Types of Moms

Being a mom is no easy feat. I've always had people tell me "Oh, you're going to be an awesome mom someday."

Did I turn out awesome? Hmm, well maybe not exactly. I mean yes, there are days where I end the day with a feeling of triumph, fist pumping the air and going "Yeah, I killed it today!" And there are days when I want to crawl into a cupboard and just stay there and cry all day long while stuffing my face with chocolate biscuits. Motherhood is hardly a consistent affair. 

So I've listed a few types of mom avatars I have taken on a day-to-day basis.

Scene: It's almost bath time. Your little tyke can sense the danger and is bracing herself. Disaster is just around the corner. She is hovering around everywhere but anywhere within ten ten-foot radius of the bathroom. A gigantic tantrum seems like it's on the agenda to avoid the horrendous event.

1. Angry/ impatient/distraught mom

We've all had these days. When you get pushed and pushed and pushed so hard that you just lose it and want to punch a wall. I usually resort to going to the other room and punching the living daylights out of a pillow or my husband. This is also the type of mom I am on the days that I'm going through the wonderful phenomenon called PMS.

"Get into the bathroom. Get in here. GET IN! You get in here RIGHT now! Thats IT! I've had it. You do Not want make me angry. I'm going to count till 5 and if you're not in here by then... then THAT IS IT! "("That's it" usually means I just continue yelling and shouting some more)

The countdown technique doesn't really work with my daughter because she just recently discovered numbers so every time I do that she gets all excited and counts along with me. This angry stage can also be short-lived if she ends up doing something ridiculously adorable and I have to struggle to keep a straight face. But more often, it ends up in tears (mostly mine) and a heavy dose of guilt.

2. Sad/desperate/melodrama mom

This is another common one for me especially during the onset of PMS. PMS while parenting is just one of Nature's biggest controversies.

"Pleaaaase, baby pleeeease *sob* please for the love of God! Please stop torturing me and come to bath! Pleeeaseeeee! Why are you doing this me! What did I do to deserve this! Why God whyyyyy!!"

Chances are that the toddler involved will usually be lying with her feet in the air singing loudly completely oblivious to your pleading and melodrama. This stage also leads to offering bribes. But again that does not work because toddlers do not understand bribes, I've realized. They just lie on the floor and cry until you bribe them to stop crying. 

3. Goofy/funny mom

Okay, this is me on my good days. I bring out the tickle monster and chase her into the bathroom. Or let her bring literally every single kitchen utensil or household item into the bathroom with her (because bath toys are too mainstream). You could make up a silly bath song. And pretend the bucket is a bathtub.  And water fights obviously. This one time I got into the shower with her fully clothed. And we did a rain dance. She thought it was hilarious.

Disclaimer :goofy mom can and may turn into impatient mom if said child is not receptive of any of the goofiness.

4. Tricky/sneaky mom

This trick works only once in a while and is a bit mean. Just go stand in the bathroom and look at the floor or ceiling and stare in amazement. Make sure your child can see you. Then exclaim something like "OH MY GOD, did you see that elephant!" Or fairy or dinosaur. Or the entire cast of Friends. Or whatever your kid fancies. My kid usually comes running if I tell her there is an itsy-bitsy spider in the corner and there usually is so I'm technically not being a liar.

Sometimes you don't even need to lie. Just leave the bathroom door open with the lights on and leave the room. Chances are their mischievous minds will start churning and they ll be compelled to go and explore the bathroom on their own. You then sneak up behind them and trap them before they figure out what is happening. Kind of like catching flies, I just realized now.

 Also make sure you go to them without much delay. I once took a little too long and discovered my little monkey with one foot inside the toilet.

5. Don't give an f mom/cool mom/unhygienic mom
Smell hair. Seems okay. Whatever. Bathtime is overrated anyway. 

This is me on more days than I'd like to admit. 




Whichever kind of mom you are, just know that you are not alone. "We are all a hot mess, some just hide it better than the others."
Happy mom-ing!

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. Let's 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 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 secretly 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. That's 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!  

Here Comes The Bride!

So I finally went and did it. I went and got meself one of them husband things.

It’s been a while since I got married and I kept meaning to post about it but wasn’t sure how to write anymore, without hurting feelings and sentiments and opinions. But I felt a little bad not sharing it with you guys because I’ve written a lot about marriage and prospective grooms and stuff on this blog before.

My wedding day wasn't exactly the one that I had been picturing since I was a little girl. Well, thank god it wasn’t. I’m not sure if I’d still have wanted my groom to show up on a pink horse or a flying carpet or burst out of the ceiling…. Okay who am I kidding! That would have been awesome.

