I Am So Smart

It's just not really been my week.

First, I lost my phone and all the Peanut pictures on it. That was not very nice.

The same evening, I thought I would cheer myself up by watching my newly purchased VCD of the Harry Potter 'Order of the Phoenix'. Shocking that I haven't seen it yet, I know, but I've been a bit busy raising a baby. Anyhow, I purposefully unwrapped the CD, opened up the cover, and while taking Disc 1 out, snapped it neatly in half. I gazed at the two pieces just lying there silently, taunting me with their indifference. I think my eyes may have welled up in tears.

I went over to Vijay, who was trying to take a nap, and woke him up to show him the pieces. 'Can you fix this?', I asked hopefully.

He looked at them and said slowly 'No...'

I was aghast. 'But you are an engineer. Can't you glue it together or something?'

He could see I was not to be diverted. 'Okay, leave it there, Honey, I'll try later', he said, while turning over and pulling his pillow firmly over his head.

Why are men such liars?

..............................................................................................................

I was going to blog about my recent trips to the dentist but have decided it is too painful right now as the memory is fresh. However, suffice it to say I am debating with myself which has been the lowest point of the week. It could be any of the instances below:

a. When the dentist injected the anaesthetic into my gum, so that I felt nothing when he was hacking away at my teeth. No, no, that part was good. The bad part was when he instructed me to rinse my mouth out. Everything was all numb and I couldn't move my jaw properly - the long and short of it is that I missed the basin completely and spat right on the dentist's immaculately maintained wall. It was not my finest moment. Judging from the dentist's silence, it wasn't the best part of his day either.

I'm sure this happens to everyone - although Vijay claims it hasn't ever happened to him. But then, men are liars.

b. Since my temporary crowns keep coming loose for some bloody reason, I've had to make two otherwise unnecessary trips all the way across town, with my baby in tow - driving for a total of 3 hours each time, for just 10 minutes work, because only the glue or cement or whatever-it-is had to be fixed.

I am still waiting for my permanent crowns to arrive. In desperation, my dentist has given me a spatula, a square plastic mixing base, two tubes to mix together to form the glue/cement/whatever-it-is, and an instrument with a menacing hook.

An apparent admirer of my husband, he said 'Just ask Vijay to mix these together and put the crown back for you'. I was thinking 'Yeah, right. This is the stuff divorces are made off'.

And then he added 'But I'm sure this time it won't come off'. I was thinking the now familiar thought 'Why are men such liars?'

c. The second trip I made to get it fixed, my cousin Mini accompanied me, handling the baby in the dentist's office. While Peanut behaved admirably there, she now appears to hate her car seat and we had an extremely harrowing time with her bawling in the car.

I had to ask Vinod to stop the car on the way back, so that I could take her out and calm her down. It was quite hot, there was the sound of honking and traffic all around, and my nerves were rather frayed. But Peanut began to calm down as I swayed her in my arms, back and forth. Mini looked out at us from the front seat. She slowly got out of the car and approached us. By this time, Peanut was almost asleep. I started to feel calmer myself, as my big sister approached with apparent tenderness at this loving scene of mother and baby, rocking back and forth, a small bubble of peace in all the chaos of the outside world. Mini leaned in close to the two of us, and whispered in my ear to inform me 'Your fly is undone'.

d. But I have to say, it might just be this one that was my lowest moment - when my crown actually came off for the second time. I was on the phone talking to the nice lady at Yatra.com, booking tickets for Mini, when I felt a sneeze coming on. It was a particularly violent one that came in the middle of a sentence wherein I was informing the Yatra lady that the booking reference number was 'T for Taxi...V for Vijay...'. The force of the sneeze that arrived in the middle of a sentence, sent my crown suddenly flying across the room.

This was embarassing enough as it is, but was made worse by my lovely cousin, insisting on scrambling to retrieve it. In general, you don't want other people to be picking up bits of your teeth, temporary or otherwise, and I'm sure it's not a load of fun for them either. Anyway, the nice Yatra lady was saying, politely and charmingly 'Bless You, Ma'am'. I wanted to hit her but being reasonable, I realized it was not her fault, and anyway, she was safe on the other end of the line.

I also realize as I type this that I've made myself sound like quite an idiot. Well, the truth of the matter is, I rather am. But tell me, seriously, tell me - this stuff DOES happen to everyone, right? Right? Right? (She implored)

For now, I've had a brilliant idea, and I'm going to try using the dentist's 'base paste & catalyst paste' and other equipment to glue my Harry Potter CD together.

Games Peanut Plays

At the age of 4.5 months, Peanut is finding new ways to amuse herself everyday. These little amusements are extremely amusing. For her. Not me.

Game # 1: Yelling

This typically happens when someone is singing to her. As with many children, Peanut's voice is disproportionately loud, and she can outshout everybody. She does it when she's getting annoyed, but she also does it when she's in a good mood, and she also does it when she's getting bored. Therefore, she does it all the time, except when she is asleep. She decided to do it when we went shopping yesterday and because I was wearing her in her sling, people kept looking at me strangely whenever these loud and long angry wails started up. Since not everyone could see the baby immediately, they obviously thought there was something very wrong with me. This yelling let to a sequence of events which led me to lose my phone, but that is fodder for another post.

