A prayer

Hi Ambatty...Please don't show me and my baby Jaguar any bad dreams...Ok Ambatty...Act like a shield and push away all my bad dreams...Do you know what a shield is Ambatty? It is the one that Elo uses...u know on Disney Junior? Ok Great Ambatty! Please let me see only good dreams and be able to sleep well and wake up fresh so that I can go to school and play with Smee and Sharky! Do you know Smee and Sharky Ambatty...please act like a shield for their bad dreams also!
Ok Ambatty...Good night...sleep tight...Don't let the bed bugs bite! I know Amma told me that bed bugs only come on old beds because they are sweet...and this bed is new...but if bed bugs come, please stop them. Acha is old, but he is not a bed...so please don't send bed bugs on him!

Ok Ambatty...Great Ambatty...so please be nocturnal and look at my bad dreams. I love you Ambatty and also my Amma! Amma, when you pray please make sure you invite Ambatty to my Christmas Story assembly OK! Goodnight!

N's nightly ritual! With all the clarifications to God and the confirmations this takes a good 15mins or more...but is always hilarious although I try my level best not to laugh! On some days he even commends God on a job well done - a night without bad dreams!!

Sleeping Beauty and the Prince!

Was in bed trying my level best to get rid of the headache, who was turning into a constant companion. Just as I was drifting away into the lovely world of slumber, heard my son pushing his rickety truck down the hallway towards the bedroom. Was about to call out to the husband and ask him to stop this racket, but realised I didn't have the energy. So I drifted back to sleep.
Woke up all of a sudden to sweet kiss being planted on my forehead. My son stood there, concern writ all over his face. When I opened my eyes he said - Ma, you are Sleeping beauty and I'm Prince Changu...wake up!
I know kisses don't cure headaches, but mine was completely gone. I realised that it is days like this that make being a mother totally worthwhile...and there is no greater way to be woken up than with a kiss of a loved one.

PS: also realised that not only did that kiss of his wake me up from my sleep, it also revived my blog from a sure death. The powers a 4 year old has!!

Universal mother - Myth or reality?

Can you be a “universal” mother and a true and unselfish giver only if you do not have children of your own? If Mother Teresa and Florence Nightingale had children of their own, would their path in life have been different? Would they still have had this calling? In short, if you have children of your own, is it possible to love someone else’s like your own?


I am a huge advocate of adoption. A trip to an orphanage made a huge impact on my life. I built a strong resolve in me that once I was married and had the means, I would adopt a child. I didn’t really care which gender, but a girl child had the most number of votes in my head. Along with my pregnancy, the urge to adopt a child became stronger too. G just didn’t get it! He kept saying – “But we are going to have a child now. Why do you want to adopt”? Then I had this brilliant idea to adopt the opposite gender to the child I would have. My mum gave me her thumbs-up, G ignored it. But to me they were all brilliant ideas – all in my head…somehow seemed impractical in the real world. At least in my world!

Once I had my son, my mum was a totally different woman. Grandmas are a force to be reckoned with and she told me outright and she might not be able to love an adopted grandchild with the same genuine force that she loved her grandson. My mother-in-law seconded that. G continued to pretend that it was my hormone talking and they would fade with time. I was outnumbered. How come no one saw it? How come no one understood that we would be giving a new chance of life to a child who would otherwise maybe not even have a life at all?

So my mum posed a few questions of her own - Now you might never tell this child that he or she is adopted, but someone might. What then? You might shower all your love on this child, but can you guarantee that G and others will? Won’t you be putting a child into a life of suffering, through no fault of hers? Can you be sure that if you catch both the children having a normal sibling spat, you will remain impartial? I argued till I was beat that these things would never happen in my case, till one day when my son was about 15 months old and his 17 month old cousin beat him like crazy as kids tend to do apparently (so I was told!). As I stood holding my wailing baby in my hands I knew I wanted to beat the crap out of that kid –someone who I love very much by the way and dote on. So maybe I was not really cut out for adopting after all.

So my question to the world is this – Can we only be mothers to our children? Is it only those who do not have a family of their own that can embrace other children into their life with ease and selflessly dedicate their lives to them?

Or the question begs to be asked – Am I the only selfish one around?

Figuring it out!!

