The quirks of motherhood

• You look under the bed when your hairbrush, sunscreen or deodorant goes missing. If you find it there, you use it and put it back under the bed cuz it’s gonna find its way back there anyway.

• You find plastic numbers in the fridge.

• You get up in between a meal to wipe poop/pee off the floor. Sometimes the second time in the same day.

• You have a little hand wedged in your hair all night.

• Peeing, bathing, brushing your teeth, changing clothes become spectator sport.

• Shopping means looking over your shoulders and playing peekaboo around the clothes stands. And occasionally getting heart attacks when the hider goes missing. For exactly 6 seconds.

• “The Big Video Time” on Boogie Beebies (Cbeebies) makes you jump out of your chair and break into a dance.

• The kid’s meal time makes you feel like an accomplished goalkeeper.

• You realize why patience is a virtue when you answer the billionth time what colour a flower is. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink. Pink.

• You get kicked in the groin, slapped on the face, poked in the ribs (and then the little hand enters your mane) before you fall asleep, dead beat.

• Weekdays mean sleeping till 9am, and weekends start at 6.30am. Sigh.

• Social outings without the kid mean looking at the watch every 10 minutes.

• Alcohol is consumed only in strict quantities (if consumed at all) to ensure minimal hangover the next day. Especially if the next day is a weekend. Sigh.

• You cringe when your kid gets beaten up by another kid. And cringe even more when your kid beats up another kid.

• You forget to pick up milk at the supermarket, but remember to stock up on packets of Gems.

• Cuss words like shit, fuck, goddammit are replaced with shucks, oh no and oh god. Sometimes even AAAAaaaarrrrrrggghhhHHH.

• Reading a storybook means putting a mimicry artist to shame with voice modulations every 0.03 seconds.

• You get away on a romantic 24-hr holiday without the kid; and all you can talk about with your spouse is, yes you guessed it, the kid.

Despite all the quirks, when the day is interspersed with enough BIGGA's (kiddie for Big Hug, thank you Teletubbies) and Kissies, it just makes all the quirks worth it. 


Photo courtesy: Saritha Rajagopal

Share, magar aaraam se…

You know how it is—people log into Facebook for different reasons. To find old and new friends. To socialise with total strangers and find dates. To find out what’s happening in people’s lives without anyone knowing how close to being a stalker you are. To show off your happy lives. To moan your sad lives. Blah blah and more blah.

But I am sure there are friends that really get your goat with their irksome sharing habits. Here are some of my observations of people who come online only to:

Share life advice: Smile, be happy, love your family, forget your sorrows, tread the path of life with hope, look forward to good things in life, life is a blessing, respect your life, ra ra ra. You get so tired reading it that any picture with a sun in the horizon and a road going right into it makes you want to quickly scroll down so you don’t accidently learn a new lesson about, well, LIFE!

Declare their love: I love you is passé. Hearts, forlorn lover girl (usually a sad looking blonde teenager girl), flowers, park benches, and candy sweet wordings—You are my life (AGAIN!!!), my heart beats only for you, thank god you are in my life (I can’t do this anymore), I am committed to you, my life would be meaningless without your love, why did you break my heart (I think I can finally forgive Annu Mallik)… I know you love your boyfriend, fiancé, husband, wife, whatever. I do too. But please, this Fb PDA is just insufferable.

Display their piousness: This one needs special mention. There are FBites who live just so that they can spread the word of God. He will come to redeem you, Don’t lose hope in him, Share this picture and you will blessed for life, He will never let go of your hand (Good he won’t, or I’d thrash you). The worse—it all comes in a barrage; like ten photographs in one go and you’re ready to unfriend your pious friend for good.

Show off their anatomies: I am fed up, and I can say this again, FED UP, of looking at the close up shots of your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hair, your whatever the bloody f***, just get off my page you narcissist. I’d appreciate your lovely DP or that amazing cover photo, ‘like’ it and even comment on it if it really moves me; but please—I don’t want to see (again and again and again) how lovely (or so you think OBVIOUSLY) your anatomy is. Spare me the entertainment.

