Friday, March 31, 2017

The Birth Story

               During my 6th or 7th month of pregnancy, I had read a blog where a woman gave a detailed account about her delivery. I felt quite shaken and scared as I went through it. But once I finished reading the entire article, I felt oddly confident. Like - Hey! Maybe.. just maybe I will also be able to go through with this without completely freaking out. The writer did not mince her words, but didn't make it sound grotesque either. She had written it all very matter-of-factly which i quite liked. I made my husband read it too and it made him sweat and shiver. Pfft,  men.

I don't remember the name of her blog anymore but if I do find it, I'll link it over here. Meanwhile, here is my account of my big day. I didn't want to write it since its now been more than 2 years since I delivered. And my theory is that only if the memory of the first birth vanishes completely from my mind will I be able to say to my husband,  "Hey, don't you think its time for another child?"

I remember watching this one episode from the TV show Friends where Rachel is in labour for 2 whole days. And I used to think - Nah! No way! That's just exaggerated. Noone stays in labor for thaaat long. She would've gotten a c-section long back. Well.. I'm no Rachel but let me begin by telling you that I was in labour for 21 hours. I get mighty proud saying it. And try throwing it out there every chance I get. When my husband says "I was on my feet for 5 hours today at office.", I usually respond with "Yeah well, I was in labour for 21 hours," . My poor husband. I don't think I will ever let him forget it. My child will also probably have a poster in her room that says "Your mother who you rolled your eyes at just now was in labour with you for 21 hours. 21 hours of pain. Just for you." 


So anyway,  I didn't have the whole "Oh my God, my water just broke" scene like in the movies. Which was a pity because I had practiced saying it so many times. Although my due date was right around the corner, my body wasn't doing whatever it should have been doing when it nears labour. I'm going to try and put it in metaphoric terms so as to not terrify or gross you people out completely. So let us suppose that there are these inflatable sliding doors inside my body that has to open for the baby to come out.  These doors must first deflate and then open up little by little. And that is when the water breaks. Well, my doors were fully inflated and tightly shut. My doctor said that if nothing happens within the next few days then, they would have to induce labour. I was so disappointed because I really wanted it to happen on its own. I tried everything. I walked, hopped, trotted, climbed up and down stairs. I did squats, cleaned the floors, ate spicy food, drank herbal tea (again that Friends episode was so informative.) but nothing was working. My husband flew down the night before I had my next doctor's appointment. Which made me feel a little less stressed. 
We went to the doctor's in the morning hoping to convince her to give me some more time. But before I even knew what was happening, I was lying on a hospital bed in the labour ward. But what about my sliding doors?! My doctor explained that the plan was that inorder to try and get those sliding doors to deflate, they would literally give it a little push.  She would jimmy a deflated balloon through the doors and fill it up with water forcing the doors to crack open a tiny bit. And thus jump starting the process. And all the while in my head I was going "You're going to WHAT???! Uh-uh. No way. Lets just cut me open right now." But she was convinced that this would be the safest and best option. And since I wanted to birth naturally as well, I gave in. 

The pains began almost as soon as the procedure was completed. Pulsating pain. Almost like contractions. Well, that was quick, I thought. I was already moaning and groaning. Back in my room I found that my 6 year old nephew had been waiting to see me.  He was a sensitive little soul and could never bear to see me in any sort of pain. I smiled through my pain and squeezed his hand kept telling him "I'm okay. I'm okay" without flinching while trying to stay upright. But still I could tell the little fellow was a bit shaken.

 As soon as he left I lay in bed trying to find a position that helped ease the pain. My husband was constantly by my side, holding my hand telling me to squeeze his hand everytime I felt the pain take over. One minute it would be so intense that I can hardly breath and the next minute its gone and I'm chatting with H about something on TV and taking selfies. It was so weird. I was afraid people would think I was faking it for attention.


I was asked to eat dinner early since I wouldn't be allowed to eat anything once I was taken into the labour room. My mom was feeding me chapati and some curry when I was suddenly overcome by a huge wave of pain that I hurled. And along with the vomit, I felt something pop down south and looked down to see that my clothes were soaking wet. I finally got to say "My water broke!"
Except no. It wasn't my water. It was that damned balloon. It had burst. Ugh!
I was taken into the labour ward shortly after that. The labour ward consisted of two lines of beds separated by huge curtains. I was able to hear various levels of crying from behind each curtain. Which was extremely relaxing. Not.
Only my mom was allowed to remain with me in the ward. This was the first time my mom got the opportunity to witness any of her daughters' in labour. And I don't think she's going to want to again.  I get it now being a mom myself. Seeing your kid writhe in pain while knowing that there isn't much you can do to make her feel better is just pure torture. I feel sorry for making her go through that.  But I don't think I could have done it without her.  
Since I had vomited everything, I felt hungry again and begged the nurse to let me eat.  She finally agreed to let my mom bring me some food. And my mom brought me two slices of bread with jam. I looked at her like "Are you seriously kidding me?" I was hungry enough to eat thirty packets of bread. I told her I wanted more.  And that is how I got to eat the first ever meal that my husband made for me.  Those absolutely delicious bread and pineapple jam sandwiches that he made and handed over to my mother. 
After confirming that nothing would be happening that day, the nurses decided to give me a sedative so that I could sleep through the pain and go at it again in the morning. And I tell you, sedatives are freaking awesome. It felt so wonderful and nice. I could tell that the pain was still very much there but I was just too sleepy to care. 
But that blissful slumber did not last as long as I wanted. At the crack of dawn, I was up again and was being poked and probed. The nurses came every 15 minutes to check the baby's heartbeat and to check if I had dilated enough. And i just wanted to tell them to leave me the hell alone. This went on till mid-day. The pain was starting to get severe. At one point I grabbed hold of my mom and said " Okay enough, I don't want to do this anymore. Let's just go home." I was so thirsty but wasn't allowed to drink water so my mom kept wetting my lips with coconut water, like the nurses suggested. My shrieks went from sad and desperate "Amma.. Ma.. Amma..enough, Ma" to furious cries of "AMMA! AMMA! AMMA!", like I was mad at her as though she was responsible for this pain. The doctor asked me if I wanted an epidural, but me having so much stupid faith in my own level of tolerance thought I could endure just a little bit more. So I said no. 15 minutes later, I was like "Hey doc, about that epidural you were talking about. I changed my mind. I'll take two please." But she told me that I was almost at the final lap and that I had a dilated a good amount. The words I'd been waiting to hear for so long.  

