Music and dance. Did you know human learned music before language.
Well. Now you definately know.
Music and dance. Did you know human learned music before language.
Well. Now you definately know.
…from getting into a really (emphasis this) really weird situation. A situation where I didn’t know how I got into. No clue. Never happened before. Not in my living adult memory.
So, here is what happened.
Just like any other usual morning, I took my gamsa/towel and headed for the bath. I sat down for free-the-morning-poo activity and (very slowly I) looked at my hands.
And then I realised.
I realised that I have nothing in my hand, My hands are EMPTY. Not carrying a thing. As in no book, no newspaper or no mobile. So, What am I gonna read? All I could do now is just poo.
Pooing, an activity in which the food that I consumed yesterday, after passing through a myriad of churning, grinding, soaking, broken down, beaten will come out of me telling me (1) Human being is an open system- Bad Design. (2) I eat a lot. (3) I poo a lot.
I have never been in such a situation. I always have something to read. A book, or mobile to browse or the newspaper to look. I have to read before bath, before poo. It is important because free-the-poo activity is free because of reading. No reading could translate to no-pooing and that, I was about to find out.
Slowly, My head was registering the pain of empty hands, I could feel a growing lump in my throat, my heart beating like that of an infant. And angry voices inside my head yelling I was heading to a brainless activity of pooing.
I looked around my bathroom, It looked neat with the wall half-covered by the mirror. I have two baskets full of toiletries. And I could spot two toy-cars and one superman in one of these. Okay, For a home of a 6-year-old boy, that finding isn’t a surprise.
Before my lub-dub heart could burst out of the cage, I had to take control. Improvise. Think. What do I need….?. I need words. I grabbed the first thing that had it…. and here is what I discovered in the next few minutes reading bottles- My Shampoo has tree-tea-oil, the scrub has walnut and almond(why are we not eating this stuff ?), the face-wash has neem and the Colgate is recommended by most of the dentist in the world!
My head was trying to locate my mobile, or thinking hard where I left the book that I was reading (Devlok with Devdutt Patnaik- Avoid it, probably that is why head cannot locate it ) or where did I leave newspaper after picking up from the door.
I could hear chit-chatting of humans breakfasting. Shit, now I can’t even call hubby to rescue. He is at the table with the guests.
This was turning into a full-blown crisis situation.
Well, for the readers, it may sound like a crazy woman speaking. What big deal, just do the thing, shower and move on. It is usual.
But I have never done it before. Not in my grown-up memory. I refuse to follow the social decorum which is.. just poo and move on. Do the thing. Do your thing.
I need to poo like how my son needs to eat. The skill is not to let the boy know that he is eating, and he will do exactly that without a fuss. But the moment his brain realises that his next half an hour of life is gonna be invested in eating, an activity he sees no point in doing, it turns into a rock. Solid and stubborn. No eating. I have better things to do , Like playing with the superhero. But do the same WITHOUT letting him know(distract him with superhero tales) and he will just finish the plate fine. Only, I need to hand-feed him. (OMG! I am a bad mother)
My pooing is like that. It is not an activity for my head. So I distract the head with reading. The grey cells just sends a signal for exit and then let the gravity do its work.
I need words, My brain needs words.
I had finished all the words available in that small room. Think.
The profound moment!
I have my kindle, in my office bag (I always carry it in my bag) the bag is on the bean bag, the bean is just one foot away from the bath-door.
I grabbed the doorknob and tried to listen to sounds outside. The humans are busy eating (Thank God, I made a very good breakfast today- Rawa Idli, Sambhar and ground-nut chutni)
I tip-toed to the bean, unzipped the first slot of the bag, where I usually keep my Kindle. Dunked my hand in for – Nothing.
Checked the next slot, Nothing! Lump in the throat full to the brim ready to strangle me. Shit said the voice inside my head.
Next slot and … finally! I found it, I found my Kindle in the slot, resting next to the laptop.
The rest, I really don’t care. I did the thing, my way 🙂
Happy Reading folks. Keep your books close to your heart.
PS: Why is this post sprinkled with the word poo so much! I got to stop using it any further in this post.
PPS: Duh! This is the end of the post. Seems like the morning panic has damaged my brain and engraved the word poo in it. “How are you
pooing doing today?” What time are you coming back from poffice office? “ Poome Come early”…
PPPS. I chuckled loud writing PPPS Because I almost wrote the PPS as “..my brain and engraved poo in it”. That is pure eww, Don’t imagine it. Puff. Another narrow escape.
PPPPS: Count my blessings for today- 2(Kindle and PPPS) so far. Actually 3, I managed to poo in the end.
