<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736</id><updated>2012-01-03T01:41:06.099+05:30</updated><category term='Curran'/><category term='pictures'/><category term='women'/><category term='education'/><category term='radio'/><category term='habit'/><category term='office'/><category term='birthday'/><category term='valiamma'/><category term='politics'/><category term='mumbai'/><category term='holiday'/><category term='being a mom'/><category term='working mom'/><category term='parent'/><category term='music'/><category term='my thoughts'/><category term='Speaking up'/><category term='school'/><category term='just so'/><category term='depression'/><category term='time'/><category term='anxiety'/><category term='girl child'/><category term='global'/><category term='TB'/><category term='travel'/><category term='memories'/><category term='superwoman'/><category term='V&apos;s world'/><category term='festival'/><category term='grandparents'/><category term='family'/><category term='24 hours'/><category term='castle in the air'/><category term='google desktop'/><category term='my life'/><category term='Fiction'/><category term='responsible'/><category term='love'/><category term='friends'/><title type='text'>Stray Grey matter</title><subtitle type='html'>My thoughts..some very random..some very sensible and most of it quite insignificant....</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>207</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4736231188458090347</id><published>2011-05-20T16:37:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-05-20T16:37:13.156+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A little down south and to the east</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Thats where i have moved to...down south and a bit towards east from&amp;nbsp;Mumbai. At&amp;nbsp;Bangalore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mentally i have moved here many times, went over what all i wanted to do once here , a million times in my head. Reality,has been very similar for a change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, i am enjoying the space that the house offers me...my sparse furniture from the&amp;nbsp;Bombay&amp;nbsp;flat is looking like individual islands in corners of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That hacking cough that followed me like a shadow in&amp;nbsp;Mumbai&amp;nbsp;has&amp;nbsp;disappeared&amp;nbsp;for now. I actually go for a morning walk and stop by to observe the flowers in the&amp;nbsp;neighboring&amp;nbsp;compounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kid has made friends, re started his music classes and speaks a new&amp;nbsp;Kannada&amp;nbsp;word everyday. Yesterday, he sang two lines of a&amp;nbsp;Kannada&amp;nbsp;song - &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rz9kC5inGvI"&gt;this one&lt;/a&gt;-to a much surprised audience including me , mom and sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back at work- as part of a 3 member team. The 3rd member being myself. Still&amp;nbsp;haven't&amp;nbsp;figured out travel in the city, and is completely in awe of the Volvo buses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I come home to family - a six year old and an almost six month old who make my day completely worth while. And the sister i adore, and parents and the brother in law who make it complete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My house is complete.. the home, not yet.&amp;nbsp;My heart is in Pune. Everything is started by the " i wish he was here" thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am happy with my material life as it is... it's the heart that hurts.&amp;nbsp;I wish he moves here soon.Then i can call it home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4736231188458090347?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4736231188458090347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4736231188458090347' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4736231188458090347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4736231188458090347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2011/05/little-down-south-and-to-east.html' title='A little down south and to the east'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3396235111499868172</id><published>2011-03-04T13:09:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-03-04T13:09:15.766+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Down and out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;That's pretty much me, these days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Being a single parent and managing a long commute in this city is taxing. It's almost despicable! And it is turning me into someone i don't like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I don't like to speak to anyone outside my routine, and hardly&amp;nbsp;have&amp;nbsp;any friends over. The last time i went to a friends house? Don't even go there..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Technically, it was very easy to decide that the husband will be in another city for a while. I am the brave one- you see. I pretty much run the house on my own anyway. All he does is come home in the evening and spend that few hours on the couch. How much of a difference can it make if he does that once in two weeks. Managable, really.&amp;nbsp;Reality ---- is nothing like that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Everything in the house runs like clockwork. We leave on time, we reach late( blame&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;commute here), everything stays in it's place.The cushions on the sofa are intact, there are no shoes lying outside the&amp;nbsp;shoe rack, and no wet towels on the bed. My ideal world!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;But i am hating it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I miss looking forward to catch the tell tale sound of the car lock, time his way up the steps and waiting with an open door. I miss asking him to stop reading the paper in the loo and step outside so we could use it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I hate not being able to spend that five minutes talking about our day. I miss the noise, the commotion the father and son create.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Above everything, i miss his presence. Sometimes all i want him is to be home. I can live with him contributing nothing to the goings- on &amp;nbsp;in this house. He could be glued to TV all day. But the fact that " he is home" makes up for all that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;Who knew this would turn out to be so difficult?. May be this is what love matures into.... a beautiful companionship where&amp;nbsp;the mere absence / presence of a person makes it all worthwhile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3396235111499868172?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3396235111499868172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3396235111499868172' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3396235111499868172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3396235111499868172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2011/03/down-and-out.html' title='Down and out'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5279817649820913796</id><published>2011-01-12T13:17:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2011-01-12T13:17:40.923+05:30</updated><title type='text'>11.1.11- and on this day...</title><content type='html'>I became an aunt, yet again.&lt;br /&gt;This time , to a baby girl who looks like strawberry pudding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she looks exactly like how her mother did 28 years ago. Then, the mother's elder sis caught sneaky glimpses of the baby being bathed inside the labour room, and announced to everyone that there was a very cute baby inside. She continued to wait for her little sibling, and the nurse bought the chubby cute baby outside and told me she was my sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fell in love, for the first time....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the many years that followed, her cheeks stayed chubby and rosy and i spent much time defending them from my friends, classmates and random people. The chubby cheeked girl followed me all around the place, pretty much adored everything i did in life( at least in the early years) and grew upto be my little best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yesterday, she gave me the most beautiful niece i could ever have. Chubby cheeks, snub nose and looking like a pudding. My little baby just had a baby of her own. I am still getting over the excitement!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i should teach V techniques on how to defend the baby's cheeks from random people now :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5279817649820913796?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5279817649820913796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5279817649820913796' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5279817649820913796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5279817649820913796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2011/01/11111-and-on-this-day.html' title='11.1.11- and on this day...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6584329912565364528</id><published>2010-12-31T11:29:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-31T11:29:40.046+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Do you judge a person?</title><content type='html'>Do you judge people during your first interaction? And categorize them in different brackets?&lt;br /&gt;I do not.&amp;nbsp;I am quite tolerable when it comes to people.&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, i think it is more of that "i don't care as long as it does not affect me" attitude that i use when meeting people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But once in a while, there comes along a person who forces you to judge. Sometimes with just a 10 min interaction. I did that yesterday. And it has been eating me since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to a birthday party with kid y'day. We were late- it was a work day and there was no way we could be there before that. But since i promised the kid, i took him to their house for a quick wish and dash. Apart from us, there was only another couple who were present.We walked in , wished, gave the gift , and of course were offered the cake . Those 10 minutes when the kid was wolfing down the cake, i made small talk with the mother- i apologized for the delay and blamed it on my commute from work. The father of the child &amp;nbsp; (who i have never met before), who was party to this conversation took over then.He asked about the kids school, how long we have been here etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, out of the blue, he asks me " What does sir do?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me a minute to understand that he was&amp;nbsp;referring&amp;nbsp;to the husband as "Sir". My first instinct was to tell him that the name was not "sir". So i kept quite and answered him. The b'day girls mom helpfully added that i work in the city and hence we were late. He&amp;nbsp;acknowledged&amp;nbsp;it with a nod, and continued asking me what the husbands job was all about. I was surprised that he did not ask me what i do. So clammed up after a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little while later, another guest walked in, he introduced the couple who had come in before us to them. He mentioned where they stay, and what the husband did for a living and the lady as " his wife". There was no mention about her work. She was a working professional as well, and he felt no need to introduce her as a professional.&amp;nbsp;I was aghast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I my mind, i was thinking that he had judged me - because i was a woman, and maybe not capable of holding a job of any value.Same with the other lady guest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that moment, i judged him. As someone i probably will have no respect in life for. I wondered how he&amp;nbsp;must&amp;nbsp;be introducing his wife to people in his social circle. I am pretty sure he says "this is my wife", without taking her name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it kept eating me.That fact that i had formed an opinion of some one i had met barely 10 minutes before. I told myself that i was being silly, that i was maybe being harsh. maybe he wasn't like that.&amp;nbsp;But when i woke up this morning, i felt better about judging him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, i am not married to "sir", and he does not introduce me as " my wife". If someone cannot identify me as a person with a distinct personality, it is his loss. And i still hold my judgement against him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6584329912565364528?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6584329912565364528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6584329912565364528' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6584329912565364528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6584329912565364528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/12/do-you-judge-person.html' title='Do you judge a person?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1555662363506154012</id><published>2010-12-27T15:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-12-27T15:43:24.378+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of a missing child and his mother..</title><content type='html'>In the many years of my existence, i have made a mental list of things that can go wrong with my life and feared for it every other day. Classic symptoms of being a worry wart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After i had V , my list of things that can go wrong increased exponentially. It varied from him falling off the bed and breaking his nose to elaborate hijacking of the vehicle we were travelling etc(yes, &amp;nbsp;i can be very creative at times). The biggest of them being losing him in a crowd, of him getting&amp;nbsp;separated&amp;nbsp;, and me not being able to find him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read about parents losing their children and shudder, wondering how they cope with it. I read of children going missing and&amp;nbsp;wonder, how do the parents survive with the realization that their child "maybe somewhere"? I don't think i can. I met such a mom this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We( me and V) were on a train for a short trip and less than an hour into our travel, a lady, dressed like many people who we see living on the platforms of mumbai , was escorted into the AC compartment by one of the pantry car attendants, as all the TC's for that train were congregated in the&amp;nbsp;seats&amp;nbsp;next to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He explained that he had found the lady standing near the door of the train and howling looking outside, after the train had started. From their halting conversation in actions, he understood that her child was left behind in one of busiest platforms on mumbai city, along with her bags. He then helped her look for the kid in all the compartment, failing which he bought her to the TC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shuddered, thinking of what she must be going through. Turned out she could only speak her native tongue, which only i understood. So i ended up translating her story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a street dweller, one among the many that come to mumbai in search of a better life, live that fickle of life with someone , get dumped with a kid, and run back home with all their belongings. She was at her station, running back with all her belongings in two bags, and a baby boy about 2.5 years old. She had a midnight train that came into the platform , and decided to spend the time waiting out there.&lt;br /&gt;Our train came in , halted, and she in her ignorance thought that the train was going to be stopped for a while. She bought a packet of snacks, gave it to the baby boy and made him sit with the bags, and decided to use the bathroom in the train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She came out of the bathroom to find the train moving out of the platform , with here baby and bags left behind.&lt;br /&gt;She was what i could best&amp;nbsp;describe&amp;nbsp;as a shattered soul.I made her sit on the seat while the TC's got in touch with the station officials &amp;nbsp;with patchy network. Then coordinated for her to be dropped off at the next station and sent back . And called the&amp;nbsp;station&amp;nbsp;where she boarded and intimated them to start searching for the kid and bags. I kept assuring her all will be ok, that she will be back with the kid soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my mind, i doubted my words. A vast station,crowds milling for an opportunity- a child and two bags are easy to&amp;nbsp;disappear, and said a silent prayer. After she got down, i hoped she does find the child, safe and sound. Then i held V's hands, and held him close, and never let him out of my sight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1555662363506154012?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1555662363506154012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1555662363506154012' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1555662363506154012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1555662363506154012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/12/of-missing-child-and-his-mother.html' title='Of a missing child and his mother..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4888463970159347848</id><published>2010-11-29T14:12:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-29T14:12:49.351+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Life, and a single flaw</title><content type='html'>And they lived happily aver after... isn't that how all stories are expected to end. Everything falls in place, their lives become perfect.. and all is well.&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that the life everyone wants.. perfect , in their own way??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, everyone except me, i assume.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a problem with perfect life. Actually i have a problem with everything that can be called perfect. And no i am not a pessimist. I am the other extreme.. An optimist who&amp;nbsp;believes&amp;nbsp;that everything must have a flaw, insignificant, but existing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Call it strange, but i have always observed that whenever something is&amp;nbsp;referred&amp;nbsp;to as perfect, it does not stay that way for long. So i have this problem bordering obsession where i hope that something small, something minor will go wrong. Then, i tell myself that it will stay on ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It would be my perfect life to live in my own house, with my loved one's and have a job that keeps me happy. &amp;nbsp;But that would have been perfect. And i would worry myself to death everything thinking something is about to go wrong and upset this balance- and they invariably, always happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when it looked like my perfect life was about to come together,i fretted, i worried and basically thought of everything possible to figure out what to do.&amp;nbsp;But then destiny decided to play its own cards. So now i have my perfect life coming together- hopefully soon, with a flaw that will no longer make it perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But to me, that single flaw gives me strength to know everything else will go alright. The petition to the man above is till pending, but he might just consider accepting it this time around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd take this flawed life any day above a perfect one. I can sleep well knowing i do not have a perfect life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4888463970159347848?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4888463970159347848/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4888463970159347848' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4888463970159347848'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4888463970159347848'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/11/perfect-life-and-single-flaw.html' title='Perfect Life, and a single flaw'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1687620709998707857</id><published>2010-11-17T17:42:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-11-17T17:42:45.334+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Change is constant, change is inevitable...</title><content type='html'>I have excuses for not being around, lots of them.&lt;br /&gt;Only, i am not fully convinced they are credible... so, we'll leave it at that ok. Ok?? And resume regular programming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When one is blogging regularly, it seems like the most natural thing to do... share thoughts, feelings, anecdotes, receive responses, feel wanted. Till you start feeling " how did i survive before i discovered this?".&lt;br /&gt;Then one day, BAM! you go off blogging, and wonder " i can live without blogging as well".&lt;br /&gt;I tethered between these extremes, and still have not found an amicable middle path. Hopefully soon.. In the meanwhile, the urge to write( type??) is back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life, as i know for the last few years, is changing. Subtly, slowly, that change is creeping upon me. It can be felt. And since it is expected, it does not come as a surprise...it holds the excitement of a delayed courier.&lt;br /&gt;You know it is on its way.. you know what is inside, but you don't know how that will change things around you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knowingly or unknowingly, one starts mentally re arranging life around the impending change, and waits for it to actually make an appearance. And no, it not a new addition to the family, in case any of you are wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is definitely a new addition coming into the larger family. The baby i first fell in love with, the one is crept upto watch through the hospital air vents is going to have a baby herself, and make me an aunt all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy changes, and hopefully all for good...in the meanwhile, it is about time i&amp;nbsp;reacquaint&amp;nbsp;myself with words and phrases. I'm going to need conversations a lot more than in ever did...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1687620709998707857?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1687620709998707857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1687620709998707857' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1687620709998707857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1687620709998707857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/11/change-is-constant-change-is-inevitable.html' title='Change is constant, change is inevitable...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7974950052420989592</id><published>2010-08-12T15:03:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-08-12T15:03:42.801+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Time to myself.</title><content type='html'>In a 24 hour day, i manage to save about 20 mins for myself. Who cares if this is after 12.00 AM?&lt;br /&gt;No one, except my own body who will very soon revolt for some rest.&lt;br /&gt;And i am very adept at concealing feet that badly need a pedicure, and ignoring the new packet of cooking chocolate that will hit expiry soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside, i have a new travelling/ talking companion in the 5.5 yr old. We talk, about&amp;nbsp;everything&amp;nbsp;under the sun. And plan and do things together. And i receive a lot more hugs and kisses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makes up for all the time i do not have for myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7974950052420989592?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7974950052420989592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7974950052420989592' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7974950052420989592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7974950052420989592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/08/time-to-myself.html' title='Time to myself.'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1657117137169055718</id><published>2010-06-28T17:48:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-29T10:22:13.996+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Will you also go away?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Isn't that one of our primal fears?a perennial one too? That someone we love will go away from us?  Irrespective of how old we are, that fear exists. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We made a decision this year, to do away with the lady who helped take care of V ,and moved him to daycare. For the last month, my mom stayed with us to settle things and she now, has gone back. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It has been two weeks since she left now, and the first week i had a very very clingy son. One who would not let me step out of his line of vision, wanted me to accompany him everywhere holding hands. While it was very mushy to begin with, it became quite difficult and i figured there is something beyond a regular clinging here. So , a week ago, i decided to straighten things and made him sit down and talk. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked him why he was being so clingy, i told him that while it was nice to want me to be around all the time, it is not possible and maybe we should figure out what he should do all by himself. He quietly listened and said, " i am sad because ammamma( my mom) went away". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That moment, it all came together. It was not just ammamma, it was the fear of having people he likes around him and them moving away. First it was valiamma( the lady who took care of him), and now my mom. Then we talked about why mom had to go away etc. and he seemed to understand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There was still something that bothered me after that conversation. I held him on my lap and asked him " Are you scared that me and papa will go away as well? ". He nodded, like, a huge worry was being addressed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hugged him and told him that no matter what happens, we, will never leave him. That our life was with him. Wherever we go, we will take him with us. The relief on his face was immense. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One week now after the conversation, and i have a child who accepts and understands why and how.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All he needed to be told was that " We will be there for you- always". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Incidentally, isn't that what all of us want to be told?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="body"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;As was once said by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/k/kahlilgibr136981.html" style="text-decoration: none; line-height: normal; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;Kahlil Gibran&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ---"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium; "&gt;&lt;u&gt;And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation"&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1657117137169055718?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1657117137169055718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1657117137169055718' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1657117137169055718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1657117137169055718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/06/will-you-also-go-away.html' title='Will you also go away?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7322269497955428128</id><published>2010-06-07T16:06:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-07T16:34:22.993+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of living and dying</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;We have fish at home.&lt;div&gt;Nothing surprising here, except, this is in a brand new fish tank!!!(Nitya, are you reading this??)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So what do they have in relation to the heading??&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They came home 2 weeks ago. After 2 weeks , we were down to 5 fishes from the 12 we started with. So then, logically, one is forced to respond to questions about death. So one explains about growing up and old age and death etc..They make very interesting conversation snippets, trust me.. some of them go like this..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V to my mom: How old are you ammamma?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom: 50 ++&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: You and muttassa will die when you are 71.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom: What? how do you know?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I know *with that all knowing look*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V to me: When i become big and you become small( heh!, we still have not got over this one), i will spank your bum.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Bwahaha, i will not become small again, i will only become bigger( literally!) and older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: When you become older, will you die?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Err, umm, yes. Everyone dies after some time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I don't like that. I will be very sad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...at which stage, we change topics!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V to me: Amma, when you become 100 years old, will you die?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: I really hope so. I don't want to live till 100. That will be really old.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: Why? Will you be so big you cannot fit inside the house?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me. No i will be so old, i will not be able to walk or stand. And also, you will be 70 by then, like, XYZ's grandpa?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: *Thinks very hard* Will i be old like muttassa?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Yes, you will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I don't want to have white hair, he has all white hair. I don't want to be 70.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: When will i become old?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: When you are 70 years..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I want to be 36( the father's age)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: You have so much to do before that...you will become 15, then 17, then finish school( he does not object to this), then 18 , after which you can drive a car( he does not object to this either), Then go to college,( No objection), then find a job( objects vehemently!!!), find a girlfriend...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: Stop stop, why do i need a girlfriend?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Like how acha has amma, you also need someone. To love, to stay with, to take care. That is why you need a girlfriend.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I do not want a girlfriend* very angry*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: then who will you stay with?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V: I will stay with you, i like you a lot.I like your hands, i like your nose, i like you full. I will only stay with you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At that point people, i melted into a puddle. The rest of the conversation does not matter!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a bonus, here is the humble fishtank that has triggered such intense discussions in this household...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/TAzRa7DnfHI/AAAAAAAAFZg/7yADe0fh8AM/s1600/085.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/TAzRa7DnfHI/AAAAAAAAFZg/7yADe0fh8AM/s320/085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479985107062717554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/TAzRab9opxI/AAAAAAAAFZY/tBbMDjPC_mA/s1600/092.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/TAzRab9opxI/AAAAAAAAFZY/tBbMDjPC_mA/s320/092.