When you see a lady sitting on a table, with a book..

LEAVE HER ALONE.

Do not small talk. Do not “Hey, How are you?”.

And never-ever-ever join her on the table. Period.

She might be your best buddy, but you are definitely not hers, not at that moment.

Total stranger.

And if that lady happens to be me, with my crush, I might bite, meow, roar or just chuff! It goes south from here, so if your headaches, you will know whom to blame.

You may be the King of the North out to save the world from white walkers, Night King and Zombies, but I am the Queen of Seven Kingdoms, I have two full-grown Dragons, an army of Un-sullied, an army of savages Dortharaki’s……….

And a BLOODY HELL GOOD BOOK to read!

Oh My! Why so much ranting? Whatever happened to the sweet girl?

I told you, I hate reading…

I reach my office early, not that I want to. But for brevity sake, let’s just know that I get there a good half-an-hour before I should. And I find solace in the cafeteria. I look forward to reading what is happening next in Saleem Sinai life. Add to that, the reading done while commuting to the office, has already transported me to the pre-independence India, somewhere in Delhi, where Saleem Sinai’s mother has just made a public announcement of his existence.

Get this picture straight – Am deep down in the world of words.

You can only find me physically walking to the cafeteria, picking up a cup of coffee and settling down on a table with a book in hand, but in my mind, am not present in cafeteria. Am in Delhi.

Here is a visual, just so you get it straight.

girl and boy sitting in front of brown wooden coffee table
She doesn’t want your company buddy. She isn’t smiling for you. Get your own book.                  Photo by Zun Zun on Pexels.com

 

But the universe is full of people who have a head that talks. (rolling eyes) does not read. The cafeteria is mostly empty at this time but has few from this breed. They have their head full of thoughts that ought to be spoken out loud in the presence of another head.

And they join me on my table, the table where I already have a company. Of my book. I could almost bark- Can’t you see, I have a company?

This one here and it’s a bloody good company.

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But I didn’t bark. Or even Meow!

And so, I was interrupted by their life’s rumble about travel, office, kids, life ..blablabla. I was lending my ear but inside, I was cursing. You.

Sorry. Apology.  Forgive me, please.

It was supposed to be me-reading time. You are at the wrong table! Clearly.

When it happened the second time. I even gave a cue. Out-loud Or maybe I just murmured.

Me picked up my tea, headed to a table. *Spot* a “Hey! Person”, Ignore, ignore and grand Ignore ..

“Hey! Person”: Hey, Are you alone? .. I will bring my cup.

Me: Am not alone… (watching him go to coffee machine) (murmuring) I really don’t need a company. 

I hated him. With all my Heart, Kidney, Lung. Cumulative.

And then it all poured out of his mouth….

Forcing me to ask about his life. His commute. His work. But my mind was on the bookmark peeping out of my book placed neatly on the table. It will be only until the end of the day, a good ten hours before I could pick up my story 😦  

See, How can I not hate that “Hey! Person?”

Moral of the story. 

I have a book. I don’t need your company.

I have a book. I shouldn’t sit in the cafeteria, find a better place ( Heading to my desk, I realised we have a small pantry, crammed behind reception, on my floor, one down the cafeteria)

I have a book, sit in the pantry, hidden from all Hey! people.

Get the cue 😉 I don’t care!

 

 

 

 

 

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Am having a goosebump moment..

The feeling, that very soon I am gonna finally fulfill my long awaited desire. That next time, when  I come across this title, I will be able to raise my hand and dig into my memory of today.

I finally have a copy of Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie!

MIDNIGHT’S CHILDREN.

Am gonna read it. It’s stupid. I have a crush on a few titles. This is one of them.

In fact, I had to bribe my dear friend/hoarder-of-books/voracious-reader/sorry-cant-part-with-my-book with another of my favorite-yet-unfinished crush of mine. I will give you my “An Era in Darkness..” in exchange for Midnight Children? She paused just for a sec before saying yes. She has her crushes too 😉 I was feeling devilish exploiting her, but heart pounding for Midnight Children!

Some titles are the legend. The authors are the greatest artist in the world. They have created a masterpiece that will live in the memory of millions of peoples, that will outlive them and their readers. That will inspire millions of minds. Will make a person completely stranger to the author smile, or cry or just connect in the deepest level of the heart without even knowing of the existence. That is the power the authors have. The magician of words, the creators of history.

So then, How can I not have a crush? 

I have to admit. I just don’t go out and buy all my favorites. They come to me. Each one is an episode. Like it is a conspiracy to slowly unravel to me instead of just heading to my bookshelf.

Here is the conspiracy.

Gone with the Wind – From a college friend, who just wanted to offload book. Was at awe at the courage of Scarlet-O-Hara then and even today.

The Kite Runner – I don’t possess a copy. I got it from my colleague. I loved Afganistan and I could see a boy running under a blue sky covered with colorful paper wings even thinking about it.

The God of Small Thing– Has its own post 🙂

The Tattooist of Auschwitz – Story of Love in the most difficult of time.

On a side note- Why couldn’t I finish “An Era in Darkness…”? because two chapters into the book, I couldn’t look at anything British..ily without resenting them. I just hated them. Plain Hate. And I wasn’t feeling good about the hate. And I know, I love Hugh Grant and Harry Potter! So, it was a tussle and the best thing to do at the time was to abandon the book and pick it up after I could stabilize the raging hormones within me.

So, what am I doing here instead of delving into the story of children born on the stroke of midnight of 15th Aug, 1947?

Am just sitting and admiring the book. Literally. Am just happy that I can start reading it. I have it. The words, the story will come alive soon and I will die knowing I have read a masterpiece, that one day my son, his child and generation of Sayed clan to come have a chance to read this masterpiece and at that moment will be connected to my soul.

Too much? I should just stop now..Am having goosebumps!

Now, tell me about your crush ❤

 

Me: Adi, Don’t talk on the table. Nadi ho jao (Quite like a river)

He is my insane little chatterer and sometimes I wanna cap it! Just shut up boy!

Adi : Okay.

Quack, Quack, Quack, Quack!

Me: What now?

Adi : Mummy river has ducks!
And I give up!

I had a narrow escape today.

…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.

All in the living room.

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.

Panic!

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.

Bless the soul who said Kindle’s battery should never die when a reader seeks it.

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.

Moral of the story.

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 still his favourite, despite everything.

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?”

No answer.

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 ❤

 

 

 

The voices inside me today. And Yeah… Happy First Roza!

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.”

Remember no shitty thoughts.

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

Release the pee signal. *Evil laugh*

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Kidney- Really??

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?

Remember no shitty thoughts.

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 😉

pepperoni pizza
Photo by Beqa Tefnadze on Pexels.com

Karma is a bitch .

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”.

Why?

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.”

The Evidence

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.

 

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This is my husband, while he waited patiently 15 minutes before passing me my towel. 

Karma -You are a bitch.

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.

26803357b981b32e627df9e4f2c2c4e5-nail-drying-nailart
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.

 

 

 

 

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.