Soon the doctor asked me if I wanted to try and start pushing. It was all that I wanted. I pushed with all my might. Everyone in the waiting room heard my shrieks. But now it was more of war cries rather than helpless yelps. I was on a mission. So I continued to push. I pushed while I was being wheeled into the delivery room. I pushed as I hobbled onto the bed. I was so busy pushing that I didn't notice that the room was suddenly filled with an army of male and females nurses. Normally I would've freaked out about having being so exposed in front of so many strangers. But at that point I didn't care if the whole entire population of Kerala was there as long as they got this child out of me. My doctor came in calm as ever. She was even humming a song.  I immediately felt at ease. She told me I was doing very good and to continue pushing. And there is nothing I love more than people complimenting me on my effort. Besides there were so many people around cheering and shouting encouragements at me that I felt so damn motivated. "Come on! You can do it! Very good! Almost there! We can see the head! One more push, come on!" 
I pushed and pushed and....

*plunck*

I froze. My eyes widened and my mouth was open but no sound was coming out. It was a sensation I could never put into words. It was so quick and sudden, I think I was in shock.  In my head, the whole room had fallen to a silence when it was actually probably quite noisy. 
The next thing I heard was my doctor saying-"Pennkutty aane tto - Its a girl!" My face broke into a humongous smile. One of the nurses laughed and said ooh look at that smile! 
I was so surprised because I had somehow made up in my mind that it was going to be a boy because I terribly yearned for a girl. My whole family as well had predicted that I would have a boy for some reason or the other. I wish I could've seen their gob-smacked expressions when they found out.

I looked around to catch a glimpse of my newborn daughter. I didn't have my glasses on so from a distance I saw a blurry, very tiny dark head. The nurses around me continued to poke me and stitch me up or whatever but my whole attention was at that corner of the room. I think I was a bit light-headed from the medications. I said to the guy who was checking my bp "Edo, ende kochine kaanikke. ende kochine endha thaan kaanikaathe." (show me my baby,  why you no show me my baby.) And he said they would in a minute. She was being cleaned up immediately since she had ingested some fluid. 

Now my cousin had advised me that during labour it is best not to cry since it would take up energy unnecessarily. I had screamed, moaned, yelled and groaned but I had managed to get through it without shedding a tear. Until that moment.
I saw the nurse come over to the bed. She held my baby's face close to mine so that I could see her clearly. A tiny round pink face. With two tiny dark eyes and a funny nose and the tiniest little rosebud mouth. With a shock of black hair. The nurse gently pressed my baby's cheek against mine which was wet from my tears. She felt so warm. And so so smooth. I wanted her to stay there like that. 
But they took her away to show to my family. I wanted to stop them. I wanted to look at her some more. I craned my neck to see her until they walked out the door. 
The exhaustion hit me like a wave. I completely conked off and fell into a deep sleep. Like my sister says the best nap ever! 
Once I was moved back into the ward again, I met my baby again. And fell in love all over again. Thats when I really got to take her in. Touch her. Count all her fingers and toes. Smell her. Kiss her. Tear up looking at her again. She bit right into me during the very first feeding and left me bleeding. But i didn't mind very much.  I was too much in awe that she could've sucker punched me all she wants,  I would've just sat there and gawked at her in amazement.
The next best moment was when I was finally released from the labour ward. I was wheeled out and welcomed a crop of smiling faces. My dad who patted my head and looked proud. My poor sleep deprived but happy mom,  my two sisters who were beaming with happiness, my two excited and ecstatic nieces and my very concerned but sullen nephew (He was pissed that it turned out to be Another girl. He forgave me eventually though.)

This moment felt like my glory moment. Like I had gone and done something so great and emerged a hero. Like I had won a long race. And at the finish line were all these smiling faces. In my head they were applauding as well. My husband, who had gone to get some medicines, met me near my room. He came up to me and squeezed my hand. I could see the joy and pride in his eyes. We were parents! We have our own little girl! It felt like a dream. One we never wanted to be awoken from. We looked at each other while smiling like crazy.
And that was it. 
From there began the rest of my life. Life as I know it now. Life as a mother. A fairly okay mother. I think.  Haha, More on my mom-ventures later!  

Thursday, September 24, 2015

Bolty

                               
Today I said goodbye to my dog, Bolt who we fondly called Bolty. We had to give him away to another family. He spend just four short years with us, but what eventful four years they were.

