Suhas ... to the rescue

October 15th marks another milestone in my life. Its exemplary ... that I have become a real achiever this month. Went into contemplation ? Stop Stop ... i have neither been nominated for next year's Nobel Peace Prize (although I could be) ... or I have not decided to pledge my eyes (I have black-and-white vision, few people know that) ... I successfully helped my nephew Arya put on a shirt.

What ? Why are you rubbing your eyes so much ? Did you not get the picture ? Hello ... you think dressing up a 9-month old brat is easy ? I bet you cannot even button his shirt even once.

There are techniques ... i acquired them from different sources (that I cannot disclose for security reasons) ... but all I can say is ... the real way to put a shirt on an infant is ... let not the hand get into the sleeve ... but let the sleeve get into the hand ... intricate ain't it ? What isn't ?

This whole 'baby' thing in itself is so intricate. I mean ... I don't understand how God can stuff so much into that little fleshy creature. Babies are monsters ... I discovered that. They know how to allure you with their cheezy smiles and get their jobs done in return. They know that a tiny threat to burst out crying can make you go soft on him. They know everything ... its in-built ... operating system with fully loaded utilities and all ... But there are ways ... manipulative ones ... to evade them. I learnt them.

For example, an irregular movement of your fingers can cause interest in an otherwise about-to-cry baby. Expensive toys and furry animals are nothing more to these babies than surfaces for wiping their wet posterior. Give them the price tag, that comes along with your new trouser, and they play hours and hours with it. Give them a thread that is protruding from your vests, and they get ecstatic about it.

And when a baby grabs on a dangerous object, such as a wire, or a sharp wedge, things get real tough. You snatch that from him ... and you invite a 30-minute continuous sobbing. Give him another play-item, he'll take it in another hand, but wont let go of the dangerous object at all. What do you do ? Seconds tick ... its only a few moments before he pokes himself with it ... sweat starts trickling on your forehead ... tricky ... very tricky ... Here comes me to the rescue ... snatch the object from his hand, with such a force, that he should be stupefied on what just happened ... immediately substitute it with a bright colored or noisy object (anything ... even a missile launcher will do) ... and then start dancing as if it is time for celebrations ... do a bit of the junglee dance (take of your trousers ... and cover it up with spiny leaves) ... but do a weird dance ... and the little baby gets distracted ... and forgets the sharp object permanently ... voila !! We are done !!

So all you mommies out there ... come to me for special tactics ... first come first serve basis ... free seats available for only 100 rupees per technique ... and all you daddies ... i also do a special coaching on how to dispose of the diapers and clean the baby's ... uh ... stuff ... without getting them on your hands ... Why fear when me is here

Its all about money, honey !!

I recently remember reading an article on the way salaries are paid today. It reminded me so much of my early years when dad was still working at HMT.

On salary day, dad would casually walk home, toss open his little bag and give me his salary for the month - a stack of notes. Not crisp and new, c'mon its HMT remember, pretty soiled but a stack of notes. Something around 9000/- bucks. Thats' all. But the satisfaction was unexplainable.

I was given the liberty of handling the money first. I carefully used to inspect it, count it (to make sure they have paid right), and then walked around with it for sometime. Finally, I hand it over to mom, saying "You wanted to buy some jewelery right ? Here, go gift yourself something with this". Of course, mom too would play this little game with equal excitement. She would take the money with extreme happiness, and after having a look at it, it would be returned back to dad.

The money made a full circle. It would now be used to pay for a lot of stuff, clear debts, manage the house etc etc and more etc. In fact, it was that time when the expenditure was more than the income - a deficit home budget. Here, each person knew that the money was not totally for themselves, they hardly got to keep anything, yet, we were so happy, felt so rich and important for an instant.

Today, morning, my brother's cell phone beeped with a message - "Your salary has been credited for this month". Life just did not feel the same as it was before.

black Mail

I really do post a lot of stuff that happens in and around our family. People would rather hear about Shilpa Shetty and her 'big brother', but who would want to read about me and my big brother ? Surprisingly, everyone does. When I talk about how my brother uses me as an exhaust pipe substitute for his car, everyone's interested. Not that they want to help me out, sue my brother, and get me compensation. They are just amused. My sad stories amuse people, that's the way society works today.

I never realized my potential. But I soon realized that I had a weapon. Its called 'Blogger'. This could work like magic. Here's how conversations would happen at home.

To brother: Pay me a fat pocket money or else I blog terrible stuff against you.

To dad: Get off the computer, or else I'll blog about how much money you have stuffed in the bank.

To mom: Make Pooris today, or else I blog a list of the mega-serials you watch.

