A morning in pictures

Yesterday, Ash did not go to school since he was itching real bad and his dad thought it would be a disaster sending him even though we had got him ready for school and though Ash confided to us that his teacher scratched for him when his skin got too itchy in school (I hear that the sweet lady carries him on her arms often). And V blamed a tin of Lays that I had brought home and which Ash had discovered, though we try to hide many undesirable stuff from him.

So instead we took him along when we went to drop Mira at school. We then proceeded to the park. While we walked, Ash took over the play area. There weren't any other kids at that point of time, so he had the swing, the slide and the see-saw to himself. He ran from one to the next, as he always does.

There he comes sliding down, and prepares for the next.

There he is, sitting alone on the see-saw. He would call out loudly to me, and then join me for a jog. I mean, he jogs and I walk.

There are two gardener families using the pump rooms (that red brick building) as their dwellings. But the park is not spruced up the way one would expect in such circumstances. The older gardener lives with his wife and daughter to the left. The younger one seems to have got a new wife - or maybe she is back from a holiday from her village. There she is washing clothes, and draining the soapy water into the lawn.

And then she comes to the other side to check on whatever she is cooking. Some of these lights in the foreground have their shades broken. The Corporation of Chennai should have fixed them higher off the ground as the one on the other side of the road is. I wonder when our people will stop damaging/defacing public property. Brand new MTC buses have their seats torn, people happily spit on the roads.... the list is endless.

I come home, open my bedroom window and look out to this view. A new bungalow that has come up next door. Their garden is as good as mine. It is so close. They have been taking their own sweet time to get the house and the premises ready, but very soon I will have a beautiful garden to look at first in the morning, when I open my window. Thank you dear neighbours.

Sleep time

There is a wedding reception in the evening to attend but we decide to leave the kids behind. They will zap our energies and crumple our well-ironed attires, so I tell them that I am going to the doctor to have my tooth extracted. They believe it and do not make a fuss about coming out with us.

Mira just wants to wave goodbye from the balcony as we leave - that is a new habit with her. If we dont respond or forget in the hurry, she howls the house down. Every afternoon, as V leaves after lunch, she pleads with him to bring back Amma and then runs to the balcony to wave goodbye to him.

I tell them to go to sleep after dinner but Ash tells me that he will wait for me. He has umpteen questions for me every night as he prepares for sleep: "Where is Wee Willie Winkie? What time will he come? Will he catch me (Spiderman has taken a backseat now)? Let him catch Vaava as she is a bad girl..." It goes on until his father asks him to shut up. He then whispers to me: "pathukke parayaam (let us talk softly)." I laugh out loud at his conspiratorial suggestion.

Mira's routine is different. She wants to sleep on my shoulder. And she wants some lullabies. Well, they are not exactly lullabies. Her repertoire includes two hymns (Ithratholam yehovah sahaayichu= So far Jehovah has helped me, and Nandiyode njaan sthuti paadidum= I will sing praise to God with gratitude) and a Malayalam lullaby (Kannum pooti uranguga vegam = Close your eyes and sleep fast, my baby). She herself sings the first two pretty well, getting the intonations right.

I fast-forward, rewind or pause as she decides which song she wants to listen to. If Ash joins, there is a fight. If he wants the first song, she wants the second. So then I proceed to the third which both like.

But today when I returned from the party, Mira is already asleep. Ash keeps his word.

Brilliant blogorial

Someone thinks I/my blog is brilliant and offers me an award.
Thankyou Bombaygirl for this prestigious (?) award. My first award came from Lijy of Mama's Pet some time back. Thank you all.

• Presenting the Brilliant Weblog award- a prize given to sites and blogs that are smart and brilliant both in their content and their design. The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere. Here are the rules to follow:
• When you recieve the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link them back
• Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or even more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.
• Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’
• Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).
• And then we pass it on!

Some of the brilliant blogs I read are Twisted DNA, Doing Jalsa and Showing Jilpa, Asal Tamizh Penn, and Confessions of a Pioneer Woman, but they are all far too great for me to give an award to. (I like blogs that make me laugh, grin or smile at least.) I know there are so many good blogs on blogosphere that I havent yet set my eyes on, which is a good thing since I wont have time to perform even basic ablutions if I were to read them too.

So let me nominate three others who might care to receive this - The other Romila of Blah Blah, Lijy of Mama's Pet and Tulika of Byced Views. I hope this will encourage them to write more regularly and frequently.

p.s. This award reminds me of Brilliant Tutorials, hence the title.

