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.

Growing Up in a Boarding School - The Finale!

To many it may seem like life in a boarding school at such an early age is harsh and painful. It is actually quite the opposite. Once you get over the lack of homely comforts, you begin to enjoy the simple things in life and you learn to adjust, live life to the fullest and love. My journey at Gokhale was such.

Our Saturday lunch chicken stew, our outings to the book fair and Victoria Memorial, those late night dark room games and desperate attempts at bringing back Indira Gandhi with planchits (calling spirits), dancing all night long at farewell parties and then crying like babies seeing our favorite seniors go, endless practices for the annual cultural show, pacing back and forth for the millionth time trying to cram before exams, writing tasks, sneaking trunk calls from "Hedu's" phone and protesting to the governing board about the food while throwing rotis on their faces are just few of the vast sea of memories that will remain fresh in me till I die.

But the most valuable gift I still cherish from my time at Gokhale are my friends. Growing up with them was life's best experience. They were not only friends but family and sometimes more. And on valentines day all I can think of is the amount of silliness we went through to share that love amongst each other and I wish I could do the same today. So despite of being thousands of miles apart with no Archie's Gallery cards, extra quotations, red roses, secret letters with poetry and mixed tape of sentimental songs - I still want to shout out and say I love you all! A decade of boarding school with all of you taught me to love, laugh, live and learn and I couldn't have asked for a better childhood than this.

Dedicated to my Gokhale friends who will live in my heart for eternity

A huge thanks to a dear friends who motivated me to write about my experiences growing up in a boarding school. I finally did it!

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The walk to my aunt's house is short, yet it feels like the most interesting route one can take. I cross sweet shops, roadside barbers, a mosque, homes, rickshaws, dispensaries and a tube well crowded with young men lathering themselves with soap so hard that all you can see is the white foam and not an inch of the dark skin under.  As soon as I come to what seems like a clearing, I hear the bells ringing at the Kaali temple and cross the pond covered so densely with foliage that there is no way of telling if there is any water under, I know I'm almost there. It is no doubt easy to spot my aunt's house in that colony - it's the only house that shows signs of wealth denoted by fresh paint, and a car parked in the garage. It is also the only house where the man of the house sits by the window overlooking the street drinking his tea or not. It seems like he is always looking out of that window. Till date, I wonder why.

I love going to my aunt's place and will come up with any excuse to leave my grandparent's house and walk over there. It is also where I want to be when there is no power. Theirs is the only house I know with a generator where we can sit under the fan and watch TV while all the neighboring homes have people sitting by kerosene lamps fanning themselves desperately with hand fans and cursing that the power has to always go off right at the time of their favorite show of which there aren't too many to begin with. I also love going there because unlike my grandparents who won't feed me any junk food, there is an abundance of that at my aunt's place. She will also make those deep fried bread pakoras with a meat filling I love to eat so much with dollops of ketchup. It feels like heaven in my mouth and I savor it till all I can taste is my own saliva.

I love spending time with my sister. We sit on top of the winding stairs that lead down to an overgrown garden and talk for hours. She is much older to me but somehow we find common ground. I am jealous she has her own room in a home I would die to have. I can sense she will make strides in her life like no other women in our family.

In a house so full of fun, laughter and love, lurks shadows dark and ugly. They spring out of nowhere and grab me by surprise. They thrust their long ugly tongues inside my small mouth and I can taste bile rising up my throat. I'm afraid to venture near that window where I know he will cuddle me and shower me with his love in a way that makes me want to run far far away and never come back. The night I sleep over and yet am unable to sleep because my hand is in places that is beyond the wildest and darkest imagination of a little girl - I just shut my eyes tight and try my best to not throw up and wish and pray my aunt doesn't wake up.

My uncle dies a few days after my wedding. I hope his soul has not rested in peace.

Dedicated to all those little girls who are molested by family members and are unable to speak up in fear of...well, FEAR.

