tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-210763812024-03-05T01:54:49.053-05:00Everyday MusingsSandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-85284031025265330332011-07-12T18:57:00.000-04:002011-07-12T18:57:15.198-04:00Go on, judge meSo the scene was something like this:<br />
Me and my 6 year old were in the grocery store, in the dairy aisle to be precise, in the yogurt section to be very precise and were having a discussion on which yogurt to buy. I was looking for certain brand and the little one was asking me to buy whatever was available. It was a Sunday night, around 6 pm. Another family , a young couple with a little one, about 2 or little older , was "trying" to just go through the ordeal. Their little one was not happy sitting in the cart and none of them was ready to pick her up. We all know how it is sometimes. The crying sound was full on in the background but we were least bothered. Its a little baby you know, either they make you smile or they shriek! So back to us. My 6 year old was telling me to just buy whatever is there and stop looking for that certain brand and I was going on about how I like the taste and texture better of that certain brand. An elderly woman comes up to me and asks "Well who is the parent here?" Though I wanted to say Well what do you know lady, I can totally use being a child right now. I would love to just throw a tantrum, its been a while. I want a certain yogurt and I won't settle for anything else. Wouldn't that have been fun!! But all I did say was "Ummm, I guess that would be me!!" And she says "Oh no, I am talking about them, the ones with the crying baby. Who in their right mind, on a Sunday night at dinner time, would bring a little one to the grocery store. My mom never did that, I never did that. And then people like these wonder why they have such restless kids. Why couldn't one of them stay home with the baby. I just don't understand. "<br />
Wow, really? No, I mean really?<br />
I don't know why but this reminded me of a certain facebook status by a friend few months back that read<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"Dear Mother-in-law,</span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> Don't teach me how to handle my children.. I am living with one of yours and he needs a lot of improvement...!"</span></i></span><br />
Ouch that must hurt!!<br />
What I really wanted to say was "Precisely Madam, you are being so judgemental because you don't understand. Maybe you have forgotten how is it being a parent, how you sometimes as a couple just want to be together, crying baby in the tow or not! How everyone has situations only they know about, how its just so easy to feel all righteous and pass remarks on young parents and be very smug about it." But all I did say was "...............", that's right, I just drew a blank and ignored her, part of the reason was my 6 year old was rambling about how we should just get what is available and not make a fuss about that certain brand. I tell ya, so many times this parenting thing just totally backfires and hits where it hurts the most. I was waiting for the store guy to go and check for me if they have some in stock in the back room and my daughter was going on and on about how my being so particular about a thing is making us waste time! The frigid temps in the dairy isle weren't helping either. And to top it off, the wise elderly woman was following me like a hawker on the street. Damn all I am asking for is my yogurt!!<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"> </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br /></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-48833452792325252182011-03-23T14:57:00.001-04:002011-04-03T18:01:08.478-04:00Marriage : Obligatory or Voluntary?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/03/26/indian-marriage-naxals-fraud-indian-blog-posts" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAGMQ6PtUnsdV_xnCLP3vJsa_t0J9iVHgGBMwkWwrOOw1YtigJyziukaMA2GMmX13dObIGWEqcezkAr6Vn4dZxYSVenT3mbl7U78SBjJwfFUQAdWwbbSecE716vTG-s8dj1OoZTA/s1600/spicysaturday.jpg" /></a><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2011/03/23/marriages-are-sold-to-women-in-a-glossy-cover/">IHM</a> , my friend, you just woke me up from my deep blog slumber! Here’s what I have to say to your question...Is marriage an over rated institution???</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I would nod with an emphatic yes to that question. It is presented as a win win situation though...so let's see what a girl wins in the equation.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> In India, girls tend to lose more than they gain by being married. Right when the ceremonies begin, it is an unspoken truth that no matter what the boy's side does and asks for, the girl's side has to comply. The start of the relationship happens at an unequal footing. nahi beta, wo ladkey wale hain </div><div class="MsoNormal">Once the newlywed girl reaches her in-laws home, the only words that she can use are "Haan ji" (which would loosely translate to "as you say' in this situation), utter anything else and she can be the talk of the town for being such a badtameez (manner less and arrogant). She should know that girls, especially when they become bahus, don't have a right to have an opinion, much less express it!! </div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>So there goes your basic freedom of speech.</i> </div><div class="MsoNormal">The daughter in law will be told what can she wear and what colors can it be. She has to wear bindi, has to wear bangles, cannot wear jeans, and can’t even think of skirts. Up until now, she has been dressing up in crap and by being married, she has got an army of designers, Lucky her! that includes her MIL, FIL and basically everyone with an in-law suffix. They all know what will work. And she has to comply, otherwise, you got it right, she is arrogant. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>And there goes the basic freedom of dressing up.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Though she is the one who is new in a family, the onus of keeping everyone happy rests on her and she needs to remember in laws are super easy to offend. Wake up when you want to, someone gets offended. Talk to your mom on the phone, someone gets offended. Don't cook and offend the whole family!!</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sky can fall if she expresses the urge to see her side of the family. If she needs to go out with friends, permission needs be sought from in laws. And the in laws are very nice if they say yes, plus she is considered very lucky. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> <i>Hence goes a basic freedom to living your life.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Where is the guy? Did he change his wake up time just because he got married? Did he change the way he dresses? Did he change his social behavior? Did he forgo seeing his parents on a certain festival because he has to be with the girl's parents?</div><div class="MsoNormal"> A girl is raised with one single goal and that is to get married and stay married. Learn to cook, not because it’s a good skill to have to be able to feed yourself but to get married. The ultimate goal of a girl's life is expected to be to please others and aspire for their approval. All in all its lose lose situation for girls. If they chose to not to get married (as if they can!) the society always looks at them in demeaning ways. If she does get married (as if there is a choice) society has all the tools to rob her of basic freedoms. And lo and behold, if she dares to speak up and gets out of a bad marriage and gets a divorce, she is looked down upon as the one who was on the wrong side. She should have adjusted, she should have just used her inner strength to over look the all the problems and be in that relationship for the sake of others.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> People say marriage isn't between two individuals but between two families, I would tweak this statement with one word and say that "A wedding is between the families but marriage is between two individuals" Wedding is a ceremony where all can have fun but a marriage is a relationship, a life that a man and a woman lead afterwards. It takes a lot of effort to make any marriage work but this work needs to take place between the husband and wife. Like any relationship, a marriage needs two individuals who look at each other as companions, I love how this quotes puts things in perspective <i>“Marriage is when a man and woman become as one; the trouble starts when they try to decide which one"</i> If anyone, girl or boy, is expected to just lose their own self to make a marriage work, its totally not worth it. How can a person be not themselves and be expected to be happy and furthermore raise happy kids? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If getting married wasn't such a big deal, girls would have a better chance at life. Female infanticide wouldn't be there because no parent would be worried about the burden of dowry, life would not be a gamble for their daughters, there daughter's happiness would not depend on some other family. If getting married wasn't the ultimate goal for girls, parents would not see money spent on their education as waste, because who knows if her future family would allow her to work, also they wouldn't be worried about saving every penny for her dowry. They will be able to use that same money for better things like their own retirement, her education. Parents would have the freedom of raising their girls with a normal childhood, with the goal of shaping up a strong individual and not a "perfect daughter in law" or "some one's wife" Domestic violence would be tackled much easily if the girl knows that in order to appear normal she doesn't need to stay married. Undue advantage is taken just because of this known fact that she can't raise a voice because society expects her to stay married and appear happy.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Institution is a noun and as someone rightly said <i>marriage is a verb. It isn't something you get, it's something you do. It's the way you live your life everyday with your partner.</i> But if you insist it being an institution then, I say, as with any other institution, admission should be optional and not required. Everyone should get married if they want and not because they are expected to.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0000ee;"><u><br />