Share pictures of really, really sick people: I welcome your compassion behind the ‘share’, but seriously, if you think Fb is going to offer $1 for every share to the baby with the heart outside his body or the lady with the burnt face, you need a reality check. Creating awareness is one thing; causing emotional distress on an enjoyable platform like Fb is not cool, man, not cool at all.

Voice your “mammoth” opinions: Fb is sure a democratic platform for opinion sharing (although a lot of people in India don’t think so). But when your opinion about the turn of events in a political scene, a major sporting event or a religious event spans three paragraphs and has obscure words that one has to look up the dictionary to understand, it means just one thing—you are showing off, buddy. There is a reason why the “Share how you are feeling today” status bar is just one line. Try to be concise. Or better still, turn to blogger.com. Please.

Family photos, pictures and messages about get-togethers and parties with friends, travel plans and excitements, even those awkward amateur pictures are fun! Of course, in the end, to each his own. After all, every post offers some sort of entertainment to someone. The ‘Likes’ say it all…

Making friendship work

I started out as a combination of a shy child when it came to conversations, and an active one when it came to boisterous playing in the outdoors. Over the years, especially when I became a teenager, I realized that for longer lasting friendship and better relationships, I needed to improve my communication skills. And then started my attempt at making better conversations, engaging the introverts in “small talk”, and generally, improving my overall sociability. I think I have done a pretty okay job. Smile. 

Now, having crossed the single status and being promoted to motherhood (not to mention the threshold of the 30s), my emotions have changed and so has my attitude to relationships. They are no longer about making more friends, but a lot about keeping the old ones closer.

However, with changing life, friendship is becoming harder to manage. You have to work around them to keep them going. The newly acquired friends are the most difficult to keep. Thus, coffee evenings, play dates for kids, and drinks and dinner events are planned and executed. For me a friendship has to be effortless. It shouldn’t feel like a task. So when you have “friends” who are hardly ever around, it makes it so much tougher to manage.

Like the friend who never keeps in touch and pretends to love you to bits when she sees you every 3 months. The one who says she’ll call back but forgets. The one who’s seasonal and pops up once a year. The one who returns from a foreign land every year promising to meet you this time but never does. The one who stays less than a kilometre away but neither calls you over nor takes your invitation seriously. The one who’s part of your group but if you were left alone with her you’d probably end up staring at the walls. The one who says we’ll definitely meet next week and that week never comes. The friend who treats you like a task on her things-to-do list. Sigh.

Honestly, I like them all. But I wish they’d be more available. More, as in over and above phone calls, mails, messaging and FB. People, whom I can meet, sit next to and chat and laugh with. And not just keep planning to do so. I have a lot to blame myself too. But I’m making amends. So if you like me and want to spend time with me, I’m game. Just remember to keep your promise when you say, “Let’s meet up!!!”

Old “Cocktail” in a new Glass

Warning: If you haven’t watched the movie “Cocktail” yet, let me warn you, this post may be a spoiler. So stop reading now if you intend to watch it!

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” Says a 43-going-on-32 Saif in one of the first few shots of the movie, to his super-hot Chinese client. The result? She smiles…and the day is saved! My frst thoughts: How lame!!!

A 40-plus actor playing a 20-something is pretty normal in Bollywood (for instance Aamir Khan in you-know-which-movie!). But when that 40-plus guy looks like he needs truckloads of Botox or perhaps a tiny white face mask, the impact is pretty disastrous, I promise. 

Poor Saif. He not just looks ancient; he sounds ancient too. And when he mouths those unbelievably corny lines, and the girls actually fall for it, I am aghast (well, almost!) 

I’m transported back to the Kal Ho Na Ho days, when Saif looked like a dish. And those lines (written a whole lot better) sounded like music to the ears. 

This time, back to his “flirtatious ways”, Saif plays a 32 year old guy, based in London, who loves women. He courts them, flirts with them, sleeps with them, moves on to the next one and yaaawwwnn. Meera (Diana Penty), from a brief experience in the recent past, knows what Gautam (Saif ) is like. So when her friend Veronica (a super hot Deepika Padukone) and Gautam start dating, she has her hazard lights on. She calls Gautam a “soo-arr” (swine) and makes sure there is always a one-arm distance between them. Of course, Gautam, doesn’t give up trying to woo Meera, despite his live-in status with her friend. 