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479985098716129042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7322269497955428128?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7322269497955428128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7322269497955428128' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7322269497955428128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7322269497955428128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/06/of-living-and-dying.html' title='Of living and dying'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/TAzRa7DnfHI/AAAAAAAAFZg/7yADe0fh8AM/s72-c/085.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1534002177015257841</id><published>2010-06-04T11:53:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-06-04T11:58:54.991+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My reason # 29</title><content type='html'>Instead of work, timepass and blogging, last weeks have been ...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hospital, IV injections and boredom..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There, ......now i have a valid reason for disappearing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, next week i should be back, and maybe follow &lt;a href="http://swirlypatterns.wordpress.com/"&gt;Nitya's&lt;/a&gt; footsteps to wordpress. Very tempted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i guess the weekend will be spent deciding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1534002177015257841?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1534002177015257841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1534002177015257841' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1534002177015257841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1534002177015257841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-reason-29.html' title='My reason # 29'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3726523198210973084</id><published>2010-05-21T16:06:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-21T16:42:52.734+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The emotional backup</title><content type='html'>Do you feel used at times? Like an emotional backup? &lt;div&gt;Sometimes i do... and i don't exactly like that feeling. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When the going is good,i do not exist.I could be anything, anywhere, another insignifiant thread that makes up life. But when faced with adversity, i become relevant? i become an anchor to shore issues? To listen/ to advice.. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...much like that invertor at home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;No power, switch on the invertor. Else, it is just another device that gathers dust in some confine, till power goes off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Unfortunately, i am not an invertor. I am a human being who can think and react. Makes things a lot more complicated. And makes me wonder how people treat relationships with so much objectivity- like it is another device that helps you get through life- with an on/ off switch!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Dinah Shore said " &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif; font-size: medium; border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(51, 0, 0); "&gt;Trouble is part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough". Personally, i&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; "&gt; think the measure of a relationship is not how much they share during adversity, i think it is how much you share when nothing of significance is happening in each others lives. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;THAT, is the true measure of a relationship. And i think some of mine score on a negative scale on this!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3726523198210973084?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3726523198210973084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3726523198210973084' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3726523198210973084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3726523198210973084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/05/emotional-backup.html' title='The emotional backup'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4379508176750524142</id><published>2010-05-18T15:39:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-18T15:45:54.781+05:30</updated><title type='text'>An update</title><content type='html'>To all of you who expressed concern about how the child will stay away so many days from ze parents, we have a solution....&lt;div&gt;...errr.. a situation, more like. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ze child returns this weekend, because the parents are chicken. They almost cried over the phone, prompting the grandparents to quickly ask for return tickets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the child will be back, and we shall stop sulking and brooding. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pseudo bravery mask just flew out of the window. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For all of you who thought we were setting a trend/ example- now you know better. You know who NOT to trust. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4379508176750524142?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4379508176750524142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4379508176750524142' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4379508176750524142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4379508176750524142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/05/update.html' title='An update'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5907569077654734079</id><published>2010-05-11T12:31:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-05-11T12:46:25.826+05:30</updated><title type='text'>It is that time of the year...</title><content type='html'>When we send the child off for holidays and sulk and sulk and whine and act like teenagers who have lost their marbles. &lt;div&gt;Yes! the kid is on annual holiday with both sets of grandparents, and an additional week with his aunt thrown in this year. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We do not seem to learn from out last years experience, surprisingly. We promise ourselves and each other that -"This is it- it is absolutely the last time we are sending him away", and promptly book his tickets and send him off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I then make grand plans about what all we can get done, in the interval that the child is not there and i have lots of time to spare. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lists made, plans worked out..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The only thing i have managed to do from that list is to move the microwave from point A- point B in kitchen. Apart from that, i have finished 4 books, vegetated on the couch for hours, and watched some utterly boring shows, including one where they showed how cutlery is made!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, i should not complain right? He is enjoying holidays with real people, spending time outdoors,  than stay back here are spend it with the cartoon characters on TV. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And ze husband? Sulking more than me, missing the kid terribly and downright depressed. . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sulking is my job- he is supposed to make me get out of that mode. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Obviously he missed reading the manual before marriage. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5907569077654734079?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5907569077654734079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5907569077654734079' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5907569077654734079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5907569077654734079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/05/it-is-that-time-of-year.html' title='It is that time of the year...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8982036517982291761</id><published>2010-04-19T16:03:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-19T16:24:29.827+05:30</updated><title type='text'>All in a weekend..</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;Saturday .....&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Couple 1: Young, married for maybe 4 years, one baby. Arranged marriage...Can't stand each other. Can't live with each other..pursuing their own lives. Child too small to understand implications.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Couple 2: Beautiful couple...about to begin life as a family, dealing with a fatal blow life offered them...she- trying to pick up pieces of that dream she saw fall apart a few months ago!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Couple 3: "Fell in love at 15, married at 19" couple. Married for about 15 years, now handling a bitter seperation and dirt throwing that is getting muckier than mumbai sewers...teenage daughter caught in between....and who has not smiled in months now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to have a life..and throw it away for something smaller, something as insignificant as ego....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You have a life built over years, and tear it apart by trodding over your loved one's and harassing them...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to have a life, and work for it, and life plays spoilsport and brings you back to square one, but this time, with added responsibility and fewer resources...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Somedays the whole world seems to be conspiring against people who just want to have normal lives...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Times when one almost feels guilty for having a fairly normal life....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;Sunday....&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Couple 4: The girl who walked out of an abusive relationship.. her baby who cried for years together in memory. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The guy- best friend, who pulled the girl to the shores and turned her back into the swan she really is...and became papa to the baby. Who persevered months  together to convince the girl and her parents to give him a chance. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her ringing laughter makes me realize that life does not always happen to be a failed test...sometimes, it is that dream that one gets to live...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8982036517982291761?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8982036517982291761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8982036517982291761' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8982036517982291761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8982036517982291761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-in-weekend.html' title='All in a weekend..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2681534345171410495</id><published>2010-04-13T16:34:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-13T16:55:59.106+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Work's worth</title><content type='html'>That time of the year has come and gone. The time of appraisals/ reviews and all the drama associated with it. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A few years ago, i lived that life. Work was defined by the numbers on the scoreboard. Did i make it, or not? and life was a stress test, that built up from december on..and ended in explosions in early april. &lt;div&gt;Can't complain, they have not been bad. But the very thought of having to to go through this process was very undesirable! I made it through well, every year, made money, earned increments, but none of them left a smile on my face. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last 3 years have been different. I work , stretch deadlines, slog to finish work, leave late at times, but never because i was asked to. There is never a score board to fill, nor a target to cross for the incentive. Nothing to stir up the non competitive soul in me. But surprisingly,  it works!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do it for myself. For my practice and the client who pays money that runs this small firm that i am a part of. I have had no formal appraisal/ review in 3 years. Everyone knows what each of us do. Excel sheets need not be filed to proclaim what is already known. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In an exceptionally bad year that we left behind us, we all took a salary cut without a wink. And did not brood over it for even a minute. There were extreme lows for a small firm like us , but we sailed through. There were times when morale was low, some of out senior talent left us, and we were ready to kill people. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, all this is forgotten, when the person that matters , she of very few words, sits next to you on a beach, and says " You did great, and not just today. All through last year. Thank you for having faith". &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For me, that was my appraisal, and it meant so much more than the data that any excel sheet could ever get out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes, one line judges our "work's worth". This one appraisal, made me smile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2681534345171410495?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2681534345171410495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2681534345171410495' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2681534345171410495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2681534345171410495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/04/works-worth.html' title='Work&apos;s worth'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6843885831260647701</id><published>2010-04-05T11:46:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-05T12:06:58.991+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Yearly summer musings</title><content type='html'>Summer is here. In a very, "you cannot ignore me" way. I hate bombay summers. The humidity , the sweat, and the sun that tries to pierce a hole through my skin and get under it. No fun!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think with age, one's intolerance increases. I do not recollect ever disliking any seasons as a child, summer in particular. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apart from the fact that it was vacations, there were a lot more associated to summer...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Waking up in the morning enjoying the last cool breezes before the sun bore down...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Enjoy that summery smell- hay heating up, and the leaves drying out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-Shifting with the shadows , sitting guard over the drying vathal/ kondattam's, and blaming the birds for the one's that get eaten in the process..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- expertly catching the mangoes that dad used to drop down from the top most branches.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Walk 3 km to the river to take a bath. That river, where one has to lie down horizontally to wet the torso. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Catch fish with towels, put them in horlicks bottles and get them home as pets. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Bury the poor fishes the next day in a grave dug by all cousins, and decorated them with flowers. Mourn for the fish one day, and get back catching more fish that evening:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Look forward to the day the palm fruits get harvested, chill them, eat them, and catch a cold. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Feed all visiting cousins tonnes of jackfruit and realize their stomach could not handle it!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Fight for the space on the cool black floor on a summer afternoon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Wind up on the favourite mango tree with a book, and the radio for company. A raw mango with salt and chilli powder on the side. Bliss!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Compete with mom to make the longest strand of jasmine in the evening...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Lying down under the clear starry sky and listen to all the elders talking, the dog trying to push us off the cot periodically. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Tracking the clouds, predicting rains and waiting for them eagerly!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wonder what happened to summer, my summer? I wonder if anyone anywhere is having so much fun during summer anymore?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope someday, my son understands what summer meant to me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6843885831260647701?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6843885831260647701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6843885831260647701' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6843885831260647701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6843885831260647701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/04/yearly-summer-musings.html' title='Yearly summer musings'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2102687327578989218</id><published>2010-04-05T11:42:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-04-05T11:46:02.437+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Found my marbles</title><content type='html'>I think after losing all that sleep and endless worrying, i have found my marbles. I think i'll take things as they come and live with it. No more fretting. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A lot of you wrote to me and said- " it will all work out eventually". I am great believer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you all:-)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2102687327578989218?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2102687327578989218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2102687327578989218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2102687327578989218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2102687327578989218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/04/found-my-marbles.html' title='Found my marbles'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-393980774872387239</id><published>2010-03-22T15:15:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-22T15:46:05.943+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Justifying  decisions</title><content type='html'>Now that &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-am-i-doing-this.html"&gt;her&lt;/a&gt; departure has been decided and plans made, &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i keep losing sleep over what we will do in the coming days/months&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On plan it all sounds very simple...wake up, clockwork. Drop kid at daycare, pick him up in the evening, clockwork, and crash. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That clockwork part, is scaring the shit out of me. With 2 hrs of one way travel everyday, i am wondering if it is a sensible idea at all!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, this had to happen, someday or other. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----Another year and V will be six. I'd rather has starts now when he still has friends around at the same place...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----I could be selfish and keep her for another 5 years, health not mattering. But i would have to live with that thought everyday. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----What if she falls ill? I doubt her family / general public at home will take kindly to that fact..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---- I am pulling V from a very comfortable life and forcing him to spend his days with a couple of other kids- much like putting a day schooler into a boarding school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---Maybe he will finally start eating lunch/ food without coercion, hoping peer pressure would work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---He will learn to share his space with other kids and co exist. As of now, he is the undisputed king/ owner of all things in his vicinity. Perils of being a single child.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a decision waiting to happen and now is when it is happening. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes, i wonder who am i justifying all this to?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe just myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-393980774872387239?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/393980774872387239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=393980774872387239' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/393980774872387239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/393980774872387239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/03/justifying-decisions.html' title='Justifying  decisions'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7677753524953468619</id><published>2010-03-08T17:27:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2010-03-08T17:56:05.910+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Parenting lesson # 2785</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Kids ask questions..One's that test your creativity , reasoning, and sanity. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some wisdom gathered over the past year show that....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--These questions are most likely-very real, very basic and very uncomfortable at times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--One realizes that the reply, what ever it may be- needs to be cleverly answered. Chances are, 99.99% of time, it will get told to visitors in great enthusiasm along with " Mama/ papa told me this"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-- The same questions can be asked to you repeatedly, under different circumstances- it is just a ploy devised by 2ft tall people to understand how stable his/ her parents are.  You change one word in the reply-- and they will point it out to you. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--You never get brownie points for answering any question related to school based knowledge. The teacher is always right, and you are wrong-- come what may!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-- Most of the philosophical questions in life arise, just when you have got into the bathroom and shut the door. They love hearing us reply " why can't i be 8 yrs old for my next birthday " being shouted over the noises of ablusion!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--Never, never answer a question absent mindedly. You will end up hearing a lot of " but you told me it's ok? "&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And most important of all...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Never tell them your age. Even.under.duress. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Half of our housing society, all our friends and relatives, a flight full of people to delhi , all school mates, all teachers , the guy who sells bread/ eggs, our vegetable seller, his doctor, the waiters at his favourite restaurant- everyone knows how old me and TB are!!! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;That phrase " what was i thinking when i decided to have a kid?" sounds very logical at times like these....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7677753524953468619?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7677753524953468619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7677753524953468619' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7677753524953468619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7677753524953468619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/03/parenting-lesson-2785.html' title='Parenting lesson # 2785'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1025339114397813816</id><published>2010-02-22T15:48:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-22T16:15:01.648+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Why am i doing this?</title><content type='html'>Come this may, and we will take a huge step in our life. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V's nanny returns to her native place  for good. In simple terms, it can be described as a " blow below the belt". Now starts the worry of - finding a daycare that will take in V while both if us are away for work. Not exactly what we want to do, but very less choice in there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am fairly sure she will want to stay back for a while more if we really push her, or maybe even suggest it, and it is not going to be easy to manage work/ home/ kid...but then --The decision of letting her move on has been made, her family informed and appraised. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So why exactly are we doing this???I kept asking myself this question ..and in my mind...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is why we need to do it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Her age is catching up. V is getting more active, her agility is failing. Her general health i better than average, but her age worries me.And age related problems have started showing up. About time for her to spend time with her family, and not with us. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;She came to us with an initial decision of staying till V was 3 and then stayed on, because- she could not stay without him. So the next 2 years happened. Now she feels that V's dependency on he is reducing. Which is - true. They move on. They need less of us to do things. She finds that difficult to accept and discourages him from doing things on his own. Not good in the long run. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I think me and TB are growing complacent. We have someone else take care of V's small things on a daily basis. In these formative years,parents need to be around for children to learn from them and grow. V sees more of her, and learns a lot from her. Ideally we would like that he learns from his parents. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On a selfish note, not having someone live in the house 24 hours a day will also give us some " we" time and live as we please. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;And at a very secretive, personal level, i harbour the hope that i might just quit and stay at home for a while and just be a mom and wife. Practically very unwise, buy hey! it's my hope. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Writing all this down was easy. The road ahead is not. I have a feeling i just asked my way to hell.The problem with all such exalted predictions is that they come true, and come back to bite in our butt!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But this had to happen someday. Better now than later! I need a lot of prayers, and a way forward. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In my usual style, i shall procrastinate till April!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1025339114397813816?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1025339114397813816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1025339114397813816' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1025339114397813816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1025339114397813816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/02/why-am-i-doing-this.html' title='Why am i doing this?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8013419954012819829</id><published>2010-02-16T17:27:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-16T17:52:58.032+05:30</updated><title type='text'>About a holiday...</title><content type='html'>I have been threatened at gun point, bullied , coaxed, cajoled and generally been abused for not posting anything. &lt;div&gt;No, not really, but i sense that coming my way . Subtle messages are being sent out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went off to the jungles of Corbett for the weekend and enjoyed a 'proper holiday'. I did not look at the watch, did not stress myself out thinking about my commute, missed all sorts of communication with the outside world, and have the most amazing weekend. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A holiday with children conjures up the image of a good looking place, complete with a resort with all amenities, enough entertainment to keep the child occupied, swimming pool for the grown ups to spend time on..and service on call. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, the smart people that we are, went off to Corbett with a bunch of friends, in biting cold, to a place completely inaccessible by public transport, with no electricity, no swimming pool, no games for children, and no TV!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I saw a whole new side to the 5 year old. He walked and walked for three days, made friends with every person in that camp, held their fingers and walked around,met the 8 dogs that the owners keep, fell in love with them, played with dogs twice his size, watched birds, listened to their calls, and just..walked! ( we shall not talk about the mealtime fights here and how he managed to get apple juice on demand from the kitchen). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Some holidays leave impressions on you....pictures in your mind that photographs cannot do justice to, smells that bring back moments, voices that remind you of conversations.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--- of crushed leaves during an elephant safari...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the way the child laughed when he reached out to tall grass sitting on the elephant...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;going back for second helpings of the most awesome porridge in the world..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the crackling of the campfire and the quite noise of fryums being eaten by a dozen people in darkness...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the majestic sambhar deer looking straight at our eyes while waiting for us to move on , so his baby can cross that road...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The thrill of first time angler seeing the fish he caught...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;V saying 'bye fish" when we let it go back..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;hot water bags in a freezing bed...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Father son moments that one wants to treasure forever...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Enjoying the sun lying out in the middle of no where...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Company of genuine people...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amazing conversations...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...... doing nothing,and feeling completely good about it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Holidays like this, are truly the stuff fantasies are made of. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8013419954012819829?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8013419954012819829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8013419954012819829' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8013419954012819829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8013419954012819829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/02/about-holiday.html' title='About a holiday...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3099395432173251153</id><published>2010-02-07T14:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-07T14:15:00.320+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A tag...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 22px; "&gt;1.Whom do you remember when in deep shit? God, Mommy, Dad, etc&lt;br /&gt;God- in any form, and TB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 22px; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.Whats your favourite swear word?&lt;br /&gt;Shit! and under my breath , the F word too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. When in mixed company, how do you describe your strap when it can be seen?