Author: Tulika

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The ‘weight’ machine

When I was a child you were the highlight of my outstation trips. Even as we stepped onto the station I’d be begging mum for a coin — the cost of our tryst. There you stood, your lights flickering red, blue, green and yellow – on and off, on and off. The crowd, the heat, the dust melted as I spotted you – an oasis of happy colour. Yes, you were my absolute favourite, my ‘weight machine’.

Coin procured, I would sprint up to you. “Wait for the wheel to stop,” my father would say with an indulgent smile. I didn’t listen. I knew the drill. My eyes firmly on that red and white wheel, I’d wait impatiently. As it stopped I’d insert the coin and listen intently for the gentle whirring. Then, quite miraculously, out popped the ticket. Those two digits were studied eagerly and carefully committed to memory to be brought out, analysed, boasted about and compared for days to come.

And there was more… turn over the ticket and you could read your fortune. Pure delight. Pure paisa wasool.

You were a friend, back then. A very fascinating friend. We didn’t meet often enough, for outstation trips were few and far between. I’d wait anxiously for each trip and happily watch the figure move up.

Then came teenage and brought with it some serious ‘weighty’ issues. You changed, then. Your flickering lights took on a sinister glow. The turning of that wheel was like a downward spiral of my fortunes. I tried to drive away the memory of those two figures you churned out. Figures that climbed exponentially upward. I had a compulsive need to meet you, even while you broke my heart. I’d walk reluctantly to you with my coin, hoping for a favourable verdict only to come away disappointed. “Never mind,” mum would hug me with a quiet smile. But I wasn’t listening. And you… you looked on, unmoved, unaware of my misery, a diva pronouncing her judgement with heartless apathy, no longer the friend of my childhood.

Inevitably, our friendship faded.

Then, some years back, I bumped into you again… at my gym. You had changed, aged, a bit like me. Gone was the cheerful friendly face that had thrilled me in my childhood. Gone also was the glamourous heartless diva of my teenage – the lights, the wheel.. all gone. There you stood, no-frills yet dignified – a lady, accurate and impartial as in your youth.

The memories came flooding back.. the excitement as well as the dread.

I climbed on, under my trainer’s watchful eye. “We’ve a long way to go,” he said with a gentle smile. This time, I listened.

Since then we’ve renewed our friendship. You’ve mellowed, you’re kinder. Each morning I find myself waiting to meet you with new hope. Somedays you smile, turn your needle down and my day is made. On others, after binge weekends, I see you frown and I glimpse that heartless diva of my teenage.

However, I accept your smile and your frown for I now know you want only the best for me.

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C is indeed for Cats

The first time I ever stayed away from home was at a working women’s hostel. I spent the first night there listening to what sounded like babies crying. I spent many days wondering where the babies disappeared during the day, why I never actually saw any of them, only to discover it was the cats. They sound disconcertingly like human babies. I stayed there for a year and never did get used to their all-night mewing.
Yeah you’ve guessed, I’m not a cat person. The only cats I really like are the Cheshire Cat and Garfield.
However I do have a bunch of cat crazy friends who bombard Facebook with cute cat pictures. One of them runs a veritable cat home, bringing in more and more homeless creatures everyday. Then there are others who are so cued in to their cats (and so clueless about humans) that when I had my babies one of them called to congratulate me and asked “Have they opened their eyes yet?”
This then, is for all of them.
Some go this way, and some go that way. But as for me, myself, personally, I prefer the short-cut.
the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland

Linking to ABC Wednesday

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All things bright and beautiful

Bright colours and beautiful smiles…. that sums up Rakshabandhan for us this year.
It started off with N getting to make her very first rangoli. She’d been nursing this ambition for months now and, scared of the mess, I’d been holding her back. Finally, I showed her the ropes and she did fine.
Not perfect but good for a first one
When H saw N in the midst of all that colourful mess he quit the television and set up a howl of “I NEVER get to do anything”. I set him to segregate coloured pebbles and we came up with this flower arrangement. He spent hours measuring out the flower stems till they were all the same length. He was a bit upset since flowers didn’t come in his favourite colours, blue and green and had to be mollified with a ‘pebble’ rakhi.

 

H hard at work

 

This is what it looked like

Then we decided to dress up a thermacol plate as the puja thali.

N at work

 

H takes over

 

.. and it’s done

Then of course everyone had to dress up even though we’d decided to have the Rakshabandhan in the evening since The Husband and the sis-in-law had full working days ahead. Do check out N’s hair :-).

Managed to get them to pose sensibly. It’s quite a task, I tell you

We then went shopping for their gifts. H wanted a kitchen set – he’s still in the “I want to be a chef” phase. However he wanted a “boy kitchen set”. On being explained that kitchen sets, like real kitchens, were not male or female he asked why then were they all pink. To which all I could say is that colours too weren’t male or female only to be looked at incredulously and dismissed as someone unaware of life’s realities. Finally we settled for a kitchen set and a football with joint ownership. Didn’t I tell you gifting, in our home, is tricky business?

By evening the house looked nice, the kids were washed and changed and the food was done. I went in to change and came back to find the house …… all pink. Apparently Naisha decided she’d had enough of the rangolis which had, by then, been stepped into many times over and had lost their charm. She poured water on it and the neighbour’s three year-old decided to play a pink Holi and walk all over the house.

Yes I threw a fit. Yes I chased the entire bunch out and set out to mop yet again.

Just as I’d finished and made myself a cup of calming tea, entered The Husband, like the police in Hindi films, right after all the action was over and done with. Even as I was still fuming he handed me a gift.. a gift for me on Rakshbandhan.. and I’m not even his sister! Yay! There’s really no better way to stem the fumes of a fuming woman than to hand her a gift.

The festive spirit was restored. The banished kids were called back and the neighbour’s kids asked to stay for dinner. The sis-in-law came. Everyone tied rakhis to everyone and there was more mithai than all of us could handle.

It’s Chhota Bheem all the way

We stuck with our mutual resolution of token gifts for kids – as in nothing elaborate or expensive or exclusive. Yet, they were thrilled. A big Thank You to the SIL for understanding and agreeing. Oh yes she got me something too. That’s right, it’s okay to bring on the elaborate, the expensive and the exclusive for adults.. heh heh heh.

The delinquents at dinner

Learnings
– A bunch of imperfect things can make up a perfect day.
– Over time, men can be trained to do most things.
– Leaving kids around colour/glitter is suicidal.
– The quickest way to clean dirty footmats is to turn them over.
– and for the nth time: Kids don’t need expensive stuff to make them happy.

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Culmination day…

… at the kids’ school today and I made sure I grabbed the front row seats after I almost cried in frustration last session . Turned out this time there were just a handful of parents since each division was putting up a separate show.
Hrit’s class came on first followed by a verbatum action replay by Naisha’s. The kids surprised me with their confidence, specially Hrit, who wouldn’t even look his teacher in the eye till last year. He delivered his lines perfectly, to everyone’s applause. As for Naisha – a more cheery nurse there never was. Talking is her forte so no surprises there except she seemed to have overcome her stage fright completely this time. I came back a pretty happy mum.

That’s Hrit the carpenter sitting with his tools…
… and Naisha the nurse
In a collage of baby pictures I spotted Hrit (with some difficulty). He’s the smiley
one in the left bottom corner. All kids really do look the same.
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