But seriously though, my wedding went by quite peacefully. I didn’t trip and fall on my face. I didn’t stick out my wrong hand for the ring. I didn’t start a giggling fit. Most of the day went by in a very hazy mode. You know how it feels when someone wakes you up too early to do something? And you know that once you finish it you can go back to sleep? So you don’t bother to fully wake up. And so you’re not sure if the things you’re doing you’re doing for real or if you’re dreaming. That’s what it felt like most of the time.

I kind of liked the dressing up part. Ok, I loved the dressing up part. Every time I freaked out before the wedding, my friends and sisters would be like “Think of all the shopping you get to do. Think of the wedding day as a free make-over day.” And it was just that. Like someone did a make-over on me. I didn’t look like me so it kind of felt like I was pretending to be someone else who does big grown up things like get married and stuff.

The place where I had to go dress up was crawling with brides. There were about 9 or 10 other girls over there who were getting married the same day. So the feeling that you’re the prettiest girl in the room on your wedding day wasn’t too strong at that point.

But I loved the attention. And one lady said I had nice hips. When I didn’t even think I had a visible one. Once they were done with me, I felt like I had to walk in slow-motion and had a here-comes-the-heroine background music running in my head all the time. I couldn’t move my head left or right or look up or down. But it was still awesome. I loved the ride home where passersby casually look in the car and then do a double-take. I had an urge to smile and do the royal wave at them all.

Once I was home, I hated not being able to run about freely because there were so many things I wanted to do but with the heavy saree and jewellery and fake hair and the flowers, I was literally tied down. Someone had to spoon-feed me some breakfast. After which, the photo session began. Or resumed actually. I’d had almost enough of the pre-wedding photoshoot the night before. It was fun at first, pretending to be a model and stuff. But then you think they’ll say, ok, that enough, that’s it. But they don’t. Two hours later you think, ok, this is gonna be the last click. But its not. And I knew I’d have to do the embarrassing poses. But one photographer wanted me to lie on the floor with my legs all twisted and turn in really bizarre ways. I am not sure what sort of photography he used to do before this. And the lights make you sweat. And the flash makes you blind. I have a whole new respect for models who does this day in and day out.

Before we left home, me and my sisters had a “Oh my god, look at you? Aaaaaaaaaaah!” moment as they squeezed my hands. I guess it was at that moment a tiny bit of tension arose. I pushed it aside. Naah, it’ll be okay. We’re just playing pretend wedding.

I loved how everyone approved of the way I looked that day. Noone complained that my hair was not right or I’m not wearing bangles or how my neck is too bony. They’d all come rushing towards me with a urgent expression – eyebrows knitted with anxiety and searching eyes. And once they saw me, their shoulders relaxed along with their eyebrows and a huge grin form on their face from side to side. Score from annoying aunties! Actually double score- they couldn’t complain about the way I dress or the fact that I still wasn’t married, anymore.

I got a little fidgety in the dressing room in the wedding hall. The groom hadn’t arrived yet. And I always had this huge huge nightmare where my groom doesn’t show up on my wedding day. I know, it’s probably because I watch too many silly movies. And also I look so nice, it would’ve been a shame if he didn’t come and see that.

Anyhow he did turn up soon and it was time to do the walk down the aisle. Two rows of girls with oil-lamps and would walk before me and I’d follow them at the end of the row. Okay, apparently during the walk, one of the girls accidentally set another girl’s hair on fire. And I didn’t even see it! When they told me later, I wanted to kick myself for not having seen. I always miss the fun stuff. I was in that haze thing I told you about earlier.

I’ve often wondered what the brides think about while walking down the aisle. The future that lay ahead? The enormity of the act they were about to perform? Their loved one waiting at the end of the aisle? All that was running through my head was “Please don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall, who put these stupid F**%$^g wires on the floor? Oh my god, don’t fall, don’t trip!” I had originally wanted to walk smiling at everyone and waving if possible. But I didn’t feel like smiling at anyone. Until I looked up at one point. And I saw the guy on stage who actually wants to marry me, happily unaware of how crazy his life is going to get. And I broke into a smile. It was a private personal moment. Except it wasn’t. Later when the wedding album came, that secret smile was plastered across a double spread. Oh well.

Once I was on stage, I wanted to talk to him and go all “Dude, how freaky is this!” And laugh about it. I barely even managed to look at him without feeling all awkward. I think he told me I look nice. Ha-ha, score for him.