I still remember the day he came into our lives. He was just a few months old I think, bit large for his age. He scampered about the place sniffing new smells and licking new hands. The kids went nuts over his beautiful black and white fur. I admit, I was a bit weary of touching him. I'd always loved the idea of having a dog, but when it happen for real, I was a bit scared. I'd stood at the doorway and extended my arms as far as it could and stroked his back with a finger. And he responded by wagging his tail. Its one of the nicest feelings, a dog wagging his tail because of you.
Slowly, I got over my fear and soon I was spending every waking hour with him. Brushing his hair, using his special powder on him. One time I even put a bit of my dad's lavender talc powder on him.I loved his big soulful beautiful eyes, the colour of honey. The way he would just stare right back at you when you spoke to him, which I did a lot. My nephew decided to name him Bolt because he was in that phase where he'd binge watch the cartoon Bolt sixteen billion times a day. So Bolt it was. Except, it was only later that we realised that Bolty was'nt a "he". Bolt was actually a female dog. But I'd gotten used to call her a "boy" that I refused to acknowledge the sex change. I hope he didn't end up having gender-issues. 

Bolty grew to love us and soon began bringing us his little "presents". Many a times, we opened the front door in the morning and was greeted by the sight of a dead crow or rat at our doorstep. He managed to get pretty much all our chickens too, much to my mom's dismay. But Bolty did manage to prove his strengths soon enough. One of the times that I was most proud of him was when he spotted a cobra and barked madly right at its face preventing it from coming any closer towards our house. I'd never seen him so brave and ferocious before. His nose could've almost touched the snake. After a while, he stopped and sat right there, his eyes on the snake, growling everytime it hissed back at him. I don't know how long he sat there like that, but we knew this dog knew what he was doing. 


Then one morning, there was no Bolty at our doorstep. My dad hunted all over the place for him. We could hear him howling but couldn't figure out where he was. Turns out he had jumped into the well. And had been swimming around trying to keep himself afloat for hours. It took a few hours and lot of effort, but we found a guy who could go down the well and rescue Bolty. A group of men lowered this guy into the well using a rope and he was trying to jostle Bolty into a huge basket. I remember watching with bated breath and calling out the frightened dog's to reassure him that he'd soon be safe. He got into the basket once but scampered so hard that he fell into the water again. After a bit of a struggle, the dog was back in the basket and the men were pulling him up. I remember wrapping my arms around him the minute his feet hit the ground. He was shivering and could hardly walk straight. After trying to dry him as much as I could, I slowly led to a spot with good sunlight and let him dry off. The rest of the day, we lavished him with eggs and milk and all sorts of goodies, while drying him off with my sister's hairdryer. It took many days to recover from the shock of it all, but soon he was back to running around like crazy and trying to knock me off my feet by jumping onto me. I love that he still remembered.

Pretty soon, Bolty had grown up and had a lot male friends visiting at night. My dad was not pleased, so he'd lock the gates and drive away any stray dog that dared to enter. This one dog would stand at the gate and howl away. It was utterly romantic. And I'm pretty sure that that Romeo had something to do with the litter of puppies Bolty gave birth to a few months later. 
I remember waking up one morning and hearing the news. Bolty was lying in a cozy spot with her tiny little puppies scattered all around her, some on top of each other. I had never seen such tiny puppies up close. Nine of them. Bolty looked tired as ever. There was a look in her eyes, that seemed to say "Please get me the hell out of here." I didn't understand then, why she looked like that, but now as a mother of a child, I totally get it. One human babies suckling away all night and day is Nothing compared to Nine puppies fighting and struggling and crying all together to get their share of their mom's milk. Poor Bolty. She would take any opportunity to leave her kids alone and just laze around for a bit. 
After this my life got into a bit of a whirlwind. Between marriage and moving and pregnancy, I did not really get to spend a lot of time with Bolty. But everytime, I come back home, he'd recognize me and jump around me like crazy. 
Towards the end, the time I got to spend with him reduced even more, having a baby to care for. Bolty too produced a new batch of puppies. And this time, having gone through the experience myself, I was in total awe of him. 
So today morning, when my mom told me that his new owners arrived and took him away, I couldn't believe I didn't get to say goodbye. My dad then told me that they are still waiting for their car at the gate, I dropped everything, took hold of my baby and ran to the gate. And he was there on leash, with a stranger, looking confused and scared. I caressed his head and scratched his ear and rubbed his chin over and over as though trying to make up for the time I'd neglected him. I held onto his face and looked into his eyes and said a silent goodbye as tears started pooling in my eyes. I gave him a final pat on his back and walked away because I couldn't watch him getting into the car and being driven away. I couldn't stop my tears as I walked back into the house. My baby looked at my face curiously. And just like that, Bolty was gone.
The night feels silent now. On most nights, after his random rounds and digging, Bolty used to come and settle down right outside my bedroom window. Some days he'd make an awful racket and I'd get mad at him, but I was still relieved he was there. I had felt safe. And inspite of all the times I'd been too busy to make time for him and been a lousy friend, he still sat there... for me, protecting me. I so love that about him.
I hope his new owners treat him well. And I hope he is happy there. I wonder if he'll miss us. I miss him already.  We'll probably never have a dog again, but then I don't think he can be replaced. I hope someday that my child will get to experience all this with a dog of her own. A dog as wonderful and loyal as my Bolty. 
Thank you, Bolty for letting me experience unconditional love. For making me feel safe and for being my friend. 

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

The P Word

I haven't blogged in the longest time. That is because I won the lottery and so decided to travel the world. I'm writing this from a tree house in South Nambisia. Ok, no that's a lie. I didn't win a lottery. I'm writing this from the foot of my bed, at home. I haven't blogged because I got pregnant and had a baby. Surprise!!!!!! Well for the readers who aren't my friends or family who didn't know about it. That is if I do have readers who are my friends or family.

