Monday, May 26, 2008

Some More Niceness

Parul and Dottie passed the Nice Matters badge to me once more. In thanks, I give them my favourite photo:


We've been having a rough week, he and I, but each night, I came home from work, slipped into the bedroom and watched him sleep. And lost my heart to a little mannikin all over again. May his triplet daughters have the same effect on him some day.

Ma's coming to Cal in a few hours, hurrah! Went out tonight with a friend of mine and we had a blast, drinking and laughing ourselves silly at absurdities. I don't know if I need to do this some more, but I'm so glad she thought of this. Needed the night out. Bless V for always acknowledging that.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Pillow Talk or What Not to Say If You Want To Get Laid

While checking mail.

Sue: Do you want to enlarge your penis? I have about 20 different mails here telling you they'll show you how to do it cheap. And it's all herbal.

V: [encouragingly] Why don't you go in for it?




Cuddling at night.

Sue: I love you.

V: [Half asleep] Hmm... me too.

Sue: So we'll call you Rasna from now on, ok?

V: Huh?

Sue: You know... I love you Rasna!

[Not surprisingly, this didn't lead to bigger, better, er, happenings that night.]




Cuddling, another night.

Sue: So... [fill in suitable foreplayish talk]

V: Oh and did I tell you, your parents called. [Blah blah]

Sue: [stunned silence]

half an hour later

Sue: As I was saying, [fill in erotic talk once more]

V: Yes?

Sue: Oh and I completely forgot to mention, you know, that idiot friend of yours, T, today he [blah blah]

V: [stunned silence]


I know what you're thinking. But it wasn't a deliberate thing. It's just that we both don't know when to just shut up and get on with it.

Friday, May 16, 2008

Been busy

Been working very hard, trying to catch up on housework. Been working very late hours. Been, er, nagging.

I hope you understand. Will be back in a bit.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Beauty Stuff

I'm a sucker for porcelain complexions and smooth hair and soft hands and feet. Because I happen not to have any of these things. My skin's, well, holding all of me in, and my hair's, well, it's on my head, thankfully, and my hands and feet work very hard and get nothing in return.

Ten days ago, I was chatting with my mum on the phone and I was pretty stressed out and close to tears so she asked me to visit a parlour for whatever I wanted, and she'd pay. This, from a woman who's only entered a beauty parlour once that I can remember. Anyway, so yesterday I finally managed to go. Went to a Chinese affair that's very close to the Lake Gardens rail crossing, called Kim Lee. Or Kim Jong. Or Kim Wah. Something like that.

Went for a shampoo and a pedicure, but they were pretty crowded and I needed to leave in a bit for work so I settled for a shampoo only. They washed my hair with L'oreal shampoo. And that's the best you can say about that. The handling was rough, the woman asked me afterwards if I wanted it dried (wtf?) and then just went to work with a blowdrier. Just a blowdrier. Nearly tore off chunks of hair because she used no conditioner. When I asked about that, another girl came over, touched my hair and said it wasn't dry enough for conditioning. Where did she learn that?

Whatever, tried to gently comb out tangles while the drying was going on. Came away with rough straw where I used to have a scalpful of hair. I do a darn better job at home. And to think I coughed up Rs. 150 for that! No conditioning, no setting, no nothing. Am never going back there and am seriously considering sticking to only the upmarket parlours in the future. Am no parlour person really so I don't know where the best places are around home.

Anyway, what with one thing and another, I gave myself one of my biennial pedicures tonight so my feet feel all nice and soft and look pretty. They are still cracked underneath but who's looking?

So am feeling pretty good about myself right now. My hands are a mess, but no point doing them up, really. No polish will last. But tmrw I'm going to work in pretty skirts that point out my feet, yay!

Monday, May 12, 2008

Annoying Advertisements

Shopper's Stop:

Wear designer dress.
Distract poacher.
Save wildlife.