A few scenes later, the “friends” are in Cape Town for a holiday. And while they are all busy singing Tumhi Ho Bandhu, Sakha Tumhi, “Lauu” happens between Gautam and Meera. No, I swear, it does! I didn’t miss vital scenes or dialogues. And no, I didn’t sleep through 30 minutes of the movie. They just fall in love… like that! Okay, yes, Gautam does say stuff like, “Meera, you are the kind of girl nobody would ever want to let go of…” But didn’t we fall for stuff like that in school? C’mon Meera! (((eye rolling)))

Sigh… Wake up now, there are some interesting complications coming up. Veronica is in love with Gautam. TA DA!! Can you believe that? How original! But, anyway, after acting really difficult, she finally ensures that the “lauuvers” are united…followed by an essential group hug. Awwwww….. brilliant! :(

Apart from the “original” storyline, I had some other grouses too. The first half had some not-so-bad funny one-liners and retorts; but, with NIL background score. Just like watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. without the laughter track, you know what I mean. Or say, like watching Tom & Jerry without the banging and squealing and jangling and rattling and clattering. Punch lines…followed by silence. Cut to next scene. Zero impact!

Another one: why were the men so unkempt? From Saif and Randeep Hooda to Boman Irani; they looked like they had neither showered nor shaved in ages!!! 

That brings me to another grouse—why Boman Irani? In a bit role, this fine actor was wasted. 

And what "friendship"??? In fact, this is a really a bad take on any friendship. Seriously, who wrote this stuff!!!

What I liked?

The girls—Deepika was ravishing (she rocked the red bikini). She played the rich bitch to the T. Diana was pretty and refreshing; and very unlike a newcomer in her performance. Dimple Kapadia put up a laugh riot. Perrrfect! 

I also liked the music; but for “Second hand jawani”; which to be honest, is an apt song for Saif right now. Or maybe it should have been “expired jawani”. 

I’m not going to hate you if you love it

 
Let’s be clear here. I have watched movies like Cocktail before; and I have liked them. But this one somehow did not work for me at different levels. But I’m not going to argue with you if you don’t agree with me here. After all, many of you were only surprised (and did not kill me) when I said I liked Ra.One. (((sheepish grin))). Yes, I’m a devout SRK fan (although, right now, he does look like he needs more than just Botox). 

But, to be honest, I think Bol Bachchan deserved 4 stars more than Cocktail did. You know what? Go watch Bol Bachchan instead. It’s slapstick, it’s bawdy, it’s stupid; but it’s a pukka ROFL movie! ;) 

Did you just say that? Ah! Yes! You did!

Everybody says weird things. You know, stuff that makes you go, “Mmmmm, Whattt!?” Most are funny, others are strange, some are mean or silly…but it’s stuff that you want to write down. So, I have! 

This is not about “Oh, how could you say such a thing to me” kinda ranting. It’s more like, “Oh! Ok! It’s strange you said that…Hmm” and followed by, maybe a plastic smile, or a smart retort or some such similar reaction. A lot of stuff is also reaction to weird things I have said. So basically, I had fun writing this down. Here goes… 

Said Moideen Museem in 2006 at Hitech Outsourcing Services in Cochin, when I commented on a girl he was apparently interested in: “You’re just jealous cuz she is fairer than you are…” My reaction: “What!!!” Followed by an enraged, “I can’t believe an educated young man like you can talk like that!” 

Said Sreedevi Jayaprakash in 2012 at DropCap Media, during an evening snack session while weight gain was being discussed: “Nina, you can have one less Pazhampori (banana fry)…” My reaction: I ate two!

Said Sumi Thomas in 2012 at her place, when I went to see her during her last trimester of pregnancy. She was expecting a Taurian child: “I have never liked Taurians. But Nina, you are quite okay, girl (sic).” My reaction: Smile. (In my head: a relieved Thank you.)

Said Maijo Abraham in 2007 at Hitech Outsourcing Services when we discussed my impending meeting with his parents: “But my mother will be disappointed that you are dark…” My reaction: Blank expression. (In my head: she should be glad I agreed to marry you!)