Later the pujari guy made us hold hands and say a lot of chants. Which made me want to laugh a little. Because some of the words sounded so funny, I was pretty sure he was just making them up as he said it. Then he made my dad take my hand and put it in the groom’s hand. Which made me kinda sad. Because of the symbolism. And my dad said stuff which I think means “I give you my daughter..” which made me sad.

Then the major things happen. I was in a haze during most of this too. Except when he tied the knot. And the music started. It usually gives me goosebumps, this point of a wedding. Well, at mine… I broke into tears. I don’t know if anybody noticed. I didn’t like cry out loud or anything. I just had tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t crying because I was unhappy. I was crying because at that moment, that was when realization hit. That I’m not playing a game and pretending to be a grown-up. I actually doing this very huge thing. It’s actually happening. And I felt dead scared. He noticed. And he whispered “Please don’t cry.” Which helped.

By the time it was time for the sindoor, I forgot to feel scared or cry. Because  I’ve seen the sindoor scene sooo many times in movies. And that moment felt so filmy, I wanted it to happen in slow motion. I looked at him with my filmiest eyes. I was also trying not to giggle. That momentary feeling of maturity I’d felt had passed.

The part where we had to hold hands and walk round and round was pretty fun too. I tried to send him a secret message by squeezing his hand according to the alphabets. But he was concentrating too hard on walking.

The rest of the wedding went by in a whir. My mom got to get me to drink milk after many many years. And this time I couldn’t roll up on the floor and kick and scream and throw a tantrum about it. I smiled at and took photographs with so many people, most of them who went “You remember me? Yes? Then say who I am” Aarrrrrg, so annoying, especially because of course I don’t remember them!

When it was time to leave, I cried. So did the rest of my family. But that was expected. It’s kind of a norm in our family. Even if we don’t cry the rest of the 365 days of the year, we can and we will cry at one of our own’s weddings. And this was the last wedding in our family. Which made it all the more sad (Probably not so sad for my dad who’s paid for all three of his girls’ weddings)

And that’s the story of my wedding day. It was exciting and it was exhausting. All those months’ preparation had finally come to an end. But I’m also a little sad that its over. I can’t go shopping crazy and nobody would think it was normal or okay anymore. I can’t have people at the parlour ask “Bride?” to me and then proceed to treat me better than the other non-bride people. I can’t wonder about what my wedding day would be like, like I have been since I was a little girl. I can’t look all nice and get up on stage and be centre of attraction again. Unless I decide to do a dance or sing on stage or something later in life. Which I know I won’t. I can’t randomly boss people around because I’m the bride (Don’t do this for too long, or they might ask you to go to hell.)

But hey, I’m a wife now. And that’s a whole other ball game. I know it won’t be easy. But as long as I have a few filmy moments here and there, I should be fine. My “life as wife” posts will follow shortly. So watch this space. :-) 

A Furry Tail

It had been a terribly long day. 

At around 10pm, I got back home after helping my cousin with some work. I was tired and was looking forward to going to bed. At the gate, my dog awaited eagerly. I groaned. I mean, I love the lil fellow, but sometimes you just wanna be able to walk into your house upright and not have a 30 kilo over-excited puppy lunge at you. After a lotta puppy pushes, I managed to get into the house (not without a few scratches). 

Inside the house, I see a big fat cat strutting around like he owned the place. He was jumping from pole to pole over our heads and at each jump, I cringed a little. I mean, there is something very icky bout cats. I can't quite figure out what it is. But just looking at a cat makes my mind throw up a little. So while this furry feline tried all sorts of acrobats, I hurried outta the room because the last thing I wanted was for it to fall on my head. 

Later as I watched TV, my eyes kept drifting to the hole that the cat disappeared into. After a bit, I went to the kitchen to heat up some leftover pizza only to see it covered completely by ants. What nerve?! I mean ants would've eaten rotten wood with the same enthusiasm but they had to go and attack my precious pizza!? UGH!

After a bit more TV, I decided to head to bed. I went to my room and caught a glimpse of a shadow crawl under my bed. I frantically jumped on my bed and stood on tiptoes. Upon turning on the light, I saw yet another cat casually stroll out from under my bed. I opened a window so that the cat could find its way out, only to get shocked outta my skin when my dog stuck his head in through the window and barked at a bazillion decibels. Right then, I had just had it with animals! I was sick and tired of cats and dogs and chickens and ants and everything!

