Sign language!

Aarti is very very inquisitive about a lot of things - from why Dog mommies give up their puppies to human mommies to why the moon stalks us every where we go. In this process of q and a - she spots the tiniest possible signs on all things from crayola boxes to car seats. "amma - what does that sign say?" she asks me - and I'd say, it says - keep it away form eyes (the sign on my straightening iron)

This afternoon she came up with a sign - she grabbed the first crayon from her art box, pulled a paper out of her daddy's copier and quickly swiped her hand across the paper. Then she got some tape and glued it on all sides to the door of her room.

No prizes for guessing what she banned from her room!

:-))

Sounding like Suess (Dr)

Candy Brigandy is a gal with cool,
She's the homecoming queen of senior high school!
But as her name suggests she's not really sweet
That's the reason why her title is a cheat!
Not the title of "Home Coming Queen"
But the one that is given in the naming routine
While she shut her eyes and cried with her might
In the hospital located south of McBright.

Candy Brigandy is pretty but sly
She broke the hearts of many a guy
That fell flat for her outward charms
Blissfully unaware of her inward Alarms!
Alarms of being fully in love
With her own self deeming herself above
All the earthly creatures falling for her charms-
Blissfully unaware of her inward Alarms!!

Enter Randy Fernandy, the guy with guts
Who called Candy Brigandy a total klutz.
A kluts with words and numbers and hearts,
a klutz as well at science and Arts!
For Randy Fernandy was a total nerd
Complete with Glasses, looking absurd!
But Randy Fernandy didn't care for looks
His world was bright with stacks of books!

Candy-Randy war began with a bang
With either party forming a gang.
Candy's gang had bangs and high heels
Randy's gang loved automobiles
Not the ones that are fancy and fast
But the physics of the autos - fancy and fast!
Randy called Candy a brainless Bimbo
Candy called Randy a Geeky Robo
Candy's gang called Randy's a bunch of Whacko
And Randy's gang called Candy's IQ lacko!

The town of McBright which was normally dull
The town of McBright that slept to a Lull,
Got a nice big makeover over Candy-Randy war,
The news spread like fire, wide and far!
The whole town looked like taking sides
And fighting the war of Beauty-Brain divides.
The town of McBright that was normally dull
Sprang to life like a hunting seagull.
The war of beauty and brains took off
And the McBright town had its buttons to on from Off!

...To be continued!

Loving

Loving -
The skin I am in.
The acne scars,
Redness!
The sun tan,
Fine lines
Leaving the evidence
Of Expression.
Loving -
The thoughts that generate
In the grey matter.
Lofty and silly ones alike.
Loving -
Being a daughter, wife and mom
A reliable friend
A reliable person,
For that matter!
Loving love handles,
Ponch - that protrudes
Like a trophy of motherhood.
Loving everything within and without!
For it is one action
That makes the journey worthwhile
The Pains and pleasures memorable!

The pursuit of -----?