This is sort of part 1 of my whole pregnancy-baby series. I've run out of people who wants to listen to me go on and on about the whole thing so I'm just going to force you all to read it here.
Pregnancy, for me, was wonderful. I did have a tiny bit of throwing up and bloating and all the icky factors going on. But, for the most of it, it was pretty nice.
Here is a bunch of stuff I liked and didn't like so much about being pregnant.

Food  - I came, I saw, I ate... And then I ate some more. I ate more than I had ever eaten in my whole life. I like to think I maintained a nice balance between healthy and not-so-healthy food. ( H (my Husband) is probably going "Yeah, right!" ). H did try to keep me off junk though as hard as he could. But he wasn't very successful though.
"Are you telling me I can't have a chocolate doughnut? Me, the woman who is carrying life within me, the life of your child, who I have to push out of me. All by myself. One chocolate doughnut?"
It wasn't like I was eating like some sort of unstoppable monster, but this one time we went out with some people and I ended up eating off my plate, H's plate and everyone else's plate.  I don't think they minded though. I had my baby to take the bait for me.
Once when I had finished a pack of Kitkat,
 H says : You finished the whole thing???
Me: No, I gave you two and I ate two."
H : Uhhh, it was a pack of five.
Me: Uhhh, the baby ate one, duh!
Which is technically not true. Baby had two, I just had one.
I stopped watching MasterChef or reading any books or watching any movie that had any association with food, because it literally pained me read about food that I have no access to. I may or may not have cried looking at a picture of a cupcake.

Belly- I loved my belly. My big round belly which was so so big around the end that people would just get uncomfortable looking at me. I loved it. While some people choose to hide it, I loved to flaunt it. Sure, there were somedays where I felt like a big huge whale, especially when I once took a good 5 mins trying to get up from bed, trying to roll myself out.I also got stuck on a swing once and had to wait till somebody could come and pull me out. But on the other days, I felt beautiful. Like I had never felt before. I haven't done a lot of things in my life that are mindblowing and that takes a lot of responsibility. But this, growing a human life inside me was one of the hugest and scariest thing I had taken up. And it made me proud. And it make feel beautiful.
Plus, I love maternity clothes! I don't know why I haven't been wearing them my whole life. Super comfortable and really cute too.

Mood swings - I had some really bad mood swings. My first trimester was filled with paranoia and fear and a lot of bitchiness, especially towards H (Sorry!). The second trimester was more mellow and less like a deranged person. It was more of random bouts of crying and laughing, so basically pretty much like how I used to be before I got pregnant. This one time though, I was showing H this really dumb, not-even-that-funny meme that someone send me, and I just couldn't stop laughing. H laughed along with me for a while and then stopped and just sat there waiting for me to stop. Except I couldn't. I was going on and on that I literally couldn't breath. And that scared me and so I started crying before I had even stopped laughing. Poor H. I don't think he had any idea what was going on but he managed pretty well.

Life within me : There is literally no way to describe how it feels when the baby kicks. Like someone inside you poking their fingers or toes on your insides, so hard that you can see it from the outside. Freaky.As.Shit. I once described it like aliens and said it looked like how it would if you had a snake under your blanket, and then felt really guilty about having compared my baby to aliens and snakes. Its precious, it makes you feel wonderful, it actually is when I felt certain that ok yes, there is definitely a baby inside me, these guys aren't like pulling a prank on me or something. I have so many videos of my tummy moving that I send to my folks until they're like "you really don't have to send us nineteen 20 minute videos of your tummy everyday! we get it!" You're so happy and emotional at each kick.. And then, the baby discovers your bladder. And thinks "ooh look, a trampoline!!" And literally bounces on it so hard that you feel that you'll probably be giving birth to your bladder first. Bladder kicks and backbone kicks are Not fun.

Niceness : I love how everyone is so nice to you when you're pregnant. My dad didn't yell at me even once during the whole nine months. H put up with me and all my nonsense cravings and mood swings and didn't say anything even when I annoyed the hell out of him. I got pampered like hell. I think the only two times a girl really gets pampered by everyone is when she's about to get married and when she's about to pop a baby. Everyone is like oh Don't stand too long, sit, lie down, relax, eat whatever you like, sleep, smile and listen to music. Things that I'm really good at doing!

Whats in a name? : I Hated picking baby names. It was by far the most stressful thing during those months. It is so much easier when you're looking for names for your friends' kids. But when its your own, nothing is good enough. I would absolute love a name one day and then it would make me want to throw up two days later. I must've gone over a thousand names, read through name books and browsed baby name websites. I started paying close attention to the credits that roll out at thr end of movies, scanning for nice names. I made my cousins and nieces and nephew list out the names of all the kids in their classes. I even had a dream once where I have the baby and then we name her a particular name. And for a while we decided on that name because it seemed like a sign, me dreaming about it and all. And then that name made me sick after a while too. I also had a weird habit of typing out a name I like on Facebook search and seeing if the people with that name look like nice people or not. We finally managed to pick one boy name and one girl name, after picking many many chits. And I'd randomly call out those names when I go out for my walks. In my happy voice and my angry voice. We finally ended up naming the baby the first name my husband had ever suggested.

And thats all for the first part of this preggy-baby series. Pregnancy was actually quite nice. I really wouldn't mind being pregnant again if someone else would do the delivering the baby part for me. There was nothing "fun" about that part. But more on that next time!

Saturday, October 18, 2014

Life After Marriage

I started writing this post ages ago. Never got around to finishing it. I figured I better post it now before my life changes all over again and this would seem irrelevant. 

It has been a year and a half since I got married. And I don't think the fact that I'm a wife has still settled in. Though there has been a few random changes in me. Few things that were new or weird to me. Here are the things that are different since I tied the knot.