I went back to my room still grumbling. The whole room had a musty cat smell. I almost gagged. After spritzing my perfume about a bit, I sat staring at the window through which Cat No.2 had entered my room. I was too scared to reach out and close it because I was sure that a whole bunch of cats were there just waiting to feast on my arms. I managed to doze off after a bit and have a flurry of weird dreams about cats walking all over my bed and turning into vampires and biting my neck. 

Imagine my shock when out of nowhere, I hear a tiny Meowww! My eyes shot open and I looked around hurriedly. I checked under the bed. Nothing there either. It wasn't coming from outside either. Then finally, under a chair lay a cloth that had fallen there a few days ago that I kept meaning to put back in the cupboard. 

Inside it lay a tiny little fur ball. It couldn't have been hardly a day old. For a minute I wasn't sure if it was a cat or a mouse. It was literally that tiny. Then, I freaked. I felt like a mom who wasn't ready to become a mom but suddenly had a lil baby fall outta her all of a sudden. It was around 3 in the morning. I had no access to the internet right then or else I would've Googled the shit outta kitty-caring techniques. So instead, I called up a friend who I figured would be awake enough to shell out some advice. After 10 minutes of the world's most useless and pointless conversation, I was on all four staring at her. I had never seen a new born cat before. I got a little wistful because I swear she looked exactly like my niece did when she was born. The same long eyes and pink nose. Check out the pictures and you tell me if you don't see a similarity.

I wanted to touch her but just couldn't make myself do it. I put one finger on top of her head though. She stirred and I had a mini-heart attack. She started shivering a little. So I folded up a kurtha and laid it gently on top of her. I don't know why I figured its a she. Maybe because when she started crying, she wasn't meowing, she was literally crying. Like human babies do. A little whiny cry.

 I pulled at the cloth she was lying on to make sure there was just one. I always thought cats gave birth to like a dozen at once. I pushed the cloth down under my bed so that it would be warmer there. Then I grabbed my camera and took a coupla quick pictures. I wrote a note to my dad so that my dad doesn't accidently step on her or something the next morning. Wrote 'There's a kitten under my bed. What to do with it? Please don't kill it.'

Turned off the light and went to bed with names for the kitten whirling around in my head. Few minutes later, I hear someone clawing at my window. I shoot outta bed, grabbed a pillow, headed for my parents' bedroom and slept there. 

Next morning, I woke up to see her dragging herself around under the bed, crying for dear life. She couldn't even walk. And she kept falling over too. I had a quite a lotta aww moments in that 10 minutes. She did that eerie human cry again. 

I found the tiniest bowl I could and poured in some milk. I pushed the bowl under her nose. She toppled over and fell face-first into the bowl of milk. Oh crap, I've drowned it. But she lifted her head again, looked a bit confused, licked her mouth and then pretended to gag. And dragged herself away from the bowl. Well, excuse me for not being a gourmet milk chef. 

She kept crying so I stuck some old cloth into a box and sorta rolled the lil fur-ball into the box with a book.(I still wasn't too keen on touching it) She jumped outta there once. Swooping her up again, I placed her back into the box and while holding the box at an arm's distance, carried it to the staircases. I placed it at the foot of the stairs. 

I look up to see the mom-cat looking down at us. I point to the baby and quietly leave. I hide behind a door and peep to see the big reunion. I was hoping it'd be completely Karan Joharish style. I wait and wait and the stupid mom cat still wouldn't budge. I badly had to pee as well. (I still hadn't brushed my teeth or anything. Straight outta the bed and into this melodrama). 

Finally, I got tired of waiting and moved the box a few steps up, hoping that the little fella won't attempt to plunge into an early death now. Went to the bathroom. By the time, I was back after 15 minutes, both mom and daughter were gone. They're probably in my room upstairs cos when I went there later that day, it smelt of that same old musty cat smell. 

This is by far the most exciting thing that happen to me this year. Don't judge me, ok. Exciting-er things have happened to me. I'm keeping a low profile this year. Anyway, this incident made me feel like I'm living out an Enid Blyton story. Sure, it wasn't a goblin or pixie or talking doll or anything that I found under the bed. But there I was, grumbling about all the animals in the world and *Pling* this adorable little creature happens. There isn't an exciting or surprising ending to this story. Just that the lil kitten got to have a super awesome human-mom for a day. Who tried to drown her in milk. Umm...shhh! ;-)

Guess Where I Found Zen?



"Everyone needs to find their Zen. What do I mean by that? Zen means peace, meditation, calmness. We are conditioned to stressing and forboding and worrying, it's human nature. It's difficult for us as humans, to focus on the moment and find peace or even want it, but we do however, need peace in our lives."

