A trip to the highest motorable road in the world!

Not by me.I prefer airlines, airports, long waits but no long drives. Guess am more of a destination person than the journey.

Anyhow, what I don’t do, my husband does. I think he knows I won’t come, and hence THE PLAN. A trip on his Royal Enfield Thunderbird to the world’s highest motorable road

Husband: Let’s go to Leh on our bike…

Me : No way, am not coming. 

Husband (sounding sad): okay, guess I will have to go ALONE then. I was planning for 15 days, have booked my tickets to Delhi already. 

He must be dancing in his head, away from home for 15 days in the mountains with his precious Thunderbird! Did I hear his humming already?

Whatever. Am still not a destination person. Plus someone has to take care of 5-year-old little super-hero at home. Leh is seriously beautiful and we have visited it together in our honeymoon. Huge mountains, beautiful landscape and lovely people.

See for yourself.  Isn’t it awesome?

 

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I have to pee. And then how I became friends with my bladder.

For a really long time, I hated my bladder. I had my reasons.

My bladder is too small. Tiny Winy. I have not X-Rayed, measured or seen its capacity, but I know. Either that or it simply doesn’t do what it is supposed to do.. what a waste of space.  That too, Inside me.

Why am I sizing up my bladder, why does anything make me hate a part of me?

Reasons

Am going for a meeting in like anytime now – I have to pee. The meeting is over – I have to pee.

I end my day at the office, but before starting home- I have to pee. In fifteen minutes, I reach home- I put my keys in the keyhole and rush I have to pee.

We are going out, am checking everything that should be checked when we are going out because my husband is too lazy to do it, post for some other day how-to-survive-lazy-husband and point for this post, as the last thing I check- THEN I have to pee.

I just closed the door to go out after checking that needs to be checked when we go out and then I remember I left the light on in the bedroom(Puff) I get back in, switch the light off and THEN I have to pee! Again. Doesn’t matter what I did 2 minutes ago.

Am in a conversation and I can feel it mocking me, chanting “Pee, Pee , Pee” some days in Hindi “Susu susu susu” and I have to pee.

Do you see what the bladder is doing to me?Who do I complain, it’s  my own bladder. Can you imagine how many minutes I have spent peeing! Am eyeballing .. 1000000!

I hate to see a washroom because THEN DEFINITELY I have to pee.

I hate when someone says “wait .. I will be just back from the toilet” because I have to follow too .. to Pee. Just, please don’t mention pee in front of me. My bladder hears it and THEN I have to pee. It is like it does not know that it is made to hold yellow looking urine. Instead, it behaves like it is sleeping all time, wakes up and “Oh shit, am flooded, there is yellow water in me, flush it out” and I got to go pee. Bladder, you are supposed to be flooded all the time.

Bloody Bladder – I have to pee now.

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This is also me, in the rare event when I do decide to deck up, complete with nail polish and when I have lots of other stuff to do, but I cannot because my hands feel like robot hands due to nail-paint, but my bloody B remember it’s duty time – empty me!

 

Sometimes, before I visit washroom, my biggest fear is What if all of them are occupied.. that means a wait and my bladder is not only small but also impatience.  Luckily, am more relaxed peeing in India, because there is always more than one toilet inside the door that says washroom. But this was not so much when I was visiting Europe. There, everywhere it was just one door and that opens up to pee. One at a time. I wonder if it is because all Europeans have big bladder(they are certainly taller than Asians) or that no two have the urge to pee at the same time, low pee rate or simply fewer bladders as such for the small population living there. I will never know.

Most of the time, Every time I pee, I envy boys because, by the context of this post, you should at least guess by now – Why? Why I envy boys. I envy boys, or anyone with a natural flexible hose to let out the jet stream in just three steps- un-zip, pee, and zip up. Wash hands if you want too. Do you know how many steps a girl have to go through…It is a bloody obstacle course!

