Ambition

A friend once told me, long before I had my little girl, that I'd be a very ambitious mother. I did not know why she would think that way since I was at the juncture where I was newly married and my only ambition in life was to cook two meals a day and find my way into my hubby's heart (probably thru his tummy. LOL - JK on that, since we courted a good number of years before we got hitched and I made sure that I found the way to his heart and settled there with a sleeping bag, reluctant to budge! Thankfully I am still there!)
Anyway, Ambition and I are not a good pair. I was more of a dreamer than an achiever. I remember how I dreamed about being an astronaut when my idea about ambition was still hazy. I was this little girl in primary school and everyone made a hue and cry about how a certain Mr.Rakesh Sharma sang "saare jahan se atcha hindusita hamara" when asked about how he thought the space looked! That is quiet corny if I think now after getting on to the wrong side of 30, but when you are not yet a decade old, you probably like such things! Like them enough to do them one day :-)
Then I dreamed of being like Komal G B singh, the English news reader on DD1. My mom somehow thought that I looked like her and I though she had such a cool diction, so somewhere in between resembling her and wanting to pronounce like her, I smuggled newspapers into the toilet and whispered the news out loud - trying to sound cool when mispronouncing words that were too hard to read, let alone comprehend. Thus, a loo bookworm was born. I suspect if this is a genetic thing since Aarti wants her Shiny Dinah book every time she makes a visit to the powder room. Isn't that cute? For some reason, my mom didn't think I was cute like I think Aarti is. Probably because you cease to be less and less cute as you age. And eleven and a newspaper in the toilet is a wrong picture - at least it was, to my mom who is modern enough by all standards. So I had to shun my dreams to be a news reader. Then of course, I dreamed of being a Doc... The inspiration? Tanvi Azmi in Life Line (again a soap on DD1)
That didn't last long since I figured that being a doctor has more to it than lounging around the hospital ward in a cool white coat and a stethoscope :-)) yeah, who would dissect all those worms and cockroaches? Not a faint hearted idiot like me. So that dream was shelved before it actually emerged a full fledged dream.
In between, I dreamed of writing poetry, ( I still dream of writing poetry and also prose, thanks to Mr. Arvind Adiga, the recent one to have taken home a Booker. I did dream about writing when Ms. Roy won, Ms. Lahari won too... so I still am stuck on that particular dream ) being a photographer, painter, journalist and teacher.
Anyway, it gets back to the title...so where is ambition featured in all this evolution? I fail to see it. I am by far, the most non - ambitious person I'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. At the most I dream - Dream about losing weight, writing 1000 words each day, bringing home the Pulitzer or Booker, being an interior designer, a mural artist, opening a fusion restaurant,being a poet or a desi version of Martha Stewart, the domestic goddess. In fact, I was mighty inspired by her till she found herself in the middle of that stock fiasco.... But I still think she is a great role model:-)
I dunno if I will be an ambitious mom like Monica predicted I'd be. May be I will, may be I won't. I will surely let Aarti dream and decide the course of her own life. If she thinks being a nurse-practitioner better suits her than being a doc, or chooses to be a teacher instead of a prof, I'll let her be who she wants to be. I think the only thing I'd tell her is to be the best nurse or the best teacher she can be. I'll encourage her to dream and find her destiny. May be, she'll be a writer and bring home the Booker. I'll do just fine even if she doesn't become a book lover for that matter... it is her life.
But dreaming - it will come, like the urge to read "shiny Dinah" when in the restroom...after all inheritance is something. isn't it?

Like it, Love it, Gotta have it!!

No marks for original title ! (any Coldstone lovers here?? LOL)
The weather is cold. Almost chilly, specially since the last few months were spent in sultry India. I am back on track, out of the lag and bitten by the shopping bug. Isn't it that time of the year when people shop and shop?

They say that the economy is bad... The retailers are offering great discounts on all kinds of products imaginable. The cosmetic store and the big handbag store in the mall claim to have roaring business. (I asked the associates while window shopping! So it is first hand info!) And the pretty young thing next door just visited me to get a sari draping 101 lesson all dolled up with salon perfect hair, a extravagant sari (that I got for her form India - and she paid btw..he he he) and loads of make up sporting a smokey eye that went perfectly well with the intricately embroidered black sari and talked about an even more extravagant wedding that she is attending. Looks like the economy is not as bad as they say it is anyway...or am I surrounded with well doing businesses and people?

