Not so fresh

... is what I'd say about Reliance fresh, India's version of Wal-Mart (until Wal-Mart comes). Being a Sunday evening, I hardly had enough leg-room to move about without trampling on others' feet in their AN outlet. I picked up small, drying potatoes only to find that they had Potato Premium at more premium rates. Same about onions. I thought they were doing me a great service by offering Sweet Lime at Rs.28 a kg, only to find that it was available for Rs.20 a kg in the more roomy Kovai Pazhamudir Cholai.
Chocolates were offered at slightly discounted rates; I didnt have the time to check out the bread and other stuff. One advantage was that they accepted credit cards unlike my regular veg shop.
I dont think I want to go there again (I have very strong likes and dislikes, at times).

Cartoon me

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Shopping stampede

I wrote a post yesterday and just before I could hit the 'Publish' button, the comp had the cheek to conk on me.
Well, the whole of this week I have been making shopping expeditions to TNagar, the city's shopping hub. Three of those visits have been to get a badly done tailoring job rectified. I need to make one more trip to the tailor. God help him if he doesnt get it right this time!
Shopping in TNagar is no fun these days - one has to jostle one's way through the half-million-strong crowd in the shops and on the streets. Why does half of Chennai's population have to be there on a day I decide to shop, I dont understand. Apparently it is the season of weddings; the school vacation is another reason for whole families to throng the shops.
Saravana's provides the worst shopping experience and I zealously avoid it. If you manage to meander your way in, you are greeted by menacing-looking men who grab your hand baggage, seal it in a plastic bag and give it back to you - your expedition round the shop is handicapped by this pile dangling on your forefinger. But they sell really cheap - though one has to be prepared for duplicate stuff (like a St. Ive's Apricot Scrub V once got from there for Rs. 50 as against the original stuff for Rs. 250) and as a result it is the favorite shopping destination of the lesser haves and the stingier haves. And if you do manage to find what you are looking for, the queue at the cash counter is enough to make you dump them back in their respective shelves/cases. You retrieve your hand baggage with the help of the salesmen at the entrance and make a dash for the next shop.
Pothy's is more fun, at least gastronomically. There is an array of refreshments coming your way as you shop - buttermilk, rava kesri, chakkarapongal etc. etc. I suspect people come there mainly to hog than to buy. The prices are slightly high, which is what compensates the refreshments I guess.
But my favorites are Kumaran Silks and Old Nalli, which provide value for money and no gimmicks - no sales, no discounts, no sweets...
Time for my next shopping expedition, see ya.

Not so rosy

I made the mistake of buying these 2 potted rose plants last week. But now I have a feeling they will be a 2-week, at the most, a one-month wonder. The peach one's leaves are already yellow. The red one has 2 buds, which seem to have no intention of reaching a full bloom. We (me, on the maid's persuasion) got the ones with the most buds hoping to bask in the sight of beautiful roses at least for a month.

The seller had many attractive looking ones on his pushcart and we bought it for Rs. 25 a pot (plus Rs.30 for manure) after a hard bargain. All these years we had resisted the urge to buy potted roses, knowing that they will wither off especially as the city doesnt have the right climate for delicate flowering plants. But with an apartment of our own, that too with 3 balconies, we cant resist the urge to make our house look greener. But only the 'money' plant and a chilli sapling seem to support our venture in earnest.

Tulika's mail on her efforts to buy potted plants in Liberia is worth reproducing (without her permission!):

We picked up a few plants for the house yesterday. It was so interesting to realise that the local folks didn't really understand the concept of potted plants! I'd spotted a few small nurseries (if you can call them that – a thatched hut with a dieing plants in front of it) on my way to work. When I got back home I asked Bossman's project administrator – Vero – what are the best places to buy plants and how much I should pay for a pot. She didn't have a clue – didn't really understand the concept either! I would like to believe that I'm sensitive and won't go around asking people about their favourite fancy restaurant and massage place – but plants! I took it for granted that potted plants weren't a luxury item but guess different contexts define luxury differently….

