Posted by: Monishikha | March 15, 2010

Incidental Rhymes on Birthday Time

On this blog
 
The regular reader may know
Rhymes are a no show  
and tho she may grieve
on the eve
of  birthday number thirty one,
Blaming , maybe her mum
and  dad,
(she hastens to add)
this blogger went mad
racking her brain
(almost had a migraine)
came up with a rhyme horribly bad
still, before she went to bed
she took the the time
to re read this rhyme
and pressed publish instead
so go on
wish her a happy one
and after you do
read on,wont you
little did she know
what led her to do it
you know,
show up her inner po it.

Now that it’s done
She looks around to tag
who else,but new mum
Come on, show us
open up the bag, 
and dig out a pome
dont be shy,
let fly
even your worst
wont be as bad
or sad
as this verse

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Posted by: Monishikha | March 13, 2010

Weekend Tales

So people, have I mentioned that the husband had gone out on TD for a few days? Well, he came back, we spent a weekend in Hyderabad, where( for once ) I decreed declared that all this hibernating in teeny tiny small town thing was getting to be too much and that the weekend was to be spent in pursuit of better things, namely shopping and eating out. Despite the meaningful smiles that  were exchanged between father and son at this decree , we managed to spend two and a half days doing exactly that. A high chair and some toys were bought(among other things), loads of overpriced and not so overpriced food was snarfed down by self and spouse with baby on sleep-on-mamma /chew on pram /play peek-a-boo with strangers mode.
So it was that last Sunday night, while getting out of the car on our way to renew our acquaintance with an old favorite haunt for Chinese, when some not-so-chinesey odors were smelt. After some consultation with the hostess at the restaurant, we were graciously given a private dining room to deal with the said odors and their source. That is when Murphy’s law struck us , or rather the flimsy end of the last clean diaper tore as I was tugging on the sticky end of it. The husband who in his characteristically cool way had  lightened the baby bag before leaving for the day’s mall jaunt,overruling my horror stricken protests with  “two is enough redundancy and we’re going to a mall anyway” or words to that effect , just looked a little sheepish while I counted to ten and took deep breaths. Of course, he had no choice but to suggest that one end of the diaper and the elastic waist of the Artimator’s shorts would literally keep things high and dry. Since I had no option but to believe him, a chinese meal ensued , with much adjusting of the one eared diaper .Apparently fate thought that we needed to see  the writing on the wall, and since there were only fancy glass walls around, the message was conveyed to us via some fortune cookies at the end of the meal. Here’s what was inside Artim’s 
“It is up to you to create your own adventures today”
(as in,your work is not done yet, go to sleep on mamma’s lap and then keep her awake the rest of the night)
mom’s
“You Are in For enlightening experience”
(as in,You DO know better when it comes to packing the baby’s day bag and most of the time)
and dad’s,
” A new sense of clarity is coming into your life” .
(as in , Don’t mess with the boss wife, or if you do , make sure you’re helping her clean up and looking suitably sheepish while doing so in order to escape the  looks that can kill gentle remonstration coming your way when the s hits the f or the d )
And if you thought THAT was an exciting weekend, well , you’re wrong folks. Read on to find out why.

Yesterday, mamma and baby dragged themselves out of bed and were ready at the crack of dawn (10:30 am) , because it was”take your wife and kid to work day”! Hold the yawns folks, and get out the oohs and aahs (or atleast pretend that you are ). See, the husband goes to work in a car, but at work, he changes his ride to this
to fly in
so that he can do this in the aircraft on top
and bring up the point of the delta
and sometimes he goes a little crazy flies inverted , like this. 
This and the fact that he’s really a cool guy on the ground too,
is why his wife is so very maha impressed by him . In case you think I am impressed only by fighter pilots in red overalls, let me leave you with this image of Artim with his return gift from a birthday party yesterday.
Posted by: Monishikha | March 4, 2010

Well, the husband came home yesterday

 and has left again just now……at almost lightening speed. Guess, why I STILL didn’t get any rest in the afternoon, even though Artim very graciously slept for two hours….

Before you let your imagination run away with you

here’s why
Posted by: Monishikha | March 2, 2010

An entirely pointless tale of woe

Well, the husband is out on tour ,for this (among other things ) for a few days and this time the grandson magnet hasn’t been switched on has met it’s match in the grandparents own commitments. WHY do grandparents have to have a life of their own!!