&lt;br /&gt;I usually do not say anything, just go ahead and correct it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. When in mixed company, how do you talk about your period?&lt;br /&gt;Never had the reason to speak about it in unknown mixed group. With the known group, i say pretty much what i want to..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Which actor have you had the longest crush on?&lt;br /&gt;None, really!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Did you have a fun nickname in your college days?&lt;br /&gt;Not that i know of. may be i should ask others if there was one...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3099395432173251153?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3099395432173251153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3099395432173251153' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3099395432173251153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3099395432173251153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/02/tag.html' title='A tag...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8211678695211825928</id><published>2010-02-04T16:56:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-02-04T17:11:43.746+05:30</updated><title type='text'>A child's worth</title><content type='html'>I am sitting next to the feverish kid, stroking his hair, and patting him off to sleep, while he mumbles in meftal induced drowsiness. It is 2 AM and my eyelids are giving up. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The grandmother comes over from her room, sits on one end of the bed and strokes his legs. I tell her to get some sleep, this nocturnal exercise is not going to help her BP. She refuses, stays. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am holding the kids hands, and notice some tiny cuts and bruises that were not there earlier. I examine them like a painter who has just discovered a speck of dirt on his precious artwork. It hurts to see the blackened knee, the red line on the ankle and elbows. I am chasing that one elusive mosquito that is hovering around his head, with continued vigour. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I turn to look at what grandma has discovered while i was busy being besotted with love and displaying in unabashedly, and realize, that it is me she looking at the. She holds my palms and strokes them, looks at the wrinkles at the elbows, tucks in one stray hair behind my ear....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;....just like a painter who has discovered a speck of dust on his precious artwork. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right there, in that moment, i realize a child's worth to the mother and realize how blessed i am. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8211678695211825928?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8211678695211825928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8211678695211825928' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8211678695211825928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8211678695211825928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/02/childs-worth.html' title='A child&apos;s worth'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6046116297182182673</id><published>2010-01-25T18:51:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-25T19:25:02.104+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fiction'/><title type='text'>Matching and match making</title><content type='html'>Vasanthi took a sip of coffee and mentally noted that it tasted nothing like what she made at home. "Has to be machine coffee"- she said to herself, and looked at Narayanan to convey her opinion. He was lost in tea, and the taking in the house and the imported stuff around. She sighed! he was always that way, never worried about future.&lt;div&gt;But she was the mother, she had to be worried. Aparna was their only child. This was her life they were to judge.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This was to happen, she thought. The moment you send a girl of marriageable age to work in another city, you mentally prepare to be able to face this day. There was nothing wrong with the boy- he was smart, had a good job, family sounded decent, but they were US returned. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the last five minutes that she was in the house, she sensed that their living was nothing like that of a palakkad iyer family. How would aparna fit in?  She might get along with the boy,  but will his family be able to accept apu as she is- despite his assurances that they were not all that US influenced. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Their first visit, and no family at home.Just the boy's mother and brother and the servants- is this how a " veedu pakkal" was done? She wanted to nudge narayanan and tell him her opinion then and there. But he rolled his eyes.. and made her keep her mouth shut. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, she found nothing against them. They were happy with apu working, they were not insisting the couple stay with them after marriage, and they did not want anything from the girls side. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vasanthi was still troubled...she still was missing a link. A thread of familiarity that would make her feel this was 'the' family for apu to be at. Well, she would have to just tell apu that something about the entire thing was bothering her and she needs time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Her face told narayanan what he needed to know. It was time for them to leave. He figured it was not going to be easy to explain this to aparna, but it had to be done. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Vasanthi asked to use the the bathroom before she left , she was led into the house, filled with alien looking gadgets and fixtures that worried her to no end. She dried her face with the fluffy towel and mentally framed her response to aparna. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then, from the corner of the eye, she saw it- the dried loofah stuck behind the window pane, and the small square of stone in a corner to scrub feet, and the several bindi's stuck on the mirror...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She smiled, this must be the sign- they were not so different after all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She walked out to tell narayanan that maybe, this was the place. She had just found the missing link..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6046116297182182673?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6046116297182182673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6046116297182182673' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6046116297182182673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6046116297182182673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/01/matching-and-match-making.html' title='Matching and match making'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-480913252437629776</id><published>2010-01-15T15:53:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-15T16:16:18.600+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of being mother goose...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I have been...always ready with a word of advise, a plan, a way forward such stuff....the quentessential mother goose of the premises- keeper of secrets, agony aunt. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Always wondered what made people turn to me? Not that it mattered,still!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But now, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have this small tidbits of conversation with someone in the family i am very fond of, almost everyday. She is battling grief of magnitude and kind that a lot many of us have never been exposed to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She asks me questions, and i hesitate to respond. I can't just be agony aunt to her and give her a pep talk on " all will be well" or " this is destiny". There are enough people to tell her that. The magnitude of her questions overwhelm me. I have to step into her shoes, think over how i would react and respond in a situation and then reply to her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realize then the difference between advicing and guiding . &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Advice i can- because the consequences are for the implementer to face. But a guide cannot- the hand needs to be held till the end of the cliff, and make sure they land on their feet. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I don't know if what i say makes a difference in her thought process, or for that matter if they are even registering in her mind now. None of what is say may translate into her life, ever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But for me, i am forced to re think the way i respond to people- reciprocating the faith, the responsibility that comes along, and the realization that this is what i stand for in life.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-480913252437629776?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/480913252437629776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=480913252437629776' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/480913252437629776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/480913252437629776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/01/of-being-mother-goose.html' title='Of being mother goose...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4676631642290553465</id><published>2010-01-11T11:17:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-11T11:41:31.154+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Friday of paradoxes</title><content type='html'>It was a friday of  paradoxes. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;First was the guy who managed to ask the cab to take him to a different place, exactly the moment i asked to be taken to office, this after 15 mins of waiting for a cab!!! In true mumbai fashion, we decided to share the cab, since he had to cross my office to reach his destination, despite my apprehension of his appearance and demeanor. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So he got into the front seat with the driver, and we rode in silence( another of those gems of mumbai culture), and when i was alighting, handed him my share of the cab fare. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He turns to me and says " i would never ask my sister to share cab fare".And goes onto add" Have a good day sister", and moved on. Needless to say, i was happy that a stranger helped me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The same evening, i waited outside the station to get an auto to take me home. After 25 mins, one conceded. A smartly dressed guy, carrying a laptop who was standing in line behind quickly came up and asked if he could share the auto as he was headed to the same place. I quickly thought back to the morning's incident, decided it was my chance to repay the niceties, and said " sure, we can"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This is what followed.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Like every courteous stranger, we sat at extreme ends of the seat. I promptly started to read the " Brad Meltzer" book from where i left off. He was sitting crouched, with a hanky covering his nose, which i assume was dust protection. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;2 mins into the ride..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Where exactly do you have to get down at C...? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He: Just before we reach there, i'll will tell you when we are about to reach. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Ok. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&gt;&gt; 5 mins later...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He: I am not feeling too well. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: ok, so...what ?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He: Can i lie down on your lap?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: Of course not!!!!*stares daggers*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He : Please, i  really went to lie down( he said 'want to' and  not 'need to')&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Me: *fuse blows** in my most threatening tone*. Ok, you could get down here, take another auto/cab . There will be enough place to lie down all the way to your home or maybe  hospital. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;He: Ok, i'll get down. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had the auto guy stop and let off this man then and there. Then the auto guy and me had a hearty laugh. He drops me home and says" Appearances are so deceptive madam. He looked like he was a very decent office wala chap". ........So did i, buddy, so did i. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lesson learnt, no more sharing autos.  Niceties can go die!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4676631642290553465?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4676631642290553465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4676631642290553465' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4676631642290553465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4676631642290553465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/01/friday-of-paradoxes.html' title='Friday of paradoxes'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-9128251280038190510</id><published>2010-01-04T15:01:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2010-01-04T15:17:35.247+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The second step , or maybe the tenth, or 50th....</title><content type='html'>Sometime last year, i &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-step-closer.html#comments"&gt;blogged&lt;/a&gt; about how i was fighting off the urge to be superwoman. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Six months down the year, i am fairly sure i have started getting comfortable with the pace of this journey. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My to do lists are shorter, and more doable. I can stay at home the whole day and not feel i have wasted productive hours. I can sit and watch TV/ read/ play with V without making a mental list of what is left to do around home. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I no longer feel guilty about spending 2 hours for a pedicure, or reading a book. The number of days we stay at home and do nothing have increased, so has our happiness quotient. Those are always the best days. The one's where we say, no plans for today- and while our Sunday away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I still re arrange the cushions everytime i pass by the sofa, keep picking up toys and lose my head over lights and fans not switched off and wet towels on the bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I said i will start enjoying the journey. Who said anything about reforming myself? That is not going to happen, in a long long time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-9128251280038190510?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/9128251280038190510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=9128251280038190510' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/9128251280038190510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/9128251280038190510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2010/01/second-step-or-maybe-tenth-or-50th.html' title='The second step , or maybe the tenth, or 50th....'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1797398252343553507</id><published>2009-12-31T10:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-31T11:11:22.449+05:30</updated><title type='text'>As we cross over to the next year.....</title><content type='html'>I stopped making new year resolutions a while ago. &lt;div&gt;After the initial euphoria, they eventually become another chore i try to keep up with. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was easier making a list of things that i would want to do, and see how many i can achieve in that..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here is some for the coming year...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love a lot more, hate a little less. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Learn to listen what words don't say.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be able to be there for my own, and not expect them to do the same.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make new friends, and cherish the one's i already have..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be my son's best friend, and my partners soulmate. Be the home they want to return to every evening. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;End the year with as many loved ones and family or maybe more than i start it with- not less.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be able to give my best shot to every task in undertake, personally and professionally. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Give hope only when i can deliver, and be able to understand  and accept my limitations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Be the change in someone's life.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Spend time with loved one's , doing nothing.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Travel and see two places i have never been to before.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And finally, ....Be able to live upto my own expectations, and have the courage to face life, as it comes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Have a great start to 2010 , all of you.May the year bring you the best ever experiences, memories, lots of love, health and of course wealth too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1797398252343553507?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1797398252343553507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1797398252343553507' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1797398252343553507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1797398252343553507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/12/as-we-cross-over-to-next-year.html' title='As we cross over to the next year.....'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7295759395608131509</id><published>2009-12-24T10:25:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-24T10:53:34.581+05:30</updated><title type='text'>What is your child to you?</title><content type='html'>That sounds like a question from "ask the doctor" column, even to me. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;But really, what do they mean to our lives? What changes have they bought to us as a person?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love/ Responsibility/Caring and all that emotions apart? Is there one single change that a kid brings to your life?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To me, i think it is the acceptance and realization of what is do-able and what is not. Of being able to understand reality as it is, and not fool myself into believing i can do more than i am capable of. Also a catalyst to find several resources in me, one's that i never knew existed.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With my child, i am just myself. I see in him an extension of both our personalities. He brings out the best and worst in me. In his eyes, i see myself as the world sees me. And there, i measure myself as a person. He, is my reality check- and a very effective one at that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is yours?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7295759395608131509?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7295759395608131509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7295759395608131509' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7295759395608131509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7295759395608131509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/12/what-is-your-child-to-you.html' title='What is your child to you?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7384982675894672703</id><published>2009-12-18T14:44:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-18T15:03:02.550+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Little updates on life</title><content type='html'>It has been a long hiatus. Longest ever in my short blogging history. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Partially caused by the work load, and a good measure due to some not so nice happenings at family end, and additional thanks to other kinds of social media that one has discovered of late and has got heavily addicted to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Saying something when you want to has it's own charm. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then, once in a while, there is that urge to write more than 140 characters.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Not much has changed in my life. I still wrap life around the almost 5 year old, who vehemently protests when i say '4 going on 5'. In his mind, he is already six, and aspires to be 8. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The age 8 is very significant here. That is the age of his first cousin, who is his idol these days. Of course, someone who demonstrates -"how to jump of ledges and land with minimal damages" and " how to hang of door frames" and whistle!!, - has to be looked upon&gt; no arguments there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The husband, as always lives to work and spends 10 hrs spare time at home( 6 hours sleeping+ 1 hr for dinner+ 2 hours reading paper in the loo+ 1 hr doing i don't know what). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And i have been  my usual self. Striving and constantly trying to be superwoman. Someday i'll reach there. Till then, i will develop my most coveted trait- procastrination. Some one has to, you see.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am guilty of not reading a lot of my favorite blogs for a while, and not responding to comments. And have found a lot more blogs /people that blog. Should add them to reading list too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thank you forcoming back to read me and waiting it out while i practised procastrination. Hope i am worth it . I'll come around to all your blogs soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;*celebrity style air kisses* ...*mwaah, mwaah...*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7384982675894672703?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7384982675894672703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7384982675894672703' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7384982675894672703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7384982675894672703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/12/little-updates-on-life.html' title='Little updates on life'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5525821781276576658</id><published>2009-11-18T16:50:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-18T17:04:37.328+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reinforced relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Does it happen to all? when confronted with grief and sadness, family suddenly becomes a closer unit. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the years, i see it happening again and again and marvel the fact that people with contradicting opinions about everything in life, the one's who cannot stand each other, suddenly are united for the same cause. The differences magically seem to dissolve and both sides start seeing things with a lot more clarity and practicality.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last two weeks have been so. There is still no respite, no answers, but there are a lot more conversations, assurances and an unbelievable amount of collective effort and prayers around us. We are hoping they will translate into goodwill and bring upon us a miracle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But, in the meanwhile, it has made some of us bury our demons and skeletons from the cupboard- and ensure they do not return, ever. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If not for anything else, this phase has reinforced a lot of relationships that were otherwise dormant in the family. Now we wait for the miracle that all of us have been praying for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5525821781276576658?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5525821781276576658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5525821781276576658' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5525821781276576658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5525821781276576658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/11/reinforced-relationships.html' title='Reinforced relationships'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1625932334865179484</id><published>2009-11-11T16:26:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-11T16:55:52.290+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Heartbreak</title><content type='html'>It has been ages since i blogged. Blame that on...myself. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is always, later. Except that later  meant- when i am done with all other priorities- more like, forever. I promised myself that i will resume blogging once back from the vacation. But then, i am queen of procastrination. And just when i have time to blog, there have been some developments at homefront. Some testing times for the family. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The vacation story will have to wait a bit longer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;God has a way of subtly telling us that life isn't all ha ha he he....he gives you pleasure on one hand, and agony on the other. Take both and live with it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Someone close to me, someone i am very fond of, is going through a crisis that is life altering , hers and everyone around hers. On one hand, she has been gifted with a precious gift, and on the other, she sees her life balanced by a thread. To her, her life as she knows has altered, the coming months will define her life for the rest of years to live. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At times like this, when nothing is under our control, what does one do? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Accentuate the happiness and mask the grief? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tone down the happiness and let the grief tide over? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Being party to both her happiness and sorrow,the lines between them blur at times. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At times, my thoughts go astray...tomorrow may be my turn. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Will i stay strong and make my destiny or will i give in and let my fate take over like an ivy? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do i advice her? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To pray and expect a miracle? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be strong enough to know that a miracle may not happen?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To be prepared for whatever life brings her?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am here, miles away from her, praying for a miracle, hoping she has the strength to know a miracle may not happen, and praying that no one goes through what she is experiencing now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To S: Always the fighter, always the one who benchmarked your life against someone better. The one who pushed against all the barriers. You are braver than you think. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Things will get better. I just know. You deserve it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1625932334865179484?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1625932334865179484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1625932334865179484' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1625932334865179484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1625932334865179484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/11/heartbreak.html' title='Heartbreak'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4387037895424721321</id><published>2009-11-02T18:07:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-02T18:10:14.173+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Here here...look this way.</title><content type='html'>Just a note to let you all know...&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Halloween  is past...Am back from the dead.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Happy after a holiday, sad that it ended. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And hoping to read posts from all my favourite bloggers and maybe post something of my own too. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Love all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4387037895424721321?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4387037895424721321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4387037895424721321' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4387037895424721321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4387037895424721321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/11/here-herelook-this-way.html' title='Here here...look this way.'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1027004437545611883</id><published>2009-09-23T18:32:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-24T11:14:09.914+05:30</updated><title type='text'>My seasons of senses..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;If someone asked me 10 years ago what my favorite season was- i would have gladly said- summer. Purely for the fun of having vacations. Physically it did not matter. There were only 3 seasons as i remember growing up...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The rainy season , &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The windy season with no rains and when it i not very hot, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The summer season when one was always outdoors, unmindful of the heat and perspiration. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the years, one figures out seasons by senses, more than actual days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A season when you cannot wear a cotton kurti  and feel comfortable. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A season when one steps out and smells fresh flowers everywhere. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A season where mornings are misty and the morning water from the tap stuns the face...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A season when the horizon is a dull brown, and one when it is lush green..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One where you find greenish molds on bottles not opened for two weeks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When one clip is not enough to hold the clothes back on the clothesline..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When one can dry a load of clothes in half a day, and another where it takes two days...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When hot soup feels like bliss and another where ice cold water feels like heaven. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One just senses the change...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Two days ago, a golden yellow sky suddenly turned menacing dark, thunder and lightworks galore. The cloudburst left crowds stranded for cabs, drenched to the core.&lt;div&gt;Teeth chattering, clutching onto my bag for warmth, my heart saddens.The winds have changed direction, the rains are no longer going to be falling into my bedroom.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The monsoon , or what ever little of it was there, is officially over. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I become that grey hornbill, slowly scraping its beak against the aged bark, waiting for the next showers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1027004437545611883?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1027004437545611883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1027004437545611883' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1027004437545611883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1027004437545611883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-seasons-of-senses.html' title='My seasons of senses..