Moms and cartoons

DH's post yesterday prompts me to write this.
I am learning not to dislike Cartoon Network. Ash is getting addicted to Tom and Jerry and Popeye, and watches them without batting an eyelid for hours and hours. In fact, he resents the advertisements in between and entreats V to stop them. And once upon a time, he watched only the ads. He even likes movie songs, but not too crazy about them.
He calls the remote umpapa and sometimes remothe.
The cartoon network programmes can have some positive impact on children. V's cousin's kid ate spinach hoping that she could be strong like Popeye.
Mira is yet to catch the Cartoon fever. The maid is sore, because she cant watch her favorite Malayalam soaps.

Sleeping Beauty

3.30 p.m.: God! I am feeling terribly sleepy. To top it, I had to plough through pages of boring literature on space propulsion blah blah. Was so sleepy that I read the name of Finnish scientist Jahnunen as Hanuman, our Hindu God!
4.30 p.m.: Had a short nap between work, and I am feeling slightly better.
5 pm. Sleepwalking back to work.

Beauty and the tree

India's supposedly most beautiful woman Aishwarya Rai married a tree before she married Abhishek Bachchan yesterday! Better than a donkey anyway.

Blog nauseum

My blog fishing today caught two of Blogger's blogs of note - Raising Yousuf and Notes from Inside My Head. I am oversatiated devouring blogs in the effort to sight a few more good ones - I think I will soon be sick of the sight of blogs. I do things to the point of nausea and Ash has inherited it from me, V says. He starts eating an orange and soon he gets so interested in it that he wont rest until he finishes the entire lot in the fridge. Ditto about his recreational activities.
Speaking of oranges, I must add that we are not able to control Ash's food habits. Citric fruits, seafood, and eggs are taboo for him while wheat products, milk and sugar have to be taken in limited doses. The problem is that Ash suffers from infantile eczema and any taboo food aggravates his allergy (itching).
Ash's condition has got pretty bad of late, especially at night. The poor boy doesnt complain but nowadays tells us where to apply the ointment/lotion/cream - Oilatum, Eumosone, Atogla etc etc. He bathes in a basin of water that has a few drops of emollient instead of a soap.
The rashes began two months after his birth and the dermatologist, who diagnosed it as atopic/seborrhic dermatitis, said it would disappear by the time Ash turned 3 years old. IT hasnt. I am told the symptoms lessen with age, I hope it does. Two of our friends' kids also suffer from it, and I am told it afflicts boys more than girls.
I ask the doctor what causes it and he says, Nobody knows. I guess it is a legacy of our new lifestyles, environmental pollutions and some such... Dry skin and some skin ailments run in my side of the family but then nothing so acute. The older generation is just not able to understand it and says it is the treatment that I took - all the extra-precautionary medicines and injections and scans durin the ante-natal checkup at MMM - that has caused it. I keep quiet because I have no better explanation to give.

Mad, bad world

You dont realise what crazy people live around you until something like that at the Virginia Tech Institute happens.
My former landlady's daughter was married to a guy with a split personality. And he, a junior of mine from college, seemed cordial and regular though a bit moody at times. But then most of us are moody.
Well, the poor girl couldnt take the abuse - physical and mental and verbal - for very long and was forced to seek a divorce on her parents' and counsellor's advice. The chap pretended he was the wounded party and that he couldnt live without her and their lil boy. But when he learnt that they wouldnt press for a return of the dowry he/his parents had taken, he let her go. And she found a good job and a good husband a few years later.
My maid is on medication reportedly for a liver disease. But one look at the the prescription and the pharmacist says they are all anti-depressants, to prevent a nervous breakdown and that she has probably been to a de-addiction centre. In India/Kerala, where women rarely drink, especially those from the middle classes, it seems an aberration. I dont know what to think. But we have not had any trouble with her so far, so we will just let it pass. Anyway she wont be with us for long - she is only a stop-gap arrangement till I find a good, more permanent help. For one, she doesn't need to work as she is comfortably off and secondly, her health doesnt permit her to work for more than 3 months at such a rigorous pace - looking after two mischievous pre-schoolers some 15 hours a day can be killing.
Tail piece:
Maid, to V: So we live in the heart of Chennai?
V: Not exactly. We are somewhere near the liver.