Anyway, so here I am , looking after baby all by myself for the last few days . Going to bed at night has become an exercise in obsessive door locking,barricading with chair,hiding something sharp in the bedroom ,struggling with a tired but reluctant to sleep baby and self. Sure enough, things began unravelling the day after the husband left. The land line (and internet) went on a break(repaired after 48 hours and long distance telephonic intervention from the spouse, the baby had his first fall from the pram( and thankfully had nothing broken ), then the only tubelight in the computer room literally went on the blink!The icing on the cake was of course one night or rather at 4 am that morning, when I was lying in bed petrified because there was

Read More…

Posted by: Monishikha | February 24, 2010

The Mother-In-Law

Now that I’ve written about my kind of arranged marriage , it’s only logical that a post about the “in-laws” will follow, specifically one about the “mother-in-law” . Well, as you know (and if you dont then read this), when I first met my husband the only prospective ” in-laws  ” in ear shot were his.The parents from both sides only met once we had decided to get hitched.At that first meeting,no dowry was asked for, no horoscopes were matched,no engagement rings were exchanged and all that was decided was the probable month for the marriage.


In the months that followed, the husband-to-be and I went out on a few dates, and became friends. There was the occasional  special couple moment, but by and large the husband-to-be exhibited a  dry sense of humour and  a somewhat taciturn manner. This did not quite fit in with my rose coloured view of what courtship should be like, and even though I was falling in love with my strong and silent type , I had serious doubts about his emotional involvement with me.The man had strange ideas about using  a phone only if there was some factual information to be conveyed.He would rather discuss the rest when we met , which wasn’t often enough from my point of view , given the fact that he lived barely 6 hours drive away, had a sister living in town and STILL would not come over every weekend, citing silly excuses like needing to catch up on sleep lost due to waking up before the crack of dawn  in order to be on time and fit to fly a fighter aircraft sortie( or two ) at sunrise on weekdays. Matters were not helped by the fact that I was living in PG digs populated by women perpetually glued to their boyfriend/fiance/”rakhi bhai” ‘s  physical or telephonic presence at all hours of the day.


So I began to express these doubts to my mother , who in turn expressed them in the politest possible way to his mother, who in  her turn equally politely assured her that I had nothing to worry about because her son wasn’t much of a talker and would “open up slowly as he gets to know her better”. Well, thus reassured , I decided to go ahead and marry him, and take my chances on his “opening up to me” since I was(and still am) hopelessly besotted with him. As it happened, my mother-in-law was proved right , but that’s another story that will not be told here.


A few days after we got married, on one of the obligatory visits to an old relative of the husband’s side, the said old relative threw a thinly veiled sneer expressed great wonder at my husband’s choice to marry me given the vast tonal contrast between his fair and my not so fair complexion. Since she gave expression to her genuine sense of wonder when  she was sure only me and my mother-in-law were in ear shot, she was quite taken aback when my mother in law retorted  with a look and “She has a very sunny smile and nature” . Of course , when my husband came to know about this, he made sure that we never “darkened” that old relative’s house with our presence.

After our honeymoon,  my mother-in-law  presented me with an incomplete photo album, consisting of selected photographs of the husband from the time when he was a baby till just before we got married. There was a  handwritten letter  inside the album, addressed to me, ending with these lines-

“In some ways this is his past and present. I wish you both a meaningful and harmonious future-which you are going to build together. The rest of this  album is for those happy moments of the future.- Love, Ma”

In the six years that I have been married to her son, our relationship , has seen more than it’s fair share of ups as compared to the downs, mainly because she is a fairly reasonable , very mature and honest person.Whenever we meet, we talk about art, life, relationships, her son and  mine.We do have vast differences of opinion ,just like me and my mother. There have been times when there were some misunderstandings, but we’ve eventually sat down and talked it out and in many instances amicably agreed to disagree. She doesn’t think of me as her daughter, and I don’t think of her as my mother, but our relationship is one of mutual respect, friendship , affection and a common love for one man.