 

  1. Feel the need to pee. On a side note, this line “Feel the need to pee” is full of e’s , that is a fun fact.
  2. Go to the washroom , find an empty one. Lucky you.
  3. Unzip ,pull down, sit down. Unzip, here is just one word, but believe me, it is not as easy as writing unzip, especially for Indian ladies wearing Salwar Kameez. Salwar is a pant with a drawstring. For simplicity sake, let’s just say it involves pulling string, THE right drawstring in the right way otherwise I might end up tightening instead of opening.  And that my friend, is not a situation you wanna be ever. I have learned my lesson, by supplying scissor to my edgy roommate, at the crucial moments when she really needed to empty but pulled the wrong drawstring.  In the end, she had many salwars with no drawstring.
  4. Next step is Pee. Now, I must say , even though am blabbing a lot against pee in this post, this is the time when am most relaxed. Sit down and let it go. It is like the calm after a thunderstorm, it is the feeling that the worst is over. It is also a portal for all gases to be free ( it is not fart, although it is very close) . It is very close to meditation. Who knows , at the rate I pee, I might open pee-meditation classes.
  5. The last step. Zip it up. Check the seat is neat, wipe, clean, wash hands and be done

See, how overwhelming it would be for a girl to pee? A race against time and bladder. It is just pure display of bladder power. I dont know what am I writing. This pee post is really making me pee more. 

Be right back. From pee. 

More on the topic? 

Do not get me started about my trips to the bathroom when I was pregnant. The only other thing that I mastered, apart from farting, during those nine months is how to rush to pee. My boy loved to squeeze my bladder and my bladder was like .. Take all the space you need boy, I have been here my whole life. It was my baby’s first toy. Squeeze, mama moving, mama sitting and finally mama aaahhhing.

Speaking on this topic , I do have a question to all the girls wearing jumpsuits .. you know the type of suit that is an adult onesie, only with a belt.

HOW THE HELL YOU MANAGE TO PEE IN THAT?

I cannot imagine wearing it,because I cannot imagine taking it off every half an hour , I hate to change clothes. In my opinion, strippers must have the most boring job. Take it off one at a time, slowly, seductively. Are you kidding me? Just throw it on the couch and be over with!

Aaah .. I really hated bladder. No wonder this post is already so long.

Now, so how did I become friend with my bladder? What changed my mind?

Starting again , For a really long time, I hated my bladder. Actually up until yesterday.

It so happened that I had a good, sumptuous dinner on Monday, the influence of which was clearly visible up at least until Tuesday noon. I think my stomach stopped working because I could feel the meal sitting there, just sitting. The food was awesome. No stomach would want to digest that. .

So,  the lazy self was getting wasted on bean bag all morning, almost all noon when.. I felt it. I felt, the urge to pee. And that was the light bulb moment for me… I do not hate my bladder. It is not bad. It is actually my friend..Did you get it?

My bladder, all this time was actually motivating me to be not lazy, but to get up, go to the bathroom , pee and well, bath while am in the bathroom. It is taking care of me, wakes me up early so I am ready to face the day on time.  So I learn to meditate. So I learn to pull the right string. So I am with my friend when she needs me in the toilet, both peeing. So I am active in my life, move around, visit the bathroom. Am healthy because of my bladder today.  How could I not see that before? I learned so much in all of my pee trip.

I learned to hold tight and when it is the right time, let go.

 

 

 

 

English idiom – Think of the devil and the devil is here.

Hindi idiom – Badi lambi umar hai tumhari, abhi yaad kar rahe the .. ” You are gonna live a long life, we were just speaking about you”.

When English met Hindi idiom – You are the devil who is gonna live a long life.

Me: I hope they never meet.

PJ and some blah blah.

I refuse to bow down to any allegation that I could be insidiously annoying this time of the month. I can prove that in none of the conversations, meetings or personal interactions I had this month, I was eating anyone’s brain.