Always, Always, Always keep your stuff in the room attached to the bath. Not in the living room.
Order a wall-hanging bookshelf for the bath.
Let go of some towels, make space for a book in the towel stand.
Always leave the Kindle in the first zip.
The photo is of my son. I just picked it out. No reason.
Am a strict mother these days. Most days, am not. Meeting the supply with the demand. My son has his first first-grade school assessment coming up
next week tomorrow . Maths. English, English dictation and Environment Science. But he is not showing any interest in preparing himself to be assessed. I really envy mother who has THE kid, natural in studies. (Are you reading this neighbour?)
On most of the days, I have no patience with a first-grade kid. I do not sit with him for his school work. That is the only job for my better half. He is a master. I do feel, Husband is disposable when he is around the house. But clearly, I need him when there is an assessment next week… Get your butt here soon! Puff! But he isn’t here this week.
So there I was, on the last weekend. Sitting along with my son, with practice sheets and prayers to God “Please give me the strength to make it alive till the end of
this hour these 10 minutes and not strangle him.” Every 10 minutes, I remind myself. He is my only son. Be a saint, DO NOT kill.
He clearly wants to escape. Actually me too. Both of us. But Life is cruel. Doesn’t give us what we want. I hope he understood that last weekend.
Do not judge me. Before you imagine me as a fat-rat matron holding a stick, wearing a printed knee-length frock and thick-framed black spectacles conducting a reign of terror, try spending 10 minutes with a boy who is more interested in super-hero than vowels of English.
10 minutes. Only. With a six-year-old who imagines wand in a pencil, the erasure as a transformer disguised and living among us in plain sight, who have to pee because I asked him the spelling of piled. What?! pencil is to write notes? I thought it is a magic wand with the black core from kryptonite!
Don’t blame him though. English is a weird language.
For instance, Why the hell Silent letter? Silent K in Knew. And wait, this gets better on the Island. There! A letter, an alphabet sitting right there, not making any sound. Just being there. Silently. The same S when added to “ex” becomes one hot cake bun. Or , Don’t get me even started about Queue. That is just one letter Q. What are the others doing there? Did the person doze off with one hand on u, other on e?
So now I have to know why K is silent in Knew but not Clock.
Me: “Listen to the sound Adi, K, clock ends with K.”
Son: But Mummy ..K is silent.
Oh Boy! Not in every word honey. That will be like a totally deaf alphabet. No sound.
Imagine how many zillions of space, wordpress would have saved, if it weren’t for these notorious silent letters. They exist but only in bytes. Taking up space but producing no sound.
That was English. Maths seems like a good boy. I mean, the subject is all logical, Right? Wrong. What the hell number-names doing here….legacy of English gf?. I mean who writes forty, repeat. forty and not 40 these days?
Meh! On the cheque lady? Hmm. Okay. But still. All the number names, just teach so he can write me a thousand dollar cheque every month. I only need that much. Teach him that. Did you notice the silent “ue” in there, with that condescending mind..won’t make a noise, these aren’t worth our talk.
So that was my Sunday.
At the end of the day, It was time for bed. The teacher was out of my system and mother was in, the guilty mother who punished her child and raised voice a bit longer than desired. He was almost asleep. Eyes closed and heavy breathing.
I said ” Adi, Maine aaj aap pe bahut gussa hui na ? Was I too angry at you today?”
Barely had these words left me and could reach my son sleeping next, I heard him reply. Yes. I signed. This is gonna be tough. All I wanted to tell him how much I love him and how important is reading, writing and learning and other parenting stuff.. yada yada yada blablabla.
Me: “But, You know that I love you no bounds. Right?”
“Who is my favourite boy in the whole world?”
He raised his head enough to show me his smile: Me!
Him again barely 2 secs later.Or may be less than a sec: And you are my favourite person Mummy!
My heart just melted. And I relaxed. probably the first time on that hard day.
The best part of being Ma is the love I get from my little man, No matter, how much I keep him away from his playtime and his super-hero, in the end, am forgiven and loved again. Any adult would have labelled me lunatic for life, but for my son, Am still his favourite ❤
…..because life sucks when am NOT reading. Why can’t life be about reading, sleeping and occasionally eating?
Life, the sucker, has to happen exactly when I have a good book in hand, Exactly while the story is creating a world filled with moving images, characters, era, location, emotions and transporting me to a time where I cannot possibly ever reach without the words in the book.
When I remember the quotes from the book, or can almost smell the rain, barish, soil my feet walking down the muddy path, feel the sadness of the daughter waiting for her father, the pain of losing a dear friend, the happiness of finding love, the redemption,the world of witches and wizards and flying dinosaurs
At least life doesn’t suck when it is within words.