I'm thinkin of buying some land near Devanahalli, with all the money I am gonna get from my brother. I'll ask dad to buy me a laptop, and mom shall prepare Paani puris everyday. Call it 'blackmail', or whatever you will, every dog has his day, and mine has just begun !!

Time - pass

Although my father thinks otherwise, I have successfully completed 3 semesters of my post graduation. I deserve some time off studies, so our college decided to give a vacation of 40 days. Lots of my friends and cousins, (who by the way are busy with work and college) are pretty jealous, and always feel I don't deserve these many holidays.

Now who starts deciding what I do deserve ? If its my cousins, they'd probably want to see me locked up in a rusted dungeon with nothing to eat apart from mom's "Uppit" and some capsicum pieces as a sider (FYI - I hate Capsicum) !!

One question that I have always been asked, and is slowly getting very irritating is - no no, not about my marriage, that's pretty unsure (i wonder whether it will ever happen), neither about which political party i am gonna vote for (i seriously don't care, believe me, i am more worried about the latest mega-serials that are getting added into my mom's list). Its a simple question that makes me want to hit people with grenades - "How are you spending your holidays ?"

Now thats not even a question !! Holidays are the days when we are meant to be doing nothing. If we did something, they would be called "Work - days". And doing nothing is a very tough thing to do, that requires lots of dedication and focus. Ok, I admit I do some stuff. Read it here, and don't dare ask me again.

I keep track of mom's mega-serials. I know the in and out of each character, and I can predict what's gonna happen next.

I read novels. I have tried PG Wodehouse, John Grisham, Agatha Christie, RK Narayan and Robin Cook.

I clean my room. Seriously !! I have swallowed a bucketful of dust in the process.

I eat a lot. From Sankranthi left-overs to stuff I have stolen from the bakery.

I visit relatives. I make sure I stay for only one day, but I also make sure they prepare something delicious that I can carry home.

I over-sleep everyday. The thing I most love to do is tuck myself under the blanket just when my brother is leaving for office.

I blog. If I wouldn't, you would not be reading this.

I have left out a lot of stuff, ranging from washing clothes, to shopping and etc. I find 24hrs too less, my body would rather sleep for a couple more hours.

So this is what I do ... atleast until Feb 09 ... and then I have to start the usual program of dieting in time for Valentine's (Dad, if you are reading this, that was a joke ok) !!

He's here...finally !!!

Yes !! Its a fully - loaded, baby boy. He's my nephew and the little fellow is awesome !!

We share the same blood group, the same weight at birth (thats 2.7Kgs) and the same levels of gorgeousness. He seems to emulate Himesh Reshammiya when he cries, he curls up his fingers as though he's holding a mike, and he sleeps like a log.

He's certainly a reflection of me, when I was his age. We are wondering about his name though, any suggestions ?

The New year bAby

Few people know this...few people don't. My record sheets are gonna be all wet, my house is gonna be dirty, smelly, stinking. Crying can be heard in the middle of the night, and waste sheets of paper would be in high demand. You might be assuming that I have an acute problem of wetting the bed.

You wish !! My sister-in-law's gonna gift me a little child, that's gonna come out anytime now, and that'll be the dirty, smelly, stinky, weepy, and yet the cutest baby that our house as ever seen (after my birth, that is) !!

The first question everyone is bound to ask is, 'is the baby a he or a she' !!

Thats the million dollar question everyone wants to ask, but the answer, I don't know, neither does my brother, or my sister-in-law or the doctor. The baby knows the answer but it doesn't care, it just wants to stay warm wherever it is.

Now one of my uncle says its gonna be a 'male', the other uncle, who happens to always have an opposite view says its surely gonna be a 'female'. I think and crave for a little 'princess', but my cousin 'Chaitra' thinks its gonna be a 'prince' for sure. In our case, the loser has to take the winner out to a costly restaurant. Most of the older gen ladies, who are pretty much tired of giving birth to 'n' no. of ungrateful children say any child is ok as long as the delivery happens smoothly.

Either way, my brother is gonna appoint me to clean out the baby's dirty stuff, so I really shouldn't care, but the suspense remains. This whole 'giving birth' thing is so beautiful, we guys never get to experience it (thankfully ?).

So lets play the waiting game, keep watching this space !!

Nature's fury

Date: September 7 2006. Venue: Our house. Situation: Bad.

We were on house-arrest. Literally. Previous night rains. Tree fell. Brother waiting to go to office. Me waiting to go to college. Dad waiting to go on a routine inspection of the storm water drainages.

It took more than 3 hours for those Corporation guys to come over. Nothing damaged. Just locked in. The tree was completely uprooted. Anyone know what tree that is ?