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6833526851091819734</id><published>2009-09-16T13:30:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-16T14:11:06.035+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Silly somethings</title><content type='html'>On days like this, &lt;div&gt;when summer threatens to appear &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want to dissappear. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Under the cool blue water,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could become a fish&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Alas, its only a wish&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could just run home, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Snuggle under the bedcover&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And take time to recover&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I could leave for the hills&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And stand facing the breeze&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And not even mind a freeze&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Instead, i sit here and stare&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;at this screen in a daze&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hoping to get out of this maze&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6833526851091819734?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6833526851091819734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6833526851091819734' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6833526851091819734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6833526851091819734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/09/silly-somethings.html' title='Silly somethings'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5240765098356392535</id><published>2009-09-01T17:26:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-01T17:58:19.834+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Some lost feelings..</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Edited to add: Very regional post ahead. Please pardon. Could not get it out in any other language. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It is Onam. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3 days of celebrations... and 10 days of preparation for that. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--Ammamma overseeing the quality of mud used to make &lt;a href="http://www.hindu-blog.com/2007/08/thrikkakara-appan-clay-pyramid.html"&gt;mather/ thrikkakkara appan,&lt;/a&gt; and allowing us to make small utensils with mud to be kept around the mather. The pleasure of compring the neatness of small mathers' with sister and cousins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--Waking upto find dusted and polished "pookkooda"( flower basket) kept outside the verandah, ready to be picked up and dash off. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;...scurrying to pluck the best flowers before the neighbour's kids get at them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;-- turning up our nose at the circle of  plastered cowdung to put pookkalam, and forgetting about it as soon as the pookkalam takes shape&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--Sticking flowers into tiny sticks and balancing them precariously around the mather. Selecting the best flower of the day to go right on top. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;--The fun of crushing ladies fingers leaves into the arimaavu/ kolam maavu to make it easier to write the names. Watching mom write down all our names and stars around the Matheru. Watching the list get bigger each year with new kids being added to it...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The pookkalam and sadya were a given. That would happen anyway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was these small moments that made our onam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now, for Onam, we make pookkalam with market bought flowers, make sadya with all the dishes, but these small moments are what i miss giving my son. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Today he knows Onam as a festival. Someday, i hope he understands the spirit of Onam as i did. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Till then, we will live in this farce of a celebration. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Ignore my rants ..... Go ahead and have a happy and properous Onam. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5240765098356392535?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5240765098356392535/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5240765098356392535' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5240765098356392535'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5240765098356392535'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/09/some-lost-feelings.html' title='Some lost feelings..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6081851696598454458</id><published>2009-08-26T18:16:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-26T18:18:00.223+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Break point</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;When two people have been married for a for a while, do they start accepting each others shortcomings as normal, or does that lie as an undercurrent in the relationship, waiting to explode at the opportune moment? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to believe in acceptance.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always wonder What makes people walk away from a relationship of years? What is the breaking point? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 years ago, after a fight with my husband, i'd be angry, frustrated and counting minutes through the night. Planning revenge,plotting strategy to walk out of the house and not return. Now,after a decent fight, i go to bed with the knowledge that this too shall pass, and that we are very normal. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But when i hear about friends and random people breaking up after being together for years,i worry.I could never imagine the generation before us decideing to go their seperate ways citing reasons that our generation does. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;" We are not compatible"- after 8 years of marriage , and "She does not understand me" after a decade and two kids sounds very very scary.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are relationships so fickle now? There are some basic fundamentals that i consider sacrosanct. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&gt;&gt;Infidelity: can be never accepted in a relation. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&gt;&gt;Respect: The spouse could be anyone professionally, but respect for the person is essential. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&gt;&gt;Honesty/ trust:  if we are a unit,unless i know what the other parts are capable and are doing, work cannot be in tandem. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe i am just an aberration-but to me, all other aspects can be worked on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5 years down the line,this ideal may come back to bite me in the butt- they always do. I guess i need to work really hard to ensure that my break point is very very far away.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I do not ever want to be among the scores who say " it's just not working out", all the while cringing for the child who is always the one to lose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6081851696598454458?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6081851696598454458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6081851696598454458' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6081851696598454458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6081851696598454458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/08/break-point.html' title='Break point'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5859841073486737463</id><published>2009-08-12T18:18:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-12T18:21:13.485+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Identities in a crowded world</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;I am a normal average middle class Indian. The kind who aspires to do well, save for a house, for retirement, have money tucked away for emergencies and parents healthcare. Also the kind who upon hearing about the lives of friends abroad, wishes one was abroad. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;---dreams about living abroad one day, the clean roads, the winters that do not exist in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, to make a snowman, work 8 hours a day and have a quality life. Of doing a vacation once a year to perhaps one of those picturesque locations oft seen in travelogues.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;--wonder if we should have moved out of the country earlier, like a lot of friends, managed a citizenship, visit India once in two years for 30 days, take pictures of self and kids every week, at every juncture in life- to share with folks back home, video chat with loved one’s and complain about non availability of authentic Indian food. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;True, I harbour all these thoughts and wishes.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;But then....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;There are days when I feel the need to be part of a crowd and quietly take a detour to the market on a busy day with no aim to buy anything. Just walking through the crowds, taking in the sights and sounds, looking out for anything that catches my fancy, I realize my identity.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Deep down inside, I am still a part of a large extended family. I need my daily dose of family matters, chatter and gossip. I need to find out what mom cooked for dinner today. I need to attend that twice removed cousin’s youngest daughter’s engagement. I need to be around my people, see that familiar old house once in six months, pray at the family deity’s temple, and spend the night sitting and chatting in moonlight.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;I am still in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;India&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, just 2000 kms from my parents, not seen them for exactly 4 months, not been home for 18 months, and homesick like hell. I am in the most crowded city, meet people who want to know intricate details of my life 25 seconds after they meet, and still feel lonely at times.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;That dream of living abroad some day, the more I think about it, less appealing it sounds now. Travel I will, but home is where the heart is.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;And home will never be more than a night’s drive from where my folks are. Ever.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5859841073486737463?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5859841073486737463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5859841073486737463' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5859841073486737463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5859841073486737463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/08/identities-in-crowded-world.html' title='Identities in a crowded world'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-651138853166164576</id><published>2009-08-03T10:35:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-03T10:54:54.822+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Friendship blues</title><content type='html'>Some of the best friends are the ones i meet less and socialize even less with. &lt;div&gt;I am guessing it is solely because i know i do not need to do these. Some friendships do not need a measure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last weekend we spent time with a couple who we knew on and off for the last 11 years. What started of as a casual busines acquaintance has now grown into a relation ship that i cannot define. And somehow we happen to end up the the same cities together. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We move cities, stay away from each other for most part of the year and meet once in a quarter, maybe? But, when we meet, it feels like they have always been around. Like we last met them the day before, or that morning..&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And conversation, always tends around things that i would never discuss in open. Financial situations, where we could improve as people, what i want to do with our lives in the next 5 years, Worries about family,concerns about parents - their age, illness. A visit from them and i feel much cleaned. Like i've put down a load from my head- oh not just mine, happens to TB too.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yes, sometimes we do the regular girlfriend thing too...like go shopping to a mall, put kid in a play area for hours and shop to our hearts content. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They are moving again, to a different city, and were practically holed up at our house over the weekend. We cooked , watched movies, played with V and were just ourselves.  When they were leaving, she said" When do we see you again?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And the husband said : "All you need to do is ask, and we'll be here. But you know that already, don't you?"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes i do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know they'll be there when i need,and they will know exactly what to say, and it will feel like they never left. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Is there something called friendship blues? I think i am suffering from that right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-651138853166164576?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/651138853166164576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=651138853166164576' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/651138853166164576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/651138853166164576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/08/friendship-blues.html' title='Friendship blues'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6647237874365020974</id><published>2009-07-22T16:58:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-22T18:10:52.684+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The top  5</title><content type='html'>This one is for MinM. I already gave you my excuses for being so late.&lt;br /&gt;And for VJ, who double tagged me, so i have no excuse left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are 5 great things TB has done for me, in no order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bestest Friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The one who lent me a shoulder when i was heartbroken, one who chaperoned me to dates in college, the one who taught me how to ride an enfield bullet, and always finished half of whatever i ordered at the local tea shop. The one person who knows absolutely everything about my life. My bestest friend for the last 14 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;The know-how man&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am the practical one around here. But he is the logic man. I can tell you what needs to be done. But he will know how exactly to do it. Without him, my practical suggestions do not find ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;The one who came back, again and again&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we started working and had to part ways after college, i told him that the next three years were our test. Anything could happen- we were human. That there would be no bad blood if we find someone else.&lt;br /&gt;But he came back, every meagre holiday he had, he made time to come to my workplace, hundreds of kms away and then went to meet his family. He made sure i was left with no time and inclination to think of anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Never son- in -law&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has never been a son-in- law to my parents or family. He has been the son they never had, elder brother to my cousins and the nephew my aunts and uncles adore.&lt;br /&gt;From  my mom, who spent months pondering what was the correct approach for a 'jamai', and who now shares a glass of wine with him.&lt;br /&gt;To the uncle who refused to identify anyone else except him in late stages of dementia. He is truly the son they always wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;The awesomest in laws.Period!&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In one word, his family is what you call" bindaas" in hindi.&lt;br /&gt;I could not have asked for a better family to be a part of . I have him to thank for giving me them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6647237874365020974?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6647237874365020974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6647237874365020974' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6647237874365020974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6647237874365020974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/top-5.html' title='The top  5'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2003910225466810725</id><published>2009-07-22T16:50:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-22T16:57:53.454+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Tring tring...</title><content type='html'>I have not died and gone to heaven.&lt;br /&gt;There are other reasons i can attribute to my dissappearing act. ....Like work, sick child, work, sick spouse, work, general grubbiness etc.&lt;br /&gt;Will be back on track soon, reading all of you, and hopefully writing more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2003910225466810725?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2003910225466810725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2003910225466810725' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2003910225466810725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2003910225466810725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/tring-tring.html' title='Tring tring...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5508370000089487419</id><published>2009-07-13T14:54:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-13T15:15:36.117+05:30</updated><title type='text'>To be 17</title><content type='html'>It is 8.30 AM on a monday morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She is wearing a snug fit  jeans and black and white tee. a few strands pulled back by a clip and held in place. She loooks pretty, very pretty, like any 17 year old should look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her regular bus is late, and she is worried...can't be late to class on a monday.&lt;br /&gt;Her eyes are looking beyond the curve, waiting for that red bus to show up,while she mentally assesses herself -" Do i look pretty enough?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just ahead , she sees the bike on the road. winding its way through the traffic. Smartly dressed guy on the bike. But ah! helmet. Will he look at her? She shifts a little, facing the road. The traffic slows down, so does he. She looks farther, pretending not to see him slow down. Traffic moves, he moves, not before looking at her. She glances backwards at the last moment and catches him look at her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She smiled a knowing, playful smile of the one who knows she is being admired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neither of them saw the woman sitting in an auto and watching this little act unfold.&lt;br /&gt;In that moment, she made me want to be 17 again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5508370000089487419?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5508370000089487419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5508370000089487419' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5508370000089487419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5508370000089487419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-be-17.html' title='To be 17'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5151032931615304717</id><published>2009-07-06T11:01:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-06T14:38:39.203+05:30</updated><title type='text'>One step closer</title><content type='html'>One of my constant fights is with myself. I am permanently living with the feeling that i haven't done enough with my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That i have not done enough work to earn my bread , when i leave work..&lt;br /&gt;That i haven't finished as much i could have ..when i am waiting for sleep&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done this / done that with him, when ever i have a weekend with V&lt;br /&gt;I haven't done enough for my parents, for my in laws..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does not matter that i might have done what is humanly possible and what needs to be done has been..There is still a sense of " I could have done more".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a " self pusher" all through life...maybe largely due to the reason that i grew up in a large joint family where there was no 'me' time. Or 'we' time, with my parents. One learns that to want something is to earn it. There is no other way. Throughout my growing years and into marriage, it worked beautifully...i wanted something, worked for it. I did something, i put my heart into it- unrelentingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere in the last few years, i started stopping to wonder if i was enjoying this.The thrill of achivement, the sense of well done deed- what was it worth? I wasn't enjoying the journey because i was too focussed on getting it right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been a constant effort, to convince myself that i do not need to be perfect to enjoy this journey, or more importantly, neither do the people and my surroundings need to be perfect. I am still accepting that cushion covers strewn over the sofa, or a biscuit packet open on the floor is perfectly reasonable. That a picture perfect house does not signify a perfect life...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--That not being able spend every waking hour with my son does not make me any less of a mother, that not being perfect in every work does not make me any less of an asset to the organization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a constant fight, but i go on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On days when i spend two hours making paper boats and another hour splashing in the puddle-with not a though about dinner plans,&lt;br /&gt;On days when i settle for night and cannot think of any one task i completed- but feel comfortably warm and happy with my family around me,&lt;br /&gt;On mondays when i do not wake up with an excel sheel opening up in my head....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..... My heart warms to know i have started enjoying the journey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5151032931615304717?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5151032931615304717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5151032931615304717' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5151032931615304717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5151032931615304717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-step-closer.html' title='One step closer'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3388738948617774652</id><published>2009-07-02T12:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-02T10:06:44.118+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Reporting live</title><content type='html'>Current situation at home...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;KID&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Completely screwed up sleep schedule in view of new school timings.&lt;br /&gt;Onslaught of temper tantrums and defiance at age 4.5 .&lt;br /&gt;Demands to be put back in playschool.&lt;br /&gt;Fight for dominance of TV remote.&lt;br /&gt;Vocabulary consists of one word ---"NO"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;MOTHER&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Half snot clogged, half fried brain.&lt;br /&gt;Heavily resisting the urge to smack above kids bottom.&lt;br /&gt;Is having nightmares about next days lunchbox menu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;FATHER&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missing in action most of the time.&lt;br /&gt;Fight for dominance of TV remote(when awake at home- for exactly 120 minutes).&lt;br /&gt;Is ready to murder some people at work.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3388738948617774652?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3388738948617774652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3388738948617774652' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3388738948617774652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3388738948617774652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/07/reporting-live-from.html' title='Reporting live'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7940139912278249156</id><published>2009-06-30T15:06:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-30T18:19:15.839+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Har Har...i'm beating my own drums...</title><content type='html'>This is embarassing! no really.&lt;br /&gt;I was asking around , after being tagged by &lt;a href="http://maidinmalaysia.wordpress.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;MinM&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to do a tag on why i am awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i asked my folks why they thought i was awesome, and received...&lt;br /&gt;- blank looks&lt;br /&gt;- vague statements of " because of the person you are" type..&lt;br /&gt;- questions like "Awesome, you?" kinds..&lt;br /&gt;I am scarred for life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gave up and decided to do the tag on my own.here is why i think i am awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I am awesome because i think there is nothing like too much love....knows a million people- loves them all. Never held a grudge in my life. Couldn't find a reason to. Know me in real life?Then you'll also know there will be a place for you- at our home and in our hearts, any time. Not met in 15 years? no problem- we'll just start where we left off then. Once a friend, on for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.I am awesome because my middle name is Persistence. I'm not a fighter, but someone who just does not give up. You can ignore me, but you can never shake me off- till i get what i want from you. Every year in my appraisals these words stare back- and i smile to myself. "Persistent, Assertive, not aggressive. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I am awesome because i am fiercely independent- i can run my life. I will share responsibilities only because it is socially expected to. If not, i'd do it all by myself. With all due love to the man i married- he knows it better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I am awesome because i strive to stay above my standards. There is a common standard that is expected of someone, then there are expectations above it . I put my standards even above that- so i never fall short of anyone's expectations, except mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I am awesome because i have the most awesome family, and i value them : Loved one's i grew up with, the men i love ,and the family that i acquired. Much before we got married, after we had presented our case to the families and i had met his parents, TB's dad called him up to say " i hope you are dead serious about this . We met her, we love her. So if you have any second thought's about this , do not come back home. She can stay with us" Need i say more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I am awesome because i have been brave. Not the "will watch 12 AM horror movie alone" type brave. Life hasn't exactly been a bed of roses.There are times when we may have walked away from this life, thrown the towel- called it quits. But no-we held on, fought back and stayed on. Experience tells me I am at my best when life is at its worst. I have been stronger than i ever thought i could be , brave to take risks in life that thankfully paid off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I am awesome because i am a realist. I cannot step out beyond practical thinking. Everything i do is based on practicality. There are no impulse decisions, there are no fantasies in life. Maybe overtly practical at time, but it keeps me grounded, and very close to reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! I give up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thank you all for reading all that crap above.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7940139912278249156?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7940139912278249156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7940139912278249156' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7940139912278249156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7940139912278249156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/har-harim-beating-my-own-drums.html' title='Har Har...i&apos;m beating my own drums...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8112140556714324922</id><published>2009-06-26T11:04:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-26T11:35:58.273+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Un-maid</title><content type='html'>I read &lt;a href="http://maidinmalaysia.wordpress.com/2009/06/26/the-right-to-a-friend/#comment-1505"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;her&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt; in the morning , and said- i have to write today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have a lady who lives with us to take care of V. She's family..not tied through blood, but by heart. She's from our village and i have seen her come to work in the fields from when i was a kid. We call her &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2008/07/valiamma.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;valiamma&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, which means mother's elder sister. Every one in our building calls her the same. When we moved in, several of our neighbours wanted to know who she was and how she was related to us. I told them she was a distant relative,and someone we have known for a long time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was asked this question several times over in the last two years. I wondered why. Slowly i realized it--&lt;br /&gt;-my answer decides her place in this society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--If i had said she is not related to us and she used to work for our family back home- that would put her in the category of a 'maid'. Then the social setup she will be interacting with will be very different- the cooks, the bai's, the day nanny's, the full time maids and assortment of people that comprise of half the population. &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- If i said she is a relative, she is treated as an equal by the numerous mothers who bring down their kids to play with V, and the people who she meets on a daily basis&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know she will not be there with us for long..but she keeps coming back every year. The reason- she has a place in here. She is not a nobody. And she cannot live without V.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been occassions where she was given a second class citizen treatment- but we have always pulled her up, and made sure they know she is family. Today, everyone we know calls her 'valiamma', and treats her with that respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am just glad i said the right thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8112140556714324922?