Saturday, June 18, 2016
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
I fly into the vast flawless blue sky. I felt weightless and as soft as a feather. I thought sky is where I belong. Slowly my feathers started burning because the sun was too hot and bright. My eyes started burning. I knew I do not belong there either.
I felt the cool breeze of the earth, the green trees that whisper the lover’s tune. There were many trees that spanned several colours from autumn’s palette and innumerable flowers, but the silence was so strong that it froze my soul. I knew I don’t belong here either.
I do not belong to the sea
I do not belong to the sky
I do not belong to the land.
Then where do I belong..
NOWHERE... That’s where I belong
Friday, January 9, 2009
I've always known I would be a mother, and I always wanted to be one, but I never dreamed I would love it so much.
It’s hard to believe that Aiden is already two and a half months now. Oh.. I never knew babies are this innocent. I love his gummy, toothless smile he gives when I talk to him and the way he tries to respond with his cooing and gurgling. I love cradling him in my arms, playing with his little toes and fingers, making him smile and the way he holds me with his sweet tender fingers.
Life has definitely changed after He coming into our life.
I wish you could know how you make mamma happy in your own little ways.
Last week when his appa (dad) promised to take us out. I will never forget the kalla smile on his face with a ‘ammakku kittatte appede kyil ninnu nallathu’ look when I was late to get ready when appa came back from work. Everything I do everyday is about being a mother.
I love the way he shares the understanding mischief which is unbelievable. Yesterday, we wanted to go out walking and we were scared ammachi wont let us go, as its cold (though he was dressed for the season). I told him not to make any noise. I should say how surprised and overwhelmed I was when the he dint even make a gasp or noise, until we got out of that big house, closed the grill and the understanding smile he gave melted my heart. He's a cool dude and I wouldn’t be surprised if you fall in love when he stares at you with his pretty brown eyes.
Everyday he makes my day special and gives me moments to remember. I never knew until now how you make our life much richer and more meaningful than we could envision and for the overwhelming love and pride that you fill our hearts
Do you know this mother lives for you.. Just for you.
To see you growing, to answer your 1,000 questions about anything and everything, to see you live w/o fear, to see you being happy.
Monday, May 12, 2008
A mother's love's a blessing, no matter where you roam,
Keep her while she's living, you'll miss her when she's gone;
Love her as in childhood, though feeble, old and grey,
For you'll never miss your mother when she's buried beneath the clay (author unknown)
There is no love, like a mothers love. There is no strength, than your thoughts give me, There is no bond, that is stronger than ours..
Its strange that the day you left me is the mothers day…to make the pain so unkind… but memories help me get through.. when I feel so blue.
God being my guide, and you being my strength.. I wish you mothers day with all my love.. till I we meet again…sooner or later.
Friday, May 2, 2008
I am standing in front of everybody with my tear glands going to break, my feminine force going to over power my strong decision not to cry. Trying to control my tears, which might at any moment ooze uncontrollably, I was wondering how careless I can be. Its neither the burn that hurts, nor the red rimmed black mark over my lips that might leave people asking “Oh .. what happened to you, BS?” but the awful truth that the seemingly careless BS is still a long way to a mans heart through the culinary skill.
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Born in a small traditional Indian family of countless cousins and big team of siblings.. large enough to make a cricket team, in Spring valley, I have heard this proverb at a tender age and I knew the importance of cooking. Every day was a celebration at Tharavaadu. I could feel the mixed small of spices and delicious curries Ammachi and aunts used to make not only tickled my taste buds. Being in boarding school from a tender age, art of cooking was always a mystery to me. May be that’s the reason why I was scared of that 7 letter word. When I reached primary school, one of my worst fear was about my poor culinary skills and I was worried what if my man doesn’t like my cooking.. I could imagine a fat and stout man with big mustache tasting my food and throwing it spinning the product of my hard work all over the place…
During the vacation time, I was allotted my share of work in kitchen. I would imagine myself making the typical hot and spicy meat curry with the Kaattirachi my grand pa would have got the previous night. Or I would think myself as a master of all the appam varieties .. my grandma would make like the soft puffy Paalappam, bit hard kallappam, my favourite cake like soft vattayappam, our Indian noodles, idi appam. But every time when I try to help them, I would be told other work like peeling the onion (that the worst and work I have ever done.), washing the plates or cleaning the room (this is rare). Kids were always given the task of ulli polikkification (peeling the onion). Its is not chuvannulli, then it is savaala.. or else veluthulli. It’s a never ending work.. when we are done with one batch of ulli poliking for irachi curry, next will come for thoran, and by the time we are done with that ullies will be ready for mezhukku peratti. And if we try to help the elders after this ulli polikkification, and plate washing, we are considered as total nuisance trying to invade their land. We would be told to go and play. With no option we wold take leave into the coffee plantation or the forest behind till dawn. My holidays will end with my plans shattered but becoming an expert in ulli polikking.