Anyway my loot for the evening was stationery, a fancy looking cup and saucer set set (meaning two sets of a fancy looking cup and saucer with some Chinese characters on it) and a box of Chinese green tea.

I bought a couple of journals - for doodling, scribbling, cussing, rewinding, jotting down recipes while my mom dictates them over the phone and writing all thoughts big and small. One has an over sized lady walking on a beach...I thought it would be perfect to remind me of my perpetual weight loss goal and just keep it as an inspiration to be artsy and heavy...

The Chinese green tea is not quiet as green as the Japanese green tea that I bought at Costco...not sure if it is superior or inferior to the Japanese one. I asked Google angel, Aarti interrupted before I could actually read the results (Google, when would you launch an audio option for the search results?, it'll come handy for moms on the go like yours truly!)

The cups are wide and shallow....kind of like me...wide, white and shallow, with some un-decipherable characters calligraphed on them, kind of like this senseless blog. I could have saved this if I'd added some pictures. Now where is my Nikon D40x? The same companion of mine that had depreciated a good $300 since I bought it. That doesn't make it any less precious to me. It will remain my other muse, the muse that is ready at the click of a hand. BTW, I had a hard time to get Aarti pose for my camera in the evening. She seems to be a chip of the old block. Not making any sense today.

Oh, the journal with the over sized lady came with a pack of 12 cards depicting over sized ladies in different moods. They are too symbolic to write notes to any of my girl friends...So I should probably write notes to myself. Notes like "operation clean the bathrooms" or "go to the grocery store to get milk". I am making sense. Aren't I?

The side effects of drinking Chinese green tea before bed.
Senseless blogs.
Insomnia.
Tipsy?
Shopaholic syndrome.
Plagiarism (notice the title?)
Greed (gotta have it, gotta have it)

Nothing works like retail therapy
Nothing works like de-retail therapy (did I get the spelling right?)


All my treasures are a couple of dollar bargains.....Did they say that the economy is bad?

Attack.

It was terrorizing. Just like they wanted it to be. I was stuck to the TV, not wanting to watch and hear as to what was happening, but not wanting to switch it off either. I was scared, scared as hell for all those people trapped in Taj, Trident, Oberoi and Nariman House. I was a mere bystander though - the most I could do was to go to Siddhivinayak (where the security was tight and I could not really concentrate on what I wanted to ask Him for) , closed my eyes and prayed for peace in Mumbai and a safe travel home. I was granted the latter, the former is something that probably is out of the hands of Siddhivinayak or even Allahtaula for that matter, since those bastards are acting on their own and do not have a soul which can be influenced upon by any God whosoever or any religion whatsoever.

A perfectly peaceful Wednesday was transformed into a nightmare within a matter of minutes. Many lost their lives - people who were at premium hotels celebrating, vacationing, discussing business and meeting up with friends did probably not imagine the inevitable stalker getting to them on such a casual hour in such a grizzly manner. Some fought, some succumbed to fate while friends and family waited out with stern faces wondering if they were safe. Media covered the events extensively and I'm sure whole of Mumbai watched it - numb but powerfully terrorized, thanking their lucky stars to not have ventured into that part of the city and feeling a tinge of guilt to think only about themselves and their kin when the world outside is unfolding a new brutal chapter in the history of Mumbai and taking hundreds of innocent lives as a price paid for senseless wars against the very spirit of humanism.

SMSes condemning the attacks scrolled down on the screens of TVs, public was enraged, politicians ducked under the pretense of rising and acting against the monster and bystanders like me just waited and watched, worrying about their trip back home or an important assignment at work or a shopping plan that went awry. There was a lot of anger but it generated nothing but just a senseless, powerful emotion burning in the heart and nothing else. No action taken, no wounds healed. People who were in close proximity felt insecure and blamed the netas, the police, the intelligence, the media...and went on to put this episode back and live a life full of themselves. CMs and ministers were made to resign claiming social responsibility, the security became more vigilant, little kids who understood bits and pieces of the drama cried out loud wanting to leave Mumbai. But what did we do to stop this from recurring again? Leopold was opened, Taj announced that it'll spring back to its previous glory. People resumed normal lives pretending that they are stronger than the faceless, coward bunch of idiots that spoilt their lives along with hundreds of perfectly blissful families. We shove all nightmares under the carpet and make idle chatter, psychologists analyse psyches of the minds behind the destruction. Friends and relatives of the deceased write letters and condolences in the most eloquent way possible.