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8112140556714324922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8112140556714324922' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8112140556714324922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8112140556714324922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/un-maid.html' title='Un-maid'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6043683974930898026</id><published>2009-06-24T16:18:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-24T16:26:06.126+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Fat obsessed</title><content type='html'>Son: Weighs himself everyday, under supervision on mother , hoping for a few additional grams added on from the day before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother: Weighs herself in hiding everyday(once, twice, thrice too-Bleddy water retention!). Hastily averts eyes from the flashing numbers and hoping some grams of fat have mysteriously dissappeared from the day before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Father: Trying everyday to master the art of "how to disguise belly with clever dressing"Has never got onto the weighing scale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That people, is our family!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6043683974930898026?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6043683974930898026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6043683974930898026' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6043683974930898026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6043683974930898026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/fat-obsessed.html' title='Fat obsessed'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8047779452968155518</id><published>2009-06-22T14:39:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-22T14:45:11.556+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Till then....</title><content type='html'>In true blue &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wordwebonline.com/en/MALLU"&gt;mallu &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;fashion, my brain is on &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandh"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;bandh&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Demands include immediate rain in this part of the country and extension of some crazy deadlines at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you all after demands are adequately met.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8047779452968155518?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8047779452968155518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8047779452968155518' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8047779452968155518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8047779452968155518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/till-then.html' title='Till then....'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6043915361840561172</id><published>2009-06-17T13:32:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-17T14:08:10.836+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The beginnings</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Preparation&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reconfirming every three hours for the last two days if i'd be actually going into the classroom with him- and looking mighty pleased when i answer in affirmative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;First impressions&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class room right next to indoor play room. V is excited to discover it contains a toy washing machine, and repeats that fact to all who asked him about school. Child knows how integral that machine is to our existence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On finding a TV and computer in the class- we will watch cartoons and play car race in school??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Starting early&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The class teachers introduce themselves to the kids and parents, one by one. One introduces herself and is detailing what she does.&lt;br /&gt;V points to the other teacher and asks- what is her name? I tell him that she has not introduced herself yet, and ask what the hurry is? He smiles conspiringly and says-" she's prettier"!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Getting the details right&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am trying to get V to memorize his class division and bus number and such sundry.&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Kanna m your class is Jr. KG -F division. You have to sit in that class. The bus that takes you home is 3A. So that is the sticker you have to look for"&lt;br /&gt;V: " Amma , you are confused. You are saying KG, then F and then A. Tell me the final alphabet please"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Child's mother is amazed to attend a pre primary first day at school where not even one child looked sulky, leave alone cry!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He starts proper school tomorrow- and becomes one in a crowd of uniforms.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6043915361840561172?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6043915361840561172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6043915361840561172' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6043915361840561172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6043915361840561172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/beginnings.html' title='The beginnings'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7357235695973563174</id><published>2009-06-12T17:59:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-12T18:18:12.387+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The check up and some minor irritants</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow is the annual medical checkup. We will get to know how long before we kick the bucket...I am dreading that the doctor might never let us get off the treadmill, or advise us to live on air, water and love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, maybe minor signs of alarm are welcome. Anything to get us off our lazy butt and start working on our health and fitness.&lt;br /&gt;For a former powerlifter and  size 24" waist, our bodies are awfully maintained. No- make that absolutely abused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you all on the other side of the guilt trip... ie; health checkup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS:Any of you know people who have been fired for not passing an annual health test?  Just checking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7357235695973563174?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7357235695973563174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7357235695973563174' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7357235695973563174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7357235695973563174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/check-up-and-some-minor-irritants.html' title='The check up and some minor irritants'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5407034849537986999</id><published>2009-06-11T12:41:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-11T12:57:34.799+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Updated News</title><content type='html'>TB called the girls father and dutifully informed him about the developments.&lt;br /&gt;In response, he heard a sigh of relief, and a pregnant pause, before "Ok then, move to Bangalore. I can sleep without worrying ".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both of them proceeded to laugh their guts out and re-live their escapades, ( individual and combined) at length after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there...the deal's sealed. V's romantic life is over!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5407034849537986999?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5407034849537986999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5407034849537986999' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5407034849537986999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5407034849537986999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/updated-news.html' title='Updated News'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6741671633976451446</id><published>2009-06-05T12:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-05T12:30:01.674+05:30</updated><title type='text'>In other news..</title><content type='html'>My 4 year old has announced he would like to get married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With due consideration for his ageing parents and his (mis)trust in our choice, he has chosen the girl first and then announced the news.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lucky(!!!) girl is a friends daughter, who the 4 year old has met once- for a whole of 3 hours( during our housewarming in bangalore). She is about the same age, and equally naughty and fiesty. These two were a riot together.&lt;br /&gt;He wants us to keep the girls dad  informed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering that the bigger decisions in life have been made, half my job here is done folks.&lt;br /&gt;Now i can concentrate on making sure he gets three letter words and numbers 1-100 right this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;PS: For mortal fear , the girl's father has not been informed. He and TB go a looong way back- Chaddi days. And their closets are full of skeletons...tee hee..&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6741671633976451446?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6741671633976451446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6741671633976451446' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6741671633976451446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6741671633976451446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/in-other-news.html' title='In other news..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5491436882122866919</id><published>2009-06-04T17:30:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-04T17:55:41.996+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Roll in the credits</title><content type='html'>The credits that roll in after the movie ends??..i am a great fan. Esp the one's where they show snippets of the movie being made....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am usually one among the last to leave the theatre. And at home, the one yelling at TB because he changes the movie half a second after the storyline ends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----Of course i would like to know who sang the songs?, who is the guy playing the sidekick's brother?, who did the cinematography?, who did the script writing? etc..very important details. Who knows, i might be making a movie in ten years. No- that is not my dream~ Still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am determined to start practising immediately...Starting by giving credit to the wonderfully entertaining &lt;a href="http://solitarycynic.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cynic&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;,&lt;/a&gt; who created the new header design in my favourite colours. Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause , please- of the loud variety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you cyn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: I have to admit here that i shamelessly latched onto the casual response she made to my comment &lt;a href="http://solitarycynic.blogspot.com/2009/04/midlife-madness.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, and bugged her to get this done...* insert evil laugh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5491436882122866919?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5491436882122866919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5491436882122866919' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5491436882122866919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5491436882122866919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/roll-in-credits.html' title='Roll in the credits'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8887948630340905406</id><published>2009-06-02T12:19:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-02T17:49:01.496+05:30</updated><title type='text'>The story that never was..</title><content type='html'>The crowd swarms around the mangled car. "Is there someone you can call?"..asks the doctor. I askthe doctor to dial...the pain comes in waves..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...he picks up the call , and as usual, says " I'm busy, can i call you back, please?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should have told him my words were coming true - "One day when i call to tell you i am dying, you'll promise to call back, and i'll die waiting for the call that never comes".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe in another life, i think, as i close my eyes and life ebbs out....slowly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8887948630340905406?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8887948630340905406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8887948630340905406' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8887948630340905406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8887948630340905406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/story-that-never-was.html' title='The story that never was..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2739946059915885239</id><published>2009-06-01T16:59:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-02T12:17:34.120+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Where do you go?</title><content type='html'>Do you guys have an instant remedy to clear your minds?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have one place you go to/site you visit online, which miraculously lifts your spirits and takes your mind off the day. I do!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When am worked up, seething with anger and ready to bite the next person who shows up at my cubicle, i take a deep breath , and go &lt;a href="http://foodgawker.com/"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff6600;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Helps always.....Food never ceases to amaze me. I Lub food- in picture or on my plate. Being able to whip up the stuff that you see out there is an art, equalled only by the ability to make to make it look that appealing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go ahead- explore the place i frequent so often, and spend hours browsing through...&lt;br /&gt;...and tell me where you head for instant gratification.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2739946059915885239?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2739946059915885239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2739946059915885239' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2739946059915885239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2739946059915885239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/06/where-do-you-go.html' title='Where do you go?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2540432454908745622</id><published>2009-05-28T17:25:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-28T18:34:54.041+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Hornbill's call</title><content type='html'>In the south western corner of our house, there is a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarpa_Kavu"&gt;sarpa kavu&lt;/a&gt;, towered by a grand father tree.. always a cacophony of birds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometime during the fag end of summer vacations, they come in, the  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthracoceros_coronatus"&gt;Malabar Hornbills&lt;/a&gt;...quite, unassuming, hidden among the branches. The first indication of their arrival is their signature calls...shrill and piercing, you could hear them far enough..You have to really strain to see them..they are quite adept at staying hidden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My memories of this bird are always associated with rains..unlike most of the other birds, they sit out in the rain, and soak it up- without flinching a feather. Watching them, all the stories about how "hornbills are permanently looking for rains" feels so true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much like when we were kids. The first rains were always spent outside the house, soaking it up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- dad, inspecting the fresh leaks from the tiled roof, prodding the dried leaves out of rain water drains, moving the plants from under the thatched shade to the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- mom, standing on the verandah, trying her best to coax me and sister inside, threatening us with diseases varying from cold to pneumonia. Finally giving up and going inside to make tea and pakodas for all of us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- my sister, running around the house with the mandatory umbrella that mom has forced her to carry- collecting rainwater holding it upside down when mom looks the other way. Standing with her mouth open to drink the rain water and picking up flowers fallen in the first gust.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- me, contended to just stand and feel the rain falling . mandatory umbrella left dutifully inside the house. Moments that feel like heaven, the smell of freshly washed earth, and the pleasure of hearing the hundred frogs and cicadas that have started a harmony.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, i dreamt i was in a forest , and a lone hornbill sounded its signature call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May is at it's fag end now...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All i need now is you, rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where are you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2540432454908745622?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2540432454908745622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2540432454908745622' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2540432454908745622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2540432454908745622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/hornbills-call.html' title='Hornbill&apos;s call'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-800032010963179170</id><published>2009-05-27T10:00:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-27T10:24:35.350+05:30</updated><title type='text'>ένα έτος</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;Warning: Totally self centred post in first person narrative; about a hundred " i"s. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am fantastic...when it comes to not completing a lot of my projects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The older i get, i am quite convinced my dad was right when he called me " jack of all, master of none" , for nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dabbled with a little bit of everything in life...and surprisingly, did well at most.Some bit of dancing, singing, poetry,theatre, studying... Must have beginners luck everytime.I can stand in a group and associate with most people, and can say " been there, done that" in most occassions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lose interest in things/ activities if they are not challenging enough. This surprisingly was discovered by one of my bosses(Needless to say, he made sure work was a " challenge" then on).&lt;br /&gt;If you ask me today how my life looks to me in the next 5, 10, 15 years, i will have the same response- happy, healthy and thankful for everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i come across people who have had a dream, worked towards it from a early age, are settled in life,do not go through the mad rush that my life constantly is, i sometimes feel shortchanged. I wonder how it would be to feel that way-30 and knowing where exactly life is headed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then , it is difficult to say whether i would have been happier,more contented if i had one goal, one pursuit in life, that i had my mind set on, pursued it and achieved it.Some secret voice inside says i would have hated myself---life would never have so many dimensions then, never have so many friends, and so many experiences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe not having a life plan and living life a day is not so bad after all.Who knows, in another ten years in might be telling V to be a " jack of all trades"..at least he'll know what he likes and go for it- rather than choose a path a end up having to like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point of writing all this today?...If it had not been for a moment of madness, this blog would not have been started, exactly a year ago.I am amazed i have held on for so long..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has to be the fun of meeting all of you, reading about your lives and the small, cheap thrill of anonymity in the big wide web world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope this blog does not meet an untimely death like many other of my interests.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The heading? means " one year" in greek. Talk about sounding like greek and latin:-)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-800032010963179170?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/800032010963179170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=800032010963179170' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/800032010963179170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/800032010963179170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/blog-post.html' title='ένα έτος'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5497692584270653058</id><published>2009-05-26T11:50:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-26T12:28:09.500+05:30</updated><title type='text'>In pictures</title><content type='html'>Some pictures from our bangalore trip, and some from V's vacation...&lt;br /&gt;For want of any better ideas to blog about. Just in case you are wondering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMtBRPzSI/AAAAAAAADHs/dSG7eAZAAkk/s1600-h/Our+home.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340016488240631074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 280px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMtBRPzSI/AAAAAAAADHs/dSG7eAZAAkk/s320/Our+home.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; That is our house...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMssnWxoI/AAAAAAAADHk/kLcibnW5dww/s1600-h/View+from+the+Balcony.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMsZm8jTI/AAAAAAAADHc/8MGxAnMhRBs/s1600-h/View+towards+Anju"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340016477594225970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMsZm8jTI/AAAAAAAADHc/8MGxAnMhRBs/s320/View+towards+Anju%27s+house.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Just outside our door.. I can see my sister's house from here...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL3ChtR0I/AAAAAAAADHM/U0FFV2XLpSs/s1600-h/Our+home+from+the+other+side+of+pool.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340015560865171266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL3ChtR0I/AAAAAAAADHM/U0FFV2XLpSs/s320/Our+home+from+the+other+side+of+pool.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; See those two almost trees, the door is right behind that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2wmPcxI/AAAAAAAADHE/6pMLLY9GvFA/s1600-h/Kannu+inspecting+the+homakundam.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340015556052349714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2wmPcxI/AAAAAAAADHE/6pMLLY9GvFA/s320/Kannu+inspecting+the+homakundam.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; V inspecting the pooja area..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now some from his vacation&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2liXZnI/AAAAAAAADG8/phpzyctia-o/s1600-h/Kannu+And+Devu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340015553083303538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2liXZnI/AAAAAAAADG8/phpzyctia-o/s320/Kannu+And+Devu.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; V and his cousin D..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2ZGb35I/AAAAAAAADG0/gkWjGiZ9WBI/s1600-h/If+only+amma+let+me+stay+on+the+beach.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340015549744930706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2ZGb35I/AAAAAAAADG0/gkWjGiZ9WBI/s320/If+only+amma+let+me+stay+on+the+beach.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; At the beach..i love the sunsets here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2Mh9gSI/AAAAAAAADGs/gFn0KqXGe9c/s1600-h/With+Achuettan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340015546370720034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuL2Mh9gSI/AAAAAAAADGs/gFn0KqXGe9c/s320/With+Achuettan.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; V with his uncle...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;and, oh...that picture on the header, is the view from our very own terrace:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5497692584270653058?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5497692584270653058/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5497692584270653058' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5497692584270653058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5497692584270653058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/in-pictures.html' title='In pictures'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4QRF1UTSzZE/ShuMtBRPzSI/AAAAAAAADHs/dSG7eAZAAkk/s72-c/Our+home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5696155079287247071</id><published>2009-05-22T12:01:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-22T12:21:11.003+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Death of compassion</title><content type='html'>We(V and myself),  are having one of those nocturnal, before drifting off to sleep conversations. Suddenly he sits up, fake fear et all, points to the entrance of the room and says " Aaahhh..a dog is running towards us"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--By now, i am used to his imagination and cooly respond from my splayed out posture " Don't worry kanna, amma will shoo it away"&lt;br /&gt;--V says " No Amma, wait". He then proceeds to roll up the handtowel he carries to bed, makes a gun, and aims to shoot the dog. " There, once i shoot the dog we can go to sleep without worrying".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not exactly the poster girl for non- violence, but something about his calm demeanour nags me. But, instead of launching into a sermon, i decide a different take.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--I tell him" Don't shoot it kanna. The dog's mom and dad will be coming behind it. They will be very sad and cry if you shoot their son".&lt;br /&gt;--He pauses for the minute, raises his fake gun and shoots anyway. He then turns and tells me " Don't worry, i have shot the dad and mom also, now they will not cry"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone please tell me i missed the memo on " Death of compassion"!!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5696155079287247071?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5696155079287247071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5696155079287247071' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5696155079287247071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5696155079287247071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/death-of-compassion.html' title='Death of compassion'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-197306400957685025</id><published>2009-05-19T14:00:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-19T14:00:00.403+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Consider yourself a wordsmith?</title><content type='html'>Got this as a forward, and loved it. Hence had to share with all you guys/ gals:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chew on these:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. A bicycle can't stand alone; it is two tired.&lt;br /&gt;2. A will is a dead giveaway.&lt;br /&gt;3. Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.&lt;br /&gt;4. A backward poet writes inverse.&lt;br /&gt;5. In a democracy it's your vote that counts; in feudalism, it's your Count that votes.&lt;br /&gt;6. A chicken crossing the road: poultry in motion.&lt;br /&gt;7. If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.&lt;br /&gt;8. With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.&lt;br /&gt;9. Show me a piano falling down a mine shaft and I'll show you A-flat miner.&lt;br /&gt;10. When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.&lt;br /&gt;11. The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine was fully recovered.&lt;br /&gt;12. A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France  resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.&lt;br /&gt;13. You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.&lt;br /&gt;14. Local Area Network in Australia: The LAN down under.&lt;br /&gt;15. He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.&lt;br /&gt;16. A calendar's days are numbered.&lt;br /&gt;17. A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.&lt;br /&gt;18. A boiled egg is hard to beat.&lt;br /&gt;19. He had a photographic memory which was never developed.&lt;br /&gt;20. A plateau is a high form of flattery.&lt;br /&gt;21. The short fortune-teller who escaped from prison: a small medium at large.&lt;br /&gt;22. Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.&lt;br /&gt;23. When you've seen one shopping centre you've seen a mall.&lt;br /&gt;24. If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.&lt;br /&gt;25. When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye.&lt;br /&gt;26. Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead to know basis.&lt;br /&gt;27. Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses.&lt;br /&gt;28. Acupuncture: a jab well done.&lt;br /&gt;29. Marathon runners with bad shoes suffer the agony of de feet.&lt;br /&gt;30. The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.&lt;br /&gt;31. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.&lt;br /&gt;32. She was only a whisky maker, but he loved her still.&lt;br /&gt;33. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.&lt;br /&gt;34. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.&lt;br /&gt;35. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.&lt;br /&gt;36. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.&lt;br /&gt;37. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.&lt;br /&gt;38. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it.&lt;br /&gt;39. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.&lt;br /&gt;40. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, 'You stay here; I'll go on a head.&lt;br /&gt;41. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.&lt;br /&gt;42. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab centre said: 'Keep off the Grass.'&lt;br /&gt;43. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital, when his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, a nurse said, 'No change yet.'&lt;br /&gt;44. The soldier who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.&lt;br /&gt;45. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.&lt;br /&gt;46. Don't join dangerous cults: Practice safe sects.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-197306400957685025?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/197306400957685025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=197306400957685025' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/197306400957685025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/197306400957685025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/consider-yourself-wordsmith.html' title='Consider yourself a wordsmith?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6395790517571822362</id><published>2009-05-18T16:37:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-18T16:58:09.889+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I think i might have...</title><content type='html'>There has always been two sides to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;The uber talkative, restless, laughing loud, constantly singing jack of all trades to the family. 17 years after i moved out, neighbours at my parents place insist that they miss my banter and singing...