Said Shabna John in 2006 at Hitech Outsourcing Services, after her friend, who came to see her, met us (Maijo, me and another friend) and had left: “Ubin thinks you all look older to me!!” My reaction: Oh wow! Don’t look so happy, Shabna. (In my head: Ahem!) 

Said the dudette who runs Sole Sisters blog (or whatever that is) over Fb in 2012, when I commented tongue-in-cheek about a pair of street urchin-like shoes she had posted on the blog: “Just because you don’t like it, it doesn’t mean it is not nice.” My reaction: LOL! (In my head: LOL! FO!!!)

Said Saritha Rajagopal over Fb in 2012, when I commented something cheeky (which many of her friends “liked”) on her funny status: “Shaadi ho gayi, baccha ho gaya, ab toh sudhar jao Nina Nair.” My reaction: Shaadi aur baccha are not tickets to losing one’s sense of humour. (In my head: Ok, so all your guy friends who were thinking, “who could be this woman who cracked such a witty joke” now know that I am married and a mom…so, job well done, Saritha :D)

Said my cousin, a couple of years back, at my place: “Look at the size of your butt. Must be the result of your work out on your new treadmill…Huh?” My reaction: Yeah, you are right. (In my head: Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Nina. Ignore.) 

Said my school senior Pallavi Chowdhary many years ago, when she heard I had passed a comment on her: “Nina, did you say I have a constipated expression?” My reaction: Hmmm…aaaa…mmm..phewww…Yeeeaaaaa…. (In my head: “F***, I should have noticed her boyfriend’s little sister overhearing what I said…Darn!!!”

Said my Brother-in-law in 2012 as we were excitedly decorating the house with streamers and balloons for Kuku’s (my daughter) 2nd birthday party: “What are you trying to achieve from all this?” My reaction: When you have a child, you will understand. Now, you won’t! (In my head: Go climb a tree!)

Said an ex-boyfriend many years ago: “You are not the type who’d look after my parents if I’m away…” My reaction: Coughing…spluttering… throat clearing… WHAT! (In my head: “I hope you find your bharatiya naari soon, loser!”)

Said Veena Suri in 2006 over a phone chat: “Get married now. Enough of working!!!” My reaction: LOLOLOL!!!! 

Said Mother-in-law in 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012: “When our relatives heard what Maijo had done (fall in love, that too with a Hindu girl…Jesus Christ), they couldn’t believe it. MAIJO???!!! Of all the people???!!!” My reaction: Smile, Smile, Smile, Smile, Smile, Smile. (In my head: Evil laugh, Evil laugh, Evil laugh, Evil laugh, Evil laugh, Evil laugh)

That’s it for now, I guess. Or at least that’s all my memory has managed to come up with. But keep revisiting this post; you never know; you could make it here! ;)

A part of me still lives in Calcutta

I left the city two months after I turned 18. Fresh out of school; thrilled about turning an adult. But I was bidding adieu to a city that had given me some of the best memories of my life. I had the best time in school here. I had made great friends here. I had fallen in 'love' here for the first time. And yet, I was ready to move on. That’s what a fauji kid is like. Always willing to move on; taking a little from a place and leaving behind a part of her too. 

A few weeks ago, I went back to Calcutta, albeit for a holiday. I had been there earlier for Kasturi’s wedding. But this…this was different. Amma was with me. And with us were memories of the days we spent together in Calcutta. The days we roamed the city lanes… The crazy shopping, eating street food, the laughing, the arguments! The days when Papa was with us… which is why Calcutta is special. If it brings smiles on our faces, it also brings tears to our eyes. 

Thanks to Sen Uncle, Papa’s boss and Kasturi’s dad, we made a quick visit to Turf View. Here’s where we lived for three years. The place hadn’t changed much; but it had surely improved. A shopping complex, a bus bay for students waiting for their buses, a basketball court, a park for kids, beautified buildings, et all. But as we drove around the blocks, all of them, 1 to 19, I saw papa and amma on their evening walks. I saw myself walking down the lanes with my friends. 

