Son : Am the King… Me : Aha.. So who is your Queen… (Son looks lost ) She could be any girl whom you like the most..like your favorite. Could be from your school, day… More
Reading book on the beach. Next to mighty ocean , the waves never letting anyone come close… And
Last December, I was home. Am now approx 3000 Kilometers away from home. Too far to be away from home, for anyone, Isn’t it?
My home is Assam and is part of North East India. It is one of the seven sisters and is a beautiful place.
It is my cynefin. Being there, I feel, am exactly where I need to be, among people and nature I wish to be always. Just bring in my husband and son here and the scene will be complete.
My father, after retirement settled at his native, an indistinguishable small village, fulguri, 17 kilometers from Guwahati airport. Guwahati is the biggest city in North-east and is the pseudo- capital of Assam.
I have memories of spending my school vacation there.At least those were a month long. Ever since life caught up, I could only visit for two weeks in a year. I remember looking forward to my visit every year during school days and I was so determined that I will be more frequent when I will have my own money and time.
Hmm, Don’t I have enough money and time now?
Honestly, It is sort of unreal. My longing for this place. What possibly could be the reason for loving this place so much? I have actually never lived there, at least for any time longer than a month. I have no real friends there. No childhood chadi-badi. I cannot speak the language correctly. Am no expert in its cuisine or culture. Assam and I have nothing in common! I shouldn’t fall for it..fulguri ! Sign!
But, it feels like a big part of my heart is left there, the part refuses to come with me, miles away, where am settled with my husband and son.
Perhaps it is the people – my parent, sibling, all my cousins, relatives, uncle, aunt, niece-nephews whom I probably won’t recognize anymore.
Or perhaps it is the place- the air, the language, the culture, the cuisine, the lahe-lahe attitude, the laughter, the curated smiles, the music, the raw, the freshness, the incessant pour, the early sunset/sunrise, the terrible heat of hot summer, the bonfire in chilly winter, the warmth of winter sun, the orient eyes, the shiny hair, the makela-sadar- dress, the fashion, the nail-art , the dekhi-local grinder, the mighty river, the hills, the green, the tea-garden, the mountains.Everything.
May be it is my mother’s kitchen garden or the pukhuri.
Enough of sob story.
So, As I was saying, I was home at the end of Dec, last year. Most of the time was spent in visiting new places and meeting relatives. I was hardly home. But one day was special, between all busy schedule and slipping vacation, the day I remember the most was when my husband decided to try fishing in our pukhuri. Pukhuri is a small pond next to my father’s house. Where my mother dumps all left-over food for the fishes. It isn’t too romantic or clean. It is actually muddy water.
I forgot, how relaxing this corner of my home is.
Some of the pictures from that day below.
And there was my little pumpkin. Trying to see how good fisherman his father is.
Moral of the story.
I miss my home. I miss pukhuri . So am gonna build one, right next to the swimming pool in my apartment. Throw in some fishes, get a fishing net and settle my butt right there…some 3000 miles away from where it wants to be.
Aha..By the way, Today is my Ma’s birthday 🎂..Happy Birthday Ma. I terribly miss you.
or probably a dog. I mean why bitch, why not a dog? My fellow feminist will agree.
I don’t care. Not for this post.So don’t turn away coz you smelt a feminist.
The point of this post is, Karma is indeed a bitch or dog or whatever you wanna call it if it can be called “it”.
Because that would explain, why my husband even being on the wrong side of all doing, gets his way around doing all things, the wrong way.
This case was a direct indication of Karma “Oh! Get it, lady, he is right, even though wrong.”
My husband never ever takes his towel to his bath. He just conveniently whistles,open his door slightly, peeks out his head, extend his hand and I hush-phash-rush on that sound, hand him over his towel. Please imagine it, because it is romantic. But do not imagine with my husband. Use your own. Back in days, when nothing else mattered than seeing your husband dripping wet, fresh, scented, I would wait for the whistle and rest is ahem ahem ahem.
Now the romance is replaced by war-room tactics, to get my son out of the door before his school bus honks! Breakfast – check. snack pack-check. Milk-check. Oh no ! I forgot his pencil box. Why the hell do you even take it out of the bag? Please imagine this too. With my son. I would surely welcome you to try and replace me someday. The morning 7 to 8 AM. And, In the middle of all this chaos, I have to answer his whistle. Every day, with strict notes “Take your towel with you….”.
I, on the other hand, never go to bathroom un-prepared. Towel – check. Blah blah blah – check. I do not whistle, do not disturb, do not need an attendee to attend to my bathroom calls.
Who should Karma support? The wife who is prepared, well planned or a husband who goes to take bath without his towel?
One day I decided to set things straight for good. There comes the usual whistle, and instead of usual rush to answer it, I ignored, said am busy and didn’t pass his towel for a good 10 minutes or so.
If he can’t do it himself, he better wait when I can. Lesson learned.
Or So I thought.
Happy in my accomplishment, I sent son off to school and set out to my morning duties.
And imagine what did I forget to bring with me? To my bath.
On the day, when I thought I taught my husband a lesson in the morning duties.
Karma -You are a bitch.
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?
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?
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.
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!
- 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.
- Go to the washroom , find an empty one. Lucky you.
- 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.
- 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.
- 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.
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.
Me with fork and knife – Sweetie, Is it time yet? let’s eat some
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.
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 😉
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.
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….
“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.
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.