Posted by: Monishikha | February 17, 2010

Last Night,

high on commentencouragement from this post, and one tall glass of cold coffee,the  new mom  was up till the wee hours , trying to get it right! She’s not going to show you ALL her half filled pages, but she IS willing to take a chance on showing off 

THIS
and THIS

and is thinking of keeping a pencil box on the bedside table.On second thoughts, she’d rather not pull half chewed wood out of Artim’s mouth.

Posted by: Monishikha | February 16, 2010

Fruits of a really late night

Question: What do you get when there is

  • One wide awake ,new mom lying in bed at night having had
  • One strong cup of coffee the evening and also
  • One tall glass of cold coffee a little later in the evening, next to
  • One milk fed ,sleeping baby,lying on her left side with
  • One ball pen in her right hand and holding
  • One writing pad in the other hand, at an almost impossible angle,in a room lit by
  • One dim bedside lamp

Read More…

Well, it’s the 14th of Feb, and whether you’re the cheesy ,mushy romantic type or not, greeting card companies and the so called “protectors of Indian tradition” have made sure that it’s not a date day to be ignored. So in the spirit of not ignoring the day, these are my memories of the fourteenth day of the second month of some of the past six years.

Our very first Valentine’s day as a couple,  was the last day of our honeymoon in Goa. My non-mushy-but-newly-married-giddily-in-lowe self had managed to secretly buy a funny card and hide it amongst the husband’s clothes. Anyway, the card was found and duly appreciated with a hug and a “OH,ummmm  Thanks” . In case anyone’s wondering , I hadn’t learnt the art of pointed sulking by then and he’s more than made up for that bland answer these past six years, but that’s another kind of post entirely .
Three years later,on the 14th of Feb, the husband was coming back home after work, with a friend,when the said friend stopped his car in front of a roadside flower seller. The husband, ever the silent observer,  managed to put two and ten together, when in response to indignant comments about roses costing a bomb ,  the flower guy began his spiel about how Valentine’s day was THE day when he and card companies actually earned the butter for their dry bread.So it was , that I opened the door to the man with a dozen red roses hidden behind his back. Of course his version of it would be something on the lines of how he had remembered all along and asked his friend to stop the car etc.etc.Anyway, regardless of the truth, I was ecstatic because he had got flowers for me,for  the VERY FIRST TIME  without being told to stop the car in front of the flower shop on the way back home from dinner.
Last February, I was at home, and the husband was away on tour. My parents had driven down nearly a thousand kilometres, just to keep me company, as they often do when I am alone.(Yes,  I love them for treating me like a baby…sometimes 😉 A day before the 14th of Feb,2009,it was unanimously agreed by the ladies of the house that my father wouldn’t mind driving a 300 km round trip from home to Hyderabad and back. After some gentle persuasion and reminders about the electronic components for projects, to be bought from the computer market , my father  agreed that he wouldn’t mind either. So, on Valentine’s day last year,while the (Indian)world and it’s girlfriend were busy dodging/cocking a snoot at  “the protectors of Indian tradition”, the folks and I spent a long hectic day cursing traffic, shopping and eating out at my favourite restaurant. That night, around 11:40 pm, as I lay in bed,nursing a bad back and about to drift off to sleep, I was given a reason to remember it as the best Valentine’s day ever. Thanks to the Artimator who chose to give me a taste of things to come, with his very first perceptible kick from inside my (pregnant) belly.

 

Posted by: Monishikha | February 10, 2010

In which an idea is imprisoned

In this day and age, what with the computer taking over all our correspondence, many of us, who are not in school or college anymore, have forgotten the pleasure of writing down  our ideas,using a pen and a piece of paper.
I began writing this (heavily edited) post on a small writing pad, because I was lying next to my sleeping baby and I couldn’t go and sit in front of the computer to indulge my latest addiction (blogging , what else !). Why? Because as I mentioned in my last post , at bedtime,my baby’s seek-milk-source alarm is activated, and should said milk source not be found at all times within the first few eyes-closed-pats of areas-within-podgy-arms reach, the wail-for-mom siren is activated at full-wake-up-the-neighbours-and-birds level.
I see from what I’ve written that I’ve digressed, just a little bit, so let me get back to the square one, the pleasure of seeing one’s bird marks beautiful handwriting on paper. So tell me, how many of you, the addicted-to-blogging blog hoppers , carry a pen and writing pad with you, on a bus, car, in bed , to the throne…you get my drift .
Well, until recently I didnt, because it never occured to me (yes, yes Im slow) and the only other blogger I’ve seen in action, namely my father ,just has to sit in front of the Computer, for poetry and prose to come traipsing down his brains, via his fingers and the keyboard to  obligingly climb on to his blog. I know I am not in the same league as him, but I do like to express myself , and it would be nice if atleast the prose would be half as obliging!