The absolute worst part of this game is that the K, who is ever fascinated by anything to do with the baby, has picked up the ability to imitate this yell quite uncannily. Therefore, when the baby yells, the K yells back and the two of them yell at each other over and over until I want to bang my head against a wall. It is especially bad when I allow myself an indulgent smile at the cuteness of my baby's prolonged shouting, only to discover that that particular shout was, in fact, emanating from the K.

Game # 2 : Phtoooie

Peanut has been dribbling all over the place for a while now, but she has now discovering the joy of blowing spit bubbles, or raspberries. This is apparently a good thing and is supposed to be encouraged because it helps her learn how to move her mouth and tongue.

I've been told by my doctor that I can start giving her a little mashed banana, so have been experimenting with a spoonful or so for the last few days. It's real fun to see the disgusted face that she makes when she tastes it.

It's less fun since she's discovered that this is the perfect time to practice blowing loud raspberries. Not only does the offered spoonful of banana get a whole lot of bubbly spit suddenly added onto it, but if we're lucky, her mother may even get some of it right in the eye. Oh, ha ha.

I am saddened to report that blowing raspberries is a skill that the K is picking up quickly too.

Game # 3: Kicking

Peanut is turning into a very hands-on and legs-on kind of baby. With the enviable flexibility of all babies, she is able to use all her limbs to grasp, push and scratch at objects. It's great fun watching her with a newspaper, the crackling of which seems to fill her with great delight, and she does not rest until she has torn it apart and thrown the carcass an impressive distance.

She is also starting to try and crawl, in that weird fashion which involves using her head as an extra limb. She hasn't quite achieved success yet, because she tries to do this mostly with her head and legs, forgetting to try using her hands too. But she's getting there. For the time being, at these moments, the kicking, raspberries and yelling all seem to converge, and usually this ends in some frustrated crying.

The kicking also seems to kick in mostly when I'm trying to cut her nails. She will watch me doing so for a while in a very quiet, docile manner, and just when I think I'm going to get through this smoothly, she lifts up both her legs and slams them into my wrist. This is rather annoying because I wouldn't want to cut her finger by accident, which, I am sad to say, has happened twice already, and has resulted in a cacophony of wails quite disproportionate to the extent of damage. So at any point of time, she has always got around half her fingernails trimmed neatly, and the other half are jagged scratch-weapons.

It's quite entertaining to see her first pat Vijay's cheek lovingly, as he bends over to talk to her, and then attempt to follow this up with a swift, well-aimed kick to the chin.

Anyway, it quite amazes me to think back to the tiny unresponsive lump that she was a few months back. This feisty little creature is so different, social and explorative.

Sigh. How quickly they grow.

Happy Birrrthhday Tooo Youuuu....

Lots of birthdays this weekend. My dear mother's yesterday - as well as my eldest cousin Aditya, who would be 34 today. A post here from his sister, my cousin Mini - and his mom has written the post before that.

And today? Is Vijay's.

I threw him a little surprise party yesterday. Or what was meant to be a surprise party. It was all neatly planned out. Just a few assorted guests, seven people were invited. They were all to assemble at 7 p.m. at our home and then jump out from behind the sofa when Vijay came back from work, shouting 'Surprise'.

Of course, that is not what happened. Because the husband, who was not feeling well all day, having returned from Bangalore in the morning, decided to surprise me by coming home at 5.30 p.m. - well before anyone else landed up.

I was shocked but with my usual presence of mind, I acted nonchalantly and tried to usher him into the bedroom. I realized he was slightly dazed and had a headache and thought I could put him to sleep before he noticed the following:

1. The drawing room had been cleared up and was sparkling clean like never before.

2. Zareena, who leaves by 2 p.m., was still in the house - as I had asked her to stay back and help heat and serve the food.

3. The kitchen was full of large dishes of food - Pulao, Matar Paneer, Dal, Chhole, Bhature, Raita - and an assortment of various drinks.

So he walked into the house and went into the drawing room - he looked around in a wondering manner and said 'Wah!'. He put his bag and laptop on a chair and I shrilly demanded that he not put it there and mess it up. He said 'Arrey, to main issko leke hi khada rahoon, kya?'. I realized I was not helping matters and told him to go take a nap since he was tired.

I tried to hide Zareena in the kitchen but she was hanging around grinning coyly. He asked her 'Arrey Zareena, tum yahan kya kar rahin ho ab tak?'. And she responded 'ABHI JA RAHIN THEE, JEE!', which really wasn't a very satisfactory explanation.

Finally, before I could stop him, he wandered into the kitchen and that's when it confirmed his suspicion that something was up. He smiled and said 'Y...what are you doing? What is all this?'. I went into a brief sulk that the surprise was spoilt but realized I could still surprise him by refusing to tell him who was coming.

And he was pleasantly surprised to note, when the guests arrived, that this was just not a gathering of my friends, but also a few of his old ones- I had sneaked a couple of numbers from his mobile phone last week and ensured they would land up. So at least there was some surprise element involved.

Of course, I had a lot of help from my cousin Karishma and my friend Vani for this. Karishma had picked up the most delicious chocolate mousse cake, and also this fun party game called Taboo - which we didn't end up using because the conversation followed fun and easy right from the beginning to end. This was a bit unexpected for me, because of the motley crew of guests - one single young woman, one couple yet to have kids, another couple (like us) with a young baby, and finally, a couple with one 4 year-old (who came dressed as Batman) and another on the way - all of whom who barely knew each other. But it worked somehow.