When I was in fourth grade, we were asked to write about an essay titled "Myself". Our class teacher, sister Mercy gave us some tips on how to approach the subject on hand. It was amusing how all of us followed her instructions to the last tee and just now, while writing this, I had realized how alike we all sounded. Anyway, the grand finale of divulging all about myself was what I wanted to become when I grow up. In simpler words, we were asked to write about our ambition. I don't very well recollect what every one else aspired to be, but I wanted to "Go to Space" - It was probably the influence of a certain astronaut of Indian origin that made me think so - but I most certainly wanted to "Go to Space" LOL. Then, a few years down the line, I was asked to write exclusively about my ambition in a second language class. I came up with the punchline ending first, before I really thought what I wanted to become when I grow up - I was probably a writer already, but I said I wanted to be a Lawyer - just because I had this cheesy line ending all the blabber - " ....and I'll prove that Justice is not something that could be bought!" (Grin) So anyway, I was on the road to manipulate my ambition for getting an applause or a few extra marks that would make me the class topper. Or, may be - just may be, I did not really know what to become. On another occasion, I said I wanted to be a mathematician when my math teacher asked the billion dollar question. I didn't know why I said it, since I could not make peace with numbers and equations if you'd threaten me of third degree torture. Then for the best part of my middle and high school, I wanted to be a surgeon. My best pal got so influenced by me that she wanted to be a surgeon too.
Reflecting back, I realize that I never really wanted to be what I am now. It was just destiny or lack thereof that I feel so awfully comfortable and content in my 'homemaker' cloak of invisibility form planet ambition. There is one thing that I consistently did all these years - write and then think and then some write - so, though I want to be a hundred things from a photographer to a chef, I have this one passion that followed me from my childhood and that is what I am doing as we speak. While my peers make hefty pay packages and join themselves in the 'power couple' club, I, for the love of God, sit at my dining table and write - a job that doesn't pay me a single shilling - but gives me this immense satisfaction, and the more I think about people who work in the jobs they don't enjoy to make the money they don't need - the more I feel proud of my choice of doing what I love. I feel that having the opportunity to do what you want is a luxury. Like some one said, if your passion becomes your job and you get paid for it, you are God's own child. So what is all this mad rush about making to world class universities or employers? What is the pursuit? How many of us really do what we like without bothering about what we get paid for it? Some of us do for sure - that explains the fire fighters and preschool teachers because both are among those over worked, underpaid, "labor of love" jobs. But how many of the parents applaud a kid if he/she says she'd want to be a preschool teacher or a fire fighter?
I recently asked a couple of high school kids in my social circle as to what they'd want to be. They both wanted to be Doctors. Why highschoolers? The KG kid I know, who doesn't yet know what being a Doc is except for wearing a fancy white coat and looking down childrens' nostrils and throats also wants to be a - you guessed it right - Doctor! With the highschoolers, I'd asked - "So none of you wants to a lawyer?" and the dad of one of the kids replied - "Yeah, Lawyers! - they get paid exorbitant amounts" - I smiled and nodded my head in two three four directions and inwardly pitying the kids who'd probably choose pay over a pay off. That probably explains why every body and their neighbor's family tree wants to be in the well paying Engineering and Medical fields. I am yet to meet a kid who wants to be a teacher or a Librarian.
The other day Aarti came to me and announced that she wants to be an artist. I said "you can be what ever you want to be" - and I meant every word of it. Research shows that people with the least salaries are the happiest. So happiness is not directly proportional to the pay check. It is one thing to be a doc and enjoy doing what you do and another thing to be a doc for the fiscal benefit it offers. They say the state of AP, India, has more Engineering colleges than students who could fill them - so technically, all you need to get an engineering degree is sources who could fund you. How many of these people really like what they are pursuing? or know what they are pursuing for that matter? This trend probably explains all the frustrated, unemployed, mediocre professionals we have in our country. Why is it that no one wants to be an archaeologist, or a curator - or may be a stock broker? May be, they are being guided by guardians who, like primary school kids, manipulate their ambitions to impress with a punch line business card or a hefty bank balance. Everyone in this word from life giving doctors to grave digging undertakers pursue one thing in life - Happiness, contentment or security - and the only way to get to it is really, wholeheartedly, thoroughly enjoy what they do to fill their stomachs.
I am happy doing what I do - whether I get paid in currency or not - and I am blessed to realize that what I do makes me happy!

Butterfly

Our little critter-
Is a friend of the flowers,
She comes with her dainty wings
Fluttering like the lashes of a baby!
Someone shut me
From traffic, people and chores
I need is a tete-e-tete
With the queen of colors.
she lifts herself, with a pro like ease!
Glides in the air
Oblivious, triumphant -
About her life changing journey
From creepy and crawling
To Pretty and startling!
She devours the blooms
Letting me devour
Her beauty in return.
Our little critter
She is the friend of meadows
Punctuated with creeks
And lush green bushes.
Someone shut me
From thoughts, tasks and duties -
All I need is one long look
At Freedom on wings
At the magic of metamorphosis!

Coming back.

