
The bomb blast causes outrage among the very peaceful looking Ladakhis. And they declare a bandh. Late that night, the villagers have a..umm..heart to heart with the drivers, making it clear that if we don't cross the place by 5 am, they will be possessed by a tyre slashing- rock throwing fit. The drivers get scared, alert the Trip Managers, and after much deliberation, it is decided we leave at 4 in the morning.
Sighs. I spend the last hours bidding good bye to the lovely stream, our tent, the trees, the attached tent loo - whatever I can find. 
At 4 am, we all take off like refugees- but it turns out to be not as dramatic as I imagined it would be. Reason 1: the sun is up and shining bright at that unearthly hour. Reason 2: The the-snow-leopard-inside-us-has-been-awoken villagers are all fast asleep. And continue to be for the rest of the day. I bet they had a really nice laugh before going to sleep about scaring the drivers out of their wits.
So after an uneventful ride back, we reach the guest house by 9 and settle in our rooms. Where we eat, sleep and watch tv. The uncanny resemblance to our Bangalore weekends leave us sighing and mumbling to each other till it becomes 5 pm. Aah the official closing time for the Bandh. He he..Bandh's closing time..get it? He he..anyways, we both pounce at the opportunity to go to the local market. While everybody shops for shawls and jewelry, we do what we do best- prowl for food.
We admire how the Ladakhis have opened their arms to the foreign population. You name it, they have a local version of it- The Pizza Hut, Punjabi Dhaba. And they have a huge number of German Bakeries stocked with peanut cookies, almond triangles, the yummiest apple pies,  mascarpone cakes - you name it. And the paneer- the melt-in-your-mouth fluffy, poetry inducing paneer- words can't describe them.
Getting back on subject, we get a few souvenirs from the Tibetan Refugee Market, meet a Tamil speaking Ladakhi shopkeeper, feel a very tiny bit satisfied we've at least stepped out of the guest house that day, and catch a taxi back.
The guest house weirdly feels like home now - and we settle with the Carrom board. Only this time, the Lolly lickers have joined and hey, they're kind of fun, after all.

Day 3: Of Himalayas, Humility and Hammocks

We start early today - our day promising some awesome things in tow. The first in line is the Khardung La Pass, which is the highest motor-able peak in the world. The whole wide world, y'all! At *just* 5600 m above sea level (the Everest is around 8800 for your reference), it is expected to be freezing cold and extremely windy. And it is. The flimsy sweaters we have on moan as we brave the winds to jump around like monkeys and take snaps of the snow capped peaks surrounding us. Fine. I jump around like a monkey while everybody else maintains inner poise and sips indescribably soothing masala tea.

Aah the peaks. All those poems and books written about how magnificently the Mighty Himalayas tower over you and make you feel humble and awed - they finally make sense. You realize nothing mankind makes can ever compare to this sight. Nature's splendor, the unparalleled elegance and the raw beauty hit you with great force. Time seems to stand still. And you are left speechless. Of course, that may also be because my lips are frozen shut together but I choose to go with the more poetic reason, thank you very much.

With that life changing experience, and with great envy for the people who chose to Bike around Ladakh (we are definitely revisiting this place for a biking road trip, The Husband and I tell each other), we move on down to the other side of the peak. There are no roads of course. One starts feeling very sorry thinking of all the things they've ever put inside a blender. I'm pretty sure all my internal organs have exchanged places. Lunch comes to us in a very surprising form- a sudden camp set up in a lush green valley in the middle of a very brown, sandy desert between the peaks. This beats any restaurant I've ever been to, I tell myself.
We then drive to a stream- surrounded by sparkling, white sand dunes. With charming little bamboo bridges to cross the stream. We go on double humped camel rides*, where a little girl introduces us to the family of camels as we ride along, finally declaring she has decided to marry a camel. True story.

We then move on to the Nubra Valley- known for being picturesque with its variety of flowers and streams during the right season. We are to stay overnight in a camp. And what a camp it is. The trees, the mountains, the tiny stream running along the middle, the tents standing between them - welcoming us into their carpeted interior (with an attached loo - so we don't spoil nature with Her calls, I suppose). And zero cell phone signal. We feel overwhelmed for the second time that day.