I have been full figured almost all my life-too full!! For a long time I had no idea why I couldn't look slim like all my other friends. I started relying on fad diets very early on - because I felt a quick fix was what I needed. My parents enrolled me for badminton and karate classes when I was in school, but somehow the weight just wouldn't come off. I actually felt invisible on many occasions, when people would just look past me as though being fat also made me invisible. On one occasion I heard one of the boys in my school call me a Road Roller...that's when I learnt to laugh at these jokes. Self-depreciating humour has always been one of my specialities since then. I also become an extrovert - became loud and a bit flamboyant, just to make sure no one would take advantage of the introvert I really was. The more troubled I felt, the louder and aggressive I became. All the while the shy person inside me was slowly retreating into a shell.

One of the basic flaws of self-depreciating humour is that somewhere along the way, you even begin to kid yourself into believing that barbs don't hurt anymore. You listen to random people coming up to you and giving you tips on how to lose weight and how much it will benefit you, people talking about how your weight affects you looks, makes you look older and crack fat jokes around you, you kind of tune off and a kind of numbness sets in. My cure for numbness - Ice cream! So it was more like a vicious cycle. Sadly, in all these taunts, barbed, veiled comments I never saw the motivation to lose weight and show these "well-wishers" that I can do it too. Had my moments where I would work out like crazy and eat well and lost tons of weight, but soon enough they would come back on again.

Then I think God took pity on me and decided to give my condition a proper medical name - PCOD!! Hurray!! Now I could tell these people exactly why I was how I was and if I said it the right way, could even make it sound like a grave debilitating illness. Now I would  have the last laugh...until I used this on my aunt. She looked at me sternly and said - L, this isn't a disease. It is a condition - a condition you have the power to control. So stop acting like you have 3 days to live and go do something about it...and while we are on the topic, if you feel bad when people talk about your weight, TELL THEM. They will stop. It is only when you laugh along that people think we can handle it. If you put yourself down, so will others. Do you understand? Properly chastised I decided to do something about my attitude before I did something about my weight. See how my lazy body comes up with ways to avoid working out.

Am still working on my attitude, but have also started working on my body. Years of pseudo-extrovertism is difficult to shed off and letting that shy, quiet person inside me to get the courage to see the light of day is still a work in progress.

On your mark...get set....GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

Picture this scenario - A room with 2 doors... 2 very small doors and a sea of humanity pushing and shoving to get through them....to get at the food that is being served in this room. Old, young, men, women, children alike trying desperately to get in and willing to physically hurt anyone who tries to get between them and the food.

If you pictured this scenario in your head...think of what clothes these people are wearing, where this place could be...for anyone who guessed it is probably some relief camp of sorts and these people are in basic worn out clothes, try again....All those who guessed it to be a gathering of people dressed in their finest, the venue to be a wedding hall in Kerala and these were guests rushing to have the wedding lunch then give yourself a pat on the back. Welcome to the wedding lunch stampede.

The scenario I mentioned is what I have seen at every wedding I have attended - venue, class, caste no bar (Disclaimer - Have only been to a couple of Hindu weddings and 1 Christian wedding, so can only talk about them). Now these people aren't gate-crashers, free-loaders or college students out for a free meal. They are invited guests at the wedding, who know that even if this mad race to the plate isn't won, they will still get served.  These are people who probably make the same meal that is being served at the wedding in their house on a  daily basis - yet the sight of the laid out banana leaf spread or the laden plate causes a hysteria among them.

It's amusing to watch how when people assemble to in the wedding hall, many of them pick seats near the door - easy to rush to the exit (I bet no one thought going to the wedding required such strategic planning). The preparation for the race starts from the moment the bride and groom settle on the stage - ready to tie the knot. The minute the knot is tied...there is rustle of anticipation among the crowd - On your mark....the women look around for their children and grab their handbags, the men put on their shoes or chappals and ready themselves, the elderly look around for someone who will escort them out; Get set...The knot has been tied and the bride and groom start their 1st of the obligatory 3 rounds; Go Go Go...The minute (OK I exxagerate - some have it perfected to a nano-second) the bride and groom settle back down, there is a rumbling sound and when the dust settles only the couple's immediate family and the slow starters are left in the hall. All this to have a free lunch and criticise it later