It was a quick tour, and was over in less than 5 minutes. At the end of it, I didn’t know if I was smiling or crying. Perhaps just numb. And envious. Envious of all those people who live there now. Who’s lives are untouched by the ‘civilian’ way of life. 

It broke my heart as I once again realized that my ‘Army wale’ days are over. That I won’t get a second chance at it. That despite having roamed around freely in Turf View and the Army Officers’ club and the Army canteen and all those hundred places with a dependent ID card, in just over a decade, all I was entitled to get was a visitor’s pass. 

But deep inside me, the fauji kid will live forever. No wonder then that the husband once mentioned to a colleague who happens to be a Fauji wife, “Even after all these years, my wife is still a fauji kid and not a civilian’s wife”. Trust me, that comment made me feel so proud :)

Have your B***S been stared at today?

Let me first tell you why the headline of the post does not spell the word out. It’s not because I won’t, ahead in the post. It’s because I didn’t want to sensationalise the post; because it must have already got you thinking what this post is gonna be about. Half my work’s done :)

Okay, so let’s get to business. Why this post? And what’s it about anyway? Let me begin at the, well, not beginning, but somewhere in between. I recently started going for morning walks (the treadmill has been given a break for now). So, dressed up casually in my Capri pants and a simple, workout-favourite pale green Reebok tee, I set out. In Cochin, even that can attract attention. But let me tell you, my intentions were not such (have you even seen the crowd that’s out here for morning walks!!!?).

And as I happily swayed my arms (and my plentiful hips), I was, for obvious reasons, stared at. The question is, where? Not my hips, as I would have thought; but at my—you guessed it right, I’m getting to the point—my boobs!

Most glances were pretty casual—“I shall gaze at your face for a good 3 seconds but as a parting gesture will take a quick look at your boobs so they don’t feel neglected.” Thank you, I say!

But there are other, more intense ones—“Hello boobs, you have a person!!!”—that drive me up the wall. I like being acknowledged for my womanhood. But this…is something way off the mark.

Boob-ogling is a hobby that cuts across men of different classes, castes, creeds, ages, social status and marital status. So, yeah, I have encountered many of them:

• The I-don’t-intend-to-stare-but-my-eyes-have-a-mind-of-their-own colleague;
• The I-am-in-love-with-your-boobs creep on the street;
• The you-are-my-daughter’s-age-but-not-my-daughter elderly ‘gentleman’;
• The hello-how-are-you? How are your mother-daughter-husband-doggie-job ‘friendly’ neighbour.

…and so on (please feel free to add your own versions of boob starers).

The fascination with boobs, I can understand. But how they become independent entities, and take over the person we are, is simply amazing! It’s also amazing how some men pay individual attention to them. I don’t mean to be vulgar here, but if you are a woman who has ever been stared at, at you know where, you’ll know what I mean. It’s infuriating, belittling and objectifying.

But what’s even more appalling? Not strangers doing it; but people you know doing it to you. Some even have conversations with the boobs. Like a woman colleague once said about one of our male co-workers who was a compulsive boob-talker, “I always wanna ask him—ABC (name withheld to protect privacy-LOL!), please, the face… the face… look at my face…” :D

Maybe an Anti Breast Staring Campaign can help. But what would that entail? Staring back at their privates? Nah! That would only delight them. An any such sort of delight will be ‘uplifting’ for them, and hair-raising for us! So, no thank you… 

Solutions?

Letters from the past

Letters…they open up a world long-gone; they take you back to a time and place you once lived in. They reveal the person you once were; and who even you may have long-forgotten.

I was quite an avid letter-writer. Having been a fauji kid, I moved town every 2-3 years; which meant making new friends, and leaving old ones behind. But I fervently wrote letters to my friends, and for many years, kept in touch with them. Until the internet came along and the art & science of letter-writing fell out of the scope of my life.

Recently, while chatting with Kasturi, my childhood friend, who is now in Cochin, she opened one of the boxes lying close by and took out a bunch of letters—letters I had written to her; first from Calcutta and then from Trichy. We were the ‘bestest’ of friends in school and hence my letters to her spoke about everything under the sun; from studies, movies, parents, new and old friends, gossips, and of course, boys! From the hard time I was having with cramming for board exams to how the dance parties were fun/boring depending on the amount of attention I could garner from the opposite sex. 