And so I do all that life expects from me, cooking, packing lunch, office -home, But I hate the author for engaging my mind.
On the toilet seat; when the pot is whistling on the stove; when am walking eight stairs down at the office; when am at the elevator; on the dinning.
THE GOD OF SMALL THINGS, is the first novel in my memory by an Indian author to won BOOKER PRIZE(1997). I remember when I heard this news, I was very proud. I didn’t forget the name ever Arundhati Roy and the title. But I wasn’t a collector then. I couldn’t afford to buy it. It was too expensive for someone who just started reading novels outside academic. I was very sure, one day I will read it.
20 years later ( See, why I complain about life?), it took me 20 years to buy this book.
I was at the mall last weekend, waiting for father-son to join me when I wandered into a Bookstore and found this. 20th ANNIVERSARY EDITION.
And of course, I bought it. Without thinking that probably it will be cheaper to order online. Am on page 43 and I know why this is a winner Book. I have already been to Kerala(where the story is set) and back several times. Am a Christian now. The book is a poetic novel.
“Things can change in a day.”
“Chacko was Mammachi’s only son. Her own grief grieved her. His devasted her.”
Good authors are like pied-piper of Hamelin. The readers will merrily follow them into the world that really doesn’t exist; to doom or rejoice. The beauty of this world is that there is only one story and as many dimensions as there are readers. Each reader follow the pied-piper but see, feel, smell and sign in his world! For me, some days the story comes alive at the night in the softness of light from the table-lamp, after the father-son have gone to sleep. This is the time when the world outside my window is still and dark. But the words in the book are thumping for my attention to be read more. I stop reading and soak in the story. Estha and Rahel (Twins from God of Small Things) forms a bond that I wish to share with my unreal twin brother 🙂
Then there are non-readers like my husband, who never failed to ask me when he sees me with a book in hand.
” Am gonna ask you a question from that book now! Ready for the exam?” ” Does it have pictures?! What no photo..must be a very bore book” “Abhi tak pass nahi hui, kitna padege?”
If only I had a job that gives me money while I spend time reading a novel from my favorite genre.
I have analyzed this life situation very carefully, There is perhaps a parallel universe where I can read all I want, but it doesn’t sound like a good ending.
Somewhere Am a librarian but it is too silent for a Libran social butterfly like me.
Or working at a bookstore- that will be then even more pathetic, surrounded by this sea of novels of all genre by all authors great, small, big and all I can do is arrange shelf, help the kid find coloring book! I wouldn’t survive a day.
Or working at a publisher – Naah, I wanna read a book that I like, not the one I publish. Not anyone bossing me to read this when I wanna read that.
So in this universe, I have settled for reading on the toilet seat.
I do have the plan to open my own Reading Cafe one day. Walls filled with books. From all genre. By all authors. A chalkboard-painted wall to write your favorite quote, to paint the world from novel just finished. The cafe will have all sort of sitting arrangement, from hammock to bean-bag, to give you a cocoon to just read and drink coffee. Where one could come out and quote favorite line or read fav passage and not feel out of life.
I will serve coffee and wait for monsoons. Authors will be the celebrity. Air will be filled with quotes from books and stories will come alive. There will be talks, discussions and book club meetings. Each will have own world to immerse in from any genre or be at any place the author takes them to.
One room definitely will be for people reading the last leg of the novel. DO NOT DISTURB ME when I need to know the end.
Life finally will stop sucking.
My voice speaks in italics.
Today is the first day of Ramzan/Ramadan. Am fasting. Means no food, no water from sunrise to sunset. I can eat as much as I like from sunset to sunrise (And then do not complain why the hell I didn’t lose weight, I was supposed to be that girl who lost weight in a month. Yes Girl.. not Lady)
No shitty thoughts too. No gossiping. No bitching. (I guess that is the true spirit of Ramzan)
No angry voice in the head. Be calm and peaceful. No hungry thoughts.
Remember no shitty thoughts.
Yeah right! Tell that to a mother of a 5-year old boy, staying with her sister who has twin boys.
Three boys under my roof. I wonder how my roof is holding up.
How to mute this boy? Strangling with just a little bit pressure?
“Hey, jumping jacks. That is a sofa, not the trampoline. I will throw you out of the 7th-floor window, let’s see how you bounce up.”
Okay. Big and Bold.
Am fasting. yeah, yeah, you have heard me write that before.
So my internal organs are just napping right now. They must feel like me, my head and heart on the days when I have little or no work at the office.