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</div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-6162214578839699422010-10-26T09:36:00.000-04:002010-10-26T09:36:41.333-04:00Happy KarvachauthWe were greeted this morning by our daughter with this artwork on our kitchen wall!! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcw5AJSEyDMqbO0rSqvzM2izLVai9O9jLZy0OBlTIT0Ek0kWs6pUDvx3Eey_oOH5G-HcxHjeyjDnH7LD5i9DTpeLmwfM_xzjJODA02QAYanrSQ-TOvUPDUKZeHzbftJZiqbfqGQ/s1600/Oct26_2010+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcw5AJSEyDMqbO0rSqvzM2izLVai9O9jLZy0OBlTIT0Ek0kWs6pUDvx3Eey_oOH5G-HcxHjeyjDnH7LD5i9DTpeLmwfM_xzjJODA02QAYanrSQ-TOvUPDUKZeHzbftJZiqbfqGQ/s400/Oct26_2010+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><u><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Artist: Saumya</span></b></u><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;"><u>Description as given by the artist:</u></span><u> </u>Moon is visible from our dining room window. Daddy is standing with a platter of <i>puas (we eat them at moon rise to break our fast). </i> Mama is smiling, looking pretty in a Saree and Saumya is all ready seated to have dinner. Happy Karvachauth!Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-26425585627411884312010-10-18T15:59:00.001-04:002010-10-18T16:23:13.799-04:00Want To Help?Our 5 year old was carrying a big heavy puzzle box to put away and the box broke while scattering all the pieces on the floor.<br />
Saumya: Oh Oh!<br />
Me: What happened?<br />
Saumya: It all fell down.<br />
I jumped down on the floor and started putting the pieces back in the box. To which she said<br />
"If you want to help me, just leave the pieces on the floor. I know how to put them in the box"<br />
And I tip toed back to where I was.<br />
Ahem.Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-83719466465003237402010-08-19T13:45:00.000-04:002010-08-19T13:45:40.354-04:00The StorytellerEvery night, Saumya, our 5 year old tries to find ways to keep awake for just few more minutes. That is the time when she would ask questions that would need long answers. She knows her parents love to satisfy her curiosity, so it works pretty well in her favor. I only end up realizing her tactic in the middle of my answers :-)<div>After the story time tonight, she offered to tell me a story but "with no book, mama, it will be my own story", the parent in me wanted to say no to maintain discipline while the curious parent in me was so eager to listen. Obviously the curiosity won over discipline like every other night!! </div><div><br />
</div><div>So here goes a story made by her in "own" words.</div><div><br />
</div><div><b><i>The Cow and The Crow</i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Once there was a crow and a cow.</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">The crow was sitting on a tree branch and was saying "Cow Cow!! Cow Cow!!"</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">So the cow got up from the grass and walked over to the tree where this crow was sitting and asked , "Yes, what is it? Why did you call me?"</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Crow was surprised and said , " Well I didn't call you!!"</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Cow looked upset and said , "You were just yelling Cow Cow, weren't you?"</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">Crow said with a smile, "That's the way I talk you silly!!"</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">And the crow laughed and while saying cow cow he flew away from the tree branch and the cow just stood there wondering.</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">The End.</span></i></b></div><div><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></i></b><div><br />
</div></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-1778239781463650682010-07-02T11:38:00.000-04:002010-07-02T11:38:46.781-04:00My Sins Against Gender Stereotypes<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My blog guru </span><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2010/06/30/my-sins-against-gender-stereotypes/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Indian Home Maker</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> has started this fun fun tag which has created a storm on the blog world with everyone tagging each other with it! I have been tagged by the </span><a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/2010/06/30/my-sins-against-gender-stereotypes/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">guru herself </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> as well as </span><a href="http://wordsndreamz.wordpress.com/2010/06/30/my-sins-against-gender-stereotypes/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Smitha</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The tag is called</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><strong><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’.</span></strong></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And you must tag twelve blogging friends </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">or else you will be cursed to wear</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="color: #00ccff;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">blue </span><span style="text-decoration: line-through;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">clothes </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pants if you are a woman</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span style="color: magenta;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">pink shirts if you are a man</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">– for next twelve years.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Though I love color blue and really no matter how much you love a color you don't want to wear the same thing for 12 years!! So here we go with my sins......</span></span><br />
<br />
<ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I have been told by many 'traditional' people "bilkul ladkon wala utsaah hai" (she has the zeal and excitement of a boy) </span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I love driving</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I would rather read than gossip.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I do not like the parties where men and women just want to sit in separate areas. My idea of party is not gossip and recipe sharing. </span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I can troubleshoot my appliances, computers and phones on my own.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I really enjoy and look forward to having beer and wine. (ghor paap!!)</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I am the appointed bug killer at home and I feel good about it!</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I do not like chocolates.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I do not like stories about princesses.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I enjoy turning around furniture all over the house. Many a times, husband comes home to find the whole setup changed. </span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I have a much better sense of direction than many men I know.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">being docile isn't my cup of tea.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">Do not like to watch soaps on TV, my favorite channel is National Geographic and Discovery.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I am the first one to get ready in our family.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I enjoy reading instructions and assembling things.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">Doing pujas is not my thing at all, I would do anything to avoid them.</span></span></li>
</ol><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">It seems I got so late picking up the tag because everyone around seems to have been tagged already. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;">I tag</span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://www.dialoguewithyou.org/">Chatterbox</a></span></li>
<li><a href="http://indrajit.wordpress.com/">Raja</a></li>
<li><a href="http://chinkurli.wordpress.com/">Chinkurli</a></li>
<li><a href="http://mymessyparadise.com/">L</a></li>
<li><a href="http://montessorimatters.wordpress.com/">Montessori Matters</a></li>
<li><a href="http://memoriesandmirages.wordpress.com/">Titaxy</a></li>
<li><a href="http://shonawrites.blogspot.com/">Shilpa</a></li>
<li><a href="http://crackedchronicles.wordpress.com/">Sakshi</a></li>
</ul></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-71545611893382151482010-06-30T09:48:00.000-04:002010-06-30T09:48:43.327-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKT2VS08YuJYYWwaSd2OQJBAu-1KjB7nsIE7XLjKme9d2I8F_0vKXc9xcZSdGJHUjoPhzZalE_jDd1HSsOVJ5HjdBpBdezTiQEvcItdhyphenhyphenafXp2IVqZoc9kHPqIz5_pHnfEOCAopw/s1600/Mystic_Aquarium+101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKT2VS08YuJYYWwaSd2OQJBAu-1KjB7nsIE7XLjKme9d2I8F_0vKXc9xcZSdGJHUjoPhzZalE_jDd1HSsOVJ5HjdBpBdezTiQEvcItdhyphenhyphenafXp2IVqZoc9kHPqIz5_pHnfEOCAopw/s640/Mystic_Aquarium+101.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">I Do!!!</span></span></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-12692539720285693062010-06-16T18:29:00.000-04:002010-06-16T18:29:55.140-04:00If You Cook ...........If you cook Aloo Gobhi for dinner,<br />
the family will probably want Paranthas to go with it<br />
If you give them Paranthas,<br />
they might ask for Boondi Raita with it,<br />
If you give them Boondi Raita,<br />
you will have too many bowls, along with the pan, plates and spoons, to put in the dishwasher.<br />
If you put all the dishes in the dishwasher,<br />
you will have to clean the sink and the counter and then unload that dishwasher.<br />
If you unload the dishwasher, <br />
you will have empty dishes.<br />
Along with those empty dishes, people who ate that Aloo Gobhi with Paranthas and Boondi Raita,<br />
will be back for more Subzi Roti.<br />
And chances are if you give them more food,<br />
they will ask for more things to go with it.<br />
If you give them more things to eat<br />
There will be more dirty bowls and plates,<br />
If there are more dirty dishes,<br />
It will lead you to the dishwasher again.<br />
<br />
<i><b> So I decided not to cook and let these people eat cereal for dinner.</b></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iLD36kUKzhl-ejCoe4PfCUEbVt0k1bjK_k67BJS-PnxebUyrADZF1qNtjgXJnTnjwuS66_hxAGICmgesTIGBKtjD1Z584hHgkfYHPu87p7SXR3oGg9mCn2Mx8tWYPi_qOw0_-g/s1600/Kitchenclosed.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iLD36kUKzhl-ejCoe4PfCUEbVt0k1bjK_k67BJS-PnxebUyrADZF1qNtjgXJnTnjwuS66_hxAGICmgesTIGBKtjD1Z584hHgkfYHPu87p7SXR3oGg9mCn2Mx8tWYPi_qOw0_-g/s320/Kitchenclosed.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i><b><br />
</b></i><br />
<br />