We wait for another attack, not consciously, but we do. People live in fear and say they are not afraid. We react only when we are effected or threatened of our own safety. A handful of places on the world live in this uncertainty and attacks day in an day out. We blissfully sit with a cup of herbal tea and comment on what the world is going to, and go along with our own lives, our weight loss plans, weekend programs, travel etc. We don't do anything...we just get angry, accuse a community or a group, make retaliatory attacks and spread more hate. When it comes to electing a leader, we elect the one who can charm us...not the one who protects us. We are actually a bunch of bigger cowards than they are....that's the reason why we let this happen to us.

Trumpet time:-)

I forgot to record this the last time it happened.

Aarti lies down on bed and I bend to take a peck on her cheek. She stops me, holds my face in her tender palms and says " look!! I am in your eyes".

I was startled the first time she said this since I look into her eyes a lot but never really cared to observe my reflection in them. She said this once again a while ago. I kissed her, looked into her eyes (at my reflection) and told her that I am in her eyes as well!!

Well, well, she does not buy that. She runs to the mirror, looks into the reflection and says, no you are not!

Ah, the precious moments of parenthood:-D.

Recent Reads, Reviews follow.

Time

Time is a very powerful thing. Volatile, quick to slip by but very powerful. I was in this city Mumbai a month and a half ago and 6 weeks looked awfully long to stay away from home. Yet, I am here almost packing my bags and coming up with a new fond inspiration to be svelte, sexy and what not? All in just 5 weeks. I'll explain svelte and sexy later since these terms need their own blog space but as of now time is one thing I want to focus on. It is amazing how seconds roll into minutes, minutes into days and days into decades and centuries. Time is money someone said - urging us to spend it wisely. But Time just passes by whether we choose to spend it or kill it unlike money which accumulates when not spent. Time makes us old, not necessarily wise or mature, but old. So time is definitely more than money. May be it is life since each passing moment brings us closer to the end of our time on earth and what we make out of the time on hand is entirely our call. We procrastinate things just in an illusion that we have unlimited time on hand...but once it is gone it is gone and time wasted is actually life wasted. But what exactly is spending time wisely? Are we supposed to slog our butts off being productive or is pausing to see the roses bloom or a baby laugh is wasting time? It is for us to decide. Time well spent is life well lived , brains well used, talents well explored , love well expressed, jobs well done, decisions well made and Beauty well appreciated. My stint in this city is all of the above and to commemorate the special five weeks of my life I had to own this Red Panda - A species that is at the verge of extinction, just like the time all of us have. Red Panda a symbol of my time well spent and a reminder of the clock that is ticking. A beautifully engraved brutal truth reminding me that I should live my time while I still have it:-)

Can't wait...

To get a glimpse of home sweet home
To inhale the crisp winter air of my backyard
To cook a full fledged meal in my kitchen
To catch up with Sarat
To get my hands on my Nikon again (santu borrowed it for the time being)
To get back to blogging
To take Aarti for a stroll in the neighborhood park
To read a good book
To Be myself again.

Just can't wait!!!

Awe

Our awe with movie stars dates back to at least almost a century if not a whole one I guess. Just yesterday I went to see my niece preform for her annual day in her school. Incidentally, the school rates number one in Mumbai, I am sure it does linger somewhere in the same spot even if the whole nation is considered.
The who's who of Mumbai send their kids there. I saw Sachin, one of my teenage crushes, walk in with his demure wife. There was Juhi Chawla, the beauty from my childhood looking ravishing and just as young as I am ( ha ha) and there was Arjun Rampal at my arm's distance being a devoted dad and cheering his daughter on stage. He looked so believable, those enigmatic eyes, a hairstyle that didn't let me forget Santu my kid bro and a bod that could have been a Greek God's. But something about him was utterly believable. I spotted the Yesteryears Roja, (Madhoo?) the legendary Sekhar Kapoor looking preoccupied and his stunning ex Suchitra Krishnamoorthy and How can I forget Farhan Akthar?
Shahrukh entered a bit late with his wife. Both looked brown, emaciated and smaller than I thought they would look. Shahrukh sported a robust head of hair dyed brown, an airy off white kurta and a better half that looked like his identical twin. God bless their pair:-)