I'd been hopelessly horrible in keeping up with blogging but you just have to believe me that I write in my mind- ALL THE TIME! - yeah, it is worth yelling that I do ;-) Some of the topics I'd pondered upon in my mind's blog ranged form very profound to utterly shallow. For instance, recently one of my uncles turned 60 and he wrote to all his well wishers saying he doesn't feel a day older than sixteen. I kind of relate to him now. A decade ago, I'd not have understood the downsides of aging, thankfully or otherwise, now I do. I kind of know why people stick to being 16 and don't understand why they are treated as old, ancient, uncool or dated. The person inside remains the same - the outward appearance changes and so does the way people look at you.
Age seems to be a ubiquitous topic every where. From peers wanting to know who among them is the youngest or oldest and feeling like they'd conquered Mt.Everest if they are young, to people saying Aishwarya rai looks old and ragged in Robot, opposite the ever young Rajnikanth - the talk about aging is everywhere reminding us that we are younger or older or just plain 'past prime.' I had the pleasure of meeting a particularly proud young thing in the recent past who seems to not get over how young she is - (she is legally old enough to consume alcohol BTW)
and I wonder why being young entitles oneself to feel so proud and accomplished. At twenty one, I was running a house hold and wondering if my future son would look like Aftab Shivdasani and don't recollect being proud of being twenty one. In fact, I was oblivious to my age. I think a decade passes in a flash and only a couple of flashes ago I was this language loving school girl with an endless fascination to strap sandals. Somewhere, somehow, I don't think I'd aged over sixteen from within though I seem to be more at peace with myself now than I was then. That being said, I feel like a very sane, sensible and savvy sixteen year old with stray grays in my crowning glory. So why is the stigma of age attached to Homo Sapience? Is it because age comes and kicks collagen out of your epidermis and makes you look a lot different from how you feel or is it because you are not just as fast or as healthy or as active? Is looking good everything in life and staying young the only way of looking good?I don't know answers for these though many women are probably seeking answers in their Derm's office with the aid of Botox and face lifts!
Say, we have no concept of age and no one acknowledges the outer signs of aging - will the world still want to hide their numbers and wrinkles under potentially harmful procedures? One can only wonder!

In my highschool days, I read a poem written by a very famous poet and social reformer that hailed from my home town in India. He grieved -
valibharmukha makrantham
Phalitenam Kitam siraha
Gatrani Sidhilayente
Trishnaika Tarunayathe.

Loosely translated from Sanskrit to English this means -

The face is conquered by wrinkles
The hair has succumbed to greying
The body is in ruins
But The Yearning stays youthful.

The poem got me very deep in thought. Here, the poet talks about how his yearning to be beneficial to the society is still in its prime while all his body shows intense signs of aging. Yearning - which more of a mental thing stays eternally youthful. So, though I was at a ridiculously young age to even admit to the fact that aging is the inevitable destiny of all living beings, I did drive home the fact that the heart goes beyond aging. Into my thirties, I am now aware of it more than I ever was since I see little shadows forming on my alleged 'million dollar smile' a few years ago. I count the years pass by and in a way, mourn the steady loss of youthfulness, but I still give a double take at a cute guy, or get all worked about painting my nails and going on a shopping trip. So, technically, I cannot put an age on my heart. I can just say, the my heart has no age and so does my mom's who will be sixty next year or my Grand uncle's who's one of the most handsome men I'd seen and is a good half century older to me.

It is very unfortunate that age and maturity are not proportional. I'd feel proud of being mentally mature than physically young notwithstanding how old or young I am - and that should be the hallmark of a beautiful person. The robust complexions and great metabolisms can take a chill pill since they don't really make a difference to any person in the long run. They'll all pass - but the inside will remain, the creases on the mind and heart - the creases of jealousy, selfishness and vanity are the ones that undermine our worth - not the ones that form on our bodies.

Never a Superstar

Here's a link to Harsha Bhogle's write up on V V S Laxman - info that threw light on the artist and the muse - the artist of Words and the muse who's lauded as an artist. An impressive work - either way!
www.cricinfo.com/magazine/content/story/480388.html

Child.

Great Things
Come in little packages?
Pin straight, stark black Hair
Cascading onto the forehead,
Framing a tiny face.
Little hands and feet,
Almost dangling
Out of over sized tees and shorts.
Power packed attitude
That punches in the palm
With a puny twist,
When asked for a Hi Five.
Sorrow filled tiny eyes
When the discovery
Of not bringing the lunch Dawns.
Monkey like gait,
Laughing, screaming,
Making havoc on the way
Sly, sassy, little kid
That touches the heart
With his lack of manners
And abundance of mischief.
Great thing, tiny package
A tot that is hard to be missed!

One more.

Birthdays were always fun - and this one is no different. I'm taking a deep breath and thanking God for all the blessings and great friends he sent my way:-)
Happy B'day to me~!

Number

The day I was ten and six
I loved sparkly things,
Lady bugs, drops of rain
Painting nails
reading books.
The day I was ten and six
I sang in the shower
loved splashes of color
collected earrings
wrote love notes to my lover.
The day I was ten and six
I stopped to watch the world pass by
I laughed and cried
watching comedy and tragedy
on screen and off of it.
The day I was ten and six
I was a girl woman.
I dreamed of my home
my kids, my chores
I wrote poetry and prose
and loved solitude
as much as I loved crowds.