Everyone has their own ways to zen.

Ross to Phoebe :

No, no don't!
 Stop cleansing my aura!
No, just leave my aura alone, okay

Of cleansing their auras. I love how Phoebe from F*R*I*E*N*D*S does it by.. well.. literally plucking out the yuckies from your aura. But for the saner lot, it's mostly yoga or music or a walk or whatever. I’ve always wondered what my aura-cleansing technique is. Well not just an aura cleanser.. but also a stress-busting, depression-dissolving, life-mending technique.

I used to sing to ease my worries. No, not just randomly sing.. I would take the pains to listen to a song and write down the lyrics.. even though I could just get it off the Internet. I like to write it down myself cos a) this usually happens in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep and I’m too lazy to turn on the computer again and b) when you write down the lyrics, you can write them down exactly how you hear it if you don’t understand what the actual words are. I don't know how thats better. But it is.

Like the song Survivor by Destiny’s Child. I swear, it goes “I’m a survivor, I’m not go-giver, I’m a bus driver, Imma work harder!”, which sounds all wrong and probably is wrong but it cracks me up so I never really tried to find out the real lyrics.

Anyway, singing usually used to work for me until my nose kept getting blocked all the time and I literally lose my breath after half the song and also its no fun when you have to sing it like “Ibha surbhiber, Ibha bhus drivher”.. It doesn’t really make you feel like a survivor.. or a bus driver for that matter.

So after that, I couldn’t figure out what to do to get rid of all those bad/sad feelings.Until I tried gardening.

It was awesome. Everytime you bring that shovel down on the hard ground, you feel like your cracking through the brains of all your murky problems in life. And when I come across a worm- forgive me all animal right-ist and worm lovers – but I squish it. And I feel better. So there I was, digging and squishing, digging and digging more than I needed to dig. With more aggression that I’ve ever felt in my life. Once I was done, I was proud of myself and resolved that this was going to be my solution to dark days forever. I'd found my zen in the mud and dirt. Everything was great until the next morning when I woke up and found that my arms had temporarily stopped function. Well okay, that’s an over-exaggeration. They did function. Except every time they tried to function, it felt like everyone of those tiny worms I squished the day before had cloned themselves to infinity and had magically made their way inside my body to bite into each inch of the little muscle that I had somewhere between all those bones. Apparently worms have got someone looking out for them too.

I had to figure out another way to unwind before I drove myself insane. I thought of yoga which seemed like the obvious way to go. But I didn’t wanna cause further damage than I had already caused. Everytime I tried yoga in the past, I’d require atleast two days of bed rest atleast until I figure out that I’m bending or twisting in the wrong direction.

That is when I came across this awesome cooking blog. I’m not gonna give you the link b'cos I found it and its mine. And you can’t have it...... It’s mine.

I’m very possessive about my blog finds. I “found” the 1000awesomethings blog and a month later, there was an article about it in the Reader’s Digest. Sure, the blog had atleast a bazillion visitors already… but I found it. :-/

So anyway, the cooking blog.. the secret cooking blog was amazing. I started to make something everyday. And wonder of wonders, everything was.. well.. sorta edible. Well ok, it wasn’t repulsive either! I mean, I was actually good at it and got better everyday. Every afternoon, I’d browse the blog and figure out what I want to make, jot down the recipe and get crackin’. It was awesome, apart from an occasional hard-as-coconut-shells biscuits, everything else was scrummilicious. I was in bliss. It went on great until one day I had my heart set on making Banana bread. I don’t even like bananas, but it just seemed like a cool thing to make! And it was simple as hell too! I went to the store and got extra butter and eggs and everything and was all excited to make it. So in the afternoon, I go to the kitchen to make my much-awaited Banana bread. I lay out all my ingredients until I notice one tiny little thing was missing. We were out of bananas.

I swear, it was like my world was falling apart! I just had to had to make it that day itself! I mean, how can we not have bananas!? We always have bananas! My house literally grew on banana trees! I have never been that terribly upset. I was literally in tears. It was like I just missed out on winning the Nobel Prize. After spending hours, mourning on my bed, I considered trying to make something else. But figured, what’s the point? When you’re looking for lemonade, life just hands you one rotten lemon after another(we were out of lemons too :-( )

I listened to sad songs, sat around in the dark and cried my eyes out. After a while, I wasn’t sure if it was about the bananas (or the lemon) anymore. With the little light coming in through the window and tears flowing down my cheeks, somehow it crossed my mind that this would make a great photograph. All artsy and stuff. Still sniffing and sobbing, but without hesitation, I picked up my phone and clicked a picture of myself... only to find that I looked positively ghastly. It made me cry even more and curse stupid actors in movies who look positively angelic while they cry. Bloody nonsense. Oh, why.. why is everything in my life going so wrong! Where the hell is my goddamn zen! Self pity, self pity and more self-pity. Ugh.