The celebration got each and every student of the school to contribute though there are some obvious stars of the show. The settings were detailed and oozed the aura of bollywood, the organisers were very efficient and almost all programme went as per schedule. The enactment of Martin Luther king Jr gave me goosebumps and obvious tears of emotion. I'd realised I'd go back to a foster mom with a new identity and a new president BTW. (that is a totally different blog altogether)
The yesterhalfadozendecades actress Nimmi was felicitated. It was thought provoking though as to how focus shifts from older generations of actors. Is it why people are scared of growing old? Will shahrukh khan carry the same aura and attract the same attention once he hits 80? It actually reminds me of that interview I saw of Sanjaydutt where his dad was invited to talk about him. His dad the ever handsome, popular Sunil dutt was eclipsed by the son that rose to limelight only because of his legendary parents. Okay, my pondering is treading new paths, I'll let it be here and ponder in another blog abt this:-=))

So who else? Saif Ali Khan... Now someone tell me why, oh why? Why Kareena? May be I know the answer! Love is blind...that's it folks....it really is.
I did spot some movie stars, industrialists and business people, but watching Mukhesh Ambani clad in a perpetual smile and a black tee was the treat of the day. Didn't know affluence comes in such a simple, down to earth package.
So what was the thought of the day? Celebrities are as normal as you and me but our curiosity, our feeling of knowing them, our awe....our awe is just abnormal. Right!

Contradiction

I'd read this Blog today by K that elucidates Would've, could've and shouldv'e in a very eloquent way.

Yes, there are things that go unsaid and undone and there are relationships that get done for ever as a result.
It is the irony of life though, that there are so many sides to the same thing. Some one said "Ignorance is bliss" Someone else opined "knowledge is power"

So what is it that makes or breaks a relationship? things unsaid, things undone or things said and things done? People speak at lengths about being frank and outspoken when being in love, being over the fear of being misunderstood and having the liberty to talk out your mind. And then comes the "Don't say it if it is not kind or nice enough" part. So what is it that actually makes a relationship survive? things said or things not said?

I'd realised in life, partly by experience and partly by observation that you'd not come across a friend or a relative that would not hurt you. Okay, the hurt could be unintentional, the other person's frustration that has nothing to do with you or mere blurting out of one's mind without the fear of being misunderstood - but it does happen.

So, to keep the person, you should not keep the hurt and nurture it - instead, let it loose. Sometimes 'wouldn't have', 'couldn't have' and 'shouldn't have' become as grave as would've, would've or shouldv'e. The wisdom lies in balancing out the contradictions and applying a little bit of patience and a lot of understanding....then we'll probably never have broken hearts or relationships.

"Quote

"I don't believe anyone should harbor the expectation of going through life without being offended by something. ...Expression, even when we disagree with what's being expressed, remains our best and sanest method of understanding one another. " ~-Tom Batiuk



"Become the change you want to see in the world."
~ Mahatma Ghandi

Exercise

This is a writing task I am given, but I'll publish it anyway :-)

My long term fling with footwear started long before my first crush (And my first crush was kind of premature when I was a little over half a decade)

From White Sandak sandals that reinvented themselves as off-whitish brown over a short period of hard use to the deliciously red suede Birkis that I am currently wearing, my love for shoes explored new paths and evolved as a complete and mature facet of mine.( Now I wish I'd said the same about the other more significant facets of mine)

The "complete and mature facet" part is open for debate though, as not so long ago, I'd had a lemming for a pair of metallic neon green Birkis dressed in chunky white and blue rhinestones and those twinkles sporting 'Swarowsky' name on their sleeves didn't in the littlest bit spruce up the "pre-teen fashion Blunder" look. Nor did the legendarily sexy Heidi Klum's name associated with the pair of sandals did.

After window shopping in the windows of my window to the world, I finally clicked the big and bold "complete my order" button.

In less than a week I was walking around in my lounge wear and a pair of the most noticeable accessories known to the human kind suffocating my dainty feet. My feet, the only part of me that did'nt look seriously post 'post partum' but thanks to Heidi Klum's imagination, they matched in with the rest of my being ! Not just that, I looked like the infamous Bjork in her swan outfit walking down the red carpet.

A good reason for models to showcase their bods instead of their design sense is the fact that the decoration on the gaudy leather made the sandals look like the illegitimate child of classic birkis and Joan river's fashion jewelry - the line that the designer hawks on QVC.

I bailed myself out of the fashion blunder by bidding adieu to the specimens of art, entrusting them in the insured hands of the USPS. The free return label provided was a great consolation.

The "de-retail" therapy worked like a charm. Once in a while if my foot-fashion sense suffers a sprain, I am thankful to the good old USA's "no questions asked" return policy.