FAT : For people who thought "This girl is so skinny, when'll she ever get some flesh on her bones", your wait is over. I am officially fat. I know slightly overweight people will look at me and scoff thinking "you call that fat?". But for a person who could still fit into her 6th grade tights at age 27, yes I am fat now. Forget bout 6th grade clothes, I don't even fit into the 100s of clothes I got just before the marriage. At first I thought my clothes were shrinking because of the water or something. Then in a picture, I noticed my upper arm is now the size of both my upper arms together. And I had to throw away 3 pairs of jeans because I couldn't put the button on. These are things I have never ever witnessed before. It was almost scary. All of my sisters' clothes used to be too loose for me. Now I don't even fit into their tiny-miny clothes. I've become a friggin giant! The saddest moment was when my collar bones were no longer visible. They were the favouritest part of my body. And now they've gone, without a warning. All the aunties who kept bugging me to put on more weight are now like "whoaaaa, don't put on any more, okay?" I thought I was the kinda person who'd never get fat. Apparently not. Thankfully, my husband has also joined me in this fat journey. So we don't look weird together.

PET : The only pets I've ever had up until then were dogs. That stayed outside. Who I pet and played and fed on some days. My dad took care of them all the other days. I was completely oblivious to their existence on most days. Until I got married to a crazy animal lover. The first thing he got was a tiny little frog. Which was cute. It hardly ever did anything. Feeding it was fun and I didn't have to do the cleaning. And then we got a tiny little turtle. Which was adorable too. It kept escaping from its container and we'd frantically search for it. We figured the frog and the turtle could be friends. All very cute until the turtle chewed the frog's leg off. After a tearful burial of the frog, we went and got a rabbit. A tiny lil adorable fur ball. Who would climb up our back while we were sleeping and curl up in my arms like a little

baby. Who shit like crazy and peed all over our until then clean room. Who died on the third day, before we could even name him. The rabbit dying was just too much for me to take. No more pets, I said. And then proceeded to get two more rabbits (both which died), another turtle (who died) and finally a snake. Yes, a snake. Wasn't my idea. Don't even ask. And no, I do not touch it. We now live with a cat. And people who know me knows that I'm not exactly a cat-lover. So I'd rather not comment on the cat. Or this whole blog post will end up being about it.

SILENCE : The place where I live now is very very quiet. My in-laws are quiet people and everyone does everything quite quietly. Back in my house, I usually wake up to the sound of a toddler singing at the top of her voice, another one crying out her lungs,the neighbor and his singing class, the mixie in the kitchen whirring, the maids chattering, the t.v blaring, the dog barking madly, my dad yelling at someone or the other and my mom laughing hysterically on the phone. We also have a radio in every room. There are days when I'm back home and I miss the silence. But on most days, the silence here is almost deafening. I find it especially hard to fart or burp loudly because I feel the sound echoes.Although sometimes I feel the silence is soothing.

LIVING WITH A BOY : I grew up in a house full of girls. Even if I go visiting my cousins, I have a total of 38 girl cousins and some 9 or 10 boy cousins. (It took me a while to calculate that) So life for me had been predominantly around girls. Most of my closest friends are also girls. So life with a boy, I figured was going to be really really new for me. Surprisingly though, the boys in this house are a lot like me. In fact, I feel I'm messier and slobbier than them. Boys are surprisingly neat. I'm the one who usually leaves the wet towel on the bed. And the leaving the toilet seat up doesn't really bother me because it makes sense to do that because there are more men in the house. But then again there has been so many instances where I've been surprised by something my husband or his brother does which has had me raising my eyebrows like "Really? You're allowed to do that?"
Boys don't seem to care much about a lotta stuff like girls do. Like they don't go out and buy a new pair of shoes and then find the need to show it everyone in the family and discuss all its wonderfulness. They're very particular about their stuff. If you move their things from the middle of the room into a more reasonable location, they get all mad about it. And its not like you mean to forget where you moved it. I discovered a lot about boys and their underwear habits. Which I'd rather not discuss here and get murdered by my husband.

FOOTBALL, CARS AND BOY MOVIES : I used to watch football even before I got married, but then that was because this game was so much easier to understand than cricket. And also, David Beckham. Now I'm proud to say, I know names of players who aren't David Beckham. I know most of the teams in English Premier League. I know what an English Premier League is. I have watched matches from the beginning to the end without siding with the team who had the cuter players. I have watched a match in a public place around other football enthusiasts and not felt completely out of place. I have also worn a football jersey on many occasions. (Though my husband is always scared I'll spill something on it) And I also somewhat kind of know what offside means too. Its when someone scores a goal and noone shouts and scream excitedly.
I didn't know much about cars at all. When someone once asked what my favorite car is, I googled the most expensive car or something and learnt the name Lamborgini. Now, I can identify some cars. And I get it right most of the time. And I found out that the year makes a difference in the model of the car. And now when I hear Ford, I don't always think of my dad's dear old Ford that he drove us around in for 14 years, I think Mustang. I think of Shelby or Cobra.
I used to be a hard-core fan of chick flicks. I change channels until I see a movie with nice bright lighting and and upbeat background music. My action movie knowledge is limited to Speed and Mission Impossible, maybe. In the past two years, I've watched more action movies to make up
for all the action movies I've missed out on my whole life. And I've found that I loved most of them. I was completely floored by Iron Man. He is absolutely the coolest superhero ever. Sometimes I bargain with my husband and make a deal for one boy movie if he watches one girl movie with me. But it doesn't faze him. He falls asleep sometimes but most of the time he holds his court pretty well. Once I made him watch Pirate Fairy, a Tinkerbell cartoon, as a joke because he made me watch a lot of boy movies in a row. And he got more interested in the cartoon than I did. I thought I'd just make him watch for a few minutes until he begs me to stop it. Instead he made me watch a good half hour and watched the rest of it on his own. My evil plan completely back fired.