(Or something like that.) So now I know Shopper's Stop clothes are not for the thinking woman. Because nobody who can claim to be able to function intellectually would find the lines either funny or attractive.


Park Avenue Deodorant

Announce your arrival... from miles away

(Again, I think that's how the words go.) You know what that makes me think? That they are selling cheap, overstrong sprays. The kind that people like me turn their noses up at.

Gah!

Sunday, May 11, 2008

So I'm just taking a huge risk

... and saying, things seem to be on the mend at home. Caught myself smiling at V this evening. It's been a while.

I hope he has understood one thing at least. My anger is far less damaging in its implications and expressions than my indifference. And I blog only about the people and things I care for. If I were indifferent, I wouldn't waste my time.

It's funny, in a way. Used to be madly passionate about so many things. But motherhood made me list out my priorities, and now I've finally learnt to not care about the rest of the world. I have a couple of friends, precisely two, whose vagaries I'm used to, and a couple more, who are a little less close but who I'm pretty comfortable being around. I write about them. And I write about my work, my days, what amuses me, and that last includes my husband and kid. It'd be a shame if they weren't a part of this blog, a place I come to everyday. I'll be frank. I'm not one who can neatly compartmentalise her life, and I like my family brought into my work (although not so much vice versa, thank you!) so I cannot imagine leaving them off the blog.

If somebody thinks that's exploitative, well, their problem. Not mine, my husband's or my son's. They know I write about them because it's hard to leave them out of my stuff. Not because I think they make for attractive reading. And it's weird how people think I spill my guts out here, because, I'm sorry, but I really don't. I only tell as much as I'd tell a stranger at a bus-stop to unburden myself. I've often thought if V had a similar outlet, he and I would deal much better together. It's easier to get back to your senses once you've let off some steam.

Blank Noise Kolkata met today at Flury's and we had fun. Also discussed some serious work. Good, good.

NOTE: Inspired by Kiran and then Dooce.

Nice Thing, Motherhood

Whatever problems V and I have, Rahul and I continue as always. We squabble and go in different directions. And after a few minutes, we hug and make up. He drives me wild and I retaliate by pretending not to understand him, which ends in much toddler screaming, often punctuated by his frustrated 'Emm!" which alone makes it worth while.

I like just picking him up and taking him with me wherever I go. I really do. I'd take him to work if it were nearer home. And if the timings were more suitable. And he likes going out, hopping in impatience as I get ready. I love the entranced look in his eyes as he watches me drape a saree and put my hair up. I don't know what he'll grow up to be, but so long as he retains that wonder at the transformation some nice clothes can bring, I think he'll always be my son.

He was speaking so much, in March, but changed all his words somehow while he had his ayah, all fifteen days that she did work for us. I'm not sure why that happened, but now his words are mixed up again. It doesn't bother me too much, because I figure he'll start speaking properly once more when we visit Madras this summer. Being around my parents has always kickstarted his speech skills.

Potty training getting along slowly. Diapers only at sleeptimes and outings, and otherwise he either wears wee underpants or nothing. He has some accidents from time to time, but they are almost always because I've been too busy to remember to take him to the bathroom on schedule or because I didn't understand what he was trying to tell me.

Gayatri gave birth to a little boy on Wednesday and because it was a premature, emergency delivery, Tara spent a night and a day with us before G's mum arrived from Delhi to take over. Rahul and she squabbled all day but two moments won me over. One was when I was bathing the two of them. Rahul done, I soaped Tara and was washing it off when R suddenly joined in, gently washing the soap off her face, rubbing it into her hair(!) I stepped back, truly redundant for a minute. And Tara smiled beautifully at him.

The second thing happened after I left for work. V had just given them both their dinner and T, not having seen her mother in 24 hours, and her father for almost as long, was tired and cranky and decidedly unhappy. V was trying to pacify her but getting nowhere much, when his son stepped up and tried to tell T not to cry. When that didn't work, he handed her his precious red jeep. The same child who had torn away most toys T had played with all day. And the same jeep which anybody else in the world only touches at their own peril.