Da Vinci de-coded

This one is for all those who have seen or read "The Da Vinci Code". I'm in a serious dilemma. I'm beginning to believe my dad is the member of a secret society - The Priory of Sion. I have reasons - in fact 5 of them.

1) The grills of our windows are diamond-shaped, signifying the union of the blade and chalice (the male and the female)

2) My dad attends some sort of meetings every month. He says it is a social welfare general body meeting, but I think otherwise

3) There are plenty of keys in our house, fallen all over the place, and I have no idea which locks they open. Perhaps, some secret lock hidden underground in an ancient church

4) My dad's cupboard is a mess, with loose sheets fallen all over. He refuses to clean them up, and he's angry when I misplace them. Perhaps they are records dating back to the birth of Jesus Christ

5) My dad always sets me on a treasure hunt whenever he loses his spectacles. Perhaps he wants me unclassify Da Vinci's code, and he's giving me the necessary training already.

And this is for all those of you who think I'm totally weird ... I just watched the movie yesterday, so I have begun looking at everyone as possible secret membes of the Priory of Sion. Are you a secret member too ??

My First Masala Dosa

I'm not a 'Masala Dosa' craver. I hate potatoes. I hate onions. I despise dosas. Most of my friends refuse to classify me as 'human'. I'm the guy who had dared to eat Pooris on my first visit to the 'Vidyarthi Bhavan' in Bangalore.

If you happen to visit my house, the moment you talk of Masala dosa, a distant rumble is heard. Electricity is generated. A face gets lit up like a 1000 watt bulb. I'm talking about my dad. To dad, 'Masala dosa' falls first, followed by Marilyn Monroe and Julia Roberts. I'm not going to say much. Hear my dad say, in his own words, an account of his "First Masala Dosa !!"

It was in 1958. I was studying in Government High School, Tiptur. The usual discussions with friends brought about the topic of 'Masala dosas'. "There are a few good hotels like Vidyarthi Bhavan, Madras Cafe, Gundappa's hotel around Tiptur" my friends were saying. It was then that someone explained about the 'Masala dosa' of Vidyarthi Bhavan (of Tiptur).

Even imagining about the dosa made me ecstatic. I decided that I will eat my first masala dosa, at any cost.

But I did not have the money for it. It costed 2 1/2 annas (15 paise). I borrowed it from five of my friends and went to Vidyarthi Bhavan at 3pm. I choose this time as the place would be less filled up, and that probably no one would notice me and go complain to my elder brother at Aralaguppe. I was cautious, and walked around the place 2-3 times thinking over and over whether I should go to the hotel or not, because I was scared to face my brothers' wrath later. I had 2 choices - do a sinful act by going to the hotel, or remain a good boy.

Finally, the thought of the Masala dosa made me walk into the hotel. I seated myself in the General hall (so that I could order more chutney without the owner noticing). Once I placed my order, the server shouted out aloud "Masale ondhu, ondhu Masale". I was thrilled. I felt like being a really rich person, with the server taking orders from me. The 'chui chui' sound I heard when the dosa was being poured over the kadai made my body to pump more adrenalin. I was sitting close to the kitchen, and imagined the dosa floating and coming to my table any moment now. The Masala Dosa finally came.

I experienced heaven !! I enjoyed every bit of it, and completely cleaned the plate, making it shiny new. I ordered chutney 3 times. If eating a masala dosa in a hotel was sin, I was prepared to do this sinful act several hundred times.

Till today, I remember the fragrance of the dosa I ate about 50 years back. This was 'My First Masala Dosa !!'

Yeah ... that's my dad. Its so wonderful that such small experiences are actually the ones that create great happiness for years and years. And by the way, I had to eat 'Masala Dosa' at Vidyarthi Bhavan. They had run out of Pooris. Many things in life happens for the first time, and sitting in a place which has been visited by some of the greatest people , the dosa tasted as good as always. But I still love seeing the radiance of my dad's face when he hears the words 'Masala Dosa' and the frustration he expresses on hearing the words 'Bread sandwich'. He thinks 'Bread' is only for sick people, and the not-so-sick-people are better off eating 'Masala dosas'. The next time dad's coming to your place ... you know what breakfast to prepare, right ???

Where do I belong ?

I got a sister-in-law last November. Until then it was just 4 of us - the cook, the boss, (you must be wondering whether my dad's the cook or the boss), the evil brother and me. Now I wondered where to fit in this extra attachment.

Huh !! By and by, I realised I was actually the extra attachment. C'mon ... its crystal clear. There are 2 families now - mom & dad; brother & sister-in-law. Where did I belong to ?

