The Cycle of Life

I don't know why I bother.

There's this one cycle shop just five minutes from my home. Last year, on my birthday, my husband convinced me to buy this one pink-cycle-with-a-basket which I blew thousands on, and have used exactly four times so far.

So today, I'm pretty sure the guy saw me coming from miles away. The cash registers would have started ringing in his head as soon as my head bobbed into view. Because I don't shop often, but when I do, I go so way overboard that you wouldn't believe I'm actually an unwilling shopper.

Let me start at the beginning.

Peanut, Pickle and Papad have several cycles of varying sizes. There are six in total - but all of them very kiddy-type. Except for one cycle which is Peanut's that reasonably grown up, despite its training wheels. This naturally is the most coveted cycle in our home and there is never a moment's peace about this.

Rinki, my maid, remarks how Peanut never gets to ride that cycle when they take it to the park, and how the twins also keep fighting over it. So I had the bright idea of buying cycles for the twins. I told Peanut that the twins would now get their own 'big boy' cycles so that she could get to ride hers.

Great, she said, and wanted to come along for the shopping for the Bruddas.

On the way, however, as I should have anticipated, she decided that she was the one who needed a 'bigger' cycle because this one was for a 'Four-year-old' only and she's now 'Five-plus.'

Yeah, right, Peanut. Shut up and help me select cycles for your brothers as promised.

Twenty minutes later, we were heading home with a new Big-girl Pink cycle with Basket and Bell for Peanut. The puppy dog eyes, coupled with the fact that she's been sick, were all too much for me to resist.

Then I had another idea. Clearly, Peanut's old cycle was now going to be given to one of the twins. Which meant only that I had to buy another identical cycle to that old cycle and we would be fine. Except that I knew that I was kidding myself because there was no other such cycle that I had spotted in the shop. However, I decided I was going to buy just one more cycle and the twins would just have to learn to share or fight it out.

I reached home and while Peanut played with her new cycle, called up Rinki, who was in the park with the twins and my other maid, Kajal.

'Rinki, bring Pickle home' I instructed. 'Only Pickle.' I figured I needed only twin for size - they're identical after all.

She came home with Pickle, but as we were heading for the car, Pickle all excited at the prospect of a new Bye-cycle, who should come toddling up with Kajal but young Papad, who as Kajal put it ''had overheard Rinki on the phone'' and also wanted to go shopping. Irritated, I bunged both the twins and Kajal into the car and headed back to the cycle shop.

I told them on the way categorically that we would be buying only ONE cycle and sharing it.

Forty minutes later, we were heading home with one spankin' new red cycle with basket and bell and one spankin' new orange cycle with basket and bell. Unfortunately, they didn't have two cycles of the correct size in the same colour. Initially there was a scrap because both the twins wanted the orange bike, and then both of them wanted the red bike - eventually Pickle settled for Orange and Papad for Red.

So I ended up spending heaps of money, but at least I figured, there would now be Peace At Home.

P.S - The last hour was spent in punishing Pickle for pushing over his Orange cycle in a fit of anger, since he decided that he really wanted the Red cycle after all. And currently, he is screaming the roof down because his action of pushing his cycle over loosened the bell and he therefore now hates it beyond all reasonable measure. So here we go again. Back to square one - or you might say, we've cycled around right to the very beginning .
P.P.S - I hate cycles. Passionately.

I GotYe Babe

I went to yesterday's Gotye concert at the Blue Frog.
Excited that I'd managed tickets at the last moment thanks to some very good and resourceful friends. Sheepish that I was just like one of those yuppies who've pretty much heard like two or three of his songs.

It blew me away.

He is stunning in almost every way. As a musician, he is incredibly versatile. I lost count of the number of instruments he played...mostly percussion, but plenty of other things as well, many of them being instruments that I can't even name. The band members were all fantastic, but I could pretty much keep my eyes only on Gotye throughout.

You know how some people are good in the recording studio but actually can't sing to save their lives and go all over the place on stage, particularly with vocals? This guy was unbelievable - not a note out of tone, not a missed beat, amazing energy - and an endearing personality, liberal doses of humour in between song and ...so much grace.

My friend whispered into my ear, looking up in awe ''He looks like Jesus.''
I nodded mutely, thinking Jesus wasn't Hot like this, dude.

I've been to a few concerts - not that many, I guess - INXS, Joe Satriani, Roxette, Elton John and some others I'm forgetting now - and I've actually enjoyed each one of them. But nothing comes close to this man and his crew.

I also lost the sheepishness about never having really heard much of his music beyond the most popular songs. Each song was a discovery in itself and I can't think of a better way to be introduced to his music than seeing him perform all those songs live - showcasing that the popular songs were only the tip of the iceberg as far as he's concerned. I don't think I can describe his music at all, actually. Words fail me, apart from saying that it's beautiful.