&lt;br /&gt;&gt;Then there is the professional me. Toned down, very diplomatic,smooth and smiling- never laughing loud. Always the listener, minimum talker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes i have difficulty associating the two personae. Only some choice people in my life have had the opportunity to see both sides- not even my parents. My mom might have a heart attack if someone tells her i am quite at office. Do not be mistaken though, i am a great listener too. Reason why i love my current job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so the point is, i like to talk- about everything under the sun, to anyone available. Never got tired of that. Case in point, if you ever meet TB, he will regale you with this instance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;We were once driving down from bangalore to kerala, a total of 8 hours ,and TB was wondering aloud how to keep himself awake during the drive. I apparently( used purely for effect), offered to keep him awake by talking the entire length of the journey- and he says i did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has accepted that i am like this wonly and as long as he appears to be listening, he can get away with anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After V was born, we kept altering between, is he a talker or is he a listener? for the last few years..it kept oscillating between both.&lt;br /&gt;Now he has come back from vacation and has suddenly turned in to this  'questioning machine'. There is not a second gap between a reply and the next question...All i have done over the weekend is reply to his questions..and being the one who loves to talk and the indulgent mother i am, my jaws are aching!!&lt;br /&gt;But i will not give up..me? being tired of talking ?? sheesh!! how will i face the world if that were to happen? There is one thing that i am slowly starting to accept thought...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I might have just found my match in a 4 year old". How scary is that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6395790517571822362?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6395790517571822362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6395790517571822362' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6395790517571822362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6395790517571822362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-think-i-might-have.html' title='I think i might have...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-936560980022836160</id><published>2009-05-15T11:45:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-15T13:28:38.490+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Vacation snippets</title><content type='html'>- After finishing a teeny weeny glass of complan, V tells my dad " Mutassa, i am a complan boy".&lt;br /&gt;V pauses for a second and says. " Muttassa, you are a tea boy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- They( my parents + V) watched so much of lion king/ madagascar that they sing all the songs from these movies as a choir!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- V is now officially in love with G8( our house) and F2( my sisters house). He wants to go back , because there is a terrace where he can drive his cars. Very important reason!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He now knows about 20 grandparents and equal number of aunts and uncles. That's a start. It's a long way to go but.&lt;br /&gt;For our( mine and TB's) wedding, there were a thousand guests. I can safely bet that 950 out of those were relatives, and i knew about 850 of them- not bad i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- His latest gastronomic obsession is (cauli)"flower fry", recipe courtesy my mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- His current favourite lullaby is "&lt;a href="http://www.splendourindia.org/splen_aug2002/sri_krishna_lord.htm"&gt;Kasturithilakam&lt;/a&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- He watched the &lt;a href="http://www.festivalsofindia.in/pooram/"&gt;best fireworks of kerala &lt;/a&gt;at 3 AM in the morning from his vantage point- 7th floor terrace, temporary bed made of newspapers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Wants to know why we can't go back to kerala and work from there.If only life was so easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: There are absolutely no photos of V's vacation. My parents and TB's couldn't care less. They were too busy having fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-936560980022836160?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/936560980022836160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=936560980022836160' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/936560980022836160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/936560980022836160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/vacation-snippets.html' title='Vacation snippets'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3887900066225316384</id><published>2009-05-13T14:10:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-13T14:40:12.220+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Next time amma, we'll go by plane.</title><content type='html'>We are back in Mumbai. After 6 days in Bangalore, aching heels and tired limbs, we were looking forward to the 22 hour train journey to catch up on some sleep.What we did not anticipate was..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Four very bored 8-14 year old playing "word tag", " name, place animal thing" , and "movie names" for 18 hours- closeted in one berth right next to us.&lt;br /&gt;-One less than two year old in the berth on the other side, who derived pleasure out of kicking the partition board.&lt;br /&gt;- People who carry a water cooler in the age of bottled water and who forget to close the tap, thereby soaking the underside of all luggage in next coupe( ours!).&lt;br /&gt;-One 4 year old , gone into hyperdrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Conclusions after the journey...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-You can drink as much coffee/ tea onboard without worrying about the calorie intake. it is 90% hot water anyway.&lt;br /&gt;- Food has improved. We actually ate the stuff...( may also have something to do with waking up early)&lt;br /&gt;- Avoid journeys longer that overnite with husband who had loong legs...they don't fit anywhere. On the upper berth, he is constantly blessing who ever passes below. And in the seat, he is spending waking hours trying to figure out which angle to bend them next.&lt;br /&gt;- You cannot stay in the loo for more than sixty seconds...any process that requires longer time will have to wait till destination.&lt;br /&gt;- Your child will not use the loo and washbasin without remarking several times that it is grimy and quoting your " germ theory". He also insisted that we change trains and take a better looking one.&lt;br /&gt;- Never attempt to share a berth with a four year old. They need more space, and most of the time are very adept at pushing off the other occupant.&lt;br /&gt;- Be prepared to be embarassed when your child makes loud remarks about other people in the compartment .Eg: " Amma, that uncle is not washing hands after going to loo", " this train is very dirty, please clean it"- to the cabin attendant.&lt;br /&gt;-Father and son made a chant of" Next time, we'll go by plane" and gave me digusting looks for booking  rail tickets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for travelling together and spending time together...Next time, we'll go by plane.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3887900066225316384?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3887900066225316384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3887900066225316384' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3887900066225316384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3887900066225316384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/next-time-amma-well-go-by-plane.html' title='Next time amma, we&apos;ll go by plane.'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4304284491391623774</id><published>2009-05-07T08:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-07T08:30:00.269+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Invoking the Elephant God</title><content type='html'>Off to bangalore , for one week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several items on the agenda..., including bringing back offspring who has stated showing signs of missing us from yesterday. He told my dad that he is going back to " his mumbai". He also said that he is sad because  dad and mom have gone to office. My son, the proud one- never will he admit he is missing us. Damn! of all the qualities of life, he had to go and inherit this? I  have lived my life with the inability to share sorrow and depression...now him? Sometimes i hate what genes pass on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason we are meeting in Bangalore is because we are also officially declaring our" &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-monday-again.html"&gt;castle in the air&lt;/a&gt;" ready to be occupied, by-who ever rents it out. I wish, i wish it was us staying there..but that seems a long way off. Unless there is a sudden change of tide and both of us find jobs there. In this market, that seems a loooong call.Nevertheless, we will have the mandatory ganapathy homam and boiling of milk after that. And since it is vacation time and the family is fairly jobless- retired-, they will all be there in full attendance.And my son is yet to see the castle, his castle:-) Hopefully there will be some pictures to post when i return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting here has not been easy...for the past 5 days, i have spend hours screaming at the modular kitchen guys, the courier guys, pestering my sister and brother in law who will disown us very soon. Work is still moving at snails pace...considering the fact that the registration of the house was marked by some &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2008/07/mixed-bag-of-life.html"&gt;very depressing events&lt;/a&gt;, i am not really surprised.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off i go..do pray that the work actually gets done before the ceremony on 10th. We seriously need some high octave prayers here. On second thoughts, please pray that we actually get to live in our house soon. That would make my life. Ciao!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4304284491391623774?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4304284491391623774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4304284491391623774' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4304284491391623774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4304284491391623774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/invoking-elephant-god.html' title='Invoking the Elephant God'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1293635929173446223</id><published>2009-05-05T13:59:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-05T15:05:18.055+05:30</updated><title type='text'>“Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; And every little absence is an age”</title><content type='html'>I had to kill myself not to use that &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/shifting-loyalties.html"&gt;ticket&lt;/a&gt; over this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had some miserable nights....it was like sleep just refused to touch me with a bargepole. I'd read, and read, and listen to some music, fold clothes, watch some TV, read again . switch on the AC, switch it off...And, Nope/Zilch/ Nada - No sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lending library guys thinks i'm a nut- he almost said that yesterday- albeit very diplomatically. No one has taken two books and returned them the next day, consecutively for the last three days. I think i am nuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom called me to check if i have made dinner. Heh?And in true style i had not thought of that at all... no fun cooking when you are all by yourself..Muesli will do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The milkman rings the bell to check if i really exist.." madam, you have not taken milk for the last five days,and house is also not locked- so i thought i should check". At least i will not die and rot in here..he'll make sure of that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The medical shop owner across the street wants to know when V will come back. His stock of lollipops are not diminishing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V's friends accost me at the playgound. They want his number in kerala. To call and tell him to come fast. I add a request from my side too..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I call TB to say good night and don't hang up till he falls asleep at the other end..when the snoring starts, i disconnect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the boy...he is refusing to speak to us, more so with me. He hears my voice, and misses me all the more-so he avoids it. I tell mom i am missing him so much- next year we may not send him for so many days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom pauses, and says&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I miss my daughter, the one who left this house 17 years ago. Everyday for the last 17 years, i have cringed the same way you do now.  I know she is safe, i know she is happy, she is living her life, but- she is my baby and i miss her, and i will never be able to tell her how much. I miss her incessant talking and non stop singing...We spend 345 days of the year looking forward to the 20 we spend with you. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And now, in this little boy, i see a little bit of both you and TB- it is like having both of you around. This is how it feels being a parent- now you know. Just let us enjoy being the grandparents, at least for these few days, let us indulge him. "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no words....what could i have said?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ps: The title quote is from &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Dryden"&gt;John Dryden&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1293635929173446223?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1293635929173446223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1293635929173446223' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1293635929173446223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1293635929173446223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/05/love-reckons-hours-for-months-and-days.html' title='“Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; And every little absence is an age”'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-508903911993614814</id><published>2009-04-30T16:16:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-30T17:57:38.061+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Myriad kaleidoscopic moldy stuff</title><content type='html'>The amusing &lt;a href="http://maidinmalaysia.wordpress.com/"&gt;MinM &lt;/a&gt;tagged me to come clean on domestic horror stories...&lt;br /&gt;I have been racking my brains ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do i write...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--about the time i served half cooked food to TB's childhood friends?- or does that fall under the genre of torture?- Out of sheer politeness they ate it. Never came home for 4 years after that and when the finally did, told me to order out. They refused to believe i actually figured out how to check if &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puttu"&gt;puttu&lt;/a&gt; was cooked or not. Sigh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- or about the time i dutifully kept the fairly stocked up fridge ON during a week long vacation, and promptly switched OFF the mains?&lt;br /&gt;If y'all haven't faced 8 day heavily fermented dosa batter.....it's a loss. Trust me. It took  two hours to get the crusty, foamy stuff out of the trays, two days to get the smell out of the fridge and 2 years to get it out of my psyche!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--More entertaining would be the descriptions of the myriad kaleidoscopic moldy bottles that my mother fishes out of my refrigerator crevices ( Trust me- they are never there when i look!). The patterns and colours on them are pretty intricate and amusing at times...though my mother does not appreciate my interest in mould cultivation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- Or about our &lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2008/07/sooofaaaa.html"&gt;Sofa.&lt;/a&gt;...the day it goes for refurbishing, quarantine will be declared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead...here is a domestic disaster..well, almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--Circa 2001. We the "DINK" couple are having the time of out lives in namma bengalooru. Then who else lands in the town to spice up our lives- none other than " Bryan Adams".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A huge bunch of friends decided to land up there, and plan and plot the POA ..the venue is in one end of town and we need to leave early...so we breeze through the day...park ourselves right in front in the hot sun...wait endlessley for the man to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally he comes on stage in pristine white  with " B A D" written across his tee and starts off with " The best of me"...&lt;br /&gt;He played non stop... "Everything I Do", "Please Forgive Me" and "I Am Ready". Then came- "18 Till I Die", "Run To You", "Cuts Like A Knife" and "Summer Of '69"- I was on cloud number nine when realization hit me with a mallet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I HAD LEFT THE GAS BURNER ON WITH THE  CURRY IN THE PRESSURE COOKER!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no memories of the next few hours...there was no way we could get out of a crowd of 40, 000 people.I cried- literally. The crowd thought it was sheer fanatism!!!I was worried my kitchen would have blown apart- there would be cops waiting for us when we get home. I was going to be gulity for the entire building gutting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The show ended in 15 minutes- it took us one hour to get our car out of the parking, and another hour to reach home. It was 2 am and the entire nighbourhood was quite...i was too scared to enter our lane- wondering what awaited us. There was nothing! We quietly walked up in darkness and opened our door...the entire house smelled of gas, and burnt food. In the dark we opened the windows and waited to the smell to go away before turning on any light...i tip toed over to the burner and found my pressure cooker intact...the cylinder had run out of gas!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't even begin to describe the relief .&lt;br /&gt;The pressure cooker , however had to be salvaged and the black crusty burnt stuff took a day of soaking to come off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never, never left the house without checking the switches and burner henceforth!.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here MinM...tag done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-508903911993614814?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/508903911993614814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=508903911993614814' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/508903911993614814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/508903911993614814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/myriad-kaleidoscopic-moldy-stuff.html' title='Myriad kaleidoscopic moldy stuff'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4697833029003844875</id><published>2009-04-27T15:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-27T16:15:08.800+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Venting out</title><content type='html'>What could be worse than pining for the kid who is away having fun??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having the other parent also go off for a week...leaving me all to myself on a long weekend---Times when i wish i lived closer to either set of parents... Now i have me, books and the stupid TV for company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I.so.hate.this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4697833029003844875?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4697833029003844875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4697833029003844875' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4697833029003844875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4697833029003844875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/venting-out.html' title='Venting out'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5322449166303215611</id><published>2009-04-23T12:14:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-23T12:33:31.263+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Lion's park</title><content type='html'>V has gone from one set of grandparents to another. He is now with TB's parents and aunts and uncles.Dad is taking him to Lion's park by the beach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The child thinks he is off to see "&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_characters_in_Madagascar"&gt;Alex the Lion&lt;/a&gt;" and may be " &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simba"&gt;Simba&lt;/a&gt; and Mufasa" too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little does he know that " Lion's Park" is actually " &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lions_Club"&gt;Lions Club &lt;/a&gt;Park' and the only animals he is going to see are the two legged variety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am hoping the beach and the sundaes make up for the dissappointment!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5322449166303215611?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5322449166303215611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5322449166303215611' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5322449166303215611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5322449166303215611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/lions-park.html' title='Lion&apos;s park'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-385043751924106524</id><published>2009-04-21T12:11:00.011+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-23T12:13:17.124+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Being a mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://where-the-mind-wanders.blogspot.com/"&gt;Nitya&lt;/a&gt; asked me " why don't you do &lt;a href="http://badladies.blogspot.com/2009/03/world-according-to-mom.html"&gt;this tag&lt;/a&gt;"? Never done one before, but couldn't think of a good reason why i should not....so there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the zillion reasons why i love being a mother...these are random 5, not really the top 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;I love being a mother because having V gave an Axis for my life. From someone who is fiercely independent and lived life in her own terms, V now dictates the course of my life. Every decision, every step in life is taken around him and his comforts. He has bought in a purpose and given direction for the rest of our life. Every day in the last four years, i have looked at him and wondered what i was doing with my life before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;Motherhood has made me appreciate the smaller, slower things in life. Somewhere over the years of working, i stopped smelling the flowers and watching the clouds. With V, everything matters. The joys of just being together and doing nothing. The myraid emotions that we go through during the course of the day.. He makes sure i do not miss the fine print of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;Being a mother has changed my equestion with my parents, and the way they acknowledge me. I see them in a whole new light...every emotion, every challenge, every thrill that i go through, reminds me that they went through the same, in another age, with me and my sister. I wonder how they did such a fine job of it? Times were different, resources were less, but we were always contented. I always admired my parents. Now i am in awe of them. I wish to be at least half capable as them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;Being a mother has given new friends,and neighbours who did not know existed before. AND- i met ALL of them through V. A walk to the park or the grocer is never complete with some random stranger( to me) stopping by to say hello to V and introducing themselves as mama/ nana/ dadi/ chacchi of one of V's friends. He is a very social child and everyone in the complex knows us a V's mom and dad. If not for him, we would still be living our ignorable existence as 'that couple who appears once in a quarter for meetings'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;Motherhood has made me an utter romantic . Seeing TB transition from being my best friend to the one i wanted to spend my life with was a dream come true. Watching him as a father has been one of the most fulfilling things in life. The love in his eyes when he looks at V, the way he melts when V calls him 'acha', the mischeif in their eyes when they plan to tickle me....&lt;br /&gt;Most of the times, i watch them quietly from a corner and fall in love all over again with TB, and with the son who looks exactly like him. I have moments when i feel my heart could burst with love, times when i feel my heart melt to a mush and never hesitate a hug or a kiss- be that to the son or the father. Five years ago- i would have sniggered at myself and said " so teenage".&lt;br /&gt;Now i am that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to cheat and write another 20, but it may not stop there. So i'll stop now. And writing this hasn't been easy without V around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't think of anyone who has not done this tag yet..if there is someone, feel free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-385043751924106524?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/385043751924106524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/385043751924106524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/being-mom.html' title='Being a mom'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6598633550464547578</id><published>2009-04-20T11:28:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-20T12:22:32.437+05:30</updated><title type='text'>One place i'd never want to be in...</title><content type='html'>is being the parents of &lt;a href="http://www.mumbaimirror.com/index.aspx?page=article&amp;amp;sectid=2&amp;amp;contentid=2009041620090416030309200531bcf67"&gt;these boys&lt;/a&gt;.Over the last week, everyday, i get up to very descriptive narrations of the event, what transpired, timelines...pretty much everything i wouldn't really want to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first reaction as always is anger, on wondering how foolish can people get. Over the weekend , somehow this has turned to angst - for the parents of &lt;a href="http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?newsid=1248687"&gt;these boys.&lt;/a&gt; The reports have been detailing the background of these boys, their parents and there seem to be &lt;a href="http://www.mid-day.com/news/2009/apr/180409-Mumbai-News-TISS-Student-TISS-rape-case-American-Student-date-drug.htm"&gt;clear divide&lt;/a&gt;...a bunch that had a reputation, and one bunch who were the 'boys next door'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does one react when they find out that their child- is a rapist/ theif/ murderer.., someone on the wrong side of law? Do they succumb to first instincts and protect they from the world, or do the right thing- emotions be damned?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the mother of a boy...this question haunts me. Once you are a parent, the focus of your life shifts to bringing up this little person at home- teaching them right and wrong,preparing them to face the world that waits outside, showing them the various paths life takes,teaching them to be respect and honour women,showing them to act as good humans- isn't education all about this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the child becomes 18 or 20 and leaves home...and all you can hope for is that the values you passed on, the little things you believed and preached to them will hold good.I do belive that the atmosphere and upbringing one has had has a lot of 'influence' in the person's character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But just' influence'. It does not ultimately determine how a person turns out to be. That scares me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed in a hostel from the age of 15-20. The first time away from home,first time in a mixed college. It was a new world altogether. For someone from a quite, laid back village in kerala- the metro was a revelation. So much of freedom, so much to do, and no-one to admonish. I have seen friends and classmates sway either ways- some who believed their value systems and stayed course. Some very capable one's taking the freedom a little too much, and end up on the wayside. I was fortunate to have the sense to stay my course- a lot of it had to do with the family, but hey, it could have gone otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are people i know who relate to these boys in question- and no, they were not from affluent families and such.For them , it was &lt;a href="http://www.mumbaimirror.com/index.aspx?page=article&amp;amp;sectid=15&amp;amp;contentid=20090417200904170228569958398b69"&gt;making the most of opportunity &lt;/a&gt;when it presented.Principles be damned- "Who's going to know anyway?"was the standard response.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only people who have my sympathies in this entire drama are the parents of those boys- torn between the urge to protect their kid from the world and lay him bare to the world for what he has done. That must be so difficult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15 years from now on, or maybe earlier, i will send off a boy from my house into the world- all by himself. While i will pray that he has the strength and resilience to brave the world, i will also pray that he turns into a 'good human being'- someone who knows his place in the world and respects it. And god forbid- if faced with a situation like this- have the courage and conviction to do the right thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else does one do?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6598633550464547578?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6598633550464547578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6598633550464547578' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6598633550464547578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6598633550464547578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/one-place-id-never-want-to-be-in.html' title='One place i&apos;d never want to be in...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5668067311649039713</id><published>2009-04-17T11:13:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-17T14:05:20.888+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Absence makes the heart</title><content type='html'>...completely forget the existence of two humans called parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm all set to sue that guy who said otherwise. I trusted his wisdom and send off a kid for vacation, hoping he will miss mama, pine for her and shower her with wet kisses when they meet in another month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One week ,and we are in long distance rejection mode-"I have no time to talk to mama" because&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am watching the cat eat.&lt;br /&gt;There is someone coming(a mile away)&lt;br /&gt;We are watering coconut trees&lt;br /&gt;I want to eat breakfast( is this my kid????)&lt;br /&gt;I want to watch Lion king/ madagascar/mr bean( another guy i'd like to beat the sh** out of)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All those bollywood "maaaa" type visions........ i am SO trashing them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5668067311649039713?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5668067311649039713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5668067311649039713' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5668067311649039713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5668067311649039713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/absence-makes-heart.html' title='Absence makes the heart'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1332588033124108099</id><published>2009-04-13T14:47:00.010+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-16T10:16:47.643+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Vacation update</title><content type='html'>It is almost a week and this is what V has been doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Meet 200 relatives at grandfathers uncle's "&lt;a href="http://vedabase.net/n/navati"&gt;Navati&lt;/a&gt;"..all of who recognized him.