I miss you Ma.

and I never told you this and I needn’t tell you this ever because you already know this.

She is a Super-Woman or an analogy closer home – The Durga Mata. I guess every mother is, mine isn’t any different.

And it hugely annoys me that she can’t leave that stupid home of hers and come live with me for an infinite time. That she is not here with me when I come back to home with a refreshing glass of Nimbo Pani/cold drink on hot days. Or listen to how my day had been. Or waiting to have a meal with all of us. That she isn’t here to mend my dress or fix my cold. Just like she was during my school days.

I left home when I was 17 or 18esh.. for further studies. Meh! And then I never went back. I completed my studies, met my husband, got married, visited home once or twice a year. And that’s how it has been since. 

So literally, I have been missing her since I was 17.

I tell my husband, I was just bored with living out of the hostel, being a paying-guest, being with room-mates, the nomadic life of living away from home, that I agreed to marry him. I needed a home of my own. If I had been living with my Ma, my story would probably have been different. His reply “kidnap kar leta tujhko 😉

That is utterly romantic ❤ . So I know I was destined to marry him, to have a life that I have now. I married the right guy.

But that doesn’t stop me from imagining.

I imagine a different course of my existence. One where I never left home, where am married closer home, where am with them for every festival, every small occasion, every birthday and anniversary. Where I don’t have to plan my vacation months in advance, book flight tickets. I imagine just booking a cab/ or driving to her home. I imagine picking up my bag and heading home, I imagine exchanging Meklahe Sadar with her, gossiping, cooking meals together.

None of which I can ever do in this lifetime.

All of which my sister is lucky to get with her. Damn!

Why don’t I?  I remember a conversation I had with Pa when he said, why can’t I do all that and more? Why can’t I just pick up my bag, book a flight and come home? Isn’t that the reason why I left home in the first place? So I could be independent and follow what I really desire.

Am blabbing. No one will probably get this. I don’t get this. Why can’t I do that? Why am I pissed on the days that remind me of her? (Am pretty sure this is as my sis is visiting her for a month long vacation and am sweating out here).

Everyone leaves home for a better life. I have a better life. Am not the first person to do so. I have no reason for not just booking up the flight and reaching Ma. I don’t know why can’t I manage that now?

Today is Mother’s day and am surrounded by the content this day has generated on every feed, every chat, every social media. Do we need a special day for Mother?

No, A Mother is special every-day.

Yes, because I never told her how awesome she has been, how much she had worked all her prime and how much she needs to think about herself now.

Even so, I don’t want her to think of herself. I want her to be my side. Living in the same city that I am. Not this far.

Now, We They have a wonderful house at Assam. It is my parent’s blood and sweat. Their dream home and they moved into that place after my father’s retirement, which was much later after my wedding.

I live so far from her, that I no more dump my sob story on her, I feel a bit protective of her. Shielding her from my downs. I guess living on my own since 17 has made me as independent as my parents wanted.

Now that am a mother, I know I will always be there for my son. I don’t believe in long distance love 😉 he will have a hard time moving away from my nest.

But then he is a boy. A girl pines for her parent and a boy, well just don’t care. Sorry Boys 😉  

I called Ma today and she was utterly busy with my sister and her twins. She was worried about my brother and she was going to cook dinner, fixing yard with Pa as a storm is approaching.

Day as usual for her.

Happy Mother’s Day Ma. I miss you.

Here is a Mother’s Day special from my 6-year-old boy. Aah.. he will never know the joy of leaving home. Literally 😉

Son: “Ma, What does comes first..the wedding or the kid?”

And my toughened Indian middle-class upbringing screams:
“Wedding son, definitely wedding! “

#HappyMothersDay

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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!

 

 

 

 

 

A cheesy post for a non-cheesy man..

This post is gonna be really really cheesy. The sort that I don’t do often. In fact, I may never hit Publish.

But Since you are reading this and you are not me, so I must have hit “Publish”.

Lame, I know 😉

So, what makes this cheesy? Am gonna talk about Love, the goody-cuddly love and it is gonna sound like the love declarations from FB feed that I find so cheesy! I mean, You love your husband, tell him, don’t declare to whole wide FB world.

So this is how it goes.

Today ( This post is way too late, but let’s assume today is the day when) marks the 11th year of us being married. And we decided to lunch together since I couldn’t take time off office. We aren’t a couple to go out often. So going out is special. Luckily, I have switched job to a place very near to his office. So meeting for lunchtime was easy.

Now, this is important- I switched job recently, as recent as a month. and am adjusting to the new place. It is not a struggle, but living in past is my struggle.

It doesn’t help, that sometimes I miss my old colleagues. Life was much simpler and somehow happy. Life here is fantastic, but let’s say isn’t simple. You know the feeling when you are among loads of people, yet feel lonely sometimes even though you are so chatty in the head?

Like everything is just noise and you can hear the voice inside and outside your head. Or actually no voice, coz you are just bored and don’t want to think or listen.

I have this feeling during lunch time.

Of course, today wasn’t gonna be any different.

But hey it is different! I was going out with hubby.

We decided on a fancy restaurant just two blocks from my office. As I left office and walked toward the venue, I noticed everything is so much better here than the previous job-… the work, the garden, the office. Everything here is perfect.. but not familiar, not mine. It isn’t known. And with that feeling, I was spiraling down into the same silence 😦

And then I saw him, not where I expected. He had walked a couple of blocks more to reach me. To walk a distance little with me. In the mid of all unknown, I saw him with a cheesy smile.

And I was in love again. In a heartbeat. ♥ With him of course 😀

The feeling of familiarity was back. Am home and I can drop my shield and feel what I wanna feel. I could tell him what I miss. It felt good to be me, no pretentious.

We walked hand-in-hand like lovers, like first-timers who cant get hands off each other Awwww. lovely- cuddly told you 😉

And I enjoyed it, I enjoyed the comfort. He doesn’t even have to listen to me. It is just his presence that is a comfort. And tells me that I will go past this feeling, this chatty head.

I guess I really needed to see him.

And now to the blogosphere, perhaps to FB world too, Am gonna profess my love for my really really lazy-weekend-only-on-sofa husband of 11 years! Am glad you are here with me.

So this is really cheesy? Isn’t it?

I mean, what the hell – You love your husband, go tell him not write a post on blog 😉 next you will be sharing it on FB !

PS: The image is from our wedding, 11 years ago. Since then together we must have gained 200 Kgs. Isn’t that a #relationshipgoal!

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!

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 ❤

 

 

 

I hate reading…

…..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.

The result? I read whenever I can.

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.

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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?

I hate reading because I miss it so much when am not!

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.

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.

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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.