Time passed, I became ten and six
twice over.
I am a woman girl
still loving bumble bees and lady bugs
sparkly trinkets
nail lacquer, well written books
Still smitten by my lover
Still singing in my shower.

ten and six or thirty and two
You just stay you.
The count-up of age is just a number
It might apply to your laugh lines
and hair density.
But
The inside remains the same.

Ponder

Ten years ago, when I was a newcomer into adulthood, marriage and this country, I was looking at things in a different paradigm - by things, I mean all things in general and kids in particular. I'd always been more compatible with people out of my age group and the older group of friends I have in my friends' dads and moms is evidence. My vibe with kids was great too. The curly haired, dimpled cutie that lived in our neighborhood was an instant draw towards me. I used to babysit her while her mom grappled with a younger kid and a career path. So, this little one, let's call her Farah, was like a roommate of sorts, sharing my living space and the secret to the stash of treats in my pantry (that existed to cater to all the little ones that I baby sat, out of sheer admiration for kids) Farah's personality was as vibrant as the color of her auburn tresses that cascaded down into Shierly Temple curls. Her middle Eastern descend contributed to her glowing complexion and soulful dark eyes. She was a very confident kid, that was not afraid of speaking her mind out. Once I let her into my house, she'd walk into the kitchen, open the pantry door and demand for a cookie or a candy. "Give me a treat" she'd command, and I'd follow her cues and give her what she wanted. Her confidence came with a fearless streak of curiosity. She'd look around the house and touch and hold everything, including my fine china that was displayed with pride in my "easily accessible by a five year old" kitchen Island shelf. Little did I know about the concept of child proofing.
Farah was an easy definition of a brat for all the neighbors. I was probably too young and immature myself that I'd actually expected a five year old to have impeccable manners and 'under-wraps' curiosity. I was borderline judging her and joining force with the 'holier than thou' mothers around me. For a good couple of years, I'd expected kids to listen, not yell, not demand and not throw tantrums when things don't go their way. It was probably the product of the influence of moms who either thought of kids in two categories, namely - their kids and bad kids, or moms whose child raising experiences went to college along with their kids, or young women like me who weren't moms yet.
And then, one day, in a telephone conversation with a relative about some bratty kid, I said it. "Kids are not dolls - how can we expect them to stay at one place?" I was far from being a mom, but the wisdom dawned upon me that Farah wasn't a brat- she was a kid and kids don't understand the concept of impressing others with their best behavior at all times. If I'd want a cookie at someone's place, I'd not ask them for it - I'll probably wait and get disappointed but would not ask, since I am aware. Since I am an adult and probably since I know how to pretend to not want something.
I say one thing to all moms that label kids - That " It is never a kid's fault. If a certain kid in the school comes and says an utterly rude thing to someone - firstly it might not be what is sounds like. Secondly, the kid is probably parrot talking from what falls in her ear shot. And from my own experience, I had realized that, more often than not, it is not the parent's fault either. In the process of growing up and assimilating all the data dumped onto their tender brains throuh what they see and hear - kids say or do inappropriate things. If an older kid is particularly pesky, I'd probably point fingers at too much pampering, but we never know why they say what they say. So my golden rule with kids is "Never Judge" I'd heard adults who brand kids as manipulative or attention seeking. If a little girl shows interest in dress up or feigns a bottle brush as a mascara wand, it doesn't mean that she'd grow up to be an attention seeking man eater. It is just an innocent process of growing up or at the most, the double Xs in her chromosomes.Many of us probably look it it as the latter if it is the fruit of our love - Sad but true!
In my early years of education, I was a pathetic student. I remember a teacher branding me as a ' lazy fool'. I was too young to understand what it meant then, but those words ring in my ears after a good quarter century. I grew up to be a school topper, but somehow, the "lazy fool" managed to stay fresh in my memory. They didn't cause me any damage - They could have.

If someone wise had opined that children are like God, they had meant it in the same exact sense that children are free of malice, pretense and presumptions. So, the ones that are all grown should step out of their malicious, pretentious, presumptuous shoes and take a second glance at what they are evaluating.

Farah moved out of our neighborhood a few years later - for many, she might be the bratty, ill mannered child. For me, thankfully, she'll always be this exceptionally pretty angel in a child's disguise.