Growing Up in a Boarding School - The Journey Continues…

Having the house to myself, access to unlimited wine and streaming old Bollywood hits definitely requires a blog post. Especially since I've been on a hiatus. While the whole world (yes, US of A definitely considers themselves to encompass the whole world with their world series on everything) watches football ( I don't even know why they call it that...sigh!), I can actually hear myself think after what seems like a trillion years.

The songs currently playing are from my school days and recent Facebook pictures of some of my hostel friends have stirred in such nostalgia that I need to go back to the day when I heard I would be moving to another boarding school - a school that had swings, slides and a jungle gym. A place where I couldn’t speak my language freely or have to pray to Jesus every night was not my cup of tea. But most importantly, the fact that Pratt's playground was barren of any play structure, did not sit well with me. So, I was excited to leave Pratt memorial and head for Gokhale Memorial Girls School
(GMGS).

It didn’t take long for me to make friends at GMGS. In fact, I found one while taking the entrance exam for that school – a fair and pretty girl from Guwahati who sucked at written Bengali as much as I did – Moumita Saha. Our journey at Gokhale began together – and what a journey that was.

I will always remember this school with fondness as most of who I am today was due to my time spent in those dormitories, corridors, dining hall and playground. Not to mention the ‘ghupchi’ and ‘gauri kund’ where some of us went to escape and share a few laughs. But I will remember this place mostly due to the “Guru Chela” fan system we had going. My first day at GMGS hostel, I was indoctrinated into this age-old custom of becoming a “fan” of a senior by Maitreyee. Too bad we didn’t end up inventing Facebook with its fan pages. Whichever senior I picked would become my “Guru” and I would be her “Chela” (disciple). My first "Guru" I remember was Tora Sinha who was sadly subjugated to my horribly ugly handmade cards and letters expressing my love for her.

Talking about letters - for some reason we wrote a lot of those in Gokhale amongst friends whom we'd meet on a daily basis. We'd exchange letters secretly, hide them in the folds of our socks (folding of the socks was considered fashionable) and hand them over while passing each other in assembly lines. I really don't remember what we could have possibly written and even though it seems extremely silly right now - it is something we devoted a lot of time to. It was probably the only way I knew to express myself. Till date I feel the same way. I am able to express myself better in writing than have a conversation about things that make me uncomfortable.

My love for the arts developed in class VB when our art teacher “Practish” gave me an 8 out of 100 and mocked my “view of a room” in front of the entire class. Apparently I had made no distinction between the walls and the floor and they were all painted in one solid color. My love for Hindi movies – specifically “Aamir Khan” developed right at the same time. It was the year of “Qyamat se Qyamat Tak” and a first in the history of our hostel when the girls united and forced our Matrons to take us to the movie theater to watch the movie. What followed were two dorms full of love-struck girls, listening to QSQT songs, hugging the little black radio on occasions and collecting Aamir Khan postcards. Yes, he was my first love who got me into trouble and I somehow found myself facing severe punishment in class for “dealing” with these postcards of images on Aamir hugging Juhi. I am still convinced though that our teachers wanted those postcards for themselves and Aamir’s cuteness was much discussed in the Staff Rooms.

I most certainly cannot complete my GMGS experience in this one post and I have this feeling creeping up on me that my "alone time" is about to end. So I do need to go back to drinking my wine, closing my eyes and remembering the good old days. More to come soon with pictures...I promise!

Letting Go...

...is probably the hardest thing to do at times. Yet, we all have to do it for various reasons at different stages in our lives. Sometimes I'm amazed how I've lived my entire life with all my belongings in one small cupboard shared by two boarders and one bedding. When it was time to let go of that, I moved into our 1100 sq ft flat in Kolkata with one room complete with a desk, bed and armoire entirely to myself. It felt very complete and even though there didn't seem enough space in the room to walk around - it felt like I had everything I need. Out here in the US life began with big dreams - the US dream of a four bedroom house and two car garage with a big backyard and we didn't take much time to move into a 2300 sq ft house and once again furnished it to its fullest. 