LATE NIGHTS OUT : My dad wasn't exactly strict. But he wasn't exactly  the type who'd let us roam about outside after a decent hour. It wasn't really a big deal because I didn't really have anywhere to go either. But after marriage, when my husband suggested we go eat an ice cream at 2 in the morning, I was surprised and beyond excited. I've seen stuff like that in movies and I knew guys from my college who'd tell me about their midnight long drives and junk food rounds. Walking down that road in the silence of the night was one of the most romantic and exciting things ever. My husband was surprised and I'm not sure he understood what it meant to me. What I loved the most was that I felt safe.

So that's some of the changes I've gone through after marriage. There are so many many more, some mention-able and some not. But the fact is that I'm still changing. Everyday. I'm figuring things out as it comes, I'm making new discoveries. And I think that's what marriage is about. I'm not the person I was one and a half years ago. And I'm sure one and a half year from now, I'm going to be even more different. Life never seem to stay the same for too long nowadays. I'll see you guys at the next milestone. :)



Sunday, August 17, 2014

Shame On Me



I know I haven’t posted in a while. (Well, that new year’s resolution sure bombed.) I keep thinking of stuff to post and I’d be like naah that’s no good, noo, that’s too personal, uh noo, that’s too embarrassing. And that’s when I came up with the idea for this post. A bunch of embarrassing things about me. For your enjoyment. And also because I’m hoping to go into hibernation and by the time I’m back everyone would’ve forgotten about this post.

-I cannot tell time
Well, this isn’t entirely true. I can tell time. In a second if it’s a digital watch. After a minute or two or three in an analogue one. I hate when random people come up to me and ask for the time. I wore a digital watch all the way till 12th grade and I think for a while in college too. I don’t know why people still don’t wear them. They are the singlemost amazing inventions ever. I mean a watch with a build in light… and an alarm!! How ultimately cool is that? I hate those watches that don’t even have any numbers in them. Though I own one of them.  K

-I thought anonymous was a person
You know how you sometimes read quotes and in the end its written “By Anonymous”. I always thought Anonymous was the name of a great scholar or poet or something. It does sound an awful lot like one of those kind of names. Like Archimedes or Achilles. Anonymous.

-I have put a lot of crap on my face
I’ve been pimple prone for over 15 years now. And I admit that I’ve put a lot of weird stuff on my face to try and get rid of my ache. Like tomatos or milk. Or chalk powder. Or Chocolate. Vicks Vaporub. Lipstick. Toothpaste. And… ok I’ve also put saliva on my pimples. My own saliva. A girl in my school told me that works. I’m not proud of it. And also it didn’t work. Nothing does. L

-I hate bath time
I have always hated baths. My dad literally drag me and lock me up in the bathroom until I took a bath. I’d just sit there for a while, look at myself in the mirror, splash a lil water on my feet and face, wrap a towel around my head and walk out after 10 minutes. When I went to live in hostel, It got a little complicated because there were a few of these judge-y girls who had nothing better to in life than to sit and figure out if I have had a bath or not Or when if I would ever do my laundry! (Uh, that’s what people go home for, ya idiots). I’d do the same trick I did with my dad. But those girls figured it out. And they actually asked me about it. I was a little embarrassed. But then I got over it. And they got over it. I only ever felt the need to shower when its unbearably hot, if I’ve gotten baby pooped on, If my hair smells funny, If its my birthday, Or somebody’s wedding or my wedding. Or if I’m married. Yes, I take baths everyday like a normal person now. For the sake of my husband atleast.

-The 199 kind of prices work on me
You know how shops price things one number lower than a round number? Like 99 or 199. It never clicks for me that that’s almost like a 100 or 200. I see 99 and I’m like wow only two digits, so cheap!!I guess they invented that system for suckers like me.

-I have tied heavy objects to the ends of my hair to try and straighten it.
I have also tried to iron it with an actual ironbox. But then I guess everyone has at some point.

-People dressed as animals or those huge mascot things scare me a little because I was chased by one when I was little. A round creepy purple thing. And also a clown told me not to pick my nose.

-When people join together and pray loudly, I sorta just move my lips because I don’t know the words to too many prayers. This is a little troublesome especially during my wedding, where we had all these group prayers none of which I knew the words to, and the camera guy kept zooming in on my face when I was trying real hard to lip sync. They helped disclose that little secret of mine to a lotta people with that video.

So that’s all the embarrassing things about me. Or atleast the ones I’m willing to put up on the internet. I have a few more posts on the way, which needs a little bit more tweaking. So don’t write me off already, ok?