I too need someone to arrange my clothes as I finish having my bath, I too need someone to support me, no matter what I say, I too need someone who thinks I'm the most handsome guy in the whole world !! Heck I need a wife !! But that ain't happening for a long long time. Until then, I'm the back-seat passenger who can always be kicked out when the car gets full !!

But sister-in-laws are nice things. They become a kind of a sister to you. They are interested when I talk about Britney Spears' breaking marriage, unlike fathers and brothers (who seem to want to discuss only about why the stock markets are having a bad run). Sister-in-laws aren't as bad as you see in the mega-serials, they can be fun. They laugh at every joke you crack, they make you feel that you are the nicest person, they can even bring an end to elder brothers' domination. If my brother doesn't give me pocket money, he knows his wife is gonna get angry. So its truly a win-win situation. And sister-in-laws make the house noisier, and more beautiful. And by the way, I'm no extra attachment, there's one single family here, and I'm the most important member of the family now. Why ?? What the heck, I'm the only eligible bachelor at home ... ain't I important ?????

The Banana Story

I got a wonderful birthday gift this time. Of course I do know October is still further down in the calendar, but lets just say I got the fruits of my hard work...literally !!
This was somewhere during 2004; my birthday which falls on Naraka Chaturdashi or simply put - Deepavali, bestowed upon me what I thought was a horrible day. With mom not in Bangalore, and dad in no mood of fireworks, I was assigned the task of digging a deep trench to hold a tiny little banana plant. This arduous task was successfully accomplished not to mention the 'n' no. of times I grumbled about how special my friends' birthdays generally are.
Within a year, huge leaves arose, so huge that it could be used as a blanket, the very same idea we had planned on if there were any blanket-shortages during my brother's marriage. This year saw it flowering, and slowly tiny little bananas started opening their eyes. I was often found hugging the tree, like as though I had given birth to young ones (there was no labor pain involved though).
These tiny little bananas started becoming huge, so huge that it looked scary. It was a tissue cultured plant bought in one of the "Krishi Melas", and believe me, I was proud of it. Now who says we biotechnologists are only to mess things up. We weren't really sure when to break off the bananas (later we leant that the moment the flower dries up, its a signal to separate the bananas from the tree). It took 3 of us to get them down; and there were over 150 really huge bananas. The above picture was taken when it was still really small. It was what you call in Kannada as the "Pach Baale", it was pretty much sweet, but we could only eat half of it at a time, and it wouldn't even fit into our mouths. All these bananas now make a presence in most of our neigbourhood houses. The era of this plant is over, the legacy has passed on and a new plant has taken over. But this time, we guess its time for a new fruit. Any guesses what it'll be ???

Onida the great

It was just like any other day...mom clutching the remote hard !! It was just like any other day...the rest of us sitting like zombies watching the mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law lashing out against each other !! It was just like any other day...only the Onida guys had other ideas.

A routine TV repair turned into a disaster - a blackout of all channels !! For a moment we were plunged into doom, not knowing what to do...it was like losing a dear member of the family...everyone sat helpless for the next 30 minutes.

I slowly started crawling like a dying tortoise towards the room...probably this was the right time to update my dying blog !! Mom decided to finally watch Munnabhai MBBS on a VCD (she once said she'll finish kitchen work and then come over to watch the movie, the kitchen work has continued since these many years). Dad was ecstatic, he roamed around R.T.Nagar searching for drains that overflowed, and garbage that garlanded the streets so that he could assign a few jobs to his welfare association guys. Brother and sister-in-law too joined in watching Munnabhai and Circuit sending everyone into a journey of laughter. Everyone seemed more cheerful, chirpy, lively.

We did not cry because a certain "Bhavana" in a mega-serial was being tortured by her husband's girlfriend. We did not worry because some guy in a stupid serial was being kidnapped for the nth time. We did not have to watch dad's spectacles reflecting the image of the TV screen showing the rise and fall of stock markets. Of course the Onida guys are coming tomorrow to make us into couch potatoes again. I wouldn't want to be too unhappy; but a day without T.V seemed so refreshing. Perhaps we should have a TVless day every year, or maybe we have it already. This post...i owe it to the Onida guy...thank you da !!

Blood Lily

Come summer and comes the "Blood Lily". Its known by many names - Football Lily, the Pin Cushion Lily and the the Blood Flower. Although some people call it simply as the "May Flower", in true sense it isn't really a "May flower", as its blooming season varies between late February and late May. The arrival of the flowers every year will be a welcome surprise as they appear when the plants have completely "disappeared", as if dead !! The plant comes from Tropical Africa but it is widely distributed. Our house has been gifted with 5 such flowers this time; with its numerous scarlet flowers, its truly beautiful !!

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