Now I realize the excess. Everywhere I look around me I see 'stuff' more than half of which we really don't need in any way or form. Its time to dig deeper and free myself from this materialistic clutter I've created around me. I thought it would be an easy fix. I was wrong. As I put furniture and other personal things on sale and see them go away one at a time, I can't help but feel a bit of sadness and loss. Feeling this way has taken me by surprise since I never knew I was attached to them this way.

Tonight as my formal living area lets go of its last piece of furniture I convince myself change is a good thing and this will be good for me in the long run.

"Ohm"

What's in My Fridge?

PEE. Yes, you heard right - I have PEE in my fridge, aka URINE. Ah, the joys of parenthood!

Anyone else grossed out?

So before I put it in the fridge (as per doctor's advice and not some sickening pleasure you think I'm deriving out of this), I actually debated whether I should let it cool to room temperature first and exactly how many ziplocs would I need for this. I'm on a budget here, so I ended up using only one. As for the cooling - the fridge took care of it I suppose.

Welcome to my week. A week of endless fever (starting Saturday night and still persisting), sleepless nights, two antibiotics, two bottles of Tylenol, endless (I'm probably going to be using this word too many times in this post) whining, 0 sick days now moving on to vacation days (I hate to admit that this is what is probably disturbing me most) and now I have urine sample in my fridge. And all of this might persist for 48 more hours (minus the pee thankfully). Hell yes, I'm CRANKY!!!

It started off as a sinus infection. The first antibiotic probably didn't work. Now the congestion is in her chest and there is a possibility of urine infection. So she's on her second antibiotic and we can only hope this will work. Poor baby is miserable from being sick.

Scene at the Paul residence

Thanks to all my FB friends who tried to guess what I had in my fridge. Hope you are all grossed out now - I am surely deriving some pleasure out of this  :)

To those local friends (minus one) who knew E was sick and didn't bother to call/email - this mom who is single during the week is PISSED (pun intended)!

At this point I'm just glad I drink red wine and it doesn't need to be refrigerated.

Blah blah blah blah blah

Yes, I know I need to finish my series on boarding schools and it would be wrong to say I don't have the time. The fact is when I do have the time I just want to...well, do nothing! Most nights I've been falling asleep by 9pm out of exhaustion and not the physical kind. My brains are fried from having listening to my daughter talk and ask questions continuously for five or six hours straight. Her hand always gets tired after maybe 5 spoonfuls of food into her mouth. How come her mouth doesn't get tired from all the talking I'm still to figure out. I know I sound like a horrible mother, but I need this to stop asap - duct tape anyone?

There are times I think she tests if I am listening. She will ask me a question knowing very well my answer will be no. But after maybe an hours worth of listening I have of course tuned out and without even knowing what she is asking for I just nod trying to show I'm listening. Right at that moment she will try to snatch whatever device I have in my hand and get my attention by asking why she is allowed to do so and so. Now after hearing what she really wants I have to take back my nod (yes) and say no. Now what follows is a whole set of why's and this time I have to answer all of them so that I stay consistent with the lesson I'm trying to provide which at this point I'm utterly confused about. Make sense? No? Welcome to my life.

Yesterday I took her for a walk after school. At the end of it I wasn't tired of walking as much as I was from listening and trying to answer a million questions.

Today she is sick and at home, which means six additional hours of talk time. Which means wine alone will not do the trick.

For all my friends updating their status on FB with all your fun travel plans for this long weekend - anyone want to take this opportunity to show me what a TRUE friend you are and take E along? :)

Photo from our walk yesterday by E.
However many seconds it took to take the photo was the ONLY time she wasn't speaking.

Growing Up in a Boarding School - Amen!