If you want you can comment and tell me about a few of your embarrassing secrets so that I don’t look like the only idiot around here. J

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Greedy Pop


Growing up, I was what you'd classify as one among the "awkward" girls. I wasn't in the popular group. I wasn't in the bad girls group. I wasn't in the brainy kids group. I wasn't in the athletic kids group. I was just that - awkwardly stuck between the many many cliques. Even today when people from my school adds me on Facebook, especially if they belonged to any of the above groups, I'm so completely wonderstuck that they actually recognize and remember me. When all this while I thought I'd been invisible.
I wasn't a loner or anything. I did have my group of friends. Every year a different group. Mostly just kids who sit next to me. And their friends. When those kids get shuffled and put into different classes the next year, the walls between us causes us to drift apart. My sisters were part of these really big gang of girls. And they'd tell me the kind of fun they'd have. Though I'd never craved to be a part of a big group, I'd always wondered what it'd be like. And what I'd be like if I were in a big group like that.
I got my chance during one lunch break in 4rth or 5th grade. I was on my way back from canteen. And on my way I passed by one of the biggest gangs of my class. I think it consisted of ten girls or so. All beautiful, popular and/or brainy. One of them beckons me. I walk up to her and is immediately surrounded by the whole gang. She looks at the chicken sandwich (or atleast I think it was a chicken sandwich) in my hand. 
"You want to join our group?" she asked.
Just like that. Do I want to join? I looked at her like I didn't understand what she was saying.
"You want to join or what?" 
In the distance, I can see my two friends waiting. And I'm torn. My mind was whirring.
This is my break. My big opportunity to get into the big gang of popular girls. My folks would be so proud. (Yes, they actually would've been. My dad always wanted me to hang out with the bright and brainy kids so that I get influenced or whatever). My whole life could change with this one minute.What about my friends? Oh, I can still be friends with them and still be in this group. They'd understand!  I should just say yes. Yes, yes, YES!
"Yes", I said timidly.
"What? We can't hear you. Speak loudly."
"Yes!"
"Okay, good. So she is now part of our group now, okay?"
She takes a candy bar. Hobby, I think.
"Here, take this." she said holding it out.
I'm hesitant. 
"No, its okay. I don't want. Thanks"
"Arey, just take it, yaar. We're all friends now."
I'm still a bit reluctant, but I manage to reach out and take the chocolate.
And regretted it a second later. The minute the chocolate was in my hand, all the girls who had been standing around watching the whole exchange started chanting at the top of their voices.
"GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP, GREEDY POP"
Okay, Don't ask me what a greedy "pop" is. But I was terrified. And so damn humiliated. I let go of the chocolate and ran away as fast as I could. Not stopping to look back while they continued to chant and laugh at me. I don't remember where I ran to. I remember crying. I remember vowing to get revenge and all that. But I don't think anything happen. Everybody forgot about it and so did I. I never really thought much about it after that. Just a stupid little incident.
It was only after I had grown up, I realised that I had an aversion towards gangs. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have had small groups of friends too. But I've never gone up and tried to become part of an already established gang of friends again. I'd make friends with a person, but when I realise they're part of a group, I'd slowly move away from them, rather than be forced to join in. When introduced to a group of people, I get nervous and fidgety and anxious. And like I want to run away as far as I could as fast as I can. Which is stupid, because its not like they're going to suddenly start yelling greedy pop, greedy pop or anything.  I somehow expect them to pull the rug from underneath me at any moment.
I don't know what the point of this post was. I just suddenly remembered this incident couple of days ago. I had always dreamt of one day becoming rich and famous and driving to my old school in a huge fancy Porshe in front of all those girls and screaming Greedy Pop in their faces. But then here I am unemployed and old with a life that is going nowhere. And most of those girls have got amazing careers and are married with kids and, this is the worst part, have gotten incredibly hot over the years. Ugh. I wish my life was an American teen movie.
But then life goes on. I don't think I hold a grudge against them anymore. In one way or the other, they helped me become the person I am today. And while its not the best person imaginable, its not too bad either. I may not have the dream life that I dreamt of. But I am pretty happy what I've got. I married a fantastic guy, I have a few close good friends and an amazing family. And this blog that all you awesome-sauce people read! I wouldn't trade all that in for anything. Not even a shiny Porshe. :)


Wednesday, January 8, 2014

My New Year Resolutions for 2014


Every time a new year begins, I, like millions of other idiots in the world, sit and make up a list of so-called resolutions. I don't remember any of the resolutions I made the years before because I'm pretty sure they didn't make it past 5 days or so. But still, old habits die hard. So here I am again making up my brand new list of things I hope to do possibly for more than 5 days.

My Resolution List for the Year 2014


image courtesy : helloladies.com
1. Be Nicer to my Husband : This is one resolution I've never had to make in the past. Its not like I'm mean to my husband or I bully him around all the time. I am nice too at times :P But I'm always left with the feeling that I could be nicer. Since a whole year is over since over marriage, I feel like the initial niceties and the formalities are slipping away. Which is good, but along with it my manners. There is no harm in saying more 'pleases' and 'thank you's' is there? Or atleast thats what Enid Blyton taught me. To mind my P's and Q's. Oh and He always ends up getting up to turn off the light switch before bed because I'm such a lazy bum. I resolve to take turns doing that. (I know my husband is gona read this and I hope I get brownie points :P But then I also know that this paragraph is gonna come up everytime we fight. :-/ )

2. Drink More Water : I'm terrible at this and have such terrible skin due to this. I've been following this for the past couple of days. But I don't do it on the days I have to go out. Because it makes me want to pee a bazillion times a day. Which is how its supposed to be but I'm not used to peeing soooo much. But still, I hope I stick to this resolution, atleast for my skin's sake.