Blue Frog was a fairly nice venue - the only thing that really annoyed me was when people in the back ignored Gotye's plea to keep the chatter down for some of the quieter songs because it was disturbing. A bunch of people (sounded like some very drunk and desperate women) were merrily chatting and laughing away and I found myself wishing they'd found some other venue to haunt for the night, since their agenda clearly was NOT the music. But despite this, most of the people there seemed to be listening and truly enjoying the music, and that always makes for a great atmosphere.

Ah Gotye. You're a true artist. Respect.

P.S - nice shot, eh?
P.P.S - don't forget to delurk here! It's Happy Burday week!  

Eventfully Yours

I love February. Always have, always will.

Apart from the fact that weather is beyootiful this month ( yeah, right - have you SEEN the wet misery outside in Delhi today?), it's generally an active month - with a certain overgrown kid's birthday comin' up ...and a certain couple's Ten YEAR wedding anniversary (gasp! we're so OLD!)

Of course, I might not get to go to Gotye's concert tomorrow given that tickets are all sold out and after my initial excitement about this in November ( wherein I called the lady at Blue Frog and told her that Gotye was expected on 6th Feb while she protested that they didn't have their calender yet) - I basically forgot all about it until yesterday. And then, the conversation that I had with my husband put me off.

In the morning, he said 'I still don't understand why you got mad at me...'
'I TOLD you' I sulked 'I said I wanted to go to Gotye for my birthday.'
'I didn't understand what you were talking about...Initially I thought you were saying Gautier furniture, where we bought our Sofa set from...'
'Yes, very funny and all that, but I TOLD you that he is the one who sang Somebody I Used to Know.'
'Yes, you said that' my husband said patiently 'so then I thought you were talking about some guy from school or college that you used to know...I'm telling you, you should be more clear.'
'Listen' I was very petulant 'When your wife is saying that she wants to go for a concert as the only birthday present she really wants, you should be more excited.'
At this, he just burst into snorts of laughter. 'Honey' he choked 'You lost right to say ''This is what I want for my burday'' when you were TWELVE.'
'I have NOT lost the right' I sulked some more 'Anyway, you forget it, I've asked my sister to take me.'
'Oh, okay' He said mildly, and then after a pause 'So, will he stand there naked, expecting the audience to paint him?'

Sigh. We console ourselves by watching the video yet again, then.

Separately, I was supposed to have this session around my book ''Just Married, Please Excuse'' at the World Book Fair today, which got rained out. But now it's rescheduled for 10th February, 1.30-2.30 p.m. at Hall 1R, Pragati Maidan. I'll be in conversation with Richa Lakhera, another HarperCollins author who has debuted with her book 'Garbage Beat', and it should be an interesting session.
I figured if I put this up early enough on my blog, a few of you who happen to be there might drop by. So here's hoping to see you there!

Thirdly, my second book, with the current working title ''The Story of Sid'' is scheduled for release in September this year. I'm quite impressed with my publisher, who has sent me a detailed schedule with actual dates and all. This is very different from last year where everything was, let us say, rather free-flowing by comparison. ( Translation: When is my book out, guys?... Soon, Y, Soon. Another biscuit?)
Yes, sirree, I am mighty impressed.

Lastly, as I've mentioned a couple of times - it's my burday week. And even though my husband claims that I'm too old to ask for presents, the only thing I want from you is to take the opportunity to delurk. I know commenting seems to be a bit of a pain these days, but I do want to hear from you on this particular point - what do you like about this blog, and what is it that you'd like to see more of here? Feel free to say anything. I can't promise I'll be able to do it, but I'd really like to take stock at this point - this is important to me and will help me figure out a few things. So go ooornnn ....say it, why doncha?

After all, mera happy burday hai!

* Shuts ears to Vijay's snorting choking derisive and altogether insensitive laughter*

What 'Ambitious' Means

Before I tell you this little story, here's a little feature on some interesting (heh heh) books and authors in today's Hindustan Times Brunch. 

                                                                               *****

Friday was a holiday for the kids, so I thought I might take them to see their grandma.

Oh. But Vijay had taken the driver to Jaipur. Hmm.

It struck me that I could be adventurous, and take them for their first ever ride on the metro – well, Peanut has been with me a couple of times but it would be a first for the twins. And it wouldn’t be THAT bad  with sprightly young Rinki to help me– just two trains and a rickshaw ride and kaboom, we’d be at  my mom’s – their Didu’s.

I announced to the three of them ‘Would you like to go in the metro-train?’