I've probably never been as exposed to religion in my entire life as I was during my first four years of boarding school at Pratt. We knelt by our beds every night to say a prayer as well as before every meal. Our school had a Church that we visited every Sunday morning and I learned to sing hymns from the Bible and make a cross in the air with my hand. I was too young to grasp the concept of religion then, but I do remember looking forward to going to Church. It was a chance to escape the four walls of the hostel and come in contact with the "outside world". I also loved the architecture, the stained glass and how the Church smelled. After Church I went to special Bible class by choice because I was intrigued by all the stories. I knew all about Christianity before I knew anything about Hinduism.

So naturally Christmas was big at my school. Before we closed for the Holidays, the boarders put up an annual show and party. Imagine my excitement when I was told I would be the "Guiding Star" and would be in costume and makeup. The play was going to depict Jesus being born and only a handful of junior dorm students were selected to be in character and I was one of them. I was elated. However, Jesus must have noticed my yawns at Church and I fell sick right before the play. High temperature had me lying in bed at our "Sick Room" for days and I missed rehearsals. One evening Tota came to visit me and let me know that she was given my role. That night I cried - I was so sad. I did end up being in the play but as a last minute addition where I had to enter with a bunch of girls and skip and hop and leave. I was not in costume and had to wear one of my own outfits.



It still intrigues me how I did not end up being all that religious after all of that. Maybe because I eventually realized that people think being religious makes up for all the wrong they do. However, I am thankful for the life I've had, the experiences that have taught me so much, loved ones and now my daughter. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit - amen!

Growing Up in a Boarding School - The Dining Experience!

I cannot remember if getting into the groove of things at Pratt was easy or
difficult. My memory of those first few years is somewhat fuzzy. I stayed
there for about four years moving on to another boarding school, but more on
the move in future installments.

Apart from sleeping in an uncomfortable bed with a room full of total
strangers and using those common toilets and bath area I think the biggest
adjustment was the food. If you know anything about Bengali's you would know
we are all about our food. Our daily meals are pretty elaborate and
delicious and parents jump through hoops feeding their kids to make them
round and chubby. Before stepping into hostel life I did not quite appreciate
that of course. I used to be one of those kids not too keen on eating and
would take hours finishing one meal. It didn't take me long to realize the good life I'd left behind soon after I sat down for my first meal at the hostel.

The aluminum plates and a trolly with two large buckets filled with rice and daal respectively and some kind of vegetable concoction already served on those plates still manages to churn my stomach whenever I think of those days. Breakfast consisted of a runny porridge also served on plates which later somehow became my most favorite food at Pratt. Non-veg which consisted more of curry and less of meat was only served on weekends. One positive came out of this culinary experience - on my fist vacation back home I absolutely devoured anything that was served to me. From there on eating was never a problem and I could eat almost anything given to me without being picky. I truly began to appreciate food. Till date I hate wasting food - it reminds me of those days where I didn't have much to eat.

Talking about food - we did have a tuck locker back in our dorm area. This was the place which held the most precious of our possessions - little snack items that were sent from home. These were all kept locked and was given to us on weekends. I remember relishing each cream biscuit one lick at a time. There was also a guy who used to come to the hostel on weekends to sell cookies from his black trunk. He had these bright pink and white cookies that he sold for a few paisas. I would almost always spend my tuck money on those.

These days I'm served huge portions wherever I go to eat and I see the amount of food being wasted around me. It makes me sad and I remember those days as little girls when we would have given anything to eat the way we do now.

Growing Up in a Boarding School - The Beginning

My interview at Pratt Memorial School consisted of a spelling test. I had to
spell three words given to me by the principal. I had spelled one of them
wrong and was sad that I would not get admitted. The word was 'face' and I
had spelled it with an 's' even though I had known the spelling. Probably
because I was nervous. I was five.

I however did get admitted to that boarding school and was soon accompanied by pishimoni (aunt), ma (mom) and a black trunk filled with my belongings on my
first day there. I will come back to the trunk soon but right
away I need to tell you that I still remember the feeling I had in my
stomach that day as I was being dropped off. I did not shed a tear maybe
because I was too confused with the knots I was feeling deep inside me. It
was probably the calm before the storm - because later in my life there were
plenty of tears to make up for that one brave night and probably the most important moment in my life.

