Tanzerin

"Girl aa?" very good very good! Goddess Lakshmi has entered your home pa..very good very good. Congratulations. Fair only no?! Of course she will be fair only. If she takes after S patti and M thatha, she can be fair only no!Who does she look like? Wait... She has hair on the head no?! Lots or less? It's ok if it's little less now..After the Pazhani mottai it will come... then she can have long thick hair- lovely braid it can be! o Again, who does she look like? O like both of you?But who does she look like more? Tell Tell.. Don't be diplomatic pa..ok anyway I will come and see her.. Of course babies keep changing. Now they will look like the mother, then they will look like the father, then after few years, they may look like grandfather or grandmother's cousin. What to say- it is all ever changing! Ha ha ha.... Anyway pa..all the best to you now. You have become a father and now you have added responsibility!Ha ha..very good very good! Hmm...It is girl also...

10 things they taught you in Biology class that you thought were true. 1. The human body requires 6 to 8 hours of sleep. * Hah! 4 hours and you are good to go (The doctors are not going to be changing nappies or feeding the beby). 2. Darwin's theory of evolution says "Survival of the fittest". * Fit or not, you will need to survive sleeplessness. 3. 45 minutes of exercise 5 days a week will keep you fit as a fiddle. * Changing nappies = tummy crunches    Trying to make baby sleep = 2 km walk + torso exercise + weights    Entertaining baby = 30 minute dancing lesson    Feeding baby = core muscle strengthening That's about 1200 minutes of exercise 7 days a week- the shape is still round! 4. Babies sleep for about 20 hours a day. * Where is the sub-clause telling you that those hours are split into packets of 20 minute naps and that it takes 30 minutes to get the baby into a 20 minute nap. 5. The human body is tuned to working during the day...

The long journey of the growing belly has ended and whatta journey it has been. I always wondered why no one ever talks of labour to a pregnant woman (of course unless you derive sadistic pleasure out of explaining the gory details) but isn't it better to expect the worst and end up with something not as bad?! Or maybe not! After the many weeks that seemed to never end [Weeks 38 through 40 seemed to last longer than the previous 37] I realised that my vocal chords can make loud screechy noises even though I had promised hubby dear that I wouldn't screech. Any way I don't think he dared to remind me of my promise after I shouted at the unassuming nurse for telling me to turn from my right to left side [in my defense, even turning is quite painful]. After what seemed like many longggg hours of horrendous pain what I saw in the form of a baby was a milky white uhm baby and the only thing I could think of was...NO not "Oh! I am a mother" but "why is an Indian ba...

All of 25 (ok a little more than that!) and I know that many people my age talk of the MANY milestones that have been splendid events in their lives or those of their loved ones. It was probably a 1 year and 1 month anniversary of the first most brilliant tart you ate or the 2 year anniversary of joining the new job or a 30th birthday of a sister's fiance's sister... And it's great to celebrate every small wonder that fills our lives I am sure.  What do you make of a number like 100 then? 100 days since a baby was born maybe, your 100th public appearance, 100 people you convinced to buy lemonade, 100 thousand in your bank account for 100 days (if that was ever possible;)), 100 notebooks that you filled while in school, 100 pieces of collectibles lying hidden in the bottom draw of your cupboard that you admire everyday of your life, the 100 rs your housemaid gave you as a gift at your wedding, 100 to-do things that you wrote down in a small notebook and can't find it ...

Ever seen a 4 year old trip over a floorboard and fall face down ? She ll get up in a second, cry because she bruised herself and it hurts, complain to her mom that the floorboard tripped her and ask that it be given a beating. You play along, scold the floor and show her a red napkin with yellow flowers on it. In a jiffy, the crying has vanished, the pain forgotten and the floorboard forgiven. In walks a 40 year old, trips over the same floorboard- doesn't fall- just stumbles- and she curses in the air, complains to the staff working in the store that they shouldn't have put such uneven floorboards, that they should have warning signs, talks loudly about how her dress has been ruined because one crease is now out of place, frets over her make up which may have smudged when her hand accidentally brushed past her lip while she stumbled, worries about how stupid she may have looked (in front of all those people!) and goes over to her family to explain the 'gory' details ...

When I was a toddler, her word was the ultimate truth. Dad didn’t know Math, Bro didn’t know sport, Uncle didn’t know medicine, Aunt didn’t know music, Granny didn’t know Tamil... She was all-knowing and her affirmation alone stood my test of truth. Until she started using the word “NO” and a few other similar phrases and words. She said I couldn’t stay back late after school, I thought she didn’t trust me enough. She wanted to know more about my friends, I called her nosy. She asked me to be up at 6 am for Badminton practice, I thought she was evil and torturous. She asked why I  didn’t finish first in class, I told her she was pressurising me. She asked me to practice my steps a little longer, I vetoed. She forbade select company and I vented at her controlling nature. She asked to pity the rude, I called her naive. She advised to ignore cynics, I told her off. She was always home when I got back from school, I was sad that she didn’t have a cool career. She checked on us in b...

After several failed attempts at creating a blog space for myself, here I am finally, unsure still whether I should be blogging at all. Nevertheless, here is your quota of my opinion on pretty much everything, my occasional thoughts, gyan and travel stories.