<i>Inspired by children's book</i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/You-Give-Mouse-Cookie-Give/dp/0060245867/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1276726299&sr=8-1"><i> If You Give A Mouse A Cookie</i></a>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-86179232076702493142010-06-15T11:46:00.003-04:002010-06-15T16:29:05.177-04:00Shopping For A Mama?Last Week I was out an about, hopping from store to another finishing my errands. In one of the stores, a duo of a mother and a son were shopping. The little guy was about 5 or 6 years old, sitting in the front of the shopping cart and like any other normal child, bombarding his mother with questions about whatever he could lay his eyes on!<br />
Mom, why are you looking at that shoe? Mom, would you buy me that? Mom, how long will we stay here? Mom, why did you try on that hat? Mom, what's in that box?The mother was doing a great job of going about her business while answering his questions with words requiring the least effort like Yes, No, Unhun and an occasional "Don't do that". I am guessing the little boy wanted more than that as a response, maybe that's the reason he asked his next question.<br />
"<i><b>Mom, are you really my mom?" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</b></i><br />
I was well within an earshot and along with many others customers in the store, just couldn't help smiling at this question. But surprisingly the mother in question answered this too very peacefully with a simple <b><i>Yes</i></b> in the very same tone she was answering his other questions! The little guy, maybe hoping for more fodder for communication, went a step further and asked <br />
<strong><em> "Are you sure?"</em></strong><br />
!!!!!! Whoa, or so I thought!! This woman has patience of iron it seems, she again said <i><b>Yes</b></i> and went about her business of looking at pretty jewelery in the store. But the little guy took a big leap this time, his finger straight pointing at me, yes me (!!!!!) and asked <br />
"<i><b>Why isn't that pretty lady my mom?"</b></i><br />
Ahem....Gulp!! <a href="http://www.sweetim.com/s.asp?im=gen&lpver=3&ref=10&p={7DC1810F-69D6-11DF-89AD-001B2467823D}" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.content.sweetim.com/sim/cpie/emoticons/00020120.gif" title="Click to get more." /></a><br />
Everyone around just couldn't keep their laughs under their breath anymore and one very old woman, grinning from ear to ear, asked the mother "Did he really ask that?!!"<br />
The mother was now agitated (finally) and while mouthing a 'sorry' to me, she said to him "Because I gave birth to you and not that pretty lady"<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px;">What did the little guy say upon hearing his mothers response </div><div style="margin: 0px;"> <b><i> </i></b><br />
<b><i> "Damn Mom!!!"</i></b><br />
<br />
I am not sure if that woman or me, are going back to that store anytime soon!!</div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-6373454494165678462010-06-13T17:56:00.001-04:002010-06-13T18:42:48.243-04:00Answer This!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mother and daughter as in Myself and Saumya, were sharing a delicate bonding moment together with her head on my shoulders while I was gently rubbing my hand on her back, swaying from side to side and just when I was about to close to my eyes, get absorbed in that beautiful moment, the little girl picked her head up from my shoulder, looked me in the eye and asked :</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Mama, how come you decided that you are not going to make any more babies?"</span></b></span></i></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <a href="http://www.sweetim.com/s.asp?im=gen&lpver=3&ref=10&p={7DC1810F-69D6-11DF-89AD-001B2467823D}" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://cdn.content.sweetim.com/sim/cpie/emoticons/00020070.gif" title="Click to get more." /></a> </span></b></span></i></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-1970968508950841502010-06-09T13:40:00.000-04:002010-06-09T13:40:10.728-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjI82e5mkKpru4Z4vuUpZJdlOkDgsPx9YDFAF7b7qNK2mo7hJzo354_FLr_M8sOsnN20itw26Jo5-s-vgG0yOVpWvGWe7JzsZGFNWVXb22qwOJ36LgMHinjjpMsDQii8Rmhmntg/s1600/Iphone_2010+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjI82e5mkKpru4Z4vuUpZJdlOkDgsPx9YDFAF7b7qNK2mo7hJzo354_FLr_M8sOsnN20itw26Jo5-s-vgG0yOVpWvGWe7JzsZGFNWVXb22qwOJ36LgMHinjjpMsDQii8Rmhmntg/s640/Iphone_2010+001.JPG" width="480" /></a></div> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Saumya Goes Shopping!!</span></span></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-17345529894352678742010-06-08T12:51:00.000-04:002010-06-08T12:51:56.988-04:00Life's Like That<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">D</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ear Saumya,</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Summer vacation is just about to begin, to be exact its only two more days of school. You must be so happy!! No alarm clocks putting an instant stop on your dreams, no hurry up calls from me in the mornings. Yay! Just lazy summer days of doing whatever you want! Yoohoo!! Yeah, Not so fast honey. With me hovering around you for 24 hours a day, don't expect too much of lazying around. It's not my vacation, I still have all the jobs that I do everyday and then in addition there will be your sweet self to entertain. So just when you think of taking out those water paints and spread yourself on the family room floor, you will hear me calling you for a bath. Just when you think we can go out for a walk, you will see me chopping and stirring in the kitchen. Right when you take that board game out, you will see me lugging that laundry basket down the stairs. And just when you get bored of me bossing you around and decide to lay low and lie down on your bed, I will </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">request</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> you to take out your most complicated puzzle. Make it. I will be like this, for the first few weeks I guess. Many a times I will not answer your questions not because I won't know the answers but to tell you the truth I become very bitter when I am under your radar all the time. Its like you are doing that Police song on me</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every breath you take and every move you make</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every bond you break</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every step you take, I'll be watching you</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every single day and every word you say</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every game you play</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every night you stay, I'll be watching you</span></b></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></i></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You not only watch but also ask the "why" of every move and step I take. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><b>Why did you cu that strawberry like that? Why did you wash those rice two times, why did you put the ketchup bottle here, why did you stir that pot so fast, why why why!!</b></span></i></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when I am bitter, I like to keep my mouth shut. Sorry sweetheart, people must be looking forward to their kid's vacation and they must be making such merry making plans of the things they are going to do together. All I am hoping to do, at least in the first few weeks, is to preserve our sanity, your and mine, both! We love each other like no one can but we are so not used to spend every waking moment together and expecting us to smooth sail through this, without hitting any bumps, would be asking for just too much. Totally unrealistic !! Right? Right.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My summer vacations, yes I had those too (!!!) , used to start in my Mausi's home. That's right!! When I would come back home on the last day of school, I would find Promila Mausi waiting for me with my clothes already packed to go. Mother would call from her office and tell me that I can go with her. And without seeing my mom, I would give my hand to Mausi and hop on the DTC bus, thinking about all the fun I would have at mausi's home, with my cousins. We would go back and forth from mausi's home back to our's, all the while the cousins helping finish each other's holiday's homework, making charts, painting posters, writing essays, collecting pictures for scrapbooks, building models. None of our parents knew what homework we got but they did know that whatever it is, the kids will make sure it's done.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> But sweetheart, here its just you and me. No mausi, mama or bua can come to pick you up. We are so far away from them that no matter how much they yearn for you, none of your cousins can be with us during your vacations. We will not have anyone with whom you can partner in the mischiefs, no sisters to play hopscotch with, no peers to giggle with. I am sorry honey, Its just me you got. Your dad, as usual, will brighten our evenings, his arrival from work will give both of us a breather. He will salvage us from the weariness we impound each other with. God bless his soul for putting up with us!!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I know we will be doing lots of fun stuff together too but who are we kidding, right? Having fun with your mother will always pale in comparison to what you little girls manage to have. Oh well! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> In times like these,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I am just left to ask myself this question, where's our family and why are we so far away from them.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> But since life's like that for us, we got to make the most of what we got. And you got me!! So I wish you a fun filled happy summer vacation, yes we will try!</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lot's of love</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mamma</span></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-67952436681403474832010-06-05T21:32:00.000-04:002010-06-05T21:32:07.809-04:00Think Global !!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was doing our usual night time ritual of reading a good night story to Saumya and the book was </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwzDzIyoitBE6fGdPaS1xVNYLzDwtczY7ZmTnBKFk1m-EDO4AZEaGaKEK-h4CUgE9lF6B8xZxeSs_sYQb7SNYRwlbkcakheScbiM8NMJ0pTS7ZfGRwUp-toTwvtafgnRtZ_kYAA/s1600/bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRwzDzIyoitBE6fGdPaS1xVNYLzDwtczY7ZmTnBKFk1m-EDO4AZEaGaKEK-h4CUgE9lF6B8xZxeSs_sYQb7SNYRwlbkcakheScbiM8NMJ0pTS7ZfGRwUp-toTwvtafgnRtZ_kYAA/s320/bed.