I particularly had a hearty laugh at this one anecdote I had written: “This time, at the Christmas and New Year’s Eve parties, I danced with a lot of boys (because Rashmi had not come)!” Rashmi, fyi, was our classmate, who was and still is one of the prettiest girls we had ever seen. @Rashmi: I loved you nevertheless, babe!!! :)

Other stuff these letters had: silly, obscene limericks, adult jokes, songs, sketches, et all! They were not just letters. There were canvasses of my life! I could actually imagine myself, plonked on my bed, scribbling ardently or secretly penning out these letters during a boring economics lecture in school.

Reading out excerpts from them was like going back in time. So many beautiful memories. And as I stood there, sharing that nostalgic moment with my friend, I wondered…why did we stop writing letters? Why don’t we have time for them anymore? And despite emails and facebook and all the photo-sharing we do, why doesn’t it feel as good as letters did?

All said and done, those days are never going to come back. At least I am thankful for having been a part of a generation that used to write letters and has now moved on to becoming tech savvy. I am glad I wasn’t born directly into this mad world of smartphones and tablet computers. Yes, that does make me seem older. But then, I am not complaining… :)

Hey, You! Woman driver!!!

Yeah…I’ve committed that unforgivable sin. I am a woman. And OH MY GOD… I drive!!! :-O

If you are a man reading this, you must be shaking your head in exasperation, recalling the many times a clueless woman driver broke right into your racing track on MG Road. Damn! I apologise on behalf of my sisterhood; because I know God made roads so you could honk till our eardrums burst, verbally abuse and make rude gestures at us and rash drive through the roads like it was your ancestral possession.

Who believes women can drive? The men don’t! No, I’m not generalizing. But does a man ever let go the opportunity to joke about women’s driving skills? Sadly, I feel a number of women don’t want to drive because they worry too much about such criticism from the male quarters. C’mon girls, no one ever said driving was a man’s job! And what really defines good driving, anyway?

I don’t think I’m perfect behind the wheels. I suffer from road rage. I make hasty decisions. I mutter swear words under my breath. But I know I’m pretty good too. What I don’t do is overtake like my life depends on it, make gestures at people or abuse them, and speed irrationally. This may not necessarily make me a good driver. But it sure makes me a safe driver. And I would take safety and cautiousness over quality any day.

We may be slow, we may drive in the middle of the road at 20 km/hr and we may suck at parking, but we surely meet with fewer accidents, hurt fewer people on road and make sure we stay alive for longer when behind the wheels (that’s what statistics say, at least). If that doesn’t classify as good driving, what does!

PS: Dear men, please refrain from eye rolling and “what the heck do you think you are doing?” hand gestures as well. Even they classify as rude. And I promise I’ll forgive you for driving with a mobile phone jammed into your ears and for forgetting to turn that indicator on (that’s not for decoration, by the way).

“Weighty” issues

A fat person should have a good sense of humour. After all, when others joke about her weight, she’s got to be able to join in the fun and crack a few on herself. No?

A fat person is totally self-obsessed. She eats uncontrollably so that people (read friends, family, colleagues, random acquaintance, mother’s aunt’s daughter’s sister-in-law) will look at her and comment on her expanding body proportions, thereby attracting as much attention as possible.

A fat person is stone-hearted. How else would she deal with the scathing remarks that come her way so relentlessly? 

My increasing weight has been a matter of great interest to a number of people. Of course, nobody says “Nina, you’ve become fat!” Because “fat” is a taboo word, if the concerned person is right there, that is. But they quickly resort to the phrase “ooh you’ve put on (a lot of) weight!!!” Thanks for telling me; I hadn’t noticed, you know (cuz I was so busy eating).

Yes people, for the last time, I HAVE PUT ON WEIGHT. Is it a crime??? Now what do you want me to do, DIE?!!!

I hate to have to explain the reason behind my rather full figure (humour me, please). But c’mon, who likes being told that—again and again and again? I wish I was ten kilos lighter. So? Do you get what you want all the time? Ok, I know I should knock off some of the weight. I know I need to exercise (I do, but I need a lot more!). I know I need to diet. I know it all. But again, what’s YOUR problem???