Vani, of course, helped me immensely by playing hostess whenever I had to run in to the baby, and with various other matters.

Sample conversation with her, when planning things two days back.

I dial her mobile number and wait.

Vani: (pseudo sophisticated voice) Hello?

Y: (rudely) Hullo? It's me!

Vani: Who is this?

Y: (annoyed) How many times do I have to tell you to save my landline number on your phone?

Vani: Oh, Hi ( voice garbling)

Y: Arrey, why do you sound so far away?

Vani: Because I AM far Away. In Bangkok.

Y: Oh. Well, when are you back?

Vani: Tonight.

Y: Good. You haven't forgotten about the party, have you?

Vani: Of course not.

Y: Okay. I'm having trouble figuring out a good vegetarian appetizer. Do you know how to make a dip?

Vani: A DIP? Yuckk! That's so fattening. I have a better idea. You can make a salad dressing instead - just a little lemon juice, honey, and salt and pepper. Much healthier, and tasty too.

(Silence)

Y: Okayyyy. Also, about the drinks - I think there is beer in the house, and some wine, but we may need some other...

Vani: Oh, I have a better idea for that too. You can just take all the alcohol that you have in the house and dump it together into a bowl and call it 'Punch'. Trust me, I've done it, it works very well, no one will even figure it out. Very simple, na?

(Silence)

Y: Okayyyy. But I was thinking since this is VIJAY's birthday, maybe we could get him something that HE will actually LIKE?

Vani (conceding the point, albeit reluctantly): Okay. I can pick up something from Duty Free then - what should I get?

Y (Uncertain): I think he may like some whiskey - but am not really sure which one - Black Label or Chivas Regal, the silver box one - I don't know anything about this stuff...either should do, I guess.

Vani: I have a better idea! I will ask Pranay to call him up and say 'Vijay, I am throwing a party, which whiskey should I get, and by the way, which is your favourite whiskey?'. We'll find out and he'll not guess anything!

(Silence)

Y: Vani - you're just full of suggestions (Vani giggles happily at the other end of the line)...unfortunately, they all SUCK (Giggles stop and abuse is inserted which I ignore). Just do what I tell you. Pick up either of the two whiskies I suggested - see which one has a better promo. Either should be okay.

(End of conversation)

I got a call from her later and was told there was an 'attractive travel bag' on both whiskies - I told her to just get the damned Chivas Regal, making sure it was 'the silver box, 12 years'.

Just to annoy me, she and Pranay kept telling me till the end that she had picked up 'the golden box, 6 years'. I had no idea they were hoaxing me, and I mentioned to Vijay before the party that Vani was getting the 'wrong whiskey, Chivas Regal 6 years only'. He said 'Ussko bolna chhe saal baad aaye' and I knew the evening was going to be full of bad cracks like that. Anyway, she got the right one, just by luck, and possibly also because of the 'attractive travel bag'.

Also, earlier in the day, I had thought we should do at least some sort of decoration so Vani and I had exchanged some SMS's on this subject.

Y: Do you think we can do up a banner or something, at least?

V: Sure thing! I will get the fabric colours on my way. Do you have any cloth at home you don't mind sacrificing?

I had considered this and volunteered the most sacrificable thing in the house.

Y: Yeah, what about Vijay's Banian? We can say something like 'You're a year older today - Yeh Andar Ki Baat Hain'

V: Ha ha - no problem. Just make sure he knows this was YOUR idea.

Y: It is a brilliant idea. We can all sign it for him. It's not just a banner - not just a banian - it is a BANNERIAN!

We eventually did it too - I looked through his underwear drawer, threw aside a tatty old 'Rupa Frontline' and selected a nice, white, new Jockey vest of Vijay's - and Vani decorated the front nicely, and we all signed off on the back, with silly messages like 'Vest of luck!'.

Before the other guests arrived, I was asked, rather rudely, by Vani and my cousin to stop looking like a Dusting maid, and to put on something nice. I changed my shirt, and was very happy to note I fit into one of my favorite ones from last year. They liked it, but then asked me to change out of my frumpy ankle-length pants, too. I tentatively put on a short, black skirt - it looked good but didn't feel very comfortable so I changed back. They tried very hard to get me to put on the skirt again, telling me to 'get out of that Pregnant lady mode now'. I gently reminded them that I had always been a frumpy dresser, it had nothing to do with the pregnancy. They started taking pictures of my bum, to convince me that the skirt was more flattering than the pants anyway. That's when I knew I had to put a stop to it, and I kept escaping them until they gave up.

So anyway, it was all good fun and I hope the pain of turning 35 was made more bearable for Vijay. Here are a few pictures.

Vani, using my freshly vaccummed Sofa as a stepping stool to the drawing room mirror to correct her make-up. (The Psycho)

Batman and Banianman - yes, he actually put it on.

Vijay feeding me the Cake after cutting it - yes, that is a very silly expression on my face.

And a couple of Peanut:

So I've been shampooed today because of tomorrow's party, huh? Okay then!

Look, Pops, it may be your birthday, but you're PUSHIN' it!

Anyway...Happy Birthday, Vijay! May you have many, many, many more!