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Time-Bed-Big-Book-Mem/dp/0152010149/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275787015&sr=1-1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Time For Bed </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Its a very simple cute little book featuring different animals on each page where the parent animal is trying to settle its kids for bed, helping it sleep. Beautiful illustrations depicting dusky scenes and loving sleepy expressions. It's one of favorite night time books. But there is one page which, instead of bringing sleep to our daughter's eyes, sparks a debate with the author! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">It's time for bed, little sheep, little sheep, the whole wide world is going to sleep</span></b></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She says, "Hey that's not true!! The whole wide world doesn't go to sleep at the same time! When I sleep my nani ma and dadi ma wake up in India, my mom's friend in Australia is in office, another in New Zealand is awake too! Haven't you seen the world map? I will have to tell this person who wrote this book that earth goes around the sun and when part if facing the sun, its day time there and night time on the other side. So no whole wide world together bedtime!!"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I was 5 years old I would have not questioned this because my whole wide world was limited to not my country but only to my city!!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Citizens of the world :-))</span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-50216982491938275992010-06-04T10:59:00.000-04:002010-06-04T10:59:22.807-04:00The Help by Kathryn Stockett<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUi2WZ2tBupzJq3xR2vkEnmOZw_p_vyNXxsW1cN3bLmiph_6yVGZjqBdy4L93CC9d3MBrWNsIi73CXHhCgfxF5GPCKaMbB_Cc5cADZ470kHztzxTYKqj3f1mTLiNvvaHZSaAX6g/s1600/the-help.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUi2WZ2tBupzJq3xR2vkEnmOZw_p_vyNXxsW1cN3bLmiph_6yVGZjqBdy4L93CC9d3MBrWNsIi73CXHhCgfxF5GPCKaMbB_Cc5cADZ470kHztzxTYKqj3f1mTLiNvvaHZSaAX6g/s400/the-help.jpg" width="267" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have been long contemplating picking this book because my last read was </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Guernsey-Literary-Potato-Society-Readers/dp/0385341008/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275659712&sr=8-1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">this amazing </span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> novel and I could not bring myself to terms with the fact that there can be anything better out there. I got </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kindle-Wireless-Reading-Display-Generation/dp/B0015T963C/ref=amb_link_353283602_2?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-1&pf_rd_r=1YSQYY1N8B7RTJK8J843&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1264801182&pf_rd_i=507846"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Kindle</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> as mother's day gift but was unable to use it for the same reason. I didn't know a single book that would meet my new set of expectations, unrealistic, as I thought then! And then I, hesitatingly, ordered </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Help </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">and after reading 10 pages, I was kicking myself for not picking it up earlier!! Better late than never! The story is based in 1960 in Jackson, Mississippi. . Its a story of a white woman Skeeter Phelan, who is fresh out of college and wants to be a writer but is completely oblivious to the what's going on around her. A time of civil rights movement in America. She has been asked by a publishing house to write about what disturbs her. And currently she is intrigued by the absence of a black woman who used to be a servant in their home while she was growing up, with whom she developed a special bond and who used to write her letters when she was at college but when she came back home, that woman was gone and no one was ready to tell her the reason. When her best friend makes a political issue about the black women using toilets in their employer's homes while working as maids, as help to whites, raising their kids, cooking their food, polishing their silver, Skeeter got determined to write a book comprising of experiences, with names changed, of these maids, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Help</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. Aibileen, who has raised 17 white children in different white homes and her friend Minny, who is big mouthed and has lost more jobs than we can count on our fingers for being so, they both sign up with Skeeter to tell about their experiences. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> The author has written the book in narrative style where it goes back and forth between Aibileen, Minny and Skeeter. Though the book is not a thriller or a mystery it sure is a page turner. I was taken in by the author and while reading I felt to be physically there in Jackson, Mississippi. Kathryn's writing skills succeeded in conquering the physical distance and took me in those homes of white women who would indulge in pretentious extravagant galas and fundraisers for starving poor children in Africa while the blacks in their homes were not allowed to even use their toilets and be seen bare legs with no stockings even if its burning hot summer. I felt like being a catch 22 situation while reading this book, I wanted to know more and more but I didn't want the book to finish, ever. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Help</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is an important novel that tackles major issues in a dark period of American history yet still manages to be entertaining, lively, affecting as well as moving.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> Though the book is set in 1960s America, it did feel like talking about current times in India! The way we treat our</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> help. </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I don't know if we would even call our maid as "help". Just like in the book, we don't like our help to make any eye contact with our guests, we cringe if they use our toilet when they come to work in our homes, we don't associate the word respect with them as if own a copyright on it, if something goes missing from our home, we reprimand them or we simply fire them and just like in the book, then we bad mouth them so they don't get any other job. We feel our kids should be our maid's first priority and we get upset when she is home taking care of her child, just like in the book. We expect them to be obligated to be working for us. Though we pay them for their work we expect them to be enslaved to our homes. While reading the book my mind kept on wandering in Jackson but somewhere it was lingering in the homes of India, the India of today.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I would highly recommend The Help and would not be surprised if it becomes a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">required reading for English literature courses. Also, I would love to see it becoming a movie!!</span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-66330642643352565822010-05-28T12:21:00.000-04:002010-05-28T12:21:19.715-04:00Foto Friday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqxoZ8KxxUDiRyUMR9u1nukto8vCSNbpSw69QPASMwjRf3YDoWl7Iyq1bK449trMju5qHTQTgtxwuJy1YHxs74V1Tysk-m7CUv3w94iprTYucBhApwknndsSiS1V72hlKmEX_fw/s1600/Mystic_Aquarium+080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZqxoZ8KxxUDiRyUMR9u1nukto8vCSNbpSw69QPASMwjRf3YDoWl7Iyq1bK449trMju5qHTQTgtxwuJy1YHxs74V1Tysk-m7CUv3w94iprTYucBhApwknndsSiS1V72hlKmEX_fw/s640/Mystic_Aquarium+080.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6;"> </span></span></span></b></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-24159268411061252242010-05-27T01:14:00.000-04:002010-05-27T01:14:13.972-04:00Show and Tell<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">While browsing the TV channels few hours ago I came across an ad for a new TV show "Baat Humari pakki Hai" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's the promo that intrigued me, <object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/wsgOnUFQkRQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/wsgOnUFQkRQ&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is hardly a minute long but still there is so much wrong here, or I should say there is hardly anything in it that is right!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wow! We are telling our girls that</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they should not play in the sun or their complexion will darken and <i>no one would marry them, </i></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they need to learn to cook <i>to get married</i>, </span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">they need not focus on their academics because <i>once they get married</i> only housework knowledge will come handy and </span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">after all this when the time comes the ball is still in the guy's court as the woman in the video puts it </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"hum ladka dekhney nahi ladki dikhaney jaa rahe hain" </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(we are not going to see the boy but to show our girl) . <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">So what we are basically saying is ......<i>If the guy likes you, you should not have the nerve to say no because you cannot and your opinion does not matter, why? because you were raised to get married and not ask questions, not express your likes and dislikes, you need to be thankful that he, who came to see you, has approved you and if he doesn't like you, better go check the mirror, there's got to be something wrong about you and we as a family are doomed</i>. </span><b>You are an object of this Show and Tell, where we show and they tell and you endure.</b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> And if you want any of this to change, hope to be born as a man next time.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"> This is where we have reached after claiming bragging rights for Jhansi ki rani who led a battle, Sarojini Naidu who was the president of Indian National Congress and later on became the first female governor in India, Kamaljit Sandhu who won a Gold in Asian games for India, Kalpana Chawla who went to space, Indira Gandhi, Pratibha Patil and many unknown women who are achieving what <i>they aspire</i>. The list of women who went on to do something with their lives other than <i>just</i> getting married is endless and we all are proud of them. When we present our country anywhere else in the world, we do not shy away and rather flaunt about these facts, we love to tell everyone that ours is a progressive country with equal rights and opportunities for men and women. Is it really the reality? When the time comes for us to participate in that progress, when we get a chance to empower our girls, what do we do in our homes? We give them a rolling pin and a fairness creme.