And the next morning, I turned on this song, my current favourite, and suddenly The Bhablet bounds up to me, pulls me out of the chair and starts to dance, indicating I should dance with him. I don't know what it takes to woo you, but I'll confess I was a gooey mess.

So, when Dipali and Asha pass on a most undeserved award -- well, I've never been called nice, you know -- I had to write of the nicest things I could think of.


It's nice, being Bhablet ki ma. Happy Mother's Day to you, too.

P.S.
Forgot to pass on the love. According to the creator of the award (or Asha, whichever way you like it) "This award will be awarded to those that are just nice people , good
blog friends and those that inspire good feelings and inspiration! Those that
care about others that are there to lend support or those that are just a
positive influence in our blogging world!"

So I think this award should be passed on to Maggie, Gauri, Sunita and Mona. Who are all, (with the possible exception of Mags) always very nice people indeed. And Mags, she's so naughty she's nice. And Dipali, I'm tossing the badge back at you, too.

Orkut Hits Again

hi madam,this is malay.Can u add me on ur profile....i love to make unknown people.


LOL! Was so tempted to reply. But that'd be like potting sitting ducks, na?

The Story of My Life (Also Priyanka's, I Think)

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Concern

The last post. You think that gives anybody the right to run my husband down to me?

I will not be told things like, "if you write about him you give others the chance to run him down." Because to me that is like telling me what I may and may not write. I do write about V, and I will, until he asks me to stop. If it bothers him, I'm afraid I'll need him to come out and say it.

Let's get one thing very clear here. I do not mind V's drinking at all. My father drinks, as does my brother, as do I. I'm trying to learn to live with the smoking. What I minded was the disrespect shown to my home, not the fact that he was smoking. So if you come to me expecting me to agree with you about what a loser I've married -- you've come to the wrong place. It was worrying to see V get passing out because he hardly ever does. He gets happy (and once he got married) but basically that's it.

I'm not angry, haven't been angry in a while now. Just at a dead end once more. Wondering what turn will bring me the peace I'm looking for. No, meditation is not my thing. Open lines of communication with my husband is what I really need. At times like these, the blog is a source of communication. A communication that is not just insults yelled out loud. A place where I can tell him what I need to, without awkward silences. This communication is older than our relationship. There are old posts in the archives, meaningless, angry rants. V knew what I was on about, though, and showed me that he did.

I need to hear some things from him. I don't think I'll feel whole again until I do. But till then, some emails I got last night helped so much. I'll tell why. These emails (you know who you are, and thanks) jerked me out of the detachment because they talked about ways and means of coping. The one thing that ticks me off is people being judgmental. I'll accept it if you got something constructive with it, but not on its own. So, these emails really helped. I'm glad I replaced this post because unexpected people responded, and nothing cheers me up better than a bunch of people saying, hang in there, you're not alone. Call if you need help.

The problem is ours, V's and mine, and we'll solve it ourselves. But sometimes, I need a place to let loose so I can return to my own home a little calmer, a little more able to let go of my pride and anger. So if you see posts that you think give you the right to run me, my husband or son or anybody I love, down, stop right there. I'm venting, looking for an outlet I don't really have here. If my mother were here, I'd talk to her, but long distance it's not the same and only ends up worrying her. If you haven't anything constructive to say, don't say it. Don't say something that could destroy, not even out of love and concern for me.

N.B.
You could read this is as an insult, a poor reward for your concern. Or you could read it as something to add to your understanding of me. That my husband and son come first. Even when it doesn't seem like they do.

Sunday, May 04, 2008

4th May, 2008

I am in two minds about blogging this day, because it means writing a lot about V and E is of the opinion that he resents my writing about him and that is what creates problems between us. She could be right. Or very wrong. I really don't know because today I can tell you, I don't know this man at all.