I am amused by the way most people offer their ‘expert’ comments and observations. An Fb friend once said (I haven’t met her otherwise), “Yeah, I noticed you are the fatty kinds”. I couldn’t believe I heard that right! Then a school friend I bumped into after 15 years said, “You look plumper in your Fb photos. You’ve lost some.” What? My mind? But thanks, anyway. But what I clearly cannot forget is a comment passed casually by an acquaintance—“Are you expecting? There is no other reason why you should be so fat.” No, I didn’t kill him. I only smiled. Cuz he was as old as my dad. Lucky for him!

I wonder if it a very Indian thing to do—commenting on people’s weight. Someone from my family (who is a non-Indian) was flabbergasted when a relative from her hubby’s (who’s my cousin) side “informed” her how much weight she had put on. The poor dear couldn’t believe someone could be so rude. I had to offer her some consolation; but I could only muster, “Welcome to India!”

Living life on my own terms! Really?

So I recently came across this inspiring line—“Don’t waste your life trying to impress other people. Do what you love, love what you do.” My question is…does that really work? Because honestly, I don’t stand a chance! No, really!

More importantly, can one really be happy just doing what pleases oneself? I, for one, cannot. If I did what I felt like, wouldn’t that affect the people close to me? My family, my friends?
There are multiple things I don’t want to do, sometimes on a daily basis, sometimes just because I don’t want to do it at that particular moment. Like cook or clean, run errands for the house, call that friend even though she never calls/returns my messages, or even the “extra” mommy things that my daughter can do without (but I’m forced to cuz someone feels I should). But I do all that… and more.

And then there are things I WANT to do. Like pick up a full time job that pays me a bomb, or go for an all-girls holiday or perhaps watch a movie with friends. Or just laze around all day, and do nothing at all! But if I did that, would the people closely associated with me be okay with it? I bet they will not! Because that’s not how life works. You cannot do what you want to do, all the time. You cannot not “impress” people who matter to you. Impress, as in keep them happy. You got to do it because it makes them happy. So yes, I will give up that movie with friends and go for a movie with my mom instead; yes, I won’t take that all-girls holiday cuz my daughter is still too young to spend time away from me; and no, I won’t laze around all day doing nothing cuz I have a home to look after. 

But when I make these little sacrifices, it somewhere does make me happy. Because it makes the people I love happy. So am I wasting my time? Definitely not! I may not exactly ‘love’ what I am doing, but it sure makes it easier for me to sleep in peace, every single night.

Where has all the privacy gone?

I am not a very private person. Of course I do have secrets (who doesn’t?); stuff that I’m not too comfortable sharing with everybody. But even then, I must say that I’d rather “share” than “stock”. For someone who’s like an open book, this has been rather unsettling. The way Facebook tracks my every move! You know what I mean, right?

From what I am commenting on to what I’m reading... I’m going straight to the second one—what I’m reading. C’mon now! Why would anybody be interested in what I’m reading, that too on any random site! Ok, Ok, so if I was reading something on Facebook and that comes up in the Tickr (or whatever s*** that is called), I can live with that (I think). But why the hell is Fb stalking me on Yahoo? Now I could be reading on fashion, beauty, lifestyle, kids, relationships, sex, movies, books and whatever the heck, Fb is right there, looking at me with its beady eyes, reporting my “activity” back to my Facebook friends! Get a life, Fb!!!

The funniest thing here is (if you can even call it funny), I get to see that side of a person, I never thought existed. So when a classmate from college, who then looked like she would end up becoming a nun (or take up some such equivalent job), reads “50 things to do sexually before you die”, I sit back…and laugh. And then I get angry. This just isn’t fair, you know. Whatever happened to privacy???

I’m technically weak—what I mean is I’m not sure if I can even turn this option “off”, so that people don’t see the 'sleaze' in me who reads about how get an orgasm or how to look sexier than your best friend (:P). But jeez, this is quite disturbing. Have our social networking needs stooped so low? Makes me wonder how long before a distant relative discovers my deepest, darkest reading habits…sigh :(