Daddy is home

Its fathers days and it looks so unreal that I lost you, Daddy to a heart attack that you are not here anymore even though that is the ultimate truth. There were no good byes. I know I took time for granted. I wish I could get a day ..Just one more day ..because so  many things are left unsaid. Its like parts of puzzle and I am struggling to put the pieces together and its never going to be complete unless you help me complete. 

I am burning inside when ever I think I cannot see you again here. I have never seen a man like you so hard yet so tender inside. I have never seen a man who kept the word like you did. You were a man of few words but your actions roared. I have never seen anybody who feared none except God. The memories of you having a quiet time reading bible at 3 am after your long weary day is forever etched in my mind. I know where you got your strength and where to look into in days of trouble.You did what was right- always, even when no one was looking. I never heard you talk bad about others, I never heard you lie and his eyes always demanded the same truth in return, when it didn't you just ignored, never heard you grumble, but I could see the pain in your eyes. Nobody could picturize you with a tearful eye because you had that immense strength and misguided your attitude and nature as bitterness/coldness. Your actions were never influenced by what others think...a self made person you were. I have never seen a person with such a wisdom yet so humble and crystal clear. A quiet hard working  man of impeccable character. The most influential man in my life.

You left a permanent vacuum inside which can never be filled as long as I live here. you never said anything but you always fulfilled my wishes even after you left us. I knew love is pain. Love has always been painful for me. The strong gripping pain covered in love whenever I think about you.  The few words that I write here cant do justice to all of the years of love you gave me but still Thank you Daddy for believing in me.

I miss talking to you. I miss the wisdom in your words. I miss being in your presence. The insecure feeling that I have now is beyond words.  I still have the magic boiling coffee pen that I talked to you about. I wanted to give you in person. The only solace I have is thinking you are safe now  and is resting in that heavenly peace where nobody can hurt you anymore. I promise I will be strong and because I AM YOUR DAUGHHTER.  What buds in fire cant be burned in sunlight that was you (you know who told me that) and now its me. I am truly blessed beyond what I could ever have hoped for because you gave me the love everybody can give together.. you love summed up to more than the love of father and a  mother. I promise I will work on our dreams.. but without you its 1000 times harder but I promise I will work on that because that was not just your dream, my dream too.

With all the gracefulness you left with a smiling face covered in your favorite roses, I wish you knew how helpless and confused I was about life here ending on one side and life budding on other side.. Daddy I wish you saw the huge crowd who came for the funeral. I was amazed by their love for you. Did you see the tears they shed for you. Did you know Jose vaidhyan was irreplaceable because your cell phone is ringing nonstop after you left. the cancer patients, patients who had no hope until they came to you, patients from far and near. patients with all diseases.

When I write this Daddy truly is "Home" in heaven. Its okay, we couldn't say good byes because I am going to see you again and lets put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Let’s be honest, , most of us take parents for granted. For all those who read this my humble request is don't be a self-centered, ungrateful receiver of their love. They need a tangible demonstration of your love NOW while they are still alive.You will always be a child for them no matter how old you are. your days may be busy with work, kids, trying to make both ends meet. but you never know what is going to happen tomorrow. Call them, talk to them, Go out with them, Do the things you were wishing to do for long but keeps getting postponed because tomorrow is so unsure, Appreciate their help, Spend more time together, Give them pleasant surprises, Tell them you love them.  Make your parents smile and that`s  very important.

Wedding and the suffer"Ring"

Marriage is bliss!! or that is what people say. I don't object it. I don't support it either. All marriages are happy - it's the living together afterward that causes all the problems.(wink wink). Marriage can be a hell unless you give yourself into it. I am talking about our pakka mallu marriages where a girl is married into the boys family and leaves her family behind to start a new life and these marriages are made on basis of 101 almost impossible demands and we exclaim.. Aah! marriages are made in heaven (that explains the thunder and lightening). Its usually promises that are exchanged in marriage, but somewhere there is a bonus package of "expectations" between not just the bride and groom but both families as well.

Few things that are unsaid in usual marriage proposals.. am just adding the points:

Expectations from the boy:

* should be a great cook from day one (because we are dismissing our maid)

* should take care of all my family members needs. (your brother or sister in laws will be elder than you, but they are still small children to us)

* forget you have/had a family because I already forgot that.

*Marriage is not a word. It is a sentence. (A life sentence!)

Few things from a brides mind:

* should be a great cook (because I do not know cooking and I don't have any intention to learn)

* I am tired from the time I am born, which means I will take a lot of nap and shopping to re-energise me. Don't make me change ( and I will not)

* My parents treat me like a princess, and That's the way I expect there as well

* Yes, I am getting married to your family, but I haven't accepted that. so My family continues to be my family.

　

"Marriage is bliss. Ignorance is bliss. Therefore ...."

Let me not sound very sarcastic when all I was trying is to see the comical side of unrealistic expectations and believe me, If you are stuck up in such a situation, Do not worry. Give the chilly new relationship more time to thaw.

(PS: I did not intent to write about anyone, living or dead, and if you feel it resembles you, its just mere coincidence. and for my survival I am saying "My husband did not expect those from me.. and I dint expect from him. Both of us know that we are not complete without marriage and once w did it TADA we are finished ha ha)

Between brothers!!

1. ANGRY WITH ME?

2. WHAT IF I TRY TICKLING?

3. NOOOOO!!! NOT ME.

In this picture are Jacob Martin Ariyamkulathu & Aiden Sabu Vettathu

Odd Man Out

I swim into the water, gazing up at the sky. I thought that’s where I belong. There were too fishes... bright and dull, big and small. The tail flicking fishes send drops sparkling. There were far too many that there was no room left for me. I knew I do not belong there.

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

-bs-

Love!!! ...more than a Feeling

Unless you're a parent, reading my post you would probably think I'm crazy!
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.

-bs-

The other side...

Letter to Heaven, with Love….

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.

The way to a mans heart!!!

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!!!

The Height of Boredom!!!

Its an illegal photo.. but I cudnt leave without capturing this beautiful funny snap from Seematti.. the temple of silks.. in kottayam. I guess the baby's mommy might be busy shopping somewhere there..

isnt it Funny and Cute?

Indian driving

After several years in India, the road rules I am used to, coming and getting used to US road rules is tougher than my ever-hated pharmacology exams. Driving in India is an art, and a game unlike in US where they just follow the rules. Being a born non-follower, and a believer of the rule that “Rules are made to be broken” I was thinking of the Indian traffic rules.In India I am a believer of Karma. Depending on karma either you will survive or the other driver will survive.
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Me in India: I love blowing the horn. It’s a way of expressing myself and letting other drivers joining me. I express frustration, happiness, sadness, irritation, or to wake up the sleeping dog in the road.. and I am happy others will join me with no objection and it will continue like a music (more like my brothers music). He who is loudest gets the right-of-way here.

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.

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Me in India: I love India and driving in India. I just follow the instinct or move in my intended direction, whether it is left or right or center of the road. I can squeeze through the traffic, no matter from which side
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. :(

(I do not know why hubby-kutty who drives at 110 mph at a stretch in US free ways in LA-San Diego gets high BP when the highly expert and experinaced taxi driver tries to maneuver through the busy Bangalore Residency road through the narrow space between the Karnataka BMTCs and trucks at a speed of a tortoise per hour.)

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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.

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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!!