You don't realize what you've got... until its gone!

Her absence is disquieting, the silence is deafening. Initially you hurrah her exit - finally you can do what you please - but it only takes a few lonely hours to snap out of your reverie, suddenly realizing there's pin-drop silence in the house. I don't like it. It renders me restless and cranky. Just like Kamal Hasan in that brilliant movie 'Pushpak' who couldn't sleep without the theatre's loud acoustics running in the background, I need Mom's voice ringing in my head, else it makes me uneasy - her rattling out a thousand instructions, yapping with the maid and relaying endless orders at the speed of 100 orders/min, talking loudly on the phone with her friends, yelling at me since I won't help her out in the kitchen, snapping at me coz I ate out again, complaining to me coz she fought with sis once more, emotionally blackmailing me to consider that 'perfect match' again..... I miss all that! In normal circumstances, I'd be mighty annoyed with her for being such a motormouth. But when she's away, even for a few days, she is sorely missed.

That brings me to a more important question - whatever am I going to do when I move away from home, from her? I realize I am SO dependent on Mom for so many things. Piping hot and lovingly prepared dinner is ready for me when I reach home from work, my bed is reset and my room is neat and in order. I am coerced to eat more, something that I would certainly give a miss when she's not around. A patient ear is also offered, which I gladly accept, in order to recount the day's highs and lows. But all this may very well come to an end. Soon I may have to be on my own. It frightens me to think of how I shall cope. The prospect of departing from under her wings is scary, yet unavoidable.

I don't know why I am missing her so dearly this time around. This is the perhaps the umpteenth time that I am alone at home while Mom has gone away for a while. Maybe its only normal. Or maybe its the looming near of that one important day in every girl's life. The day when she has to leave her home of 25-odd years and shift base to another. I wonder how Mom did it. Or any other woman for that matter. It is a terrifying thought. Maybe I should adopt Mr. Hasan's ways. A recorder will be of great service, for starters.

Lil' Missy

Missy (n): An affectionate or contemptuous form of a young girl

That's my sis for you.

Its a love-hate relationship with her. Sometimes I detest her mere sight, hatred flowing through every vein in my body..... and sometimes I think she's the most underrated and misunderstood person in the world, an impish darling. She will giggle with me at the world's silliest, lamest Sardarji jokes, but will readily abuse me with equal passion, with a barrage of the choicest, foulest insults one could ever find in the dictionary. And yes, I am her elder sister who loves to irritate her, point out her various faults (which undeniably brings out another list of curses from her), complain about her to mom, pass on my used and abused, second-hand possessions to her, yell at her, make fun of her, tease her etc. etc. To give you a gist, I'm a major pain in the arse for her.

Just took some snaps (yes yes, with my new SE-W902) of the various trails this lil' imp leaves in our house. Mom calls her the the most untidiest, laziest & most arrogant person on this planet. I wholeheartedly agree. But she's also the cutest, hottest and the most amiable person on this planet!

She still insists on donning these horrendous, furry and garishly yellow (eeks) Garfield slippers at home. Here they lie, partly hidden but still in plain view, much to Mom's chagrin!

Beyond this door lies a treasure.... of trash. Be prepared to be greeted by an avalanche as soon as you open it.

She steals my nail-paints and then flatly denies doing the same. I found out her hideout... one of my bottles (the brown Colorbar is MINE!) planted in an obsure, shady little cupboard stacked with old videos.

Here's the lass, giggling again just because she thought the photographer looked funny. (C'mon! Its not as if he had a mole on his nose)

Grand ol' Dame

She was born in 1916. She's never been hospitalized, never had any ailment, never had so much as even a bruise in all of her glorious 93 years. Yes, read that again. My grandma's maasi has astonishingly lived a staggering 93 years of life on this planet without consulting the medical profession. Yet, here she was lying on a hospital bed. The reason? A petty fall, of all the darned reasons in the world. This enterprising old chick (sorry ajji.... but you are one rocking 'chick'!), on one sunny day, felt it necessary to step out of her abode, to hunt for flowers to adorn her abode's deity with. In the process, while standing on her dainty but tired toes, she lost her sense of balance and took a nasty fall. A few bones broke and her hip dislocated. Piercing pain ensued and it was more than her fragile body could take. Result - hospitalization.

Note that this lady has encountered me maybe once or twice in her laudable life. Yet she remembers me like it was just our last meeting. All this at the ripe age of 93! I keep reiterating this number cause I want to remind myself how inferior I am in comparison to this enigmatic lady. Hell, sometimes I don't remember what happened five minutes ago! I don't remember half the people I've met only once or twice in my life. And here was this amazing ol' granny who recognized me in an instant, took my hands and caressed it, thanked me for coming to check on her and hugged me like I was her own child. Such tenderness and love! I was truly moved.

Someone wisely said - Old is Gold. I still see the love and care in the eyes of my aged relatives, them having the same intensity that I saw decades back. My maternal grandparents top the list. They love me more than my parents do. Who said that the old are boring, intrusive and meddling? With the right amount of care and approach towards them, they too can be your best friends! Trust me! I found a new friend, aged 93!

Wedding (Not Mine!) Memories

My cousin Aditi (very much married now) with her cousin Akhshada

Myself, Anagha & Shruti

Dancing to some very silly tunes

Posey uncle at the back ;)

Squinting in the sun (& traditional clothes)

Aditi & Abhishek

Hitched!

We are Family!

Aniket - (as usual) being extremely silly!

Baccha Party

We are Family - Part 2

Neon Lights

Gentlemen

Anatomy of a Hospital

How I hate the smell of hospitals. Squeaky clean, plasticky, chlorinated, antisepticized and thoroughly sanitized... you almost feel like you're the one quarantined. Admittedly, I am a stickler for all things spic-n-span, but this is way too much. Its like you're a speck of ugly dirt on that sickeningly clean, glistening floor and as you walk, you're made to think as if you're dropping multigrams of dust behind (smartass janitor comes rushing with his mop after you walk by)... Dude! For crying out loud - I haven't just emerged from the local sewer! And I'm certainly cleaner than your colonised armpit... now beat that! But hey, that's your job and maybe I shouldn't be complaining much. After all, hospitals must be clean, look clean atleast. So there you go - I will keep my pride aside and let you mop up after me.

Can't blame me for emphasizing on a trivial matter, cause I've never been to a hospital (atleast a huge one, spanning 10+ floors) before. Naturally, I'm awestruck by the enormity of actions that go on in the place. Doctors in their white gowns looking oh-so-important; nurses with their hair neatly tied up, barking instructions; ward-boys scurrying across the place with patient-files; janitors (that annoying, yet essential species again) cleaning floors furiously and the receptionist answering various queries with a constant smile on her face. All these people are directly or indirectly involved in the business of saving lives. Daily, hourly, minute-by-minute, every second. And to be honest, I am in awe of them all. My sis is too. "Drat! I