Anyhow, crying always makes me want to pee. I don’t know what the connection is. You’re losing liquid…and somehow that makes you want to lose more liquid. Anyway, I stepped into the bathroom. The bathroom was really dirty from all the mud from the garden and just murk in general. I gestured to the empty room and said to myself “This…this is my life….A big disgusting mess...” Silence.

Without a moment’s thought, I grabbed a sponge and some floor cleaner. Down on all fours, I started scrubbing. After I was done, I looked down and still wasn’t satisfied. So I grabbed hold of every single bathroom-cleaning equipment lying around including an old toothbrush of mine and did it again. This time I gave it my all, which means between the tiles and near the clogged drain. By the time I was on the last tile, I was surprised when I realised that I was actually grinning. I’ve cleaned up the “big disgusting mess”. Ok fine so maybe my life hadn't magically cleaned itself up too. But I realized that if I could clean up this great big mess, well, then no mess is too big for me!

No mess is too big for me.  That's my current aura-cleaning methodology now. I'm on my way to Zen. And to think.. of all the places, I looked.. I found mine in the bathroom. :-)

Baby Blues

I have the baby blues. As in I really think I need to have a baby. Right now would be a very good time for me to have a baby. I mean sure, I'm not married yet. I'm not even sure if I'm at the legal age to have babies. There is one, rite? Legal age for baby production? Anyway, why I said that this is a good time is cos I've been around babies for so long that nowadays when I watch ads with lil babies in em, I get this whole maternal thingy stirring inside. I'm all like awwwwwwwwww..not the normal regular aw cute...this is the drawn out, longing, wistful awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww *sigh*. Sometimes I even tear up. Now this can't be a good thing. And it just means that I need to have a kid. I'm not ready for marriage sure...but kids, i think i can handle it.

Some people have this calling. And all this while I was confused bout what mine is. Now I'm thinking, its most defnitely gotta be sumthin to do with kids. Cos, man I'm seriously good with em. I mean, I used to like kids ok. The regular amount. I even used to tell some people that I dunt like kids cos I didnt wana seem like the girly girl coochie coo baby luver (I'm not. I dunt go all "coochie coo" shit.. I'm all like Sup Baybeh!) I've been babysitting ever since I was 13 or so. Its just recently that people has been tellin me Im sooo good with babies. And thats when I realise I shud test these super powers of mine. Every new baby is a challenge. People think its easy to win over a baby. Trust me, its no easier than winning over a pretty girl. (but yeah its almost as easy as getting a guy to think ur interested)

So nowadays, every baby I see, its like I just haave to make em like me. I'm like the baby playa. But i don't play with their feelings and not call them after I say I will. Or atleast I try not to do dat. Once, I'm pretty sure where I stand with my baby skills, maybe I'll think of doing something with it.

When I paint or draw or read n stuff, sure it makes me happy. But when I'm with a baby, and that first smile it flashes at you as a sign of "ok-ur-in", man...that smile can just turn your heart into pulp. Thats like a whole different level of happy.

When people think bout babies, the only thing they talk bout it dirty diapers...and sleepless nights. I mean c'mon..there is soo much more to babies than that. People who has never really dealt with babies won't really know this cos they rely on 2ndory info and hear just bout the 6 kilo diapers and 6am feeding time. They don't hear bout the smile that I told u bout earlier, or the warmth u feel inside n out when they fall asleep on ur chest, or the pride you feel when they choose to run into ur arms when they're scared, or bout how hard you laughed wen they make that funny face wen they poop, or how you heart breaks when their smiles crumble into tears when you wave goodbye......

...

.....

Okay so i got a lil too senti there... I told u, the whole maternal thingy is getting to me.

So, basically what I'm tryin to say is...well I'm not sure. I just wana dedicate this post to my niece n nephew...my number one babies...miss u guys soo soo much. Now I actually get what Saif Ali Khan was talkin bout in that ad when he said "I miss u so much..it hurts!"

oh and mwah mwah to all the other lil babies out there... Sup Baybehz!