But the day was so wtf I can't get over it. Got up at 7.30, dusted, swept, tidied, got breakfast for The Bhablet. Went through his morning routine, juice, potty, yadda yadda, settled him in his pool and went into the kitchen. Took me longer than I'd thought because the kitchen needed serious cleaning (I'd ignored it all week. Stress got to me, so I'd focused my mind outside the house for a couple of days.) Cleaned, cooked, cleaned. Set curd, made lunch, got on the phone with Ma, tried out a new recipe, found out about Madhavi's pregnancy (wife of one of my oldest friends and I really like her. She's having a hard time so please keep her in your prayers.) Declined an invitation to lunch. V gave The Bhablet his bath and lunch and I then took him off for his nap.

He took a while to settle down. Anupam arrived for a visit, and I left on a series of errands. Drop off dungarees at Southern Avenue, pick up shirt, drop off shirt at Panditiya, drop off cheque and pick up passes from Sunny Park. At Sunny Park I discovered that I'd left my wallet at home so had no money and more importantly, no license. Drove home warily, and the horn stopped working midway.

Came home, found V smoking, even though he knows well that I will not have anybody smoking in the house, not even in our tiny balcony, save during parties. Lost my temper, smacked him, kicked Anupam out. I'm not the slightest bit upset now, nine hours later, but he's not coming back to my home. I trusted him. Words with V afterwards.

Cleaned up kitchen. Put the laundry out to dry. Washed dishes used by the two men, fell asleep next to The Bhablet in his cot. V woke me up to ask me what I'd meant. I felt distinctly unobliging. Things were starting to get out of hand when The Bhablet stirred and ended the conversation. I went back to sleep. The wtfness of the day had left me pretty uninterested in trying to make sense of any of it.

I napped, actually, and kept waking to hear bangs and remember V stalking away. Woke up sometime later to find he'd left home, having finished the vodka I'd locked away. His decision, I told myself, and busied myself with The Bhablet who had just woken up. Bell downstairs. V collapsed outside. He refused to get back home so I gave up, bundled The Bhablet into Ally and took them both to Jodhpur Park, i.e. where V's parents live. The horn still wasn't working.

Things reached a impasse there because V insisted on being taken back home (total wtf moment here) so I left R with the grandparents. Drove back home, V went upstairs on his own steam but couldn't get much beyond the living room. I somehow took him into the bathroom and opened the shower on him. It was only 5 p.m. Cleaned up the puke in the car. Cheese omlette and vanilla Smirnoff.

Tip of the day: when someone's drunk and passing out on you, a shower or several mugfuls of water is a good thing.

Passing over unnecessary details, I finally convinced him to get into bed and sleep it off. Anjita arrived, with her mother, to borrow The Bhablet's pram. Polite conversation. I may have been slightly manic by now but they didn't seem to notice. They left, I checked mails. Storm outside so the flat was thoroughly dusty by the time it got over. Which means more cleaning tomorrow. I sorted out and folded laundry.

The Bhablet came home quite late, at 8, and with nail polish on his fingernails, which I found really upsetting. He was tired and cranky and uncharacteristically, refused his dinner. I decided not to force the issue and carted him off to bed, only to discover a diaper full of potty. This totally messes up tomorrow morning's schedule, btw. Jus' sayin'.

He took AN HOUR to fall asleep. I had to drop off some money at the ATM, so I counted it out and did the one thing I'd sworn never to do -- leave home, locking a sleeping V and R inside. (Our flat has an old fashioned latch and lock system.) I thought I would be away for 15 min max, there's an ATM on Prince Anwar Shah, after all. The horn continued to stay silent so I signalled with lights the best I could. Which meant a lot of unintended signalling when I was trying to figure out how to flash headlights. The ATM didn't have cash envelopes. Which meant heading to Jadavpur thana, which I'd hoped to avoid, busy main roads and all.

Just yards away from the petrol pump which has the ATM, Ally stalled and wouldn't start up again. In the middle of the road. With lorries on both sides. Frantic calls to V yielded no returns, since he was fast asleep at home.