</span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> A friend in college was once told by her boyfriend that <i>when you see my mom I want you to look down and keep your head down. You posture isn't like that of a daughter in law. </i>When she told me this we both knew what her decision should be. But really? This is what we expect? The conclusive and final goal for a girl is getting married and since the time she is born, her upbringing needs to be such that she becomes a "good wife" who tends the house and raise kids. And do we ever think what kind of children she is going to raise if her only mission in life was to get married, if she was never told the importance of learning, never told or was rather discouraged to speak for herself? How can she raise balanced minds when hers was made to tilt in one direction? How can we have a positive society when almost half the population has been robbed of their happiness? Aren't we setting ourselves up for failure? Should we not be worried about this lop sided society we are trying to create with this imbalance? When will we wake up to this fact that if a girl holds the rolling pin, its not just to please her in laws or her husband, cooking could be her passion, or she may <i>want to</i> become a chef! While grooming herself, she may become<i> interested in</i> being a make up artist or a fashion designer, she might be <i>weaving a dream</i> of being an athlete....or for all its worth, she <i>may want to lead a non professional life of a homemaker</i> but these need to be her aspirations and not imposed on her by anyone, she needs to grow up with a respect for her desires and aspirations and we need to be the instrument for that growth. And for any of these to come true, we need to realize that getting married is <i>a part</i> of her life and not her life. She is not for Show and Tell, she is an entity, a person, a mind and a heart. And the day we all recognize and in fact appreciate this bottom line, then we can end the story with ......<i>.and they lived happily ever after. </i></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-21802489108903394182010-05-25T13:25:00.001-04:002010-05-25T15:11:20.311-04:00On The Podium Now: Our Guest Blogger<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The author of this blog is currently suffering from writer's (as if !!) block, We have been fortunate that Miss Saumya has graciously offered to fill in. Yay!!</span><br />
<div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First things first : Miss Saumya wants the readers to know and keep this in mind that she is 5 years old and not "old" like her Mom, so please be extra kind. Also, Saumya will be dictating and mom will be typing.</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Ahem!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I will be telling you about my day. You do want to know about it, right? Alright here we go :-)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Beep Beep Beep: Beep Beep Beep: There goes my castle alarm clock and I quickly jump out of the bed to turn it off, otherwise mama comes rushing to my bedroom to see why I am not waking up!! Sometimes it becomes hard to turn it off because I am holding pinku in my other hand. Oh, I didn't tell you about Pinku yet! Its my sleeping buddy since I was 18 months old, Mama told me that. Do you know what color it is? It is Pink, you silly!!! That's why its name is Pinku!! Hehehehehe!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> So after I turn my castle alarm clock off, you know its a pretty clock and is not very loud, I like it, it helps me wake up without anyone's help, so after I turn it off, I put Pinku on the chair. It stays in that chair all day and I only hold it again at bedtime. Sometimes I make it wear my baby clothes and then it looks just like me when I was a baby. Only I didn't have a bear face! That would be funny because I am a girl!! Hehehehehe. And after putting Pinku in the chair I run to Mama and Daddy's bedroom and then Mama hugs me and gives me lots of kisses and we say Good Morning to each other. And then I surprise daddy with a pucchi (Kiss) while his eyes are closed! It is so much fun :-) and he always asks for more, more and more. But Mama tells me that I am getting late. So I go to the bathroom and do "hehehehehehe" (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">added by mama: the author is not sure if you want to know about her bathroom routine, i guess we will skip. yes, You are welcome)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I brush my teeth and wash myself. Bathroom is so much fun, I look out the window at the birds, the trees and our lawn and our neighbor's house but then Mama comes and says I need to hurry up, Jaldi Karo, Jaldi Karo!!! So I quickly go to my bedroom and wear my school clothes that Mama and me took out the night before, right after the story time. I get ready and then I choose which socks to wear. When its hot I wear short socks and when its warm I wear medium socks and when its cold I wear socks that go all the way up, up up!! And then I do my hair. My hair is so short now its no fun but it does make me get ready quickly. Then I go downstairs and sit on a chair and drink milk. Sometimes I drink it so quick that I ask Mama "why didn't you give me any milk and why did you give me a dirty glass?" I love asking this but when I am slow, Mama tells me I can't ask this question. Sometimes I eat a fruit after the milk and sometimes I say I am already too full. Then I wash my face. I am super quick on many days and then after drinking milk I get time to read a book. I read and read and read while mama packs my lunch. One day I want to pack my own lunch and I will be a chef when I grow up and that is why I keep "observing" mama when she is doing it. She told me that I can learn to do things if I observe. So I observe. But sometimes Mama gets upset when I ask her a lot of questions about my lunch.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Then I wear my shoes, mama puts on sunscreen on me and I put on my sunglasses because I have to protect my eyes from the harmful rays of the sun and then I go sit in the car and buckle my car seat. Then Mama drives me to school. One day I will be old enough to drive myself to school and then Mama will sit in the back. It will be so much fun!! Mama is a good driver, she drives safely and that is why I observe her while driving so I can be a safe driver. Then we reach school and Mama drops me at the classroom door and says bye. I shake hands with Ms.C and put my lunch bag away and take off my outdoor shoes and wear my indoor shoes. Then we have circle when Ms .C tells us news of the day. Then I do writing but sometimes it just takes me so long that I cannot do anything else. I think I need to switch my coloring, which I do super fast with my writing which is very slow. Then it will be good. And then I chose work like fruit cutting, chair washing, sewing buttons, addition stamp game, math beads, math chains, metal insets, I made a huge metal inset quilt with my friend R. It was really huge and took us many days to finish. I also work on the easel, do maps, sort animals in their continents, sort animals in water bodies. There is a lot of work in my classroom and I can chose to do what I want. We go out also and that is the best time at school!! When I don't know who to play with I just run around in circles, it is super fun. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Then Mama comes to pick me up. On the way I tell her about my day but sometimes I want to be quiet. Once home, mama gives me a bath and I get to see all the sand running down my body, as if my head is a sand box....hehehe!!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Then I eat fruits and my favorite in summers is watermelon. It is so water.......hey maybe that's why they call it water melon. Hehehehe!! Then Mama and me play games. Bingo, Zingo, Scrabble, Blokus, Set.............. I love them all and I do not get sad when I lose. I say "Grashulations" to mama for winning and she hugs me tight and when I win, mama is also happy. Then I read, read and read. I like reading encyclopedia, about earth, about planets, about my body. One day I will go to space with mama. I will be an Astronaut. After this I water the plants indoors and also outdoors but only when the weather is good and I can be outside. Then its dinner time. I eat food and mama drinks her tea. After this we sometimes go out, we look for lady bugs and we walk to the lake to see the Geese and ducks, sometimes I see otters also in the water! Then Its time for me to brush and floss my teeth and then its story time when Mama or daddy read to me! Sometimes I let them chose the book also. Then Mama checks next day's weather and we take out clothes for school. We give lots of hugs and kisses and say good night, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">subah milengey</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (meet you in the morning).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hehehehe....</span></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-64274112334562791942010-05-21T00:38:00.000-04:002017-11-13T20:13:39.949-05:00From Mercury To Pluto<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Once my little daughter, when she was 4 years old, told me how </span><a href="http://sandhyas.blogspot.com/2009/03/morning-delight.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">God and a mother are related</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">. Her point of view though precious, did pose a lot of questions to me. When we are little children we see our parents as absolutes, as irrefutable entities. If my mother said so, it has to be true, if my dad can't do it no one can. Parents are given an unparalleled position, a supreme pedestal by the little ones and these rudimentary souls hold indestructible trust that whatever parents say or do is beyond question. Its one of the purest form of human emotions. Such kind of love and trust is nowhere to be seen, never in any other relationship. Why? And why does this relationship of a parent and child change? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> When a child is born, she is at the mercy of her parents to survive. They feed her, clean her, comfort her, they provide for her in every possible way she needs them and then some more. The child starts growing and though very little, her mind is taking shape with the influx of information that is obviously in favor of the parent. I cried, they fed me. I cried, they swaddled me. I cried, they cleaned me. I cried, they held me. I cried, they talked to me. Whenever the child wants, we give. All the childhood years, this process goes on. And the parents enjoy doing this because their actions are never questioned, never investigated by the child. There is no doubt it's a laborious task but a very gratifying one!! Parents are in control of the situation, they have complete authority and the child displays a sense of security while being in their company. It's a harmonious system of give and take, where one gives and the other takes. But as the child grows, she gets exposed to the outside world. There are other people, other places, and other experiences outside home that influence the flourishing mind. And the shift begins. The child develops a mind of his own which does not take things as absolutes, a mind which questions everything and does not follow rules simply because mama said so. The progressing mind asks for reasons and also starts to question his parent's beliefs and values. The child isn't just an unassuming, compliant sole anymore. The parents, who became so habitual of being on the supreme pedestal that their child honored them with in the early years, become nervous. This inquisition makes them uneasy.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Few days ago, we were in the car, going out for casual family fun and my little one said "Mama, I love you" This verbal display of love isn't out of the ordinary for her, she says it only about 10 or 15 times a day. I was reading something and responded with a nod and a "Umhum" and then she said "<i>Mama, I love you from Mercury to Pluto</i>" ..................Honestly, my heart skipped a beat. To say that I was ecstatic would be an understatement but more than that I was afraid. Her words grabbed my heartstrings and pulled on them as if asking "Are you ready to take the pain, are you strong enough to bear the heartache?" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Not that I believe that once we grow up, we stop loving our parents but our opinion about them does change. They don't get to say the last word, <a href="http://sandhyas.blogspot.com/2010/05/dreams-unlimited.html">we learn that they always don't know what's best for us</a>, we mature enough to acknowledge that if dad can't do, somebody else can. Because of our growth as an individual, our own set of ideas, our own perception of right and wrong, all that shapes us as an independent entity and separates us from the whole, we become capable of looking at our parents as normal, regular people. We are able to expect mistakes from them, our wisdom helps us unload from them the burden of being "supreme beings" and in a way this should bring a sigh of relief to parents but it does exactly the opposite. To the parents, that absolute, never questioning, unconditional love of the child seems to travel from Mercury to Pluto, from burning hot to freezing cold. The parent child relationship changes. For the "all in power parent" its hard to relinquish that predominant position that the child bestowed them with. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> Looking at my relationships, I am not the same with my parents. I love them even more than when I was a child, for now I understand their struggles <i>as well</i> as their little joys but I can also analyze their actions and can perceive the mistakes they made, things they could have done better or not. And history has a tendency to repeat itself, life has a penchant of coming to a full circle which brings me back to my fear. I am afraid to lose that shining pedestal, the glory of being the first in my child's life, the powerful feeling of knowing the right thing all the time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> But when I ponder a little more, I believe as a parent I need to remember that there will be a time when my child will experience life on her own and I won't be a part of every peak and valley she goes through. The years I spend with her while standing at the podium will make memories forever but there will be time to handover the podium to her. And her love will travel back and forth between Mercury and Pluto but I need to stay grounded on earth and not melt in the heat or freeze in the frigidity of that love.</span><br />
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Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-49135225098073873322010-05-19T09:55:00.001-04:002010-05-19T09:57:02.677-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Ready for Take Off.......(do click the picture for a better view)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6scv6kfO7VfOBNccb5E0I-ZxvT_iWYDmwHUViQ0qrg0K6rsx2Bc43Iys0vqPz1STopgtEQxdX9bvrUhIeNrAFppxH5FnTkWEYYd0f1tU5ms8_BTEaNtLy3CyFS3lZ1xGDR8iyg/s1600/Storyland+118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6scv6kfO7VfOBNccb5E0I-ZxvT_iWYDmwHUViQ0qrg0K6rsx2Bc43Iys0vqPz1STopgtEQxdX9bvrUhIeNrAFppxH5FnTkWEYYd0f1tU5ms8_BTEaNtLy3CyFS3lZ1xGDR8iyg/s640/Storyland+118.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-49170962083562061592010-05-17T01:32:00.002-04:002010-05-17T12:39:22.266-04:00Dreams Unlimited<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently started watching Indian Idol, as much as the antics of Annu Malik bother me, the show does make feel closer to India. The songs are the ones I grew up with, songs to the tunes of which I did my first dance, songs that remind of fresher parties in college, songs that remind of my dating days,songs that remind of my childhood, songs that bring me home. It's gratifying to devour such songs while being so far away from home. So there, since I have explained the reasons that help me tolerate the ludicrous judge, let's move on from the judges to the contestants. Actually to their answer to a particular question. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <i>"Why do you want to be the Indian Idol?" </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And here the answers in no particular order:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 1.Its my mom's dream.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 2.Its my dad's dream</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 3.Its my mom and dad's dream</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Out of the millions of hopefuls that came for the auditions only a handful had a reason outside of the one's mentioned above. Does this say anything about us as a society? As parents? Many of us, as parents, try to manifest our dream through our children. And in this quest of our own unfulfilled dream, we tend to make the child believe that this is what he/she wants for herself and that we are supporting his/her aspirations. Its not just Indian Idol where we see this. In fact, it's one of the serious issues that children face when making a career decision. Adults tend to completely ignore the fact that the child is free to make his own career choice and in fact might have already made one. A person needs guidance from parents while exploring the desired career options. Because of their life experiences they </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">might</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> know more about those professions than the child. However, after outlining the ins and outs, shouldn't the child in question be free to do what he wants to do with that information?? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> There is one particular contestant on Indian Idol, who was in the final 16 but was not sure if he will go further in the next round. Standing on the stage he had only one thing to say "Mom and Dad, please understand that I <i>have</i> and <i>am</i> working very hard to realize </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">dream but if I don't get audience's positive response, please remember that I will go on working for </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">your</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> dream" And tears rolled down his cheeks. Do you sense the magnitude of pressure he is under?? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> But why? If we have this confidence that we have raised our children well, we have kept the communication channels open with them, if we have impressed them with values of right and wrong, shouldn't we be able to entrust them in making this choice? Some people assert that given a free hand in this life impacting decision, the children would end up choosing some career that would not be fitting. But fitting to which mold? If its your desire that the child becomes a doctor, you would have envisioned him in that doctor coat every time he came home with the report card. And no matter what he wants to become now, it would not fit in that mold of your fancy!! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maria Montessori says, "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">to give a child liberty is not to abandon him to himself or neglect him. The help we give must not amount to a passive indifference to all the difficulties he will encounter; rather we must support his development with prudent and affectionate care"</span></b></i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> By providing the right guidance and a positive environment in the formative years, we should be able to trust our children to make informed decisions about their careers. But compelling them to become something we would love them to be isn't exactly being judicious. Every hopeful who was rejected after the audition was heart broken not because he/she couldn't make it but because mummy and papa will be sad that their child failed to actualize their dream. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> When we become parents, we see our children as our very own extension, an addendum to the whole. It is hard to perceive that the child as an individual, who is separate from us and is really not here to dance to our tunes. He has an entity of his own, an entity that can have desires that clash with our aspirations. As parents, one of our important roles is to orient ourselves with the insider information about our children's strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes, passions and indifference. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"> To quote Maria Montessori once more "<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #0b5394;">Adults look upon a child as something empty that is to be filled through their own efforts, as something inert and helpless for which they must do everything, as something lacking an inner guide and in constant need of inner direction. . . . An adult who acts in this way, even though he may be convinced that he is filled with zeal, love, and a spirit of sacrifice on behalf of his child, unconsciously suppresses the development of the child's own personality"</span></b></i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">So as parents are we not entitled to weave dreams for our children? Say's who? Fabricating dreams for the future is what keeps us hopeful towards life. How wonderful would it be if we envisage for our children, for them to be able to realize <i>their own</i> potential, for them to be able to live<i> their</i> dream and being contended and happy!!</span><br />