They immediately began to bounce off the walls, especially when it was revealed to them that their destination was No-i-dia as they call it, and they’d be meeting Didu a.k.a. Lollipop Lady.

Rinki dropped a bomb on me at this point, pulling me to the side and saying she had a ‘problem’ with train travel because it was that time of the month. I tried for a couple of minutes to find out why but then gave up quickly when she started to explain in detail.

It would have to be the K.

Oh dear. That would be like taking four kids, I thought. But then I steeled myself. The kids were already looking forward to it, and so was their Didu, to whom a quick call had already been made. Therefore, we were going to go.

The K meandered up at this point and I told her that we were going in the train and that she should not carry any sharp objects like scissors, nail-cutters etc as is her wont.

She scoffed at me with the air of the seasoned traveller and said of course, she knew that.

The maids started to get the kids ready while I attempted to go in for a bath, being accosted on the way several times by the K who was worriedly asking me things like

‘Main apna chashma le jaaoon?’

And

‘Apna phone?’

And about twenty minutes later, we were off.

As we walked to the metro, I was holding Pickle and Peanut’s hands. I turned around and glanced behind me towards the K and Papad, and I noticed that young Papad had happily climbed into K’s arms.

‘Papad!’ I scolded ‘Get down – you have to walk.’

‘No.’ He informed me categorically.

‘You won’t be allowed on the metro train then.’ I lied.

He got off sulkily and started toddling by the K’s side, both of them looking distinctly less happy than before.

However, as soon as we got to the metro station, I realized we would have to carry the babies since we would be taking the escalator. So I picked up Pickle, positioned K and Papad in front of me in the vague hope that I would be able to prevent them from falling and held Peanut’s hand. We all stepped on. Thankfully, K maintained her balance. Pickle and Papad had never been on an escalator, I realized, given their sudden delighted and surprised peals of baby laughter that had us all smiling and in a good mood. The next few minutes were relatively smooth - although there were a couple of tense moments when I was presenting the tokens and trying to get everyone through the gates. Despite this, we were soon standing on the platform waiting for our train.

And then as we all stepped into the ladies compartment.

It was crowded – no seats available, I realized and my heart sank. It was a long journey to be standing and carrying the babies all the way. But I had underestimated my twins.

Papad cried plaintively ‘Main KAHAN Baithoongi?’. ( Clarification: we have Bengali maids, hence the gender confusion.)

A young lady politely offered her seat to the K, and I thanked her profusely. K sat down with Papad in her lap. But this was all too much for Pickle.

‘Main KAHAN Baithoongi?’

I was mortified, but the lady next to the K philosophically stood up and offered her seat to me. I sat down and before Peanut could say Main Kahan Baithoongi, squeezed her in between me and K. The entire row had to scoot over a little bit, but for the moment we were okay.

Then Pickle spied a young college girl munching on some chips nonchalantly.

‘Kaun Bachha Chips kha rahan hai?’ He called loudly, quite affronted by not having any chips offered to him. The girl was standing too far away to hear him, so he demonstrated his impeccable upbringing by calling ‘Danda se maaroon sab ko?’ I shushed him, trying to ignore the amused looks we were getting.
They quieted down for a bit and looked around curiously. Some women were still gazing at them bemusedly and murmuring something about twins.

Papad remarked ‘ Bahut saara Uncle!’

Pickle corrected him ‘Bahut saara Aunty.’ And they both began to try to outdo each other waving their arms to indicate the large number of aunties. This had the ladies tittering and merrily repeating ‘Bahut saara Aunty.’

After about three stations, Papad announced ‘Noi-dia aa gaya! Chalein!’ and he got off the K’s lap to try and get off the train. We stopped him and he fought us tooth and nail. Pickle followed suit, sliding off my lap and screaming when I tried to get him back. We found ourselves in a very embarrassing position now - K and me were sitting, occupying the seats of the two ladies who were still standing next to us and watching us, with Pickle and Papad stubbornly standing in front of us, straining to get away. My cheeks burned as we sat there, sans babies, looking sheepish.

Only the miraculous invention called Cheeselings which had been packed into a small box for such an emergency, convinced them to get back onto our laps. But of course, this soon led to another mini-war between all three of the children, ending with a whole bunch of Cheeselings on the floor, as our fellow passengers looked on with a mixture of pity, horror and amusement.

I then noticed Pickled reaching out to try and poke a lady who was standing near us. I stopped him in the nick of time. He protested ‘Aunty Happy ho jayegi.’ I told him that aunty would not be happy, knowing full well that he was probably right and it would elicit a smile, given that he's a chubby two year old. He squealed in annoyance and resumed his attempt to touch her arm ‘Aunty HAPPY ho jayegi NA!’