“Oh my god, Am just out from a meeting with H and She was eating my brain over blah blah.”

Nope! That is a lie.

Am a perfect girl this season. One who is suddenly always a great listener, appreciative, conversationalist, never blah blah blahs. I just cannot annoy anyone.  For instance, WordPress is saying I have spam comments and I love these comments but it is all spam, I would not want them to be spam, but it is what it is and WordPress is shielding me,helping me and am not complaining…only hoping that someone selling cheap low Viagra online is also a veracious reader who while enhancing life surfs WordPress and comments on my post “Grade A stuff. I’m unquestionably in your debt.”  And instead of clicking on “Empty Spam” because WordPress says it is a spam , I bask in that “Grade A, huh .. I must be good“.

Where am I going with all this? Am not eating anyone’s brain…..I cannot be.

(Coughing) Sorry can’t type anymore .. I think I have some part of your brain stuck in my throat.

(Spitting out) But I cannot eat it .. am fasting. Roza.

Happy Ramadan.

Me with fork and knife – Sweetie, Is it time yet? let’s eat some brain  dates.

Image source

 

Happy Ramzan…

Happy Ramzan.

We are introducing my almost 5-year-old son to the holy month of Ramzan this year. He knows other festivals of India – won’t stop saying “Ganapati bappa moria” much to my embarrassment in front of my Muslim in-laws.He knows that Diwali is the time for diya, rangoli and crackers and Holi is all about colors and water.

He can even recognize Santa Claus and won’t stop singing Jingle bell, jingle bell – again to my embarrassment. By the way, I don’t know why am embarrassed. my in-laws are lovely people. 

So we told him that this is the holiest month and he has to be a good boy. Sharing, caring and helping others.I write down all his good deeds in a diary daily and will show it to the Almighty Allah at the end of the month on Eid. If he finishes his meal, that counts too.

And in return, Allah will give him a gift on Eid. A big wonderful gift. A super-cool gift. It could be a supercar or a giant dinosaur. It could even be the spiderman figurine. How wonderful is that?

And the same goes for all of us. We get a nice gift if we behave well.

So this is how it goes at my home now…

“Mummy, what if Allah sleeps before I finish my meal, he wouldn’t know?” Allah, if you are listening, Aadil usual dinner time is 8-9 PM. Please do not sleep before 9. Nevertheless, I have the diary.

“What if Allah runs out of the gift and none is left for me ?” OMG! That would be scandalous..for all the pain the boy has taken in the month. 

“Mummy, You are shouting – you will not get any gift.”  Allah- You are all knowing and wise, you made me shout/scream… I did not. I deserve the gift.

“Papa, you are not playing with me – you will not get any gift.” Yes (raised fist) That will serve him right Allah, no gift for him.

All in all, am happy with the way Ramzan is going and I can’t wait to see the big smile on his face on the day of Eid when he gets his present (from Allah.)

Happy Ramzan everyone! I hope you may all celebrate this holy month by sharing, caring, and helping.

4 years 4 month
This was the pic taken when he turned 4 years, 4 month and 4 days, when we celebrated his Bismillah ceremony. I was so nervous that he is not gonna repeat the verses read out to him, but he did! Without any fuss, he sat through it and made be really proud that day.

Then

Me: Sweetie, am feeling really hot…Uff!
Sweetie aka husband: Why don’t you take off…….
And rest of the night spent in exercising and feeling hotter 😉

Now

Me: Sweetie, am feeling really hot… Uff!
Sweetie aka husband: What is it set to ..? I told you to set it to 19 (irritatingly) give me the remote.
And rest of the night spent in adjusting AC setting.

True story.

Diet for weight loss.

Girls at my office eat only salad for lunch.

Girls. If I call them ladies, they might be offended 😉

Salad, only vegetarian like beet, cucumber, sprouts, broccoli .. blah blah. Most of them are vegetarian.I can hardly look at it.