Abhi's unique gift

My pal Abhimanyu called a couple of days back and said 'Oye! How's Sundari? I'm coming over to see her' - Correctly interpreting this to mean that he was keen to visit my baby, I told him to come on over in the afternoon.

That morning I had decided to try out, again, the baby gym that Vijay had bought for Peanut. She tends to be fascinated by the flashing lights and the music for a few minutes before breaking into panicked wails - and it was the same that day as well. Grumbling to myself about Vijay's excesses, I rescued her, but left her gym set up on the bed.

Later, Abhimanyu burst into the house and into our room, with his usual 'Oye!'. He then gave Peanut a silly, adoring grin, remarking how she's getting prettier every time he sees her.

I noticed he was carrying a huge, artistically wrapped package under his arm - and at about the same time, he caught sight of the baby gym on the bed. The grin dropped off his face immediately, replaced by a look of disbelief and despair - 'You're kidding me, right?'

I started laughing ' You didn't! You bought her a baby gym, too? The same one?'

He continued to stare in a depressed manner at the gym on the bed and said in an uncharacteristically small voice 'Noo....I think that one is bigger and better...'

I felt sorry for him because he looked so disappointed -but also a bit irritated 'You mean you haven't been reading my blog for weeks? I wrote about Vijay buying that for her and that she's scared by it.'

He quickly changed the subject, asking accusingly 'When did he buy that?'

'A month back'

He said 'But I bought mine a month back... (implying that it was thus impossible that Vijay could have simultaneously done the same) ...I just kept forgetting to bring it over'

I told him, never mind and thanked him for the very generious gift, and assured him that it would probably be very useful - after all, one can never have too many baby gyms, I said.

Slightly cheered by this blatant lie, Abhi then insisted on setting up the gym on my bed. Now, considering that our room is so cluttered by toys and other baby stuff for Peanut that I worry about one day not being able to find her in it, I tried to dissuade him from this, saying we would most likely use it in Bombay instead - but he would not listen. Promising me that he would put it back in the box, he picked up the instruction manual and set it at all up. He then spent some time chatting with me -while gazing at his gift in satisfaction,and alternating this with the occasional malevolent stare at Vijay's purchase.

When it was time for Abhi to leave, I gently pointed out that with the two large baby gyms, and the baby's rocker, there was now no room left for me on the bed and reminded him of his promise to carefully repack the gym. He then unceremoniously stuffed it back into the box, with one giraffe's neck sticking out and half the pieces falling onto the floor. I ushered him out somewhat gladly - and he promised to be back again soon.

Anyway, upon closer examination, it turned out the baby gym that Abhi has bought is a longer lasting one because it's for three stages ( lying on the back, tummy play and sitting up) - and though it lacks the flashing lights and sounds of the other one, considering that Peanut seems overwhelmed by them, this may be a good thing. So all in all, very useful indeed.

And even if it weren't, this was a very thoughtful gesture from one of my oldest and best friends, my sarcastic and offbeat designer pal, the most unlikely to ever be so fascinated by a baby - my Peter Pan, the boy who never seems to grow up - the one who still resents the thought that he is now to be called 'Uncle' by anybody, even if it is Peanut.

There's only one thing I can say to you at this point, Abhi.

'Thank you, Unkil'

And, oh - read my blog more often.

SMS from Grandma

My grandparents are pretty kicked about Peanut - this has been especially a big deal on the maternal side as they are great-grandparents for the first time.

As my maternal Grandfather Dadu, who wasn't too well at the time, sleepily and gruffly informed Vijay on the phone - when he was supposed to be congratulating him on her birth- 'I am a Great-grandfather. YOU, are only a father'.

Anyway, I thought my maternal Grandmother, Didu, would be the most likely out of my four grandparents, to get a possible kick out of reading my blog. Around half of Vijay's height, she is very fond of him and loves to hear about his antics.

So I took a printout of the last few posts about him and Peanut and had it sent across to her, complete with pictures and all.

Indeed, she was delighted. And she sent me a series of SMS's to convey her delight.

Now, she has had a mobile for some time, but it's taken her a while to learn how to use SMS - and you have to give credit to an 80-something year old to be able to learn it at all.

But the fact is that she does find it a bit difficult and each SMS takes about as long for her to type out, as writing a letter would - and sometimes it still turns out obscure and needing some deciphering. By the way, she has been a teacher of English, and therefore, the following SMS's stand as testament to the effort, in fact, struggle behind each painstakingly typed word.

Her first SMS, and I quote word for word:

'Welcome to Peanut woderful Y love V so much one cant say baming light focussed on Pnut or PAPA One grand news PROUD GGP wanted toannounceto whole world misng'

Fair enough. She likes it, loves Vijay more than she can say, something about whether Vijay or Peanut is the star, its the first time they are great-grandparents and want to announce it to the world.

And then this follow up message two days later:

'Fir$t reading rapid what coming next n next Second relaxing tasteing each word with immense joy V vijayed inner core of the readers' hearts Ys simple btiful natural flow of language depictin the true story must have left something for the young hearts to emulate Pnut is the centre God save her'

Clear. She read it quickly first, breathless with anticipation and is now re-reading it and savouring it. Vijay is winning over the reader's heart and she likes my writing. Something about young readers being encouraged to emulate (us?...Heaven forbid! only a grandmother would be so blinded by love)...and Peanut is the center of it all. God Save Her.