Coming back to the black trunk. It was an object of awe the very first time it came to the house. I don't know why exactly but maybe because it came with the significance of leaving home and entering into a brand new territory. I still remember my name and address being inscribed on it with white ink. It was like the most artistic and incredible thing I'd ever seen. Later that trunk became an integral part of my happy and sad moments both. It made me happy when it was brought out of the hostel storage - that meant I was going home on vacation and made me sad when I had to pack it at home at the end of a month long vacation.

But I digress. This post is about my first day at boarding school and even though we didn't have cameras back then to record first days of everything in our child's life - I still have a crystal clear picture of that night. The boarding section of the school was situated on the third floor of the very old building. It was built during the Britsh Raj and had grand staircases and huge windows (more like doors) with green shutters. After you climbed up the stairs to the third floor you entered into a long corridor that led to the Matrons room on the other end of it. The three dorms (junior, intermediate and senior)ran parallel to the corridor on its right. Our lockers and shoe racks ran along the two walls of the corridor and that is where we all conglomerated every night to polish our shoes in preparation for the next day.

And I've digressed again. It was late evening when we arrived at the hostel. It was already dark outside and all the dorms were empty. My place would of course be in the junior dorm and while my aunt spoke with the matron and handed her my belongings I was asked to walk into the dorm to take a look. As I did, I noticed a solitary girl standing at the other end of the dorm looking out from the window. I went up to her and asked her her name. She had the same last name as mine and I took that as a sign and we became best of friends for the next few years. She told me that it was a special night and so all the other girls were in a common room watching TV. She stayed back because she was missing her mom who I found out some time later was no longer alive.

It was because of her my first day there didn't seem as bad. That night when I lay in my bed amongst almost a hundred other girls of different ages and backgrounds, I realized my life had just begun and little did I know those were the years that would make me who I am today.

Tota Bhowmik - wherever you are, this post is for you!

Following dreams

Thanks to my daughter I've watched the movie Tangled close to a hundred times (not an exaggeration)and surprisingly each time I've LOVED it and wished I was the lost princess who is finally able follow her dreams. One thing I've realized while growing up is that I have always lived a life that was deemed right and proper by someone else. Even the dreams were more or less set for me. I'm not saying I've had a bad life - but it was mostly not of my own choice. I think a lot of my friends from India have been in similar situations and felt the same way, yet we always end up doing what we think everyone else will think is right. Now that I am a mother such expectations are much greater. Every step I take I have to be convinced I am doing the right thing for her.

Deep down inside I know whatever I do, I will always have her best interest in mind and will not love her any less. I hope she grows up living her dreams and knows it is okay for everyone else around her to do so. As we sit and watch Tangled for the 101st time and she tries to braid my hair, I foresee a strong, beautiful and independent girl following her dreams just like the lost princess Rapunzel (even though her hair takes forEVER to grow):)

Happy 4th readers and here's hoping you are all following your dreams or are at least trying to do so.

My Last Wish(es)

Okay, so according to Harold Camping the world comes to an end tomorrow which is all fine and dandy and I plan to have an equally “exciting” life with the zombies but I quite honestly don’t want to be stuck within gray cubicles my last day. I definitely want to be in a beach sipping cocktails as per my FB status RIGHT NOW! Okay – have to admit it has nothing to do with the world ending and all – I want to be on a beach and not working – ANYWAYS! But if the world were to end I would be pissed because there are too many things on my to-do list before I die:

• African Safari
• Taj Mahal on a full moon night
• Dinner at the Caves in Jamaica
• Houseboat stay in Kashmir
• A few nights at the Udaipur Palace
• Palace on Wheels
• Backwaters of Kerela
• Trek (whatever I can) the Himalayas
• Go on a date with George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Saif Ali Khan and Aamir Khan (I’ve been dreaming of them lately – maybe it’s a sign!)
• Learn belly dance, hip-hop and kathak
• Get into a size 4 dress
• Get my nose pierced – yes, AGAIN
• Learn to bake – I WILL eventually
• Shop irrespective of what’s on sale
• Be the world’s best mom
• Adopt a child
• Contribute to society to my best abilities
• Eradicate folks who have nothing better to do than proclaim the world is coming to an end.