Horrified that my own son might turn into one of those men who poke ladies while on public transport insisting that Aunty Happy Ho jayegi, I restrained him, but he was terribly upset with me about this. Thankfully, after about twelve stops, the torture was over for the time being and we got out to change lines to the train that would take us to Didu's.

Another escalator ride, at Rajiv Chowk station and a burst of baby giggles had us all in a good mood all over again. Our mood wasn’t even dampened much by the fact that we just missed the train to Noi-dia thanks to my bright idea of ducking into a store in a failed attempt to find something to eat for the kids. We just waited another few moments and soon enough, the next train arrived.

We stepped in.

Damn. It was crowded. Not a single seat.

And then Papad sang out in a plaintive baby voice ‘Main KAHAN Baithoongi.’

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

They say I’m ambitious because I try to manage a job, three children and a career in writing.

But, going to Noi-dia by Metro with 3 P’s and a K. Now THAT, my friends, is Ambitious. 

*Ahem, Cough, Cough*

A big hug to the nice folks at Bahrisons, with love from Yashodhara 'Lals'

Learning to say NO

It's been seven months of my sabbatical so far. So much has happened. Incredible amounts. I've been doing regular round-ups, and I figured one is due. For all I know, this might just be the last one. 

- I spent the time that I really wanted to with my grandmother before she passed away earlier this month. I cannot thank life enough for this. I saw her so many times despite the 3 hour back-and-forth ride - by car and sometimes metro. 

- My daughter and I have a different level of relationship now - I was finally able to give her the attention she needed to see that she's basically doing okay. She's incredibly talented and a lot more needs to be done to nurture her. But at least there's a basic routine ( fairly flexible, as it needs to be for a 5 year old). I've spent time with her taking her places, just me and her to give us some much needed alone-time. 

- The men in my life - Vijay, Pickle and Papad - are all doing well. My husband has *gasp* quit smoking. While zero credit goes to me for this ( oh come on, maybe just a little), he's done an admirable job of ridding himself of an addiction of almost two decades. We're not out of the woods yet, but we're getting there and it's been a great few smoke-free weeks. Pickle and Papad are delightful, fundamentally happy little children, who are showing all of us what brotherhood, companionship and firm friendship are all about. A separate post about that one is due. While I'm not spending that much time with them, I can see how happy they are with each other ( although I'm dealing with a little bit of a cold-shoulder from the Pickl-a right now and have to work on that one). 

- So much, so much more clarity about life - particularly about the importance of saying no to people and circumstances that make me feel drained. This one is really important for me - for all my achievement-orientation, I'm basically a person who's had major trouble letting go. So for me, it's started now, really - the process of letting them go - saying no to the activities and relationships that suck up time and energy, without creating any real value. I've made some real mistakes in my relationships, particularly mistaking some people to be whom they are not - and I can see them so clearly now - the last few months have serendipitously created so many circumstances to just dust out so many relationships. Some have shaken off the dust, been refurbished and put back in their place, healthier and happier for it. Some are gone now, at least for the time being- although I believe I haven't slammed the door shut, but gently closed it, trying to feel as much love and gratitude for the persons I knew and loved before the relationship turned all toxic. The point is - who remains are those who energize me ( and vice versa, of course) instead of our draining each other. 

While I don't think I'm at a point where I can say with great clarity what direction my career or life will take now, I certainly have tried and rejected some ideas so far. Full time corporate job (there goes a pretty decent corporate career, on hold for now) , full time motherhood (oh please god, no, sorry, thank you, but no) , full time writing ( not at all, sir, that will hopefully always be a happy aside) - none of these feel right for the time being. Finding a happy mix? Yes, that would be ideal, but it's not as easy as it sounds. Yes, there's something else, maybe it'll take a while to find it, maybe it's just around the corner, but I know one thing for sure. 

Doing less, cutting out the crap, getting rid of the noise - they're going to provide some amount of free time and space. All the better to figure it out, my dear. 

P.S - my father-in-law is teaching me yoga now. He's the grand master of all things yoga-related with years and years of experience. Extremely lucky to have him around. 

Sense

I look into your clear eyes and see right into your soul
I listen to your laughter that is louder, fuller, purer than the ringing of temple bells
I touch your smooth skin, wondering at its perfection 
I taste the salt in your tears when you bury your face in my neck for comfort
I smell the sweet scent of your baby-breath as you struggle to tell me how you feel. 
I struggle to tell you how I feel. 
Do you understand the word Blessed?
One day you will. 
When you’re old enough to understand, I’ll be old enough to explain. 
Until then, I just look, listen, touch, taste, and smell. 
And suddenly, the whirling exhaustion of my jaded mind doesn’t matter. 
Suddenly, it all makes sense.