Hang on! God SAVE her? I'm sure she meant God BLESS her. Must clarify on this point.

Hah. Be like that. Et tu, Didu?

(Note to self - leave out this post when printing next instalment of blog for Didu - or risk being denied the pleasure of future cryptic SMS's)

My adorable, adorable grandmother.

Peanut and the Paediatrician

Since Peanut is a month old now, it was time to take her for her vaccination today. This was a slightly less pleasant experience than taking her out for Rakhi.


Getting there was easy enough, despite a bad traffic jam that got us 10 minutes late. But Peanut slept peacefully in her car seat, and we found the place despite the silly receptionist's warped directions, obtained on the phone by my mother.


I had been worried about reaching late for the appointment - and therefore, it was really irritating to have to wait for a whole hour before the doctor finally saw us. Of course, his dumbass receptionist could have told us he was running an hour late when my mother called for directions but clearly it did not occur to her. We were the only people there with an infant - there were a couple of other families in the waiting room with us - with their totally ghastly children.


Now, before you accuse me of bad-mouthing other people's kids - let me tell you, it's not that I think only my baby is cute - I think plenty of other babies are cute -but the specimen in the doctor's office were just NOT CUTE.


One was a female of about 6 years who wailed like a banshee everytime something was denied her - such as climbing up the stairs to the exit. To top it off, it was a completely strange wail - it didn't even seem to emanate from her, but came at you from all directions in a strange, disembodied manner. I fervently wished they would let her run up the stairs and just leave. Especially because I was afraid her constant screaming would wake up Peanut, who would be sure to be hungry and cranky - I shuddered at the thought of the resultant cacophony of wails that would surely ensue - but Peanut has become immune to such disturbances (she is used to ignoring Vijay's attempts to wake her up). I only softened towards the banshee for a milisecond when she pointed at Peanut, and delightedly shrieked 'Baba'. But then she started tantrumming loudly again and my heart hardened, and I was back to wishing she would run up the stairs and vanish forever.


The other kid was a squealing bratty boy of around 3, who was being carried around by his doting bespectacled potbellied middle-aged Papa. They had devised an interesting game together. The Papa would indulgently hand the little boy a ball, and the kid would toss it immediately onto the floor. It would then be picked up and handed back to him, to be thrown back down again - ad nauseum. The most interesting thing about this game was that the doting Papa obviously thought that since he was performing the task of carrying his own son, everyone else in the room should pick up the ball from the floor and hand it over to him, every single time - so that he could pass it on to his son to throw down again, and so on. Strangely, the other people in the room were complying each time with dull and listless expressions on their faces, bending over to retrieve the ball from under their seats, while doting Papa watched with a patient yet smug expression on his face. By this time, I was so irritated that I was waiting for the ball to roll my way just so that I could kick it straight to the moon - but it didn't happen.


Finally, it was time for us to go in and see the doctor. Now, we have met this doctor before, at the time of Peanut's birth and ten days after, and he's an oldish man with some strange quirks. First of all, it seems that these doctors are a little too used to babies and have a slightly nonchalant attitude towards them, flipping them over and patting them up and down a little too roughly ( for my taste, anyway). Second of all, he insists on referring to Peanut as a 'he' despite my interjecting many times to tell him its a girl, and pointedly calling her 'Bitiya' and 'Baby girl' many times in front of him. Finally, he keeps calling me Vasundhara despite my correcting him the first few times 'Doc, it's Yashodhara'. Eventually, I just gave up on both counts, dully responding to his 'Vasundhara, hold the baby like this, now' and agreed that 'He' is gaining weight pretty decently.


Anyway, we had asked him all the relevant questions, Peanut was duly weighed and height-ed and then it was time to get on with the business of the injection. I watched, horrified, as the doctor jabbed her in the thigh and her face turned the bright red colour of a ripe tomato and she wailed in pain, so much that actual tears fell from her eyes for the first time ever. She was quite inconsolable, the momentary pain of the injection turning into the realisation that she was hungry and cranky. We left in an even more hurried manner than we had come in, and brought the baby home quickly.

Now, I'm sure this is no big deal for more experienced moms out there, but it really wasn't a nice experience for a new Mom. Vijay is in Bombay and couldn't be there today, much to his chagrin. However, I am personally glad he wasn't around, because I had visions of him jumping to her defense in a mad frenzy, grabbing the needle from the doctor and jabbing him with it.


Just to end this with two rather telling pictures:

Before: In the waiting room, comfortable in her young Mashi's arms.





After: Back at home, with a very hurt expression on her face. She seems to be asking 'Why me?'

To Sleep...Perchance, to Dream...Perchance, to Dream of Sleeping...

Sleep is really a precious commodity these days. Can you really expect otherwise with a 23 day old baby in the house?

Our co-sleeping issues have been admirably sorted out by the intrepid Vijay. Last week, he went on a hunt to find the ideal solution to fit our needs, and came back with this nice little baby mattress that has pillows which can be tied onto the sides to prevent her from rolling over. And now, we can peacefully keep the baby sleeping between us, and the dangers of either of us rolling onto her are drastically minimized. A good temporary solution until a crib is finally purchased.