• And most importantly TRAVEL THE WORLD and Win a lottery!


I’m sure I’ve missed many things (as I said, way too much to do before I die) but it was fun trying to think of all the things I still want to do. Also, I’m just waiting what these folks will have to say on Sunday. :)

An Encounter

You know you’ve been married to the same guy for way too long when...

...you are at the ATM depositing a check and you smell the most sensuous cologne that makes you turn around and want to hug what you see. :)

Fame & Fortune

When I was in high school, my grandparents once had a puja at their house that I of course arrived late to after my day in school. It worked out perfect since it was time for Prasad and I gorged on ‘luchi’ and ‘payesh.’ While eating I eyed my grandmother whisper something to the pundit’s ear. Later when he came up to me and took my palm in his hand I knew exactly what my grandmother had said.

So in the middle of a large room full of relatives and relatives of relatives (you get what I’m trying to say here) my future was bestowed upon me. The lines of my palm revealed both fame and fortune in my future. Well of course that made me want to believe in palmistry and made me very very happy till the wait got only too long.

In case you were wondering…I ended up with neither. The reason behind this sudden spark of memory being a recent invitation to judge the DHIM-TANA music and dance competition in the bay area where I was told I would be aired on TV 9 both here and in India. Imagine my reaction – finally chances of becoming famous!!! So what if it was only in Andhra? I just might become a Tollywood star and then maybe move on to Bollywood! The doors to fame were opening. I could almost see that pundit’s face. I was sooo close.

Well, let’s just say it didn’t go as planned and I ended up coming back to my ordinary life writing for my ordinary blog. The camera did not pan to where the judges were seated, as it remained focused on the stage. But all jokes apart, I’m glad it was that way. The young talent I saw on stage that day was quite breathtaking as well as inspiring. Once I was able to get past the Carnatic music competition (no offence…its just not for me!) my eyes, just like the camera, were glued to the stage. The melodious voices, breathtaking dances and exuberant costumes blew my mind and showed the hard work and commitment these kids ranging from as young as 6 years to teenagers were capable of. I just wanted to take this opportunity to let our kids know we are very proud of you and all that you achieve in your lifetime. I’ve barely achieved half of what you already have and nowhere close.

My only hope for that day’s performers is that amidst your race for becoming doctors and engineers may you not lose sight of the amazing talent you have and hope some of you will continue to keep your art form alive. And even though I don’t know a damn thing about palmistry, but some of you out there, if you keep doing what you are, you have a pretty good chance of fame and fortune in your future. By all means you were all stars in my eyes.

I Do Exist

Yes, I know I just dropped off from the face of this earth or so it seems. Quite honestly, I am still playing catch up ever since I returned from vacation. Ah yes, vacation, need more of those in my life. What an incredible trip it was with my little one. 2 countries, 3 cities, 2 weddings and 2 dance workshops all in three weeks. Friends, family and food galore. Some friends I met after nearly a decade. That's how long I've been in Sacramento and yet every time I go back it seems like it was just the other day.

So much has happened since I got back that I cannot wrap my thoughts around all of it at the moment. I received a call this morning from a friend in India who was wondering why I stopped writing and so I thought I'd at least make a reappearance. I'm sad I missed Evani's turning 4 post. Life has been incredibly busy, but here's hoping I will stop to smell the roses.

Featuring Penn Masala

In order to distract myself and my readers from the previous post photo - here is some cuteness~ can I get them for my birthday??? lol!