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watched 13 elephants decked up at a procession. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Run to uncle's house 100 meters away- before breakfast, after breakfast, after bath, after nap- through the day- because, the 15 year old uncle has two birds, dozen fishes, many cats, two dogs and several other pets- AND, he lets him play with them. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Collect hoardes of money as "Vishu kaineettam".&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Meet an aunt and hold a 3 month old cousin on his lap- offer to take her home and give her cerelac. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visit a voting booth and see the drama that is election politics- pretty early i say. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Get grandfather and grandmother addicted to "Lion King". Every evening i call, all three are watching it!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;What papa and mama have been doing. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Laze around&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Insignificant stuff..&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Join new lending library&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Make home made paani- puri and eat 100 in one sitting. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hmmm..errr* blush*&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Invite themselves to friends houses for lunch/ dinner/ drinks/ anything.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eat Junk food, and some more&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sigh! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1332588033124108099?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1332588033124108099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1332588033124108099' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1332588033124108099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1332588033124108099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/vacation-update.html' title='Vacation update'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4896931255537900687</id><published>2009-04-13T13:14:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-13T14:42:00.992+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Life..so fickle</title><content type='html'>This was supposed to be my weekend of redemption. It is not very often that one gets a three day weekend, all by yourself. All those books, the forgotten library membership, unopened DVD's...i had grand plans!&lt;br /&gt;Someone above had grander plans~&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mopped and moped on friday...called V 8 times, till mom told me to get a life. Wallowed in loneliness, made mental note to discuss the option of kids no: 2/3/4...with TB , re arranged V's cupboard, crossed off kids no 3 &amp;amp; 4 from mental note, gave off clothes, and moped some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was my day to do stuff..it was all going as per plan..till,&lt;br /&gt;...the gentleman who lives 9 floors above us fell to his death, while i watched~ There was no screaming, no melodrama, nothing. He just fell, right under my window..while i watched. I ran out , down the stairs, called out to the neighbours, to the security..to everyone around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He did not move, he just lay there, one look and we knew it was all over. The son was called for...he saw his dad at pooja and then step outside to do "suryanamaskaram". The doctor from the neighbouring block pronounced him dead ...and the body was moved from the road where he lay. The ambulance from the hospital arrived, and refused to take his body..it was not a medical emergency anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What dignity is left when you die? His body lay just where the stairs ended , with no loved one's around, by chance or by design, the son in a state of shock being tended to by neighbours. The living one's obviously needed more attention. I sat on the stairs, and watched the body, now covered with a new borrowed sheet. I felt guilty to leave him there are walk back into the house...almost as if the very act of being the one who saw him in his final moments had made him family. I just couldn't walk away. Neighbours came, peeped- harriedly led the children away. The saner, more straight thinking souls called for the ambulance, and the police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cops arrived, two full hours later, look futile statements on who saw what, where did he fall, who pronounced him dead etc...and the ambulance took him away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went home, not believing that this had actually happened. It was just two days ago that this man was walking his granddaughters. Life is just so..fickle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not bear staying at home , the image just came back to haunt..locked the door and walked out and came back in time to see the body being carried to crematorium. This was so...not right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for TB to come and broke down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has been two nights of sleeplessness, of dismembered dreams of the same sequence, but with a different protagonist each time. Death has not been new...it just seems to find a novel way of etching itself hard enough into my psyche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope the gentleman rests in peace. Every time i see the dark patch on the asphalt, unyeilding to repeated washes, those moments come flooding back..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to find peace too, with myself. And it is not going easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4896931255537900687?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4896931255537900687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4896931255537900687' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4896931255537900687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4896931255537900687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/lifeso-fickle.html' title='Life..so fickle'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8325750912755396704</id><published>2009-04-08T11:21:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-08T11:51:35.176+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Shifting loyalties</title><content type='html'>When V went for his vacations the first time around... my mom was very edgy. Will he stay on his own? Will he start crying for mama and papa? Will he eat without us around?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She told me to book an open ticket, just in case....&lt;br /&gt;Her concern was shortlived...i think it lasted for two mintues post landing at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V is off for his vacation again. He leaves tomorrow...And the child has his priorities very clear. He has been packing his stuff for the journey from the day mom arrived-&lt;br /&gt;A broken car, a packet of chocos for the train, two noddy underwears and one belt(no clothes)  and such.I see mental preparation too..he insists that grandmom sleeps with him, feed him, give him a bath. Parents are...well, ignored!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second time around, mom is still a little edgy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will they stay without him? Will they start crying for him? Will they get home on time? will they eat well?- the 'they' in reference being the childs parents this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we'll book an open ticket, just in case.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8325750912755396704?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8325750912755396704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8325750912755396704' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8325750912755396704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8325750912755396704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/shifting-loyalties.html' title='Shifting loyalties'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-937798393515109223</id><published>2009-04-06T16:59:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-06T17:05:40.790+05:30</updated><title type='text'>If you hear croaking ..</title><content type='html'>...................in all probability ,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's me trying to say something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A miserable groan, whine and squeak-conversation complete- Nothing understood!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please stick around while i go in search of that elusive sensory perception.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-937798393515109223?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/937798393515109223/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=937798393515109223' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/937798393515109223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/937798393515109223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/if-you-hear-croaking.html' title='If you hear croaking ..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2555782213555289217</id><published>2009-04-02T14:48:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-02T14:49:18.669+05:30</updated><title type='text'>It's here</title><content type='html'>Dizzying smell of jasmines&lt;br /&gt;Sapped, dazed,and sticky&lt;br /&gt;Rivulets down my spine&lt;br /&gt;Soles sticking on tar&lt;br /&gt;bright orange aamras from the dairy&lt;br /&gt;wilted greens on vegetable carts....&lt;br /&gt;mango juice stains&lt;br /&gt;Overpowering odours in the train&lt;br /&gt;cold comfort of curd rice&lt;br /&gt;starched stiff cottons&lt;br /&gt;drained and dazed evenings&lt;br /&gt;longing for cool breeze&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summer is here....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little too early,not any less intense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2555782213555289217?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2555782213555289217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2555782213555289217' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2555782213555289217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2555782213555289217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-here.html' title='It&apos;s here'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4818908088528370169</id><published>2009-03-31T09:51:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-31T10:17:26.467+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Not quite a full heart</title><content type='html'>The Mumbai living- well, almost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is what you get...when you have 7 adults and two children live in 980 sft. For the second time in two years..we will live that life today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have pulled out extra pillows, extra mattresses have been dropped off by friends- by the friend who came to drop off the mattress and said" i'll come up for five mins" and stayed back to roll 25 roti's and clean my kitchen. Thank you for everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When i get home from work today, there will be stuff everywhere, bags all over thanks to multiple travel schedules...waiting for turns to wash hands and use the bathroom. And toys! the one's we have not seen in ages- will suddenly appear and be strewn all over the place. Chaos!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who cares? We are all under the same roof after maybe a few years...there will be so much to talk, so much to catch up on..V can do what he pleases- as long as he does not disturb our sessions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is a full house today...but not quite a full heart. The one person who loves having family around, the one who loves chatting away and just being there is in Delhi. And he cannot be back  for another two days. While i have fun, enjoy having them around and talk away to death, there is a small corner that stays empty , sharing his loneliness and a little sad- hoping he too was here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4818908088528370169?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4818908088528370169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4818908088528370169' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4818908088528370169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4818908088528370169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/not-quite-full-heart.html' title='Not quite a full heart'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1328872858492660718</id><published>2009-03-30T11:32:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:52:34.138+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mom's travel checklist</title><content type='html'>This is what my mom bought along for a three week stay...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For us...&lt;br /&gt;-Banana chips&lt;br /&gt;-Panchamritam&lt;br /&gt;-Mixture( several packets)&lt;br /&gt;- Home processed tamarind&lt;br /&gt;- Half a dozen mangoes&lt;br /&gt;- Dry coconut chutney&lt;br /&gt;- Vathal mulagu and Assorted Vathal&lt;br /&gt;- A kilo of &lt;a href="http://food.sify.com/vegrecipes/category/sweets_and_cakes/other_sweets/Jangri-140742"&gt;jangri&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Home grown lemons&lt;br /&gt;- Biscuits for the boy&lt;br /&gt;- a top for the boy to play&lt;br /&gt;- whole arecanuts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For herself..&lt;br /&gt;- toothbrush&lt;br /&gt;- two sarees&lt;br /&gt;- medicines&lt;br /&gt;That's all...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also WANTED to bring...&lt;br /&gt;- one jackfruit&lt;br /&gt;- several coconuts&lt;br /&gt;- one ripe pumpkin/melon/ her garden vegetables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which were abandoned thanks to my father repeatedly pointing out that he was not travelling along to lug all this along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is this normal?Do all parents , like mine bring half the house along?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gasp at the price of vegetables here and make mental note to bring that also along in the next visit?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1328872858492660718?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1328872858492660718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1328872858492660718' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1328872858492660718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1328872858492660718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/moms-travel-checklist.html' title='Mom&apos;s travel checklist'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2232162566314802739</id><published>2009-03-27T10:21:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-27T10:38:30.002+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Breaking news</title><content type='html'>I just want y'all to know that my "&lt;a href="http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-story-of-panchamritham.html"&gt;horlicks bottle full of pachamritam&lt;/a&gt;" arrives today. Am off to pick it up...and of course along with my mom too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She's also getting with her my paternal aunt, who has even her nasal structure made out of "funny bones".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will be back when i manage to scrape my guts off the floor.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2232162566314802739?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2232162566314802739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2232162566314802739' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2232162566314802739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2232162566314802739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/breaking-news.html' title='Breaking news'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5113822584189358406</id><published>2009-03-27T07:05:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-27T07:05:00.662+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Of new years and new years</title><content type='html'>Considering today is "gudi padwa" or new year in maharashtra, i looked up the net to check on how many other states celebrate their own new year on this day..this is what turned up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Punjab : New year starts on 13th April.&lt;br /&gt;Assam : New year starts on 14th or 15th of April.&lt;br /&gt;Bengal : New year starts on 14th or 15th April.&lt;br /&gt;Gujarat : New Year starts on Karthik Shukla Pratipada.&lt;br /&gt;Kerala : New year starts in the month of Medam (on the day when the Sun enters in the constellation Leo). Around April14/ 15th&lt;br /&gt;Karnataka : New Year falls on Chaitra Shuddha Prathipade. Mid- end march&lt;br /&gt;Sikkim : New Year starts on 18th day of the 10th month of the Tibetan Lunar Calendar.&lt;br /&gt;Maharashtra : New Year starts in the month of Chaitra .Mid- end march&lt;br /&gt;Tamil Nadu : New year starts on 13th or 14th of April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much for national integration....Lots of diversity for sure!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5113822584189358406?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5113822584189358406/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5113822584189358406' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5113822584189358406'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5113822584189358406'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/of-new-years-and-new-years.html' title='Of new years and new years'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5658805916536714170</id><published>2009-03-26T11:05:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-26T11:12:20.062+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Mom Cleaning</title><content type='html'>I  have been busy from last night...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;picking up stuff from the crevices of sofa, re organizing my kitchen shelves, folding and putting away clothes that were washed and dried 3.5 days ago...piling V's toys into his bag and keeping them inside the cupboard, checking the fridge for all the sauces that expired eons ago, throwing off the mayo from last year( eeeeks!), scrubbing of water marks from the top tiles in bathroom..restocking my groceries and supplies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No..it's not spring cleaning.&lt;br /&gt;Mom is coming to stay for three weeks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe i should stop fretting so much. She will anyway do it all over again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5658805916536714170?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5658805916536714170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5658805916536714170' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5658805916536714170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5658805916536714170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/mom-cleaning.html' title='Mom Cleaning'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2520174590847532218</id><published>2009-03-25T12:27:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-25T13:11:56.284+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Weighty issues</title><content type='html'>V is proudly diplaying his stick thin arms and saying" see my muscles", and all i can see is bones and skin. His BMI index says he is at a healthy weight...but time every  i look at him, theory flies out of the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between me and TB, he looks underfed and over exercised- that which his parents should be subjected to. I subtly mention this to his pediatric- not the parent part, the not gaining weight part.&lt;br /&gt;Doc wants to know if he eats at least two full meals in a day?- &lt;em&gt;two?, yes. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doc wants to know if he is tired all the time?- &lt;em&gt;Never! his parents are , always. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He dismisses the question and points out that he is more agile and fit than the healthy looking nurse who sits outside. He is at best about 50 kg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The more i think about it, i am convinced he has my fathers genes when it comes to weight. Dad i think gained maybe 2 kg in my entire lifetime!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My aunt had a theory about this....&lt;br /&gt;-If you are from my fathers side of the family, you could eat three eggs and maybe lose 10 gms purely by the effort of eating.&lt;br /&gt;- if you are from my mothers side, all you need is  for a hen to cross the courtyard- there'll be extra three kilos magically added onto your weight!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is going for his vacation to kerala..i am wondering how many" why is he so skinny?" i will have to evade, or pretend deaf to. I am very undecided between ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-feeling apologetic about his appearance , and taking gazillions of advice from family on how to fatten him up- or-&lt;br /&gt;-ignore such remarks and in choice situations respond with a trademark caustic comment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still undecided...and as confused.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2520174590847532218?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2520174590847532218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2520174590847532218' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2520174590847532218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2520174590847532218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/weighty-issues.html' title='Weighty issues'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7069207177898648576</id><published>2009-03-23T15:14:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-23T15:58:16.638+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Snippets</title><content type='html'>Conversations of 4 year old:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: Mom, i'm going to shoot that guy, you say" you saved my life" and run to me, ok?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Huh!&lt;br /&gt;V: And you kiss me and say " Thank you , James"&lt;br /&gt;Mom:* makes mental note to watch less of Bond movies*!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: Why is this juice like water?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: This is coconut water, it does not have any colour. It looks like water.&lt;br /&gt;V: Oook, so we pretend to drink it, and spit it out like alex and gloria in Madagascar? Lets do it..&lt;br /&gt;Mom: * wondering why she always ends having no answer*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: * Swats mosquito. Demands to know why it is not flying anymore*&lt;br /&gt;Mom: It's dead, gone. Now no more flying.&lt;br /&gt;Two days later...&lt;br /&gt;V: * spots a dead bird on the roadside*" Amma what happened to the bird?"&lt;br /&gt;Mom: " It's dead kanna"&lt;br /&gt;V:" How? I didn't swat it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: Amma, when i become big and you become small, you'll give me car to drive?&lt;br /&gt;Mom: Yes..when you become really big and old enough.&lt;br /&gt;V: And when you are small enough i'll scold you and swat you if you bite your nails...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7069207177898648576?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7069207177898648576/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7069207177898648576' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7069207177898648576'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7069207177898648576'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/snippets.html' title='Snippets'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7415606524932673435</id><published>2009-03-20T10:51:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-20T12:57:31.958+05:30</updated><title type='text'>“Smell is a potent wizard ..</title><content type='html'>.....&lt;a class="sqq" href="http://thinkexist.com/quotation/smell_is_a_potent_wizard_that_transports_you/209065.html"&gt;that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.&lt;/a&gt;”&lt;br /&gt;Helen Keller(1880 - 1968).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are lots of times when people, places , voices, music and events transport me back to some specific period in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But smells! they take me back right to the moment that i last inhaled it...does that happen with all? I was always credited with a sharp sense of smell, but i think i greately undervalued it. As my life progresses and i mellow down  i realize that is the one sense i remember and associate with more than anything else...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a smell associated with each one of my family.My sister used to smell of milk, even when she grew up..i think till about the time she discovered perfumes!I loved to sit next to her , just for that smell. Not the strong milk smell when you boil it, but the milder , grassy smell immediately after milking...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only one whose smell i could never figure out was mine..i kept asking mom, and she used to find it quite funny i guess. TB was the first one to tell me what he felt i reminded him of...he thought i smelled like "water". Now if only i could check that myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always pick up a book or a garment at a store and smell it before even i look at it..it just comes by habit..I smell the heads of all babies that are available in close quarters...i sidle upto my close one's so i could feel their smell....each one of them have an individual smell stamp...i go weak at my knees every time i smell TB's neck or V's head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My earliest memories of seasons were the change in smells...freshly washed earth in rains, smell of grass in the windy season, the mango blossoms, the drying leaves...the scent of earth warming up in summer, the jasmine blooms, the smell of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paddy_field"&gt;paddy&lt;/a&gt; --sap oozing, cut, dried, billowing in the wind, boiling in cauldron...the smell of ground cotton seeds and rice husk in the cowshed. Of kerosene and oil lamps...of gardenia's in a dark night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can still feel the way our very first house smelled..the perfume TB was using when i first met him.., the smell of bamboo on the southern corner of my house...the smell of drying mango stem sap at my father's ancestral house, after all of us had downed a few dozens with salt and chilli powder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! the smells. I could define my life with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, i propped up V into the school cab, and rushed out of the building as usual..Stepped out and in a split second, i smelled summer- of earth warming up, of fallen mangoes and &lt;a href="http://www.natureherbs.org/CORAL%20JASMINE.htm"&gt;coral jasmine&lt;/a&gt;. I slowed down, stopped and savoured it all in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In that moment, i was back at my house on a summer day, sitting on the mango tree with a book and listening to my philips radio hanging from the next branch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is memorable than a smell to me. Once scent can bring back a lifetime..What brings you memories??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7415606524932673435?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7415606524932673435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7415606524932673435' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7415606524932673435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7415606524932673435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/smell-is-potent-wizard.html' title='“Smell is a potent wizard ..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-4059735053871775999</id><published>2009-03-17T16:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-17T16:17:01.767+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bathroom reading</title><content type='html'>Till i married TB, i thought men wanting to read in the bathroom was a random occurence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After i married him , i thought it is a trait that runs in families...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After V,  i am convinced this is ingrained in the "Y" Chromosome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-4059735053871775999?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/4059735053871775999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=4059735053871775999' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4059735053871775999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/4059735053871775999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/bathroom-reading.html' title='Bathroom reading'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3300810341433286701</id><published>2009-03-17T15:39:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-27T10:27:49.444+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='V&apos;s world'/><title type='text'>Bhangra and some more..</title><content type='html'>Waited all week to watch V perform Bhangra for his school annual day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an adrenaline rush watching my baby, look all grown up and dance perfectly to tune, do somersaults and use the lathi and sing along too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought i would burst into tears when his turban came off and he stopped, a sob escaping his lips. He looked so lost....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My heart was bursting with love when he quietly walked to the side of the stage, handed over the turban to his teacher, and continued dancing from where he left off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silly me..i had tears in my eyes and could not get the video right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;V's best friend sitting right behind me kept reminding me that i am watching ' his best friend's dance", and kept clapping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes Kiddo...that my " bestest friend " too, and thank god for friends like you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;Watching so many kids perform, on stage and off stage too...is such a balming effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that 80% were too stunned to dance when put in front of the light is just ignorable statistics. Watching them up there, dressed and dolled up was reason enought to spend those few hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, i would have enjoyed swatting the following people....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- who walked in a full hour late, and walked in and out of the aisles, searching for non existent empty seats.&lt;br /&gt;- who came dressed for a P3 party, and almost tripped on the dark aisle steps( i giggled, does that make me mean?)&lt;br /&gt;- Who walked out of the auditorium to take calls, every five minutes, disturbing 300 others.&lt;br /&gt;- THAT dad, who kept saying " Come on R", every five mins, before the kid on stage decided to call it a day and stop dancing altogether. Well done kiddo, is all i have to say!&lt;br /&gt;- Parents who troop out as soon as their childs dance is over. Next year around, i am petitioning to put their kids dance the last item- about time they get a taste of their own medicine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3300810341433286701?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3300810341433286701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3300810341433286701' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3300810341433286701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3300810341433286701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/bhangra-and-some-more.html' title='Bhangra and some more..'