Q&A

Okay, I admit, I have more pressing problems than my purse. Q&A sessions with my five year old whenever we drive somewhere, is topping the list right now. More often than not they extend beyond just “car time”. If for any reason I thought I wasn’t crazy enough to see a shrink before, I do so now.

Q. Mommy, how old was I when I was in your tummy?

A. Zero

Q. Mommy, how did I come out of your tummy?

A. The doctor cut my tummy open (NO, I am NOT ready to discuss natural birth right now) and took you out.

Q. Isn’t that dangerous? While cutting did the doctor not cut me?

A. No. The Doctors are very skilled and they do not cut the babies while cutting their mommy’s tummy.

Q. Mommy, how did you know I wanted to come out?

A. You knocked on my tummy and I knew you were ready to come out. Just like I can tell when you need to go to the bathroom when you do your little dance.

Q. Mommy, how did I get into your tummy?

A. {The question I was dreading} Ummm…well, when mommy and daddy get married, a baby comes to mommy’s tummy because mommy and daddy want you so much. (Let me know if any of you have a better one for this)

Q. Mommy where was I before I came to your tummy?

A. {I’m stumped} Hmmm…let’s see… (inserting favorite scenes from one of her Barbie movies) I think you were in a different world with with the cloud princess and her flying unicorns and you had long hair that touched the ice when you ice skated. {Very proud of myself here for coming up with something so creative}

Daughter{Tears start streaming down her eyes}

Mommy {totally flustered}: What happened baby?

Daughter: I want to go to the cloud princess right now! I want to ice skate with Barbie

Mommy {SHIT!!! Did not see this coming}:  But ‘shona that was a dream.

Daughter: But you just said I was there before coming to your tummy. Why can’t I go back?

Mommy: What I meant to say was you were dreaming about the cloud princess before you came to my tummy. Hey! who wants  brownie with ice cream???

And you think why my brain is turning to mush?

My "Little" Purse

Lately I've been too nostalgic and living a bit too much in the past. Its time to change that and talk about real problems that I face in my life right now. For example: my purse.

So for those of you who don't know me well, the purse to me is what a shopping cart is to a homeless person. I mean if I were to be stranded somewhere, I could probably survive from the stuff I have in it minus a change of clothes. Which, if I used a tote bag, I'm sure I'd have that too.

It can also be used for self defense. If I were to swing that thing on someone, its sheer weight could crush that person's skull.

So what is it that I have in my purse? Quite honestly I am no longer sure. The one thing I am sure about is that it does not have any money. So having lost the sole purpose of the purse - I am now at a loss. I am actually scared to empty its contents - it just gets too stressful (I speak from past experience). However, the situation is getting out of control since I am no longer able to find things I need when I need them.

As you might have guessed by now - I am not the "matching purse with every outfit" kind of a gal. That stresses me beyond belief. Which means I would have to shuffle contents on a daily basis. That could cause me a mild heart attack. I am not the expensive purse lady either. My purses know no brands, unlike some of my friends purses I might steal and sell one of these days to buy myself airfare to India. Yes, they can fund an entire roundtrip ticket to any continent of my choice actually. I once had a "Lolo" purse (that's what I call a Polo from China) which I literally used for well over a year on a continuous basis till my friends started threatening me to trash it. It was perfectly fine. They just over reacted to the leather that was starting to peel off of it.

 I miss my Lolo. And there you go - I'm back to nostalgia again!

Mosaic

I am prepped in really old clothes and have oiled my hair and tied it tightly into a bun. I knock on my neighbors doors and gather everyone on the ground floor of our building. We bring buckets and fill them with water.  We are excited and unusually loud. Well, actually we can hear ourselves talk because there seems to be barely any traffic on the streets. All you can hear is the sound of hurried flip flops and squeals of delight. The day is undoubtedly Holi - the festival of colors.

My dad will not leave the house that day and I for one will not stay indoor for a moment. All us kids in our building are downstairs mixing color, preparing the water balloons and talking strategy. Whoever crosses our path is going to be smeared in a concoction of color that will render him/her unrecognizable. In the mean time we are pretty much unrecognizable ourselves. You see, we haven't wasted much time playing between ourselves. Kids from neighboring buildings have joined us and its a big party on the streets.

The day has progressed, we've smeared color on people we've never met and will never see in our lives again. The sun is out in full force and we are almost baked in a way it seems like the color will never leave our skin. Our eyes are look so bright compared to our black painted bodies. We see our parents walk out to the balconies trying to keep an eye on us. I'm however waiting for the best part of it all.

No sooner than I'm thinking of it I hear Babun da's motorcycle. Without losing a second I hop on it and off we go whizzing past Dhakuria bridge, Golpark and Gariahat to Ballygunge where we get the best "Bhang". Going for a bike ride the day of holi is a pleasure in itself. The roads being empty, you can actually feel the wind. We load up bottles and bhang infused "shondesh" and bring the loot back to the happening place in Jodhpur park - the sidewalk of the Sen residence where we end being merry and entertain the pedestrians with our beautiful vocals.

We've been out for hours now and it is time I head home. I promise the rickshaw puller I will pay him a few extra rupees to take me there. Instead of going to my flat in Jodhpur Park, I find myself in a place far far away. I want him to turn back and start pedaling faster to take me back home, but he can't hear me anymore. He has disappeared into this colorful mosaic and all I'm surrounded with is memories.

The Fairy Tale Fifth

Once upon a time there was a little princess who magically turned five and all her wishes came true.

The birthday weekend never to be forgotten (I will make sure of that) was Evani's first time at Disneyland as was mine. And all I can say is I'm glad that I waited this long. Experiencing it for the first time through her eyes is what's going to make this trip so memorable for me.

As parents we've never been too keen on large birthday parties for Evani. Firstly because they become more of a hassle than enjoyment and for some reason it always seems parties like those are more for the parents than for the kids. We've always preferred keeping them small where she can spend time with all her friends and or taking her somewhere to do something that she really enjoys. As part of that we had planned to celebrate her 5th birthday in Disneyland maybe right after she was born. And the fact that we did not take her there prior made it the kind of birthday she will hopefully remember as will we.

As a typical five year old girlie girl, her world revolves around princesses, fairies, flying horses, Barbies and most recently rock stars. Possessing a very vivid imagination she weaves her own fairytales that I'm beginning to think might make a great book one day (note to self: start writing some of that stuff down). She is a bundle of personality already with a bucket list that has me cracking up. When she's six, she wants to eat at Spaghetti Factory. On letting her know that she doesn't really need to wait another year to eat there and I can take her now, she says "but mommy, I don't like spaghetti yet!" When she's 16 she wants to go to Japan to meet Hello Kitty. Once she turns 70 (and yes, I checked with her and it is not 17) she wants to meet Hannah Montana and at 80 she wants to meet Madonna. Today she also asked me how much it costs to go to Japan.

Her favorite song is Bad Romance by Lady Gaga. But ever since she saw Madonna perform at Super Bowl she has become a fan. Her sense of style kind of matches theirs already and I don't know if I should be worried or extremely confident that she's going to make it big. But I'm keeping her Bollywood genes active as well and just for kicks have gotten her singing " I am a Disco Dancer".

When she grows up she wants to become a princess. I don't know about then but last weekend she definitely was. And to see the look on her face when she was told that she would be transformed into a princess of her choice the morning of her birthday made that outrageous price tag all worthwhile.

To Evani: may your happily ever after happen every day. Mommy and Daddy loves you very much and you will remain a princess in our hearts forever.