Minus 20

The journey started in February of this year after I saw the below photograph that made me cringe. I was mad for what I had done to myself and had no one but myself to blame and so I made a promise to get off my lazy ass and do something about it.



As of this morning I am 20 lbs lighter and three dress sizes smaller and extremely proud of myself for getting here. The path has been very challenging but very very rewarding at the same time since it did not involve personal trainers, fad diets or pills but pure hard work and dedication. I even posted this photo hoping it will motivate me to NEVER want to go back to being that size ever again.

A lot of you have asked me recently how I’ve lost all this weight and to all of you my answer has been same – working my butt off. Many of you have not believed me (I can tell) and think there is something I am not sharing. But seriously, I am not. It just doesn’t sound too good to hear you have to really work hard to lose weight. What you want to hear is ‘try this diet or try this new pill and you will see results in two weeks, that’s how I lost weight!.’


I know a lot of my friends are trying to lose weight and trust me when I say I would love to help you. But you have to remember that you have to help yourself first and foremost. Also, everybody is different, and it is up to you to figure out what works and does not work for you.

Here are a few things that worked for me and I’ve learnt in the process:

• Educating myself on proper nutrition and fitness. I continue to refer to Fitness Magazine, Jillian Michaels online newsletter and Everyday Health. The great thing about these are that they are all free and online newsletters with great tips and even exercises. They’ve also helped me stay motivated.
• Gym membership is not required. You will be surprised how you can do both cardio and strength training without stepping into a gym. So, if you do not have a membership or you don’t want to pay for one it should not stop you from working out. However, the gym was important to me to keep me motivated during my workouts. I also made use of the classes they offer and free training sessions they have occasionally. However, if for any reason I am not able to go to the gym, I can very well get an equal workout at home.
• Never go hungry or starve yourself. Eat every 2-3 hours, but eat healthy and in small portions. Trader Joes was a savior to me when it came to healthy snack options. Loving food the way I do, I never deprived myself of anything. I have occasionally gorged on stuff too. But for the most part I’ve made healthier choices. Depriving myself of food that I love makes it worse for me and makes me depressed, so I’ve never been successful at following any diets ever.
• Stay away from diets as much as you can. Eliminating a food group or type from your system is not the solution. Your body needs all food groups including carbs and fats. Choose the good ones and try to steer away form eating out. In most cases the ‘healthy” options provided by restaurants or fast food chains are really not healthy. Also, learn to read the labels of food stuff you purchase and what that means to your intake.
• Saying you are busy and have no time to work out is NOT going to help you. Trust me, I had no time up until I figured out I had an hour for lunch. Ever since I’ve worked out most lunchtimes instead of going out to eat or going shopping or even plain sitting at my desk browsing or working.
• Do not depend on a work-out buddy. It was a mistake I made starting out. Remember it is YOUR goal and only YOU can reach it. Get used to working out yourself and enjoy the “me time”.
• Add variety to your workout. Try new things. PLAY with your kids in the park – do the moneky bars with them. We all have desk jobs, so make your life away from the desk as much active and fun as possible. Throw in squats, lunges, pushups whenever and wherever you can. You can break up your workout into tiny slots throughout the day.
• Life will throw many things at you. You will be tired, sick, stressed, depressed and all of this will stop you from working out every now and then. Just remember, working out actually helps in all these situations. You come out refreshed with more energy feeling positive. This past year has not been the greatest one for me personally. A lot of negativity surrounded me and still does. However that’s what motivates me and working out always helps me get all those negative feelings out.
• It makes you a better parent. You can help educate your kids on making good food choices from the start and help them in enjoy an active life. Evani loves to stretch, do yoga and dance with me and I still get to spend time with her while working out.

Know that the ONLY way to lose weight and stay healthy is exercising consistently and eating healthy. For some of us it requires a few lifestyle changes. I’ve changed mine and hope you are able to change yours and believe you can do it too.