Anyway, being a fairly light sleeper, at night, I notice Peanut squirming around and chomping angrily on her fist before she starts crying out loud - so I get up in order to feed her before she wakes the whole house up. However, these days, she is not exactly what one might call co-operative in this business of feeding. In fact, she seems to have been some sort of a predator in her last life - determined to attack, wrestle and kill her prey before eating it - she bursts into angry war cries while being fed and squirms and wriggles fiercely - even when it's not gas that's bothering her -and generally makes a whole lot of fuss, making it a long and difficult struggle to calm her down.

Late last night, after I emerged victorious from one particularly vicious struggle, finally managing to get her to quiet down and start feeding, I noticed a strange sound - it was a low, rhythmic thup-thup-thup emanating from somewhere nearby. Glancing over, I saw it was - wonder of wonders -my dear Vijay who was responsible for it. He had his eyes closed and was clearly still in happy slumber, but had evidently reached out his hairy paw in response to the baby's crying, and had been patting her back to sleep. Only, since she had been with me the whole time, he had actually just been patting her tiny yellow pillow to sleep, with a serene, fatherly expression on his face. I stared at him in bemusement while feeding the now silent Peanut. After a while, he seemed to notice that the crying had stopped. Clearly thinking he had, yet again, done an admirable job in his newly discovered role as SuperDad, he allowed himself a rather self-satisfied smile, gave the pillow one final loving stroke, slowly removed his hand and resumed his peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Below is a picture of Peanut in her new mattress - safe from the danger of being rolled on - not so safe from the hairy, loving paws of her Papa.


A close up of Peanut reveals the interesting message on her new white onesie, courtesy her lovely Aunty Richa.

Uncle Abhi and Aunty Richa come to visit

Two of my best and oldest friends, Richa and Abhimanyu, came by yesterday to visit. Both are still unmarried (hey, they are still young...like me!), and for them, kids are a slightly far away prospect - in fact, just a few years ago, none of us could have imagined cooing over a little baby -especially one of ours.

Which is why it was most fascinating to see their behaviour around Peanut.

Abhimanyu ( 'Don't call me Uncle' ) could only keep staring at the baby and grinning like an idiot. He was the first person outside the family to see Peanut, at the hospital itself - and I don't think he has stopped grinning like an idiot ever since. These spells of grinning idiocy were broken only by his shocked gasps when he saw Vijay manhandling the baby.

Vijay, of course, believes in, umm, 'strengthening' the baby with a little bit of occasional 'exercise' - he does get carried away a bit and tries to manipulate her facial expressions by hand - Abhimanyu was totally aghast to see this behaviour, and kept telling Vijay that her bones are soft and still forming and he shouldn't be doing stuff like this, as below:


Vijay laughed cockily at Abhimanyu's expressed fears -until Peanut decided to get her own back. Now, she occasionally tends to cross her big eyes, and while my sister and I had seen this before, Vijay had not. So he was grinning in her face while playing with her, when she decided to smile really widely -but with her eyes crossed. He yelped in fright 'Hey! Iss ko kya ho gaya!? Why are her eyes like that?' He clearly thought for that one moment that his rough-housing had resulted in rattling something loose inside her, resulting in a cock-eyed child. She went back to normal again pretty quickly but it was good fun to see his reaction.

Abhimanyu, being a product designer by profession, had his usual know-it-all attitude about the pictures I've been taking. 'You suck at this...your settings are all wrong...let me do it...'. Being around the baby had clearly addled his brain. This was made clear when he finished a supercilious remark with the information that I needed a 'gooder' camera.

And again, by his reaction, when he kept failing to find a setting that did not use the flash (He was convinced that the constant use of the flash is going to blind the baby). After he took a yet another picture of her at close range and the camera flashed in her eyes, making her blink, Vijay heard Abhi muttering to himself 'Dammit! The flash went off again...hurting her eyes...I better delete this picture...'

!?

We laughed at him a lot.

This is him following his self-imposed 'Look but don't touch' policy.

Richa had flown down from New York with a whole load of baby stuff, on which she has clearly spent a fortune. She clearly feels a sense of ownership of 'our baby' as she puts it, as borne out by her first SMS to me after Peanut was born, asking 'Does she have my eyes?'. Being a fashion designer, she took on the role of Peanut's self appointed hair stylist and subjected the poor baby girl to the following looks.

1. The Pixie Look

2. The disgruntled fat, oily bureaucrat look:

3. The Punk Rocker Look (Richa is holding up a tissue behind Peanut's head to show off the style in all its glory):

Vijay left after a while, and then it was the three of us, talking about our lives, and how things had changed in the 12 years we've known each other. We kept breaking off to watch the baby making her usual funny faces in her sleep.

Abhimanyu's sentiments were summed up at the end of the evening as they were leaving. He gripped my shoulder tight and in a gruff voice, said the two words any woman is always delighted to hear in this new phase of her life.

'Good Job'.

Anyway, this is one of the three decent pictures (out of 30 attempts) that Abhi had taken. Given Vijay's constant hogging of her, I am quite happy to have at least one picture with my daughter. I am only attempting a slight tug at her cheek to cause a smile - not at all distorting her features like her father does.

Baths, Massages and Arguments

Y (Wearily) We need to bathe and massage Peanut properly this evening. She may sleep for a few hours at night then.

Vijay: Sure! I'll do it!