At this point, if you’re still reading, let me thank you for your patience, and reassure you that I’ll get to the point soon enough. Don’t hold your breath though, because I will not be responsible for the consequences.Okay? Still with me? You there, the follically challenged gentlemen,please stop pulling at the rest of  your hair, and pointing  at the SEX button…err the “X” button, will not solve your problem either.
SO , now that  I have your attention, I was trying to tell you why I’ve finally seen the tubelight  and begun to keep a writing pad and pen near my pillow at night, even though I know that if I am not quick enough when the morning comes, they WILL be checked for chewability by the Artimator.
Coming back to square two, as far as I can remember, in my distant school and college days, I have always found it easy to study at night and  all my best art work(what little there is) has been accomplished at night. The select few brain cells that I have are at their peak after dinner(food for thought?), and these days once everyone is in bed, I lie awake thinking about my day, about all the things that were said, planning for tomorrow’s dealing with the maid(yes, I do) and soon enough my mind wanders, leaving behind it some space for good ideas about things I could write about or how to paint or what to paint. I toss and turn ,and lie awake  most of the night trying to commit them to memory, but by morning they suddenly  vanish with the sunlight. So it was till yesterday, when it finally hit me that I was overlooking the obvious- To pen down thoughts and ideas, all that I need is (drumroll please) A PEN(or a pencil) AND PAPER 
Wait! Wait! Im on a roll here, not finished yet…just two more minutes, I promise I wont meander…. much ….Really, I’ll just be back as soon as I’ve calmed down the baby.
What? What’s that? Okay ,go if you must, but before you do,would you please tell me what you think about this post, or do you need a pen and paper to do that?

Posted by: Monishikha | February 9, 2010

For The Artimator

Dear Artim, 
The following are somethings we, your not-so-humble,bumbling slaves wish you would consider-
  • Mamma’s giving you what you like best, so please ,while she’s giving it to you, would you please not look at the phone behind you…it hurts mamma more than you’ll ever know!  And that zonked out ,high on a belly full of milk look is for mamma only, baba can have the messy food smeared smiles when HE feeds you that-horrible-gloop-that-he-wouldnt-touch-with-a-barge-pole-otherwise.
  • Would you please not phroo your way out of it everytime you’ve accidentally dropped your toys for the zillionth time.Your mamma’s is old you know, thirty years older than you and not as flexible as she never was.
  • Mamma has  to sneak away sometimes at night, she doesn’t wear diapers you know and it pains  her heart and some other nameless body parts to hear you say mamamamamamamamaaaaaaa the moment she’s out of smelling range. Baba sings equally tunelessfully AND he’s just as capable of thumping you back to sleep…let him do it please!
  • You do know that mamma’s loves it when you blink your eyes at her, stick the tip of your tongue out of the side of your rosebud mouth and giggle .Sadly for you,she knows just what that look is leading too…and she’s prepared to yank your hair right back.
  •  That mad duck is not just for riding, it has other uses too.
  • Mamma’s so glad that you love books and she’s willing to give you solids soon, but in the meanwhile could you please refrain from eating her book ,one page at a time. Try that teether wedged below your pillow,it tastes better.
  • Would you please not gurgle in anticipation after one of us has accidentally tickled your stomach, it makes us do it again and again and again…..how are we ever going to change your diaper!And if you want us to do it all over again, could you please not direct the water stream on the bed, mamma would like to change the sheets everyday, but she can’t.

  • Your baba loves it when you climb all over him , specially after he comes back from work, and wants to sleep. Keep doing it, mamma’s behind you all the way.
  • Could you please distribute your baba’s  share of love bites away from his face the next time, mamma is tired of ….2mp983-0i[‘JKA 2Imojo,mjnjbgvYUIOOO NJK
 STOP that and let mamma fin..noiuyait8gicjppRYTIHIJNnuip

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