Faux pas

I just had to put my foot in my mouth (again!) today.
There was this acquaintance I met in the err... powder room and I thought she be the right person to give me and advice about good schools. She lived in a nearby locality and she was married and a good cook, I heard.
I wondered if I should first ask her if she had children but decided against it. So I casually asked her: "So where are your kids studying?"
And she said: "But I dont have children."
"And I dont know much about schools."

I guess one cant just assume that all married Indians will have a brood at home. Times have changed and many opt not to have kids, especially eccentric journalists. Fertility problems are on the rise too.
p.s. Our school quest today revealed a new montessori school called Vatsalya (meaning affection/love - the kind you feel towards children).
Not a great post but it is time to pack my bag and go home. Tata

Miriam-Ashwin's dictionary

Ash's evolving vocabulary (which is not pretty impressive for a 3-yr-old):
1. Cha-chi-cha = chocolate (once upon a time, chachicha meant everything edible, now he has refined it to chocolate)
2. Mumma= water
3. ant = pant(s)
4. Venthaa = Dont want (food, that is)
5. I = icecream
6. Kipp = clip
The other words include milk and computer. His favorites though are Uppappa (uncle), Appacha, Ammichi (which he expatiates with a "kokakooo" to denote his granny's hens) and Appi.
And he can recite Psalm 121 in Malayalam!
Miriam has learnt much of Ash's vocabulary and also the nursery rhyme 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star' from him.

Happy Vishu

to all my Malayali kith and kin. Hope you all have a prosperour year ahead.

A new supposedly Montessori school called Blooming Buds is opening up two blocks from my place. I went and had a peek during the inaugural function yesterday evening. The director seemed a little irritated to have to leave the side of his VIP guests (he had called an IAS officer to cut the ribbon) and the post-inaugural high tea that was going on. I casually mentioned the name of my organisation and it helped a bit - he was more attentive and respectful. (The name does wonders though I feel a bit embarassed to cite it for personal gratification.)

No, he hadnt set the fee structure or the admission process. He would let me know in early May about the selection process and classes would start in June only. He is yet to even recruit teachers. I guess he found this nice house lying vacant and decided to renovate and do some business. And what better business than schools in India? And anything by the name of Montessori sells these days.

Only, our watchman wanted to know if montessori meant a school for mentally retarded children! He said he saw many such kids being taken for the function.

I hope they dont plan to nurture Blooming Idiots in the end.

Many happy returns

Oops... I forgot. Every blogger seems to be celebrating their blog's birthday that I think I should at least wish my blog a belated b'day. Only two days late....

P for procrastination

Xmas eve
Originally uploaded by roshin.

Ash gets so engrossed in whatever he is doing that he procrastinates the urge to pee until he can hold it no longer. This behaviour has got worse in recent months.
One positive thing I can say is that my 3-year-old has learned to control his bowel/bladder movements. He has even learnt night-time control, with the result that he wakes us up in the night sometimes to take him to the loo.

The moment he feels a s**t coming, he shouts: "Apeeeee" and pulls his shorts more firmly up his anus. He loves sitting on his potty seat over the closet, and doesnt let us wash him until a good 10 minutes - which he spends spraying the entire bathroom using the faucet.

Ash never really used the elementary potty seat much, unlike Mira. As for Mira she is showing less inclination to use the potty these days. She is getting too naughty, much worse than Ash.

Silence of the ...Ewe

The reason why I have been silent on my blog is that I have been exploring quite a few blogs on delightfulblogs.com and stumbled upon this marvellous, bold blog by Pioneer Woman. (Well, men might find it a bit pulpy, what we'd call painkili in my mother tongue). But some great pictures and some useful cooking.
It also made me marvel at the enormous sea of blogs that exist on the net. And I'm a Spiderwoman trying to catch a good blog on the web.
The lambs at home, meanwhile are not silent - they are at their most boisterous and destructive best. I have just resigned myself to seeing my house in a mess and the stuff around broken. Yesterday Ash broke Mira's feeding bowl by aiming a tea strainer at it. Both kids seem to have lousy temper tantrums.
I am going a-shopping. I practise the art of shopping without a penny in my pocket - thanks to my credit card.