A day in the life of Mia

1. Watching/joining 4 slum boys playing inside the church premises after the Morning Mass. As usual, Mia alone accompanied us to church. We had to wait an hour or so - so that some of the kids attending Sunday school could join too - before we could set out to visit an old age home in the outskirts. The visit was arranged for the reasonably young couples who are members of the church's Family Fellowship.

2. With her old playschool mate Joann, at the home for the aged and the destitute, soon after lunch. She was happy to sight a few fowls and cats and dogs there.

3. Watching TV and eating corn in unison late in the night. It is not often and for very long hours that they exist in such harmony.

The shepherd and the boy

Just as most kids in Kerala I grew up learning parodies of popular songs, hymns and rhymes - of the national anthem, the suprabhatam song, church littanies etc.
At 4 years my son is already graduating to that level. He has probably inherited the skill from his dad, who is superquick with his quips, repartees and parodies.
The first experiment has come by way of Psalm 23 which Ash calls Yehovah ente idayanannu. Reciting the psalm is ritual for him before he goes to sleep but of late he has been getting a bit playful about it especially if I read it out for him (he is more wary of his dad).
Ente muttinnu vedana edukkunnu (my knees are paining in place of I shall not want)
Ninte vadiyum kolum eduthu appa enne adichu (Thy rod and thy staff my appa uses to beat me)
Ente shathrukkal kaanke appa enne adichu (Appa beats me in front of my enemies)
Ente thalaye enna kondu pani pidichu (Anointing my head with oil has given me a cold)

Better is what his cousin sister has come up with.
Thou anoints my head with shampoo!

Parody prince

Just as most kids in Kerala, I grew up learning parodies of popular songs, rhymes and hymns.
At 4 years my son is already learning to parody. He has seemingly inherited his dad's his penchant for parodies.

P.s. this post remained in draft, so I can't remember what song my son parodied in 2009.

Birthday boys

It is my husband's birthday today, and my brother's bday on 25th. My wishes and prayers to both.

Album

mahabs

Click inside to view.

Profiles

The kids enjoying themselves at the park in the Shore Temple premises in Mahabalipuram, where we went last Saturday.

And guarded by the lions and bulls.

Guest of honour

My dad is in town. He is here till Tuesday next. I think he has come mainly to see the kids, especially Ash.

And the grandson got to see him only after he returned from school. He immediately asked where his granny was and not believing him, went looking around the house for her.

Mira has been telling us that she plans to leave with him to Kerala. For the kids, any place other than the little jail of an apartment is welcome. In fact Ash had told me the previous night that he wanted to go to Kerala to study as the kids (pillaar as he calls them) were bullying him in school, in the van etc. I am a bit skeptical - the last time I asked the van ayah about the bullying she said the so-called victim was actually the accused.

Today the kids have leave since it is India's 61st Independence Day. Ash came home yesterday with a lil flag (in picture in Mira's hand) that he had colored orange and green; when V asked him why he didnt colour the white he said, the paper was white anyway (whom do you think you are kidding, Mister?)

Liberia saga continued

Another of T's African saga, reproduced without permission. The pictures are indelibly inked in my mind - the red earth, kids smiling away through their poverty and the mud houses that remind me of Kerala some 30 years back. (Well, there are parts of Kerala which still look like this.)

" I'd gone to a place called 'Cape Mount' last week. It was a 2 hour drive from Monrovia. Our office had decided to spend a few days living with the communities we work for. Given the poor state of affairs in the capital city, you can only imagine what the rural areas must be like. We spent a lot of time in the class room of a local school discussing ActionAid's strategy for Liberia. The school obviously didn't have electricity so we had to carry our generators from Monrovia. The one thing - a bed at night - that we take for granted when we plan to spend 3 days somewhere is also asking for too much in Liberia. So where did everyone from office sleep? On the floor of a local office which was nothing more than a cement hut with a tin roof.

This is not to say that the place wasn't beautiful. In fact, because there is so little development - the country side is lush green with a splatter of huts here and there, and lots of children running around. Food was very basic but tasty. The women who cooked us lunch insisted that the best cassava greens were made in this part of the country. Unlike in India, in Liberia people eat not only the root ( i.e potato and cassava) but also the plant - what they call potato green and cassava green. These are cooked together with a combination of meats. The closest I can think of is 'Saag meat' or Meat with spinach in India. Well, the cassava green in Cape Mount was indeed good. Anyway, attached are a few pictures to give you a sense of Cape Mount."

The blog bug

I am too disorganised mentally to post anything today.