At this point, I imagine many of my readers are offended – Hira, Veg-Salad is also as good as meat. 

That’s a lie. And that’s a fact.

PS: I have a confession. I cannot leave any chance to take a dig at my vegetarian friends – on their face, on my blog, in my head (look at them being so excited about rajma-chawla. crazy!). I know I need to see a therapist, a vegetarian one. With a meat eating therapist, we might make more jokes….

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“And then he ordered vegetarian biryani, ha ha ha”  Pic source- Pixabay. 

Come to think of it – I eat chicken, but they, the vegetarians eat the food that was meant for the hen and its family. Food that was to nourish other grass-eating animals. Where is the humanity when you snatch that food out of their plate into yours?

At least, am eating my food. Not others.

Now the counter argument could be how could I be better when I EAT chicken. That sounds even gross than eating the food they eat.

Let’s hear another fact. I eat chicken and fish. So I can only state about chicken and fish. And, I do not consider egg and milk as non-veg, just like many of my vegetarian friends.

“All chicken, all of them are born to be chicken curry or chicken fry or chicken roast blah blah. Chicken is not born to live the life to fullest.They serve a purpose, fulfill their destiny, now it’s time to be fried! By eating chicken, am just playing my part in the larger play of life.Chicken’s life.”

“As for fish, once they are out of the water, certainly cannot survive. I might as well eat to recycle the protein content. I mean, I cannot see food waste.”

Back to original conversation starter-

Girls at my office eat only salad for lunch.

If weight loss is in agenda, I wonder if they have noticed how Cows, Buffalo, Elephants are as compared to meat eating- Cheetah, Panther, Leopard? Hint: size. Pic source- Pixabay. 

This eats only grass, just like you.

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This eats meat and just look at that perfect figure, slender waist, lean legs and don’t get me started on stamina!

Moral of the post.

Follow cheetah’s diet if you wanna lose weight. Not elephant’s.

Cake or Roti, A Valentine must have.

14th Feb was Valentine day. It is a silly day to celebrate love. Love should be celebrated every day. Not just one day. And with that one line, I sound bored.I know.

Anyhow.

We sort of did. Yay ! The basic minimum. He got me a wonderful cake. He always gets me a cake. That is the least, I know his lazy bones does permit.

A cake on 14th Feb 2006:

Me: Oh Sweetie, I love you ❤

A cake on 14th Feb 2017

Me: Holly-Molly, there sits a kilo weight gain. Why couldn’t it be valentine sandwich?? What is wrong in that thought??!

On second thought- I think it is better Valentine is celebrated only once a year.

Nevermind the weight-gain. I had a bite, then another one, few more and few more and then stopped ..only to begin again. Look at the cake .. How can anyone stop after a bite, you must be very very cruel to not go for the second spoon of THAT?

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Anyhow, moving ahead.

For the curious minds, the next question might be..”What did you do, ha? yeah, for him, on valentine? What did you get him?

I made a chapati, aka India bread. It came out pretty well. Can you see the shape? Cool,Eh 😀

heart

For those of you, who couldn’t figure out what is pretty cool about that bread is.I will spell it out for you. It is a heart. A perfect  heart.

Aha!Got it ? Eureka!

Shush, Now, listen, you observant folks. Very important. “Do not tell anyone that I cannot make perfect round roti aka Indian bread.” Do. Not. Nope. Zip your lips, sealed forever. Cross your heart and hope to die.

Especially, don’t go tell my husband it-wasn’t-intented-to-be-heart-shaped because what really matters is the shape at the end. And what is it? A heart.

So, Now folks, What do you think, which one is a better valentine must-have? (Hint: new age romance)

A heart shaped cake ( Naaah ..that is so 1947! Everyone does that since the big bang, cake, chocolate, flowers!)

OR

A heart shaped roti (Now, that’s what I will call a symbol of love.. pure love and affection, very uncommon, very creative, very new age romance, every piece is unique!)