Ran to the pump stn, begged for men to come help me push her off the road. They couldn't figure out what the problem was and didn't want to, not being trained. So I made arrangements to have her stay the night there, and I'd come by the next morning, to transfer her to the Maruti Service Centre next door. (The location was the only thing that went right in this one.) And then I discovered that when the men had lifted the bonnet to take a look at the engine, they hadn't been able to close it again. The spring lock was either either jammed or broken. I called up Kaku (Baba's younger brother) in despair and he told me to leave things as they were, esp since the bonnet looked shut.

Went into the ATM, since I was there anyway, only to find no envelopes. No security gaurd to be seen. Man in mufti turned up, smiled sheepishly and said he hadn't received the key so he couldn't get at his uniform, but he did produce an envelope. Deposited as much as I could, started on the walk home.

Turning off the main road I saw a fat Bengali moronic-looking lout acting weird. Walking past the Jodhpur Park park, I saw the moron was following me. Because, you know, all my day lacked thus far was a stalker. I took his photo in my phone camera, called up Dana and told her tersely to call the police if she didn't get a call from me in 20 min saying that I was safely home. She called back in seconds to ask me where I was. Because the police might need to know that. We decided the safest thing to do was to stay on the phone until I reached home so I spent the next fifteen minutes telling her about my day. Got home and told her the rest of the story, bless her non-judgmental soul. That was at 11.30 p.m.

Now I'm done recording this and am off to bed. Just struck me, all I've had today has been two salt crackers and lots of water.

And that's the second time The Bhablet's woken up in 30 min, howling and refusing to settle down. I don't know what it is and I'm going to bed right now before the day can throw anything more at me.

Got this far and cannot post. No internet. If you do see this post, you'll know Somebody somewhere decided to show a little of that mercy He's so famous for.



5th May 2008

UPDATE: Ally's battery has failed; Spent the morning at the garage setting her up for servicing, the works. Will cost plenty. On the other hand, the folks at the garage were very nice and explained lots of things.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

It's been quite a day. Wonder who the complaint was about. Must ask M.

Spoke to two very nice people who completely jolted me out of my self pity trip -- two great shows out of three, not bad at all. And then E and I chatted till late at night and Hemant reappeared. In short, good things all around.

Dinner with Anjita and fly. tmrw night, at their 'new' place. Sounds like fun. Rehearsal in French will not be, though. Am thinking unkindly thoughts of Philip right now.

Friday, May 02, 2008

Just-above-knee, chocolate brown corduroy skirt, demure green (but well-fitting) Polo t-shirt. Pretty silver earrings. Loose hair. Sexy bag. Nothing remotely suitable for feet though.

Opinions Wanted from Men Only

Is it true that all men want stringless sex? I've had mixed response to that in real life so am throwing it open here. Go on, leave a comment.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Somebody ssssssssssstop me

I've been going a little nuts for some time now. Over days, weeks, months. I don't always feel like the me I am. I feel like a younger me. I turn around and get surprised that V's got so many more gray hairs.

I feel like painting my nails. Then I remember all the housework is going to ruin whatever I do as soon as I'm done.

Kuch to zaroor hai...

I find myself wearing my hair loose, skirts, teeny tops and hastily stuff them back into wardrobes. Because I'll be 26 in two months and I don't want to look like mutton dressed as lamb.

I hear myself speak in the old, slangy drawl I last spoke in Uni, cussing as affectionately as I was wont to. Using phrases like 'wont to'. About the only thing I'm not doing is writing poetry.

I check out men just because. I don't even feel like I'm out of the game -- even though I am.

I'm reaching the phase where I'd kill for a cigarette. Actually, I want a joint, but fags are more common. All around me people are smoking. V's never stopped. And I'm trying to act my age and tell myself that I've quit. But the girl I feel inside hasn't quit yet, na?

It's the second year itch, an Indian summer (already?) or my second, er, childhood. Gah!