My sil has started blogging too. Looks like it is quite contagious a hobby. I wish her all the best.

This old mail from her had made me sure that she will be great at narration, especially on her African adventures:

Hey! We're finally in Liberia – the flight here was a nightmare! All I have to say about SN Brussels – if you can avoid it, avoid it. Its perpetually late, the airhostesses are rude, the flights are old, the entertainment system sucks (one small tv in the middle of the plane and no headphones) and unlike most other airlines where one gets way more food then one can eat – SN Brussels starves its passengers! We took off at 7 am London time and landed at around 9 pm London time – all that we got to eat during that time was one cold croissant for breakfast and a small bowl of pasta and salad for lunch.

Anyway, the view while flying into Sierra Leone and Liberia was just breath taking – vast expanse of a blue green ocean and long beautiful coastlines with big white waves crashing into it. It was very dark and cloudy when we landed and looking out of the window I expected a nip in the air. But the moment I stepped out of the aircraft I could feel that lovely hot air touch my skin – just like the hot monsoons in India – ah, I luv that feeling, that smell.

The immigration and baggage claim is a story in itself – wish I had a camera to send pictures of the world's most chaotic airport! Two small rooms, hot, humid, noisy, bustling with people – those with 'connections' had someone take their passports directly to the immigration officer and have it stamped while the rest of us stood in line!

The drive from the airport to the apartment was a rather different experience – we landed around 8pm local time. The sun had set, the streets were dark. I knew that Liberia doesn't have any grid electricity, but didn't realise just how different that could be. I had to strain my eyes to look out of the car window - could see huts scattered on the roadside and people sitting around – but everything was pitch dark. It was like driving inside a forest or something. No light bulbs, no candles – just darkness, and the sounds of the wind and the people. A very different feeling!

The apartment is nice – very close to the sea. The view from the ActionAid office is also great. I spent a quite day yesterday eating corn on the cob – coal roasted on the roadside.

... By the way – people here don't call others by name – its 'sister' or 'man' or 'woman'. Guess what Robin's called? 'Boss man' – doesn't it have a nice ring to it? I've decided to call him boss-man from now too!

A boy of the world

My little man acts like a big man at times. He sees the zip of my nightie open one inch from the hollow of my neck and pulls it up to my throat.
"Amma, naanakedaa (shame)" he tells me.
I tell him it is suffocating me but he wont hear of it.
He doesnt let his dad walk around, like Malloo men are wont to, on a bare torso. He doesnt rest until daddy dear grabs a t-shirt to hide his semi-nudity.

And today was his school Annual Day. He went with his dad for a good two hours. I couldnt make it since I am at work.

The kids got a special morning treat today when we took them to a small, renovated park near Mira's school, which is not crowded and is pretty neat. We took turns in our brisk walks while the kids played - on the see-saw, swing and slide. The park has put morning walks back in my agenda - after dropping Mira at school.

Cherubim

I accompany V as he goes to Mira's school to pick her up. We are a bit late and I find her sitting on a bamboo mat in the teachers' room along with another little boy, looking forlorn. She rushes to me with her bag when she spots me while the little boy looks sad and worried.

I ask the teacher how she is doing. She tells me she is an angel. Since July, she is the only kid they have never had a problem with. She eats all the food that is given, takes her own spoon and plate and doesnt waste a morsel. I am surprised - she is not exactly an angel at home. She throws tantrums and is fussy about her food. If she eats, she has to do it looking at the crows from the balcony. Or I run behind her as she plays or cycles. I tell the teacher I cant believe it. She tells me she is quiet but understand what they tell her in English. They are trying to speak a little Malayalam to her to make things easy. There is a nap time from 12.15 to 1.15 pm. Lunch comes before that. She takes rosemilk/custard after the nap.

I look at the menu. There is fried groundnuts and milk with Boost for breakfast, a lunch of pepper rasam rice, cauliflower and pineapple and a dessert. The menu is different each day of the week.

The quiet angel transforms into a chatterbox once she leaves the school premises. Double-faced, like me. I can be reticent and talkative too depending on my surroundings.

Beauty and the beast

*** Warning: Ladies' talk***

Once in a while, I treat myself to a facial or a pedicure at a beauty parlour. I wont include threading and waxing here as they cant be called treats, just essentials to make oneself look less masculine (all that bushy eyebrows and hairy arms).