Gosh, Am so romantic. My husband must be feeling lucky. 

And not hungry anymore. 

How to spend 10 minutes, rather waste 10, & then another 30 blogging about it.

At the office, my colleague AbhiSwami started an online chat with three of us. Him, me and SatyaSwami.

AbhiSwami  : Hi

SatyaSwami: Hi

Me                  : Hello

AbhiSwami  : Can we meet now to discuss the issue ..blah-blah-blah?

Me                      : sure, now?

SatyaSwami  : Give me 10 minutes.

AbhiSwami  : Ok

Me  My Head:

“Give me 10 minutes” *pondering*, So what exactly is SatyaSwami implying?

Is it that to discuss the issue, he demand that both of us give him 10 minutes of (stress on next word) OUR  time ( I capitalized it just so you see where am going)  which will yield HIM 20 minutes of …..time, to be precise, my time. Did you see what he is doing? Blackmail ..In clear text, in broad daylight, at office?!? WTH SatyaSwami!

Chill lady head! 

That could be the beginning of something fun. Hey! I have 20 minutes, got it from my colleagues.Sounds like you have wonderful colleagues…. 

Yes!

So now that it is implied that AbhiSwami will give him his next 10 minutes, how will he give him that? Stand next to him. Sleep for next 10 minutes, so that SatyaSwami can do whatever he wanted to do without his colleague hovering over his shoulder “Take my 10 minutes”. Should I go join AbhiSwami *realizing he doesn’t know all this yet, certainly this is in my head*, Should I tell him Let’s go and give our time to SatyaSwami? He asked for it “Give me 10 minutes” and it is certainly no blackmail. I have pondered.

Interesting, So is “time” a commodity now?  How shall I order it? Boy! Give me a cord, a butter   butcher  butter knife, a hand glove, 100mg chloroform, a big gunny sack …. and a pack of 30 minutes?

*Pondering* What shall I do with this extra time and all the stuff along in my order?

Well, certainly if anyone gives me 30 minutes,  You would find me on the bed under the quilt, in the morning, sleeping! I will keep the rest of the stuff in the gunny bag.  What were you thinking? chloroform might comes handy at a time when the kid wouldn’t shut his eyes and my eyes won’t remain open!

Would AbhiSwami give me 10 minutes, if I ask? He seems content to give SatyaSwami…no complaint, no question asked. Just “Ok”.

More of blah blah blah…

After 10 minutes,

SatyaSwami pinged and we proceeded to discuss the issue.

The Epiphany.

Aha! So, That’s how I gave my time when he asked: “Give me 10 minutes”.But he didn’t take it… What a waste of time. 

Now, The Epiphany 2.

And after, another 30 or so minutes of writing this.

*Me, Growling* SatyaSwami – YOU OWN ME 40 MINUTES !

Image source – pixabay. check pixabay , great , free pictures.

A compliment is a compliment

..no matter who, how, when and what the exact words are…

Son never ever wants his father to wash his bum after potty. Yes, wash bum, we Indians, I have to say proudly, wash our bum with water after the poo. Wiping is not our way. A wipe will never do for us. Nope sir, no, nahi, Wipe? I mean, I cannot fathom how does that is called a clean bum.

Nevermind, don’t tell me.

How is all this related to a compliment?

Patience is a virtue and am getting there. Read on. I have a feeble mind, get’s high with just any good words coming my way.

Son always wants me during his potty time. It’s a sort of compliment for a mother but not for this post.

Yesterday, as usual, he was busy prattling when sitting on the commode, I asked why he won’t let his papa wash his bum, why only me?

Because, mummy, you are thin and slim like my POTTY. 

And, here comes the blush!

Wait, he compared me to potty? Ewwwww! Yuk!

Hey, wait, he said – thin and slim. Lemme highlight that – thin and slim.

That’s my boy! I can wash his bum forever, and ever, and ever.