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-9010783171576074786</id><published>2009-03-13T17:38:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-27T10:27:25.604+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><title type='text'>The third eye effect</title><content type='html'>For some strange reason , all my work life, i have been in roles where i am dealing with two different sets of people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ALWAYS! It is not as much as actual work that goes on, but being able to keep both sides at bay and not get at each others throats! I think 'it is written'. The worst part of the jobs are when both parties think you belong on their side , where as i know precisely that i do not have the liberty to lean towards either....always the third person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Across companies, across businesses, this basic fact seems to follow me around. For a good part of next week, i am going to be doing precisely that...be the third person, the observer, the one who influences the final word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no complaints though...just an observation. For someone who is so involved in real life, it struck me as an odd profession..or maybe the best one?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-9010783171576074786?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/9010783171576074786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=9010783171576074786' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/9010783171576074786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/9010783171576074786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/third-eye-effect.html' title='The third eye effect'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7680071927846369866</id><published>2009-03-10T23:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-10T23:55:00.516+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>To someone special....</title><content type='html'>To the one..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who had the chubbiest cheeks ever as a kid...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who refused to walk at age five, used to being carried around all the time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who cried buckets over not completing homework, while i barely glanced at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who managed to ALWAYS tear pajama bottoms!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who ran out of the house when visitors came in...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who has inherited the accountants genes..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who i first confided my love  to...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who poked me to death till i told my parents about me and TB...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who bullied and blackmailed TB , still does...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who never gives up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who constantly fought with mom about our age gap...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who thinks the world of V, and spoilt him rotten till age two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who i miss a lot when i really need to speak to someone , other than TB...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who finally found her prince charming, and is living her dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy Birthday little sis, you are, and always be my first kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i miss having you around!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7680071927846369866?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7680071927846369866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7680071927846369866' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7680071927846369866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7680071927846369866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-someone-special.html' title='To someone special....'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-8959531437427283118</id><published>2009-03-10T11:21:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-10T19:21:41.307+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='being a mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='V&apos;s world'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>What love does...</title><content type='html'>Last night....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB was coming in late. So we killed time by reading Dr Seuss's Books, drew on dotted lines, coloured parrots , and sketched about a tonne fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my calf muscles killing me, i told V i want to lie down, can we please go sleep? He agreed, so we read the bubbles book in bed and settled. The pain was not going away and it must have shown on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V quite did not like the look of it. He said" smile amma", i managed a weak one. Ten minutes later, he said" amma, i am hungry".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost fell out of my bed! my son, the food hater, is hungry!!!???I told him to stop joking and go to sleep. He said " No, i want idli"&lt;br /&gt;We had mini idlis and sambhar for dinner and i had kept some for TB. I checked again, he said yes. I threatened him with dire consequences if i wake up and give him some and he does not eat all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still wanted idly. I gave up, went to the kitchen and got him idly..he wanted six of them, with jam. And his glass of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He took his plate, went to the dining table, got his cushion and sat down. I was ready to faint..he.is.sitting. at. dining. table, without a fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read my book on the next chair, glancing sideways to catch him unwillingly stuff his mouth with the food , wondering what on earth??Why was he eating without wanting it??He finished all six idlis, had the water and tapped on my hand. I looked up, and he said.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Amma, now smile. I sat on the dining table, ate all my food, did not play with my car in between. I am good boy. You always smile when i finish all my food"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i cried. What did i do to deserve him?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-8959531437427283118?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/8959531437427283118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=8959531437427283118' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8959531437427283118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/8959531437427283118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/what-love-does.html' title='What love does...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-1928956352587487255</id><published>2009-03-04T10:26:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-04T11:47:21.960+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Speaking up'/><title type='text'>Of 'behaving nice'</title><content type='html'>What do you call parents who go around exhibiting their kids, at every given opportunity?&lt;br /&gt;What gives people the right to quiz anyone else's kid, without being asked to?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't handle either....and 'queen of sarcasm' in me shows up most of the time. Like yesterday, at the pediatric clinic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a couple who came in with a almost two year old, the dad insisting that the kid wish all the people in the room" bhaiya to hello bolo", " aunty ko namaste karo", " switched on some song on the mobile and said "singh is king  karo"..etc; and the poor kid wondering what to do. From the looks of it, no one else in that room could figure out the drama too...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the dad proceeded to quiz V on his picture identification prowess and another 6 year olf boy of general knowledge"wheredo you stay?where do you study? what all do you study? and such insignificant crap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mind you, all these to kids who were there because they were- Unwell- and wanted to just curl up to their moms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept up my zen state for a while , counted till 10-25- 50 and turned to the dad and helpfully pointed out that&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"maybe he should be more bothered about his offspring's fingers being squished between the doors while he was trying to benchmark other kids educational progress"&lt;br /&gt;" that while his child maybe a born genius, we were not exactly in the mood for a recital"&lt;br /&gt;" that this was a hospital and could he please leave the sick children alone?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V butted in to make sure all was ok and asked"What happened amma?" I told him " nothing".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 6 year old helpfully added " You mama is telling uncle how to behave nicely in public". I grinned....that said it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-1928956352587487255?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/1928956352587487255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=1928956352587487255' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1928956352587487255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/1928956352587487255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/03/of-behaving-nice.html' title='Of &apos;behaving nice&apos;'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3124718991903746662</id><published>2009-02-27T10:47:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-27T11:22:54.478+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='V&apos;s world'/><title type='text'>The ups and downs of friendship</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Scene 1/ 10.30 PM  on a weekday&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V :"Amma, you're my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;best friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Me: *swoons* "TB, you heard that? So cute of him...yes kanna! you are my best friend too..."&lt;br /&gt;V:" Acha is my best friend too!"&lt;br /&gt;TB*does a very proud papa, tribal dance*"Yo"&lt;br /&gt;V: "Can we play car now?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Scene 2/ 8.00 PM, just before dinner&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: " Amma you're my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; , na?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: " Of course yes Kanna, why ?"&lt;br /&gt;V: " I want that" *Pointing to jar of strawberry jelly drops kept high away from him*&lt;br /&gt;Me: "no"&lt;br /&gt;V: " You're not my friend...Katti"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Scene 3/ 7.30 AM  on saturday, like two seconds after waking up&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: " Amma, you're my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;best friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; ever"&lt;br /&gt;Me: " Ok kanna, you are my friend too"&lt;br /&gt;V:*eager expression*" We'll go and play in park now, na?"&lt;br /&gt;Me:Huh!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Scene 4/Anytime of the day&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me:" who made this mess here?, how many times have i told you blah blah....." *rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;V: " You are my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;best friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, i want to hug you" holds onto leg amidst protests*.&lt;br /&gt;           " I will give you a kiss also"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Scene 5/ After a week of being best friends&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V:" Amma, you are my &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;best friend&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;!"&lt;br /&gt;Me:" Ok kanna, tell me what you want , NOW"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People...i see  a future PR guy here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3124718991903746662?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3124718991903746662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3124718991903746662' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3124718991903746662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3124718991903746662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/ups-and-downs-of-friendship.html' title='The ups and downs of friendship'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-3876569350842588592</id><published>2009-02-23T12:35:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-23T13:40:15.327+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='festival'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><title type='text'>My story of panchamritham......</title><content type='html'>Sivaratri is a big celebration back where i grew up..it still is. Only, i haven't been around during the celebrations for over a decade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sights, the sounds , the smells...oh ! the smells!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sneaking into the granary to check if all the ingredients for '&lt;a href="http://palani.org/panchamirtham.htm"&gt;panchamritam&lt;/a&gt;' have arrived, waking up on sivarathri mornings to the sounds over all the containers available being washed, mashing the bananas with sugar cane, wearing new dresses, arrival of all relatives.....the pooja, prasad on banana leaves, the fireworks after that.....and the sugar induced coma that sets in post lunch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I now live with memories!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was always the one festival that bought the entire extended family tree to our ancestral home...the house , the courtyard would be teeming with people, maybe a hundred relatives, and even more villagers....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids always got the messier tasks, collecting flowers, peeling bananas, mashing them, but participate we did. In between running around and sneaking off to play.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The men had the more serious tasks...arranging for the 'poojari', getting the pachamritam ready before the start of thew pooja, making sure the "kathina vedi"- barrel crackers , and planted safe and away from the crowd, while amma and ammamma made sure these were enough vessels to give away panchamritham to each house hold..of course after giving them a mouthful on not bringing their on containers:-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were free to do what we wanted and usually caught up on where we left of the day before, or the week before....playing, running around- till the pooja starts.&lt;br /&gt;Then there is impatience, for the pooja to get over, and get the prasad..." pachamritam" on banana leaves, running in all directions.I  always played safe and took one spoon on the leaf..then went and got myself a small bowl and took extra helpings in that...some advantages on being the girl of the house, and of staying in the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tharavadu"&gt;'tharavadu'.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we would all find a safe spot from the scorching sun stand and watch/ listen to the fireworks...it was always the youngest uncle who used to be in charge- i think he got a kick out of getting louder and scarier crackers every year....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom hated what came after this. The panchamritam, sittting in a huge vessle, had to divided between the various households as per their contribution, and number of members at home.&lt;br /&gt;Logistical nightmare...and a  very bad house keeping nightmare  come true.&lt;br /&gt;Pachamritham, is one tricky matter...like a mixture of custard and honey- sticky in parts, runny in some, stains like crazy and ants love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After all that is over, there would still be about 20 ltrs of the stuff left, that goes to the immediate family, and gets stored , to be sent away to....chez moi now, TB's house, Our BIL's house maybe this year..all relatives, who may come visiting in the next two months, or who may get visited in the same time span.&lt;br /&gt;That leaves about 10 ltrs, which we ate in bulk...and passed out in sugar induced coma..for the remainder of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oops! no sleep...there was still the whole night movie at the temple compound. All stories of god  played out on the makeshift screen, while the entire village stayed awake with Lord Shiva. At some stage in life, we out grew this and stuck to watching the same stuff, but staying at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sivarathri now, is another day ay office, trying to figure out how to keep V busy at home, missing the celebrations and calling up home to maybe catch some long distance sounds of the celebrations. And of course reminding amma to bring us( TB) a large horlicks bottle full of panchamritam on her next trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is all about living in anticipation , right? and my expectations are pretty simple. A bottle of home made panchamritam,  make me delirously happy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-3876569350842588592?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/3876569350842588592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=3876569350842588592' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3876569350842588592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/3876569350842588592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-story-of-panchamritham.html' title='My story of panchamritham......'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5471706625151874175</id><published>2009-02-20T15:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T15:34:31.690+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Bitchy rant</title><content type='html'>To the waif thin , size 34 suit weilding, just out of college, wannabe consultant......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A polite acknowledgement for the very well mannered " excuse me", " please" , and " thank you" will be appreciated in this office. Especially to the client who is paying us so you could be here in the first place!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT, maybe will go a long way , instead acting busy on the phone and dropping names in their vicinity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just so you know....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5471706625151874175?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5471706625151874175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5471706625151874175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5471706625151874175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5471706625151874175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/bitchy-rant.html' title='Bitchy rant'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5440798004972705128</id><published>2009-02-20T10:02:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:08:02.740+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my life'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><title type='text'>About 426</title><content type='html'>That is the number of muscles i have on the lower half of my body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a week on the treadmill, they are all clamouring for attention!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5440798004972705128?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5440798004972705128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5440798004972705128' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5440798004972705128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5440798004972705128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/about-426.html' title='About 426'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-5992841396710026234</id><published>2009-02-17T10:16:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:09:02.906+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Speaking up'/><title type='text'>Is restraint a quality for the masses?</title><content type='html'>I walked into office this morning..and read &lt;a href="http://www.outlookindia.com/full.asp?fodname=20090223&amp;amp;fname=Column+Sunit+%28F%29&amp;amp;sid=1"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;article.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could not help but agree with him. Over the last three months, i have been speaking to people who have been unceremoniusly asked to exit.&lt;br /&gt;People who have been working for the last 20 years, Bright eyed MBA's who had bagged THAT fantastic job a year ago- now no more, That brilliant marketing guy who started a company last year..all of them, at the same door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And companies that threw out people in masses, are still paying out bonuses to their management, in staggering figures!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sense the caution, the despair, the fear of not knowing what is in store for tomorrow...in the voices of people i speak to. And despair, as i have no way of helping them.  For now....all of us are happy being able to get up in the morning and have someplace to work at.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will we be able to spend on a lavish party for your child when half of his parents jobs are under threat?&lt;br /&gt;Will we be able to have a dinner a week outside, in a new restaurant in the locality?&lt;br /&gt;Will we be able to make it to all the sale that the city is being overrun with?&lt;br /&gt;Will we, finally take off on that dream vacation that was long overdue, now with the bargains and all?&lt;br /&gt;That car we have been talking about...can we buy that now?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can we still afford all that? Thankfully, Yes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will we do it? Personally, i do not think so. That is where the article becomes relevant. Understanding the social situation around us and behaving as responsible people is what the hour needs....and i am sure we are not the only one's who think the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, we read about the excesses, and wonder if restraint is a quality reserved for the masses??? Living within our means seems to be a middle class sentiment...at least it look like to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunit writes &lt;em&gt;" sure, it's your money to do as you please, but is this conspicuous spending the right thing to do? Particularly when your armies of employees are working day and night to save their jobs? "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And also adds&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It's a tricky moral argument. Wealth has been flaunted through the ages, with varying degrees of tackiness. Simply put, the businessperson is today's maharaja and his/her shopping list is fodder for society. Indeed, the media has played a leading role in celebrating wealth, however notional. With terms like 'repressed demand', the 'many Indias' and the 'trickle-down effect', the middle class has rationalised the 450 million people living below the poverty line. It's debatable whether displays of wealth in tough times actually shock the poor. Truth be told, it upsets the middle class, more so when the going isn't good."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All we can hope for is that we do not go through a phase of lamenting over a &lt;em&gt;"failed era of excesses". &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is an entire mass of people around us whose going is not so good right now. Maybe we should be considerate to them, thankful for what we still have and learn to appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the strength to tide over, if this ever comes knocking at our door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-5992841396710026234?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/5992841396710026234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=5992841396710026234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5992841396710026234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/5992841396710026234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/is-restraint-quality-for-masses.html' title='Is restraint a quality for the masses?'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2377937598111542628</id><published>2009-02-16T14:48:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:08:37.918+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Speaking up'/><title type='text'>All i need now is a pill for self inspiration</title><content type='html'>I re invent myself, every once in a while. And this does not mean start all over again..it might be something specific that i want to do....something i'd like to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now it feels like it is time to re invent- myself. No, i am not changing the way i am as a person, it has more to do with my lifestyle.. while i still have not figured out what all will i need to categorize under this...that list is still 'wip'.Given the fact that i have crossed the 30 bridge, and with a family lineage of diabetes and osteoporosis, it definitely includes eating sensibly, and giving my body enough exercise and rest of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought i should put this down somewhere, given my tendency to forget a lot of things one has to do for self. The stage is set,all that is left is for the mind to take over and execute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If only it was that easy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lets see where this leads..and how much of it gets translated into action.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2377937598111542628?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2377937598111542628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2377937598111542628' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2377937598111542628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2377937598111542628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/all-i-need-now-is-pill-for-self.html' title='All i need now is a pill for self inspiration'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-6583604816526642000</id><published>2009-02-12T10:05:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:06:51.414+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><title type='text'>In anticipation</title><content type='html'>Of the pink Khadi saree from SRS, in return for  half a dozen of pink chaddies sent so lovingly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very patient here:-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-6583604816526642000?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/6583604816526642000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=6583604816526642000' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6583604816526642000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/6583604816526642000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/in-anticipation.html' title='In anticipation'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-2955620743792081977</id><published>2009-02-10T18:02:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-20T10:09:02.907+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Speaking up'/><title type='text'>My two cents too...</title><content type='html'>I joined the &lt;a href="http://www.thepinkchaddicampaign.blogspot.com/"&gt;pink chaddi campaign&lt;/a&gt;. To be specific, i joined the facebook group that calls them selves"  &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=49641698651&amp;amp;ref=mf"&gt;A Consortium of Pub-going, Loose and Forward Women&lt;/a&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have never"celebrated" Valentine's day- if you discount the act of buying cards for each other at Fountainhead in circa 1997. And i have not stepped inside a pub in maybe about 6 years now. So what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might just decide to go today and Shri Ram Sena can classify me as " loose and forward woman". Add to the fact that most of my best friends are men. MEN! . I am sure Mr. Muthalik will have a problem if i decide to jump with joy and hug my best friends  and hold hands with them publicly because they are "men" and of course, holding hands hugging will not be right according to our religious sentiments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I usually play very safe under such circumstances and slink off..what got me this time was the reaction of the local Ram Sena representative to this article.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The Sri Ram Sene said the Consortium of Pubgoing, Loose and Forward Women was free to protest any way it thought fit. “It’s a free country after all. However, we would like to know the backgrounds of these people since nobody from good families would resort to such steps which are very cheap,’’ its Bangalore unit president Vasanth Kumar Bhavani said. "&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahhh...the moral police.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am off to buy pink chaddies and send them in hoardes to Shri Ram Sena, because " I AM from a good family, I AM educated, I AM a citizen of this country, and it allows me freedom of speech, ( which does not ncessarily translate into freedom of action, as they have mis understood) . I am part of  a very well settled, religious family,and i completely believe that beating up women is also" AGAINST INDIAN CULTURE"- oh, did they miss that part while reading up our culture??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THAT , is my background and i stand by the campaign. Just so they know &lt;em&gt;"who resorts to such steps which are very cheap’’-----&lt;strong&gt;THEY DO. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-2955620743792081977?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/2955620743792081977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=2955620743792081977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2955620743792081977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/2955620743792081977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/my-two-cents-too.html' title='My two cents too...'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7991967016232291736.post-7541292914802665966</id><published>2009-02-09T21:10:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-02-09T21:10:01.309+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='my thoughts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='V&apos;s world'/><title type='text'>Testing my fundamental understandings</title><content type='html'>We are watching "Jungle Book", maybe for the 5th time. I am answering a trizillion questions in between each scene, now that he is old enough to have doubts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We reach the part where Mowgli is talking to the vultures..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: " mama, what is this bird?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "It's a vulture?. Remember, we saw on TV the other day, after the lions ate the deer, these birds came and ate the rest? They eat dead animals "* feels blissfully happy about imparting this bit of national geographic info to child*&lt;br /&gt;V:" Hmmm...* nods*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After like two minutes,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V: " Amma, i am also vulture"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Heh!,why?"&lt;br /&gt;V: " I also eat dead animals, na? I eat dead fish &amp;amp; dead chicken. So i am also vulture"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Ummmm...ehhh...no"* strangely feels he is right, shuts up *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7991967016232291736-7541292914802665966?l=straygreymatter.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/feeds/7541292914802665966/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7991967016232291736&amp;postID=7541292914802665966' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7541292914802665966'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7991967016232291736/posts/default/7541292914802665966'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://straygreymatter.blogspot.com/2009/02/testing-my-fundamental-understandings.html' title='Testing my fundamental understandings'/><author><name>In love with my life</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10219012182585817330</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