Y: WE will do it. But this time, I think we should reverse the order. We should bathe her first and then massage her. It will help her sleep better.

Vijay: (Scoffing sounds) Why? That's not how we do it.

Y: And who is this 'we'?

Vijay: Uhhh...it just doesn't make sense. See, first we should massage her, then we clean off the oil with a sponge bath.

Y: But I've checked -it says everywhere I've read that we should be massaging her after the bath.

Vijay (challengingly): Where have you read this?

Y (soft voice): On the Johnson's Baby Oil bottle ...(louder voice) but I'm sure I read it elsewhere too. Anyway, it makes sense, doesn't it? A bath is invigorating, a massage is relaxing...so we massage her later.

Vijay (argumentative tone): But I always feel sleepy after a bath.

Y: What's wrong with you? Don't you bathe in the morning to get fresh?

Vijay (sagaciously): Bathing makes you only momentarily fresh. I am always sleepy by 11 a.m. in office.

Y (Withering look): Hmmm. Don't be so silly, please.

(Silence.

As always, Only momentary)

Vijay (Having thought about it for a bit) Look here, Y. Water makes you tired. After all, don't you feel tired after a swim?

Y (now losing it): Stop. Are you really going to equate a half hour swim with a 5 minute sponge bath?

(Vijay retreats while Y prepares the bath and massage material, both in a sullen mood. A few moments later, Vijay re-enters the battlefield with gusto, playing his final trump card)

Vijay ( Spits out, in his 'I'm the man of this house' voice): I want one more baby!

Y (Stares dumbfoundedly, cannot get any words out): ...

Vijay: And I will do whatever I want, my way, with that one. Come on, then!

(And for once, the husband has the last word. What can you possibly say to a man like this?)



This is Peanut about to be sponged. She looks most bemused while her father sings, as untunefully and loudly as ever:

'Har Har Gange...

Pandit Ji, Nange...'

Two Rather Distinct Parenting Styles

Vijay is one paranoid Dad.

Almost from the moment Peanut was born, he wanted to be the one handling her. He was with me in the delivery room and insists she actually came out beautiful, which I refuse to believe (I have seen too many birthing videos for that and was careful not to look!). He was pestering the nurse to let him hold her immediately and has had eyes only for her ever since.

While in the hospital post delivery, I was completely exhausted and Vijay had anyway pretty much taken charge - he was changing her diaper every time and generally looking after her, only handing her over to me for the feeding sessions, and that too, was most reluctantly. (I am telling you, if it weren't for nature designing us such that I have to do the feeding, I would be totally out of this equation by now.) In any case, on Day 2, she started crying quite uncontrollably and nothing Vijay was doing was soothing her. I woke up and checked - she was quite clearly hungry according to me, and once she was fed, she calmed down.

But Vijay wouldn't have any of it. He was sure that it was something extremely serious. The cries, he said, were not the hunger cries but cries of pain. I asked him how the hell he would know that, but he just enigmatically said that he just knew. I then asked him, in that case, how come she stopped crying after the feed? He looked at me like I was from another planet and said that it was only a matter of coincidence that her pain stopped when she started feeding. I gave it up but he didn't.

He insisted, the next day, on asking three different doctors what was wrong with Peanut. I tried not to roll my eyes when each of them said 'Nothing'. He insisted that they had been the most heartrending, terrible cries. Each of the doctors smiled indulgently and told him not to worry so much - babies tend to cry - and if it was colic, it would have been for more than the described three minutes. By this time, I could tell Vijay was on the verge of imitating the cries for the doctors, so I would hurriedly jump in and explain she was fine after the feeding. The doctors, being the professionals they are, controlled their urge to roll their own eyes and walked out, telling Vijay not to observe her every move so closely. Vijay muttered darkly to himself and only stopped sulking when he found something else to worry about.

He worried about whether she was feeling too cold, and added another blanket. When I tucked it around her, he decided she was feeling too hot and removed it. He made her wear gloves so that she would stay warm and not scratch herself - when she started putting it in her mouth, he removed it. He made her wear a hat as recommended by the doctor, but when I did the same, he decided that she didn't like it much, so he removed it. He lamented her long nails and got a pair of nail clippers with a magnifying glass, but didn't have the heart to cut them - after one attempt, he gave up and put the gloves back on again. The few times in the hospital that he was asleep, he would get startled awake by the slightest noise, while the baby slept on peacefully - and would rush over to check that nothing was wrong with her. (How a baby can sound like a distant slamming door, I fail to understand, but never mind that). He has worried about each temporary rash, the little bandages where they have taken her blood for testing, her umbilical stump, each bout of sneezing and hiccups. And by the way, he is trying to teach her to say Papa although she is six days old.

As I mentioned earlier, he has been changing each and every single diaper with the expertise of someone who does it for a living - with the consequence that I haven't had to change a diaper for the first five days - in fact, neither me nor the nurses at the hospital were allowed to do so. Half asleep, he would come and inform me 'Her Enconium is still coming out' before nodding off briefly on the spare bed. I was mystified but deciphered this to mean her Meconium, or first bowel movements after birth. ( Vijay is wonderful under pressure but his command over the language becomes suspect -when we were waiting for labour to start, he drove me nuts by asking me nervously if my 'Contraptions' had begun).