And today, with all the time till noon to pamper myself, I set out to one in the neighbourhood that a blogger friend had recommended recently and which she said had a lot of girls from the North-East catering to you. I dont know what it is that make me particularly inclined to pretty girls with Mongoloid features as beauty caretakers. The same inclination that made me try out a "Chinese beauty parlour" two weeks back for a haircut for myself and Mira - that had been a wholly unsatisfactory experience since I did not get the U-cut I wanted nor did Mira get the mushroom cut we asked for; it just turned out to be non-specific haircuts by the Chinese proprietor herself, who was more interested in cajoling me to straighten my hair or at least try her array of frightfully expensive shampoos and conditioners to improve the texture of my rough and curly hair.

Finding a comfortable parlour has been an elusive experience ever since the chinky parlour inside the old Harrison's hotel on Sterling Road disappeared when the hotel was demolished to make for a new, swank Harrison's. It had been a favorite with many hostellers in the vicinity though the gals there did a rush job. But they were quiet and did their jobs fast and one could listen to Hindi music on radio and occasionally to some snob talk from fellow, elderly, patrons.

Today's discovery was a similar one and the gals jabbered only to each other in a language that sounded like music to my ears, which I later learnt was Nepali. The threading was not painful and the lights did not blind my eyes. The fruit facial was also a truly relaxing experience (though the fees are nothing to feel relaxed about and I carefully chose one that wasnt too much of a drain on my purse while the girl at the reception tried to coax me on to many a fancy one that she said would do wonders to my complexion) and the massage was the best part. I understand why ayurvedic massage parlours in Kerala thrive.

I felt as a mother of two lil kids I needed this pampering once in a blue moon to help my muscles relax and help me sleep, not out of exhaustion but out of pleasure. I earnestly look forward to this nap at the final stage when the wet pack is applied and made to dry for 10-15 minutes. The beautician gives you a knowing smile as she wakes you up.

The pedicure, opted on a whim, turned out to be an hour-long, meticulous affair that made me almost love my feet at last (the ones I have experienced earlier have been 15-minute jobs that made you feel that no better resuls could be achieved). I respect these women who can accommodate your less-than-wonderful-looking legs on a towel on their lap while they scrub and clean it with a frenzy.

However, all the effort seemed wasted before a comment extracted from hubby dear as I flaunted my feet for his inspection as he dropped me half-way to my office: Kaaka kulichal kokkakumo (Will a bath turn a crow into a stork)??

Cynicism is his forte. So I know better than to be angry.

Ownership battles

"Appacha ninno. Ithu vaavede buttera," shouts my daughter in glee to her big brother, holding aloft a cheese cube in her right hand.

That roughly translates to: "You go (to granpa's)! This is my butter."

That has my son wide awake early in the morning and a battle ensues. For the butter in her hand and for all the butter in the house. Butter that we hide from him. Since he is on a low-fat diet on account of his lead poisoning and since he is on another special diet to cure his food allergies.

So the food he cannot have and which she can have, we give her when he is sleeping or not around. But it is not always easy to make kids abide by adult manipulations.

Ash gets his tit for tat alright. As he takes his bath with a dash of salt and potassium permanganate to prevent itching, he tells Mira: "Appacha ninno. This is my hot water."

Or his colour pencils. Or his cap.

Mira takes the battle to another front. She insists on wearing only Ash's t-shirts at home these days, partly because most of them have pockets. And comes up with, Appacha ninno, ithu vaavede uppaa (dress).

And the battle goes on....

3 days in pictures

On Saturday, we took Ash to the opthalmologist (that's the Bubblegummer resting between his jogs outside the doctor's room) regarding his eye allergy that is part of his general allergic condition. The Audiology/speech department was close by and Ash clamoured to see Vijaya aunty, the speech therapist he had taken a fascination for in the two months when he was under her tutelage. Vijaya saw us briefly and said she was too busy on Saturdays to allocate a session for Ash; on the other days he is in school. Anyway I dont think he needs speech therapy now. He speaks quite coherently and intelligibly. Though he still gets a couple of words wrong - such as puda for kuda (umbrella).

On Sunday, after church, we (V, me and Mia) bought soil and plant saplings from a plant nursery opposite the Kilpauk cemetery. The cemetery apparently is full and cant accommodate any more dead men (and women). We also "shopped till we dropped" at Pantaloons, which is holding a sale. Ash sat at home with the maid since he didnt wake up early to go to church.

On Monday, an old, non-native colleague [in picture] who is off to the UK for higher studies, gave us a treat at the Gujarathi mandal restaurant in Chennai's Broadway. The last time I went there was a day after I joined my Chennai workplace. The rotis are just as soft and tasty. The place is more cramped than it was then.