My Haunted Laptop

Was sitting in front of my laptop one hot Sunday afternoon, looking at the blank word document trying to put into words the random thoughts in my head. My son was fast asleep and G was so engrossed in the making of his PPT that he wouldn't even realise it if someone kidnapped me (although on second thoughts, he might lock the door after them to make sure they can't change their mind!) - but I digress. All of a sudden, the screen saver vanishes and the words - Hi...What are you doing? pop up on my screen...ON MY MS WORD!!!! For a minute I am confused and wonder if this is a new chat screen or something, but realise that my messenger is not on. Before my imagination goes wild, I just close the screen and open a new document and suppress the odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then it happens again - Are you trying to ignore me L? the message asks. My palms start to feel sweaty and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I quickly shut down the computer and walk into the kitchen. After many gulps of cold water, I wash my face and walk back to the laptop. I switch it back on and decide not to open MS word this time, but the minute the computer is on and loaded, Google homepage opens and in the search bar appear the words - Why did you do that? How can you shut me off when I'm talking to you? Don't make me angry. I jump out of the chair and in a soft voice called out to G- Can you come and look at my computer...it doesn't seem right. G cocks his head to one side, eyes still glued to his screen and asks in a slightly distracted voice - What is it? What's wrong? Some strange things are coming up on the screen - I say, my eyes glued to the screen. Ya...read more cartoons. Haven't I told you those sites are risky. I am sure it's a virus. Another google screen opens and in the search box comes the message -No one can help you. Now I am mad at G and the errr...ghost?.  Don't sermonise me now...come and see what's happening. As I am shouting at G, the search bar types out a new message - Don't call him...Don't make me hurt him. Before I fully comprehend what that means, G makes a move to get up from his chair...then frowns at his screen and says How did that happen? What? - I ask not really paying attention. I somehow deleted the whole presentation that I've been making all weekend. How did I do that? - G sits back, looking very worried. WHAT - I shriek, and close the laptop and jump to unplug it. Tears are running down my face now and I am huddled on the couch really freaked out. Every ghost story I've read or heard pop up in my mind. Seeing my reaction G slowly walks over to me, sits down and asks - Why are you crying? As I blubber my way through my explanation, G stops me and says  - Look at this and walks over to his laptop and emerges cheekily with a wireless keyboard and mouse in hand...the source of my ghost!!!

And that's why I killed him, your honor...I say in my head.

My Hero...My Dad

I am jolted awake by the irritable buzzing of the cell phone. My hubby jumps up and tries to silence it before it wakes our son. I turn over, still groggy, when hubby pushes the phone in my face and says-It’s your mum!! I am instantly awake. The trained world-clock in me knows that it is an unholy hour in SA now and this call is the bearer of bad news. With the resonance of my blood rushing in my ears, I compose my voice and ask casually-What’s up Ma? Why aren’t you asleep? There is split second of silence at the other end, before my mum replies – Dad’s not well. Had chest pain last night and is in the hospital now. My mind is racing as I push back the covers and try to get a grip – Is he OK? Was it a … I can’t even bring myself to say it. Yes says she It was a heart attack…but he’s ok now. Don’t worry. I just felt lost in this empty apartment, that’s why I called you. Just wanted to hear your voice. Go back to…I didn’t hear the rest as I passed the phone to my hubby and burst into tears. There was just one thought running through my mind – I don’t know how to live without my dad and I don’t want to.

I always feel like a little girl around my dad and have always been glad that I have the sole privilege of calling him "Dad". When my son came along, my jealous heart did a quick flutter - What if he loves my son more than me? I have been his most precious possession for 27years...will N take that place? But my dad, being MY DAD, had it all figured out. When dad first came to India after N was born, he made sure he came to me first and gave me my usual chocolate and sat down to hear all about ME before he even looked at N. My sane mind knew that he was itching to hold his grandson, but he knew that I would have been heart-broken if he went to N first. Many a night I have woken to the sight of my dad rocking my son in his cradle with one hand and reading a book with the other, totally chilled out, even though it was 3 in the morning and he knew N would wake the minute the rocking stopped.

My dad's a simple man...and ordinary man, who always leads by example. Although I always fell short of his expectations, he never let me feel inferior. My utter and absolute devotion towards my dad has irked my mum on more than one occasion, but Ma let me tell you a little secret. You have no idea that every time we fight, he calls me up and asks me not to upset  you; reminds me discreetly about your upcoming b'day and well...I'll let him tell you the rest. What can I say...He's the first man in my life, my first Valentine, my Hero...I constantly feel that I can never truly express my love for him and this post doesn't even begin to describe the depth of my feeling for him or the influence he has in my life. How do you describe a love so strong and powerful, that words seem hollow and empty to comprehend its intensity. My only real grievance is that he never gave me the slightest indication that he was made of a special mold and I would never in my life encounter another man like him.

3years later my dad is as fit as a fiddle (God Bless) and our lives are all the more richer for it. My dad's a simple man...an ordinary man who, in my opinion, no man can ever hold a candle to....My blessing from God...My dad...I would be so lost without you!