As a consequence of all this, our man was totally devastated as he had to go to Bombay yesterday morning for two day of work. While he is officially on leave from now, he has committed to finishing some project and may have to fly to Bombay for a day or two in the next few weeks. While leaving yesterday, he was very morose, and said that he was afraid 'she would forget all about him'. I tried to reassure him that it was only a matter of two days, and that she would surely be very happy to see him, would probably rush to answer the door herself when he returned. He ignored the sarcasm and yesterday rushed home after work to our flat in Bombay and insisted on trying to do a video chat with her, on the net. We finally managed to set up the camera so that he could see her and he started gooing and ga-ing. We couldn't see him because there was some problem with the webcam at his end, but figured that would be okay as the point was for him to see her. But, No! Vijay was again disappointed because he wanted her to see him so that she wouldn't forget what he looked like. I gently tried to explain that she is not able to focus on anything yet, so how could he expect her to look at the computer screen and recognize him on some fuzzy pop-up window. Vijay was convinced it is all part of a conspiracy to keep them apart.

He is returning tonight from Bombay and I am really glad. I miss him and his fussing over her (I, of course, no longer exist except to provide him with updates about her, but that's okay). And he misses her like crazy and I really don't want him to miss these early days, when she is growing up so fast (Yes, I know it is only the sixth day - so?).

And finally, it is confession time for me - while he was away, me and Sis were changing her diapers - G was holding up her legs while I did the wiping and all the rest of it.The first time we did this, it went really smoothly and we were fairly surprised at our proficiency- but congratulated ourselves at this achievement.

I was most determined to go it alone the next time, and I did so soon after- and that's when I discovered that somehow, we had omitted to throw away her dirty diaper the first time - but had instead, wrapped it up along with her in her blanket, where she lay peacefully with it for over an hour. I was very mortified by this and wondered whether to tell Vijay. As you can see, I am using the blog as a confession medium. I am also hoping some of you will tell me that you have done this before, or at least that, that it sounds like a most natural mistake ( Trails off on this pleading note...)

The paranoid, proud and possessive Papa can hardly bear to let go of her...

...And while the Papa is away, I get to hold my laughing baby! See, she has clearly already forgiven me for the diaper disaster!

That's IT, folks

I am undergoing a personal transformation! I can feel it happening in every bone of my body.

I am becoming an Info Tech Genius!

Were it even last month, I would never have have professed to be an Info Tech genius. My best friends wouldn't call me an Info Tech genius. In fact, my 'best friends' have often gone as far as to call me an Info Tech moron.

Evidence of my earlier Info-Tech Moronity:

a. At IIMB, we had a random IT course - there was a test, with some really weird marking system (negative marks for wrong answers). I looked at the paper and quickly realised I knew none of the answers. But thankfully, having studied Probability, I made some calculations and realised that if I answered everything randomly, I would still pass.

Except, I ended up getting a .67/20. Yes, that's right, a point-six-seven on 20. That's when I also realised I was going to fail all papers requiring Probability. To my credit, it wasn't the lowest in the batch. Some people (well, two) got 0 and (-1) respectively. How sad is that! Morons!

b. It got so bad at one point that my friends from IIMB thought that they could con me into believing that Software was Computer stuff that was easy to understand and Hardware was the more difficult stuff - and that the IT test that I had failed consisted mostly of Hardware.

Just to clarify: I didn't believe it, folks - but that they could even try and pull that one on me shows what little respect I command in this field.

c. You know those jokes where people call up the IT department and say 'My computer isn't working' and the IT guys say 'Can you first just check if your computer is plugged in/Switched on', etc.

I don't think that's funny. What's so funny about that??

d. In fact, when I call the IT department in my company from my extension, they look at the Caller ID and then don't pick up for ages. When they do pick up, at least once I have heard them whispering to each other 'it's YOUR turn, YOURS'. On my best day, there is at least an audible sigh before the person on the other end of the line deigns to say 'Hello (again), Ma'am'.

(You will be pleased to know that I am now getting the better of them by calling from a different extension each time)

BUT, things are changing!

Evidence that I am an Info Tech Genius:

a. I know more about the internet than my grandmother. Get this:

- When I explained the concept of email to her, she asked 'do I need a computer to get email'. Hah!
- When I told her about Search Engines, she asked 'Can it look for Dadu (my grandpa)? I get worried when he is late sometimes'. (I know, I know, How sweet, but still..) Double Hah!

Ummm...as I write this, I realise that she actually knows more about the internet than me and is clearly a visionary in this regard - considering that you no longer need a computer to get email and pretty soon, there will be a way to track wandering grandpas with astounding accuracy.

Dammit! Moving swifly along...

b. Oh what the heck..this set of arguments is falling apart. I am still an IT Moron. But hey, not everyone is good at everything, right? At least, I have figured out how to get onto Orkut ( and even write testimonials - the joy of discovery!). AND not only have I started a blog, but I have even inspired other people to start their own!

If you don't believe me, you can check out http://livingonajet.blogspot.com and you will find evidence of this, in the author's credit to me!

And what's more, nowhere has he used the words 'If an IT moron like her could do it, I knew anyone could'!

Thanks for that, Mahogany. In fact, thank you ALL for your kind support as I blunder my way through an increasingly InfoTechhie World.

God Bless Bill Gates and all the other big IT-type guys.

Cheers!