image : chuondis.blogspot.in
3. Sleep and Wake Up Early : Now for anyone who knows me, I'm a night person. And have been since I was a kid. My sister used to call me the Watchman. I'd stay up reading books under the blanket when I was small, which turned into staying up on the internet all night when I was a teenager, which turned to staying up talking on the phone all night in college, to staying up watching movies with my husband all night post marriage. And I hate morning. I hate it because I get my allergies in the morning. I hate it because its too cold in the mornings and thats when people should be under the blanket fast asleep. I hate how everyone gets up and makes a lot of noise. And also it reminds me of school. My mom used to wake me up atleast a 100 times, followed by which I'd go to bathroom and put the lid on the toilet down and curl up on top of it and snooze a little more. Then I'd sleep on the breakfast table and halfway through putting on my uniform. My dad and I used to have the biggest fights over this. He'd come strip off my blanket at first. I'd pull up the bedsheet n cuddle under that. Then he'd take away my bedsheet. Then I'd curl up into a ball and pull my tshirt over my whole body. Then on some extreme cases, he'd come pour a mug of water on me. God, I used to get soooo wild. In college, I'd miss the first hour of class on almost all days because I'd oversleep. In office, when I'm late I'd tell the manager, it's because I overslept. And he'd be like, "Are you kidding me? You're not even gona try and make up a lie?" I mean why? Its a genuine excuse. And also, I think it might be a condition.
Anyhow, ever since I started this resolution, I've been to bed at a decent hour and wake up at a pretty decent hour. And I'm proud of myself. Yes, there are nights when I'm tempted to let go and watch a movie instead or stay up whatsapping my husband. But somehow it feels nice now. I still don't like mornings much. I like breakfast though.

4. Keep Track of Accounts : I had started off last year by writing down our expenses. But it got so depressing to look at, that I stopped. But this year I will do it again. Write it down and look at it no matter how ugly it gets.

image : etsy.com
5. Not Buy Shoes : Maybe if I had kept track of the accounts I would've realised this earlier but last year, somehow or the other, I ended up buying 6 pairs or shoes. All of them are insanely cheap because I thrive on shoes that are less than 100 bucks. In college I had a pair of sandals that I got for 5 bucks. I didn't buy any expense shoes last year, except for this pair of heels for a job interview. Worst part is I can't even walk in them and I sort of hobbled across the room during the interview. I know I should've probably returned them, but god they're so pretty. I could just sit there looking at them for hours. Yes, I'm a shoe-o-phile. Shoes are my weakness. And bags. And to my credit I didn't buy a single bag last year. So i guess it makes up for the shoes. But then my resolution is firm. After the one pair of shoes that I will buy next week, I will not buy any more shoes this year. Or for the next six months. And then buy one as a reward for not buying any for 6 months. Yeah that sounds better.

6. Do More : I've whiled away a lot of time last year just sitting around worrying about stuff or just staring at the wall. I don't know if things will happen the way I want it to happen this year either but I'm not gonna sit around and wait. I want to do stuff. Paint, draw, cook, create, write.... anything. The circumstances might not always be correct. I want to try and not focus all my time on what I don't have and think of the stuff that I do have. This is something I really need to do. I know if I could start doing that I'd be happy and changed for life.

image: superstock.com
7. Go for More Walks :  Ever since I got married, I've walked more than I have in my whole life. Sometimes, its exhausting but its never dull. When I walk alone, I get conscious about myself, I scurry along fast, not making eye contact. But now, its kind of nice to hold hands, walk slowly, talk about random things, comment about passerbys. I find that things that some of the things I used to not like doing before, I like doing now because of the company. Like the walks. Or watching boy-movies. My absolute favourite walk is at the middle of the night, when we sneak out of the house to go have an ice cream. This is something I have never been allowed to do before. And it feels like we're doing something we're not allowed to. Which makes it all the more exciting.  This year I will walk more. Preferably in malls. While not buying shoes. :P

image: sharplikeballoon.blogspot.com
8. Cry Less : The past one year, its like my tear hormones just multiplied. Yes, I used to cry before too but there used to atleast be a reason. Now I just cry randomly. A whole bunch of movies made me cry. And I don't mean the silent tear trickling down my cheek. Like absolute bawling. My husband usually have to pause the movie and wait for me to finish. I watched Taken for the first time and spend the whole night crying. In spite of it being a happy ending! This year, I don't care I have to duct-tape my tear ducts. No more crying. Except when I'm PMSing that is. The universe wouldn't want me to mess with that.

9. Eat a fruit everyday : And fruit loops don't count.

image: randomdysfunctions.com
10. Not be Embarrassed to Fart/Burp in front of my Husband :  It is time. Yes, I have done it in the past and covered it up with coughs and what not. It's been a whole year. And its time to get real. And I promise not wince or hide a giggle and be more mature about it when my husband does the same.




11. Blog More Often : Last year I had one post. ONE. I have like 4 posts saved in drafts that I never published. Because somehow it didn't fit the theme of this blog. My writings were starting to seem like a way of venting rather than entertaining. My blog apparently brings happiness to a few people. And I didn't want to wreck that for them by making them listen to me whine. My other excuse is that I'm married. Isn't that the perfect excuse for everything? Why aren't you in touch with us now? Because I'm married. Why are you so fat now? Because I'm married. Why were you out so late? Because I'm married. Why are you wearing that? Because I'm married. I love this newfound excuse. I'm gonna use it when I get a job and I'm late for work.

12. Be more Tolerant : Its my only prayer for the year.  Tolerance. The word had such little importance in my past life. But now it means a whole lot. I wish this year I be more tolerant. To bullshit people say or do. To pain, be it mental and physical.  Of bad times. Mean words. I need to let go of bygones and let it stay gone. I want to look forward and only forward.

Those are my new year resolutions, or rather wishes for myself. I know some of them are silly. I know I probably will break a few before the end of the month. But as long as I have this out there, everytime I look back at this post, I'll remember. And I can start again then.
I do have a lot more boring resolutions like Get a job, learn a new design software, pick up my phone more often, take better care of my hair,etc. I will probably think up a whole bunch of other resolutions too throughout the year. Will keep you posted on them. In the meantime, what are your resolutions? Or don't you believe in resolutions? Let me know!