Do nothing but just be there, just in case. Do the bare minimum. Check emails, Coffee-try-not-to-yawn- lunch-do-not-close-eyes-coffee-who-asked-you-to-eat-so-much-on-a-sleepy-day. Hurray. Time to go home.
Moving ahead. Voices inside me today.
Kidney guffawed. Yay.. no water, nothing to filter. Can I go back to watching Stomach? She looks very slim trim today ❤
Puff Kidney.If only it could work like that. Stomach slim trim from not eating for few hours.
Brain: Look at the kidney. Both of them! No load, absolutely no work. Why do I have to work alone? Grrrr Grudging
And am off to release the pee. Sitting on the commode, I do wonder. Truthfully. Cross my heart and hope to die.
Why am I peeing today? Where is this fluid coming from.. whose pee is this? OMG. Who do I have inside me eating?
So Folks – Eat, drink and enjoy. But remember no shitty thoughts, no bad intentions, No grudges and no Grr.
Happy first Roza! Enjoy the look of it 😉
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.
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?
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!
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?
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 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
I have been thinking after reading numerous wishes I have received in last 24 hours. Everyone suddenly seems to be sincerely wishing me love, peace, happiness, and prosperity for the new year ahead. Are you listening to all this Universe – You have got a job to do!
Hmm, Something tells me that love, peace, happiness .. is all perspective. God will be confused,
he She has no time to read between lines, and given the amount of request perhaps it would be better if my friends could send me wishes, telling exactly what to do. Anything could go wrong in sending love,peace and happiness my way!
God: Hmm, Someone sent her happiness – So should I send a puppy or give a flat tummy? Hell .. I have got plenty to do ..let’s just send her a puppy.
Noooooooooooooo ! It’s the other one lady!
To all my wonderful readers, visitor, bloggers, followers, if you have not send any wishes, read and you will know what you have say. Be precise 😉
On top of my list, and that of everyone else
“May you get a waistline that will fit you into size
XS, S (Alright, I will be practical) M size!”
Head: Something tells me this will be wish of 90% of people of ladies on planet earth, which might be too much for God to handle and also that am writing this very late, I might be already at the bottom of wish list, but I could certainly outwit if everyone wishes me this, certainly the number of messages counts ! See there are lots of these waistline messages, let’s just do it and get the hell out of her list.
May your dinner plate have a constant supply of chicken,
mutton keema, and pan fried spice wrapped fish fry, and on the days when dinner looks green and veggie, the universal-power-of-meat magically turns every veg mouth-full into chicken-curry/fish-fry mouth-full!
May you get super-eyes that can burn your calories just by “looking” at the person running on the treadmill. Just a stare and there 100 calories gone! Evil laugh
May your husband learns to put the SUPER WET towel on the clothesline, NOT, definitely NOT on the bed.
May your son learns to keep his mouth shut during poo, I swear I do not find his Look mummy, that is bada(fat) potty, this is chota(small) potty talks cute anymore!
May you win a lotto to visit Venice and a wonderful nanny to take care of your son at home (definitely not with you), while you and husband live your dream of Gondola ride where you are singing at the top of voice THE song that made you fall in love with Venice!
May your husband shaves his beard every day, each and every of 365 days ahead, such that it no more render half of his face area useless, giving him a powerful weaponry to annoy me just by brushing it off my face whenever I plan to annoy him and he wants to scare me away. Trust me, you do not want to feel those little prickly hair monster and loose a game of I-can-outsmart-you with your partner.
May you get to walk in the rain, under the umbrella, big enough to hold you and your husband together, but small to keep you both close. AFTER he has put his towel on the clothesline and shaved his beard.
May you never hold onto the feeling of I need to pee immediately outside the bathroom door contemplating if it would be rude to knock while some lady is possibly just looking through her facebook feeds and planning her next selfie – a pout with beauty mode ON to make her skin glowing like a light bulb.
May the days and nights of the weekend be longer than weekdays. And that your days be filled with absolutely nothing but a bed and pillow.If that is a subject, then be the subject matter expert in it.
May WordPress gives you a free domain! Yay!
And as for new year resolution, I have tried , revised and finally made peace with what Calvin says.
Suspenseful Thrillers and Horror
Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
The life of a photographer who likes to shoot just about anything.
Writing, the Universe and whatever occurs to me
Jagah Dil Mein Honi Chahiye- Stories Have A Life Of Their Own
Travel, Poetry & Short Stories
A Total Eclipse of the Art
creating order out of chaos, and vice versa
Rants, humor, sarcasm, and a haiku-like substance? It's hard to know what's going to come out of our minds next.