When I came to high school I started trying my hand in exotic cuisines directly, skipping the basic cooking. The only person who never complains about my food is my dad. when he, who finds it difficult to appreciate the best food my mother-the master chef makes, says my food is Good. Its the best appreciation I could get. My brother whom we call poutery farm, who can eat anything endlessly refuses to take what I prepare.. (what an insult). I was considering myself good in cooking when the greatest shock I got. My father got me a cooking book. That was a warning for me to improve my cooking.
The other day I spoke with Uncle J.Kadaplakel (don’t want my aunt to identify this uncle and see my uncle malnutritioned, losing his weight along with his hair, being deprived of F-O-O-D). part of it went like this
Me: hello uncle J?
Uncle J: BS, so what you doing at home?
Me: what else, trying my hand in cooking. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. u know’
Uncle J: so trying to trap S?
Me: kind of’ *giggle*
Uncle J: even your Aunt tried that. And she is still trying that.. *smile*
Me: did she succeed? *curious smile*
Uncle J: that’s what I said.. she is still trying *hearty laugh* even after 16 years.
Though I know both of them are happy together it’s a warning to all married girls.
Every time I try my hand in culinary skill, I will be left with a memory that will last at least for a week. Mostly it ends up as black marks over my skin. One of the basic and important point when you use cooker is to make sure the vent of the cooker is not closed. One of the best ways is to blow through the weight of the cooker to see it’s not blocked. It works. It works fine every time …when somebody does, but not with me. Today I was trying to make the Erisheri. The vegetables..ie the beans was no cooked well even after two whistles. I thought of keeping it again and I assured the weight is not blocked before replacing it. I remember myself trying to blow through the weight and I heard a sound SsshhHH similar to the sound you hear when you pour water on the big tawa in Thattu kada to make mutta dosa. I was left with a funny mark on my lips. The hot-hot metal had left a goofy mark on my lips.
The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Is it really true? Tell me its not!!!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Me in US: I doubt if their cars have one because I never hear any body using it. Am waiting for a chance to use it on somebody (at least I need to check if the horn is working, right?)
In fact I have forgotten the use of horn.
Me in US: one of the major causes of husband –wife fight (i.e. us) here is the left and right hand ruleof the road. My sweet hubby kutty and paavam me goes out for a romatic evening for dinner till we reach the corner, and he tells me to keep right while turning left and before I could hear that it would have reached the left curb and my hubby kutty becomes an expert takes the vehicle back to the right lane. (that’s a rare occasion where I get to hear the Horn) Not only he becomes an expert in road.. but an angry, unromantic kettion. That’s not the end of it.. but the end of a romantic evening too and I sleep starving to death. :(
Me in India: when I want to go for a movie (rarely happens) my parents, brothers, sisters, sister in laws all go together in one car, along with brothers kids, not leaving an inch of space. 8 adults and 4 kids go easily and lavishly in my car. In fact no need of a belt, coz there is no chance of being thrown out from the vehicle and I don’t find the use of seat belt.
Me in US: even my 1 year old nice has to have her own seat and I feel the suffocation of the tied up kid in safety belt and the separately joined child safety seat. And when the whole family goes out, it reminds me of Hindi movies- fight scene where some 5-10 vehicles follow the hero.
Me in India: crossing the road in India is a chance to hold on to the hands of whoever is near you while crossing the road. And guess what you will love crossing road if you love adventure
Me in US: I wait for the vehicle to pass, and they wait for me to move… at last the wait ends when the driver puts his/her out and waves me to move on with a friendly grin… and I recognize I am not in India and how I miss India.
Driving in India is like playing the video game. The points will be added up when you overtake each car. And there are reward points when you overtake cows, stray dogs, trucks, goats, auto rickshaws and pedestrians and beggars. Oh.. How I miss India!!