As we sit on the hammock outside our tent, right next to the stream, we feel blissfully calm and relaxed. The real world has melted away from our minds. We hold hands and smile into the distance, partly because of our surroundings, partly because we are thinking about how we pretended, just a few minutes before, that the orb like lamps outside the tents were crystal balls and that we could see the future.

*No camels were harmed from overload during the making of these logs. Really. We checked as soon as we got down.

Day 2: Of Leh, Lamas and Losers

One thing I forget to mention from yesterday is that its sunny here. As in you-will-get-burnt-crisp-if-you-step-out sunny. The cool winds that accompany the sunshine is of little use inside the rooms at night, especially with the lack of fans. You tend to start comparing it to low voltage ridden Chennai rooms.
After a night of 'Oh God, Why?' (Nights here are from 8:30pm to 4:30am) , we get ready to look around Leh. 
We first visit a 15th century monastery, which has a huge statue of Buddha, and shrines of multiple Gods. I have always thought of Buddhism as a simplistic religion, sans rituals and all. So seeing Gods of Love, Anger and Peace and observing different rituals pertaining to them seem very funny. Of course, my knowledge of Buddhism stems from my 8th standard history textbook, so who am I to say anything.
We come out thinking cool place, not sensing the impending whirlwind of monasteries.
There's nothing much to write home about today. There are more monasteries, more stupas, and palaces- not the Disney kinds, of course. They're all built from sand and stones and I could picture in my head how Fred Flintstones must have helped built it with his dino crane. The places themselves are kind of repetitive, but the view of the mountains and the surrounding houses from each is unique and beautiful.
The driver tells us about the whole Lama system. Sounds very much like Harry Potter - the chosen one and all that. This,naturally prompts The Husband to continuously sing 'The Llama Song' (Please do YouTube it if you haven't listened to it already), sending me into a fit of giggles.
We return to our temporary home in the early evening and soon get bored. When we discover a Carrom Board. And so it begins. The name calling (Fraud!), the accusations (Fluke!), the taunting and the singing (We are the championsss, you are the losersss). Brings back memories of the old work place. 
After a couple of hours of calling each other loser, we retire to bed with a smile on our faces, looking forward to lesser monasteries the next day. But this time, with more cold air blowing through the room - thanks to the wide open windows.

Day 1: Of Wonder, Valleys and Vertin*

The rest of the night goes without event, and we board the plane to Leh. Our worries of not being able to climb up mountains, and of rolling downwards to Chennai again are slightly put to ease by the demographic around us.

As Leh nears, we oooh and aaah at the vast and sandy mountains, peppered with greenery and tiny lakes here and there. The vast stretches of sandy, rocky mountains with little, beautiful green valleys are breathtaking. Its a sight one can never really imagine, or think even exists. The Leh airport is a quaint little place, with large army planes looming around. We are greeted by our trip mates- a family of three, who seem quite nice and normal. Plus one of them had a Wodehouse in their hand. I tell The Husband that I'm already liking these people.
Now here is where I stop to tell you - we were not particularly thrilled about going on a group tour. Too much socializing required, we told each other. 
But now, after coming to our beautiful guest house, we realize that we have immense entertainment all around us. 
As is our ritual, we christen everybody with what we think they ought to be named.
And so, Longbottom tells everybody who listens they're anniversary is coming up. Female WeAreOne nods while holding on to t WeAreOne, as if scared he'll get lost within the mountains. The Lolly Lickers Club discusses how awesome the trip is going to be. And us? We're those anti social people from *gasp* Chennai who keep saying something in Tamil and giggling. Aah the joy of no one else knowing your tongue.
We are warned to stay indoors and rest, till our bodies get accustomed to the thin air and the high altitude. You may get dizzy, they say. And puke. So that very evening, while the rest of us have heroically managed to stay alive, Longbottom continuously tells everyone how she is unable to talk. Sense the irony.  The Lolly Lickers are actually victims to the valleys. And the WeAreOnes are still stuck to one another, maybe trying collective breathing.
We go for a walk, realize since we're already filled with air, the thin air does not affect us. Ha! Take that you size zero flaunters!
The hill peaks around us, the tiny town, the birds, the trees, the clear, starry skies (and for real this time, not just in my head) - what a contrast to droll airport. Makes it totally worth the ordeals we faced the previous day.

*Vertin is a tablet one takes for dizziness