Easter 07

Easter menu at home:
Breakfast: Appam, Chicken Stew
Lunch: Chicken Biryani, Papad, Pickle, Salad
Dinner: Steamed Rice, avial and buttermilk curry.
Guest of honor: A malnourished hosteller of a marine engineering institute outside the city.
No trip to the church, no outings.

Holy Christ!

Good Friday mass at church was the regular doubly pious affair, with about 500 (or 1000?) faithful in attendance. You wouldnt believe that the city had so many Malayalis, and this is the scene at the two dozen or more Kerala churches in Chennai. While Catholics and CSIs attend the Tamil churches, the rest of the indigenous Church tribes from Kerala - Orthodox, Jacobite, Marthomite, Chaldeans and so on - have our own churches in the metro.
The mass and the ensuing late lunch is a massive effort on the part of the Church authorities and volunteers. There were 12 counters serving kanji-payar-papad-pickle this year - 6 for men and 6 for women, of which one each was reserved for Senior Citizens of both sexes. Senior citizens are a newly emerging reality in official India, be it in trains or in churhces.
I went alone this year, for the post-noon session of the service. With V out of action, I dont think I will be attending the early dawn Easter mass this year. But the feasting wont be compromised on.

Passover

We celebrated Passover yesterday evening, Roman Catholic style thanks to the maid. She made a special 'milk' - made with coconut milk, jaggery, jeera, and plantain (which is the white ball-like stuff in the milk) - and steamed rice cake, without yeast. The cross on the cake, our unleavened bread, is made from the tender palm leaf we got from church on Palm Sunday. One has to dip the bread/hot cross bun in the milk and have it after a reading of the Bible. Since we didnt know wehre to procure cross buns in Chennai city, we made do with dear old 'Modern' buns.
It was my first such experience, since we Syrian Orthodox Christians do not have such rituals. We just make vattayappam (rice cake) in the morning.
Ash thought it was another b'day celebration when V cut the appam, and he started humming "happy birthday..."

Budding housekeeper

My daughter is trying to imitate a lot of things that we adults do at home. For instance, she takes a peice of cloth and wipes the table, the floor, the shelves etc. Yesterday she got a broom and dustpan and did some 'sweeping'. Any vessel she gets, she holds it gingerly with a cloth (the way the maid takes the hotwater for M's bath) and leaves it in the bathroom.
And mind you, she just turned one and a half on March 21st. (babycenter says: Eighteen months is a coming of age for your child. Many parents say that this is when they stop thinking of their child as a baby.)
Well, it has dawned the realisation on me that this is an impressionable age for both the kids and that we better be careful what we do and say in front of them. Which is not easy - we lose our cool at times and forget that there are little sponges watching all the flood of fury and absorbing all that goes about.

My new help at home!

A long weekend

After ages, I got to enjoy a 2-day weekend at home. With a State government-sponsored bandh on Saturday over the reservation (of seats for OBCs in professional education) issue, the boss was magnanimous enough to offer an 'optional' off to those who would find it difficult to commute - no public transport or autos or taxis were available from 6 am to 6 pm. (Those who chose to come would earn an extra off in the lean week.)
Maid and me and Mira attended the Palm Sunday service at Koyambedu church yesterday. Ash was still asleep when we left. He and V came to pick us up after the service though. The post-service breakfast included idli, uzhunnuvada and sambar for the teeming hundreds (the church was filled to double its capacity, and will so for the GF and Easter mass too.) The church manages to feed the pious and the truants like Jesus fed the 5,000.
After our weekly shopping and refreshments (for a change at the wayside tender coconut and sugarcane juice stall), reached home and had a late lunch.
Evening I took Ash to the barber and got his head tonsured. He now looks like a cross of Dalai Lama and George Speight!