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</b></i></span></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-45300562715780043902010-05-12T12:04:00.001-04:002010-05-12T13:41:14.639-04:00Roses Are Purple<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN5fhlg5saTPJvjw287fSf1OlK8U09Sesr79PMn3q_yVGTYvP95uAtPWjWVAfLYZDtbJNmi2-VHzTzTZzVregIqZ6VE-QuNdSXn-ZpUcQk-bZKawSc8wAsiLtoULA87VVPATfyQ/s1600/Iphone_2010+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN5fhlg5saTPJvjw287fSf1OlK8U09Sesr79PMn3q_yVGTYvP95uAtPWjWVAfLYZDtbJNmi2-VHzTzTZzVregIqZ6VE-QuNdSXn-ZpUcQk-bZKawSc8wAsiLtoULA87VVPATfyQ/s640/Iphone_2010+004.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-85632218535156185142010-05-10T14:16:00.002-04:002010-05-10T18:38:53.235-04:00Friend In Law<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> In the Hindi movie Bawarchi (1972) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Harindranath Chatopadhya who plays </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the role of shivnath, the oldest man in the household, calls his son, played by A K Hangal, early in the morning for a cup of tea because their bawarchi (cook) has left work. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The son asks, "why did you call me so early in the morning?" </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and the very old father replies:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aur nahi to kya bahu ko bulata? (Should I have called my daughter in law instead?)</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wo to daughter in law hai, Qanoon ki beti. Ab subah subah qanoon ke jhameley mein kaun pade, isliye tujhey hi bulaya" !! :-))</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(She is the "daughter in law" as in daughter of the law. Who wants to deal with the law right early in the morning, so I called you my son) </span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While getting pampered on Mother's Day one thought kept on loitering my mind. Is there a day to celebrate Mother in Laws? I mean is there a mother in law day? If there is one, it's not marketed well enough because I have never heard about it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> A mother in law - daughter in law relationship is anything but unpretentious! Initial days or rather years are spent marking territories. Mother in law who generally rules the roost is determined to let the daughter in law know that being part of the family doesn't mean having authority. Do not mess with that! And the daughter in law is busy pronouncing her position in the roost, which by the way is more that being mere part of the family. This endeavor of power, though is not vocal but it certainly is undeniable. But please allow me to sweeten this tussle by expressing that it is not always unpleasant. Once the two are comfortable in their respective zones and are able to look at each other as a person, as an individual outside of how they are are related to each other and know about each other's likes, dislikes, hobbies & interests, they can experience the joy of an engaging friendship right at home!!</span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> We all celebrate mother's day with much pomp and show, express our love for our beloved moms and it</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> is</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> important but isn't it even more important to express our gratitude for someone who didn't give birth to us and still plays the role of being a mother in more than one ways? </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> After celebrating mother's day, I am here today to write about my mother in law. I am not here to say that ours is a heaven sent relationship which never saw any bad day. We had had our shares of battles which subsequently brought a fair share of heartaches, for both of us. But which relationship in the world is perfect? </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"></span></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Like many newlyweds, I was an amateur cook at best! But Ma was always there to share her wisdom in the kitchen. Over those rushed long distance phone calls, over the emails which she was learning to compose or in person, she always shares her recipes enthusiastically. There is no power struggle, no desire to demonstrate that only she can cook those dishes. I thank her for that. Today when I lovingly cook those dishes I learnt from her and get praises, I feel such warmth and proudly tell everyone that my mother in law taught me those.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you Ma! While herself being in the kitchen, her sole focus is not on her son or her grand daughter, she very lovingly makes the things I love to eat!! Once, on our way to our endless shopping trips in Delhi, she made sure that I get to eat those steaming hot Shakarkandis, everyone else in the car was just so tired and wanted to go home but she diligently looked for one of those street vendors and was determined to find one!! Thank you Ma!</span></span></div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;"> My mother in law is a woman of many attributes. Whether you are a relative, an acquaintance or a close friend, you would not want a social gathering without her presence. Along with her melodious voice, she brings life to the parties. The first time I heard her singing was when a Ramayan pathh was organised at home right after our wedding. It goes on for at least 2 days and the next morning we woke up to her lyrical voice. The comfort her harmonious voice brought to me was like a mother's touch who is caressing her child's forehead while the little one is in deep slumber. In that alien environment, her soothing voice made me feel at home. She has won over many friends with her singing. I only wish she pursued it as more than a hobby. Ma, did I ever tell you how much I love your singing? Please never take this away from yourself or from us!! She has a zeal for life and is always ready to learn new things, be it browsing the Internet, rewiring the computers or getting those new styles of blouses!! Her excitement in life awaken such positive thoughts in all of us that we are not scared to get old! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Life in not rosy at all times and there have been situations when I felt the need to tell her that there are times when we wish for her to just stand back and let us be. Its the same feeling a child feels towards her parents who sometimes, out of love and concern, over nurture. I believe she does understand that and keeps her distance when needed. In fact she goes a step further and helps my father in law comprehend that. I thank her for that! Also, in such times, sometimes I might have come across as rather hasty. Did that hurt you Ma? I do want to let you know that I appreciate as well as I am conscious of the fact that sometimes keeping distance must be hard for you. I thank you for those efforts you put in to let me be me. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Though that is how we are related, I don't primarily see her as "the mother of my husband". The bridge to our relationship is my husband and her son but by not tying ourselves to the expectations of our roles as a "mother in law" and "daughter in law", we have been able to accomplish a competence to be able to reach each other independently, just like two friends would. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> In her I see a friend, a friend with whom I share every joke I hear, a friend who I love go to movies with and laugh like silly school girls, a friend with whom I love to shop, a friend who respects my passions, a friend who does not get insecure by my strengths, a friend who is proud to be with me, a friend who is also, incidentally, my mother in law. </span></span><br />
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</span></span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-55262877048618146912010-05-06T12:58:00.002-04:002010-05-12T13:34:46.662-04:00For My MotherMom and Dad dearly wanted a girl and all they had was two boys *eye roll* When I entered this world *drum rolls please* it was a very cold night but my parents filled their hearts with the fruition of their frolic! Mum said she looked at dad while he was busy admiring the baby, she knew this is the girl they always wanted. Both of them would splash me with love just like the ocean with all its fervor, smother the beach with its waves. At times they would stand behind looking tenderly at me, captivated by the charm of the girl they always wanted. Dad brought anklets <i>paayal</i> for me when I started walking. Every jingle and chime of my tiny steps would amuse them. Dad got enamored by his daughter but it was my mother who despite being in this grasp of love was able to see me as an individual who she was determined to raise with a<i> desire</i> to be independent. Hers was tough love. She knew its not a woman's world and she knew in order to survive in this male dominated world, a girl needs to know when to raise her hand and say No. She knew the world we live in sees a woman's worth by the men in her life and hence she knew the importance of having an independent mind, a conscious that would not be easily swayed by popular opinions and would have the ability to chose wisely. Her way of communication made her lovable. Say it with a smile, that was her motto. I remember going with her to the <i>ration stores</i> which were set up by the government to sell grains and sugar at a subsidized price. Like many other things these stores were taken over by crooks who would just send the customer back saying "khatam ho gaya" (its all finished) no matter what date of the month it would be! Mother would never fight them for her share but she used her words judiciously accompanied with a pleasant tone and it was only a matter of minutes that I would see the attitudes shifting from arrogance to diffidence. And then she would carry that big sack of wheat on her shoulders amidst the narrow congested vegetable market with no sign of embarrassment. She didn't care for what people would say, <i>a lady carrying ration on her back while her husband is home, </i>India is like that but she never bothered about the people who ridiculed her. Beside her, I would carry the smaller bag, the one containing sugar and every now and then she would give me a faithful look that said "you and me are in this together" and I would walk quietly trying to keep pace with her confident stride while clutching the sack and observing the onlookers with their judgmental expressions . Mom, with her crystal clear display of strong self confidence, made me what I am today. Her resilience to any and every kind of life situations helped this little girl grow up to be someone who can bear the weight of life as it comes. She didn't preach any life lessons to me because she knew her daughter isn't a mere observer. Her ingenuity at managing the house and the effective ways through which she involved us kids in that process, internalized in me innumerable skills without even trying. I thank her for that. <br />
And once I became a mother, I realized how much I have really learned from her. <br />
From a mother to her mother "Happy Mother's Day Mom"<br />
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This post goes to the <a href="http://blog.blogadda.com/2010/05/05/mothers-day-tribute-to-your-mom-contest">Blogadda contest</a> for Mother's Day!<br />
I would chose this for my mother for the razzle dazzle she never had!<br />
<object align="middle" height="255" width="246"><param name="movie" value="http://www.pringoo.com/flashwidget/imagePlayer.swf" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /><param name="flashvars" value="udid=12363&stage_width=246&stage_height=255&bottom_height=40" /><embed flashvars="udid=12363&stage_width=246&stage_height=255&bottom_height=40" src="http://www.pringoo.com/flashwidget/imagePlayer.swf" width="246" height="255" align="middle" allowScriptAccess="always" /></embed></object>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-17828455031981979132010-05-04T14:41:00.003-04:002010-05-04T15:09:47.515-04:00Joys of Summer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Living on this side of the globe has made me realize what a bliss it is to have summers. For a long part of the year, our region faces nature's fury in the form of snowstorms, ice storms, much much below freezing temperatures. But come the month of May and there is no other place we would rather be. It is lush green everywhere with a sunny warmth and a touch of breeze. It is seductive to say the least, anyone who visits during summers would want to live here forever. And that's why no guests are allowed in our house over the summers.....just kidding....but you got it, didn't you?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This past Sunday was one such perfect summer day here and we took it all in by being outside in the lawn,Saumya was <s>watering herself </s> taking care of the plants , savoring juicy red water melon and running around in the lawn. That is all we did. But it was one of those days that stay in my memory forever. The days when none of us is busy and we are just being family, just there. Seeing everyone being joyous and all happy, I decided to surprise Saumya along with my hubby dear with a refreshing summer delight.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> <b><i> Mango Lassi</i></b></span></span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFLFSfFnQmLtbUpnF9MNtl8imNXl1VQXby9Lq79nv8aHDifqrPqoW2RRwR_IdUgDAPbZGmnFXAlvJCftPiFQ8K2MoSQvZlxSLZHZg8lc3CaofxYDex9unA7ip7ZCg3zl86zEO4A/s1600/Lassi+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFLFSfFnQmLtbUpnF9MNtl8imNXl1VQXby9Lq79nv8aHDifqrPqoW2RRwR_IdUgDAPbZGmnFXAlvJCftPiFQ8K2MoSQvZlxSLZHZg8lc3CaofxYDex9unA7ip7ZCg3zl86zEO4A/s400/Lassi+002.JPG" width="223" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I promised <a href="http://indianhomemaker.wordpress.com/">IHM</a> that I will share this recipe, here you go my dear friend.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what all you need to quench your thirst..........</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mango : 1 count</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yogurt : 3/4 cup</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Water : 1/2 cup</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sugar : To taste (If you are lucky enough to be in India during mango season, I don't think sugar is needed but elsewhere please adjust it depending on the sweetness of mango)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here's what you need to do....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Peel and cut the mango. Put everything in the blender and let it run its fury! And there you have it.....Mango Lassi!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give it a try!</span><br />
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</span>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21076381.post-39910768349173218412010-04-29T12:24:00.000-04:002010-04-29T12:24:32.273-04:00The Peeler And The Healer<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So you become a parent, you read a lot of books, try to set up an example for the children and see them showing good values and feel proud. Like many parents, I do spend a lot of time correcting my behavior by reading books , interacting with other parents, observing teachers, watching movies, listening to radio.....really, whatever I am doing my mind keeps getting subconscious feedback about my parenting skills. Looking at how others are solving their problems, dealing with a difficult person while keeping their demeanor, how people are displaying their virtue of patience at work place or in the parking lot.....all of it goes in that section of my mind where a five year old parent sits to learn. Yes I do consider myself to be a 5 year old parent because that's how long ago I became one. I am learning on the job. And there are days that ring a bell and tell me that many a times I am a perfect candidate that should be fired from this job. Few months back I shared with you all about my daughter <a href="http://sandhyas.blogspot.com/2010/02/sharply-thoughtful.html">Saumya's thoughtful gift to me</a>. I considered that peeler as one of my prized possessions, something I earned from a 5 year old for being a good mother, a sensitive friend who could pass on the values of care and expression of love to this little girl. I felt victorious and big. I was not planning to use that peeler because I wanted it to be with me forever but after a lot of nudging from everyone around and Saumya herself that it would mean so much more to her if she sees me using it, I kept it in my kitchen and believe me peeling a potato was never such fun, people at home caught me with a smile plastered on my face while peeling. Love is really something, it even turns a mundane task of peeling into this fascinating work that calls to you!! And then one day, while I heard my calling, I opened the drawer and there was no peeler to be seen!!! It was gone, vanished!! I looked high and low everywhere in the kitchen, emptied every nook and corner hoping to find it playfully hiding and ready to surprise me with a big scream of laughter just like Saumya. I even emptied the trash can, yes I rummaged through our kitchen trash and turned the whole kitchen upside down but it was nowhere to be found. Looking at the mess I brought upon and cleaning through it I realized that there wasn't any surprise waiting for me but oh how I wished for a miracle that day. Like a 5 year old, I was scared. I pondered that if Saumya is learning by observing us, she is going to be heartbroken as well as furious when she finds out.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Like a 5 year old who treads on a path full of mines everyday where at every action or word of hers, either a parent or a teacher is going to jump out like a Genie from a cup to point out the mistakes she made, things she could have done differently, I was perturbed and muddled at the complexity of the situation. Like a 5 year old I didn't know if I should be sad about my loss or be scared of the condemnation I will have to face. I could just simply let it go and hope for Saumya to forget about it but thankfully prudence prevailed and I gathered courage and decided to face the music. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> We were in the kitchen, making small talk about our day and even with a strong conviction in me I could not muster up enough mettle to just speak out about the lost peeler. So I took another route, I took out potatoes and a regular knife and started peeling knowing that the observant Saumya will notice and ask. And she did! No matter how guilty or scared I was, I again felt victorious at being able to predict my daughter's action and reactions.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> "Mamma, why aren't you using a peeler for those potatoes?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Uhummm, I can't seem to find the peeler anywhere"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You mean you can't find the peeler I gifted you?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"mmm....hmmm...uuunnn"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"You mean the peeler I gave on your birthday in India?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I looked for it everywhere but .....its ....nowhere...."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Mamma that is so weird"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Saumya, I am really sorry that I lost it, it was a special gift from you, I didn't take care of it the way I should have"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seeing her mother in distress , Saumya brought out the most altruistic , benevolent smile on her charming face and held my face in her soft tender hands and said "Mamma, that's OK, we can lose things sometimes"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then , with an astute poise she hugged me. I was mesmerized and my vision became cloudy with gratitude. Upon seeing tears rolling down my cheeks she said "Mamma you are being silly, smile now, we can always get another peeler" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was so ashamed at all the instances I had been so hard on her in the past; <i>why did you forget to, why can't you take care, why can't you learn</i>......always expecting her to have an explanation for her actions. What could I offer her if she dealt with the situation the same way and asked me "why did you lose it, why can't you take care of things that are important to you, why can't you learn".</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you Saumya for letting this 5 year old parent learn yet again that if I keep my mind open, learning can come from anywhere and everywhere and thank you for being one such source.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy Mother's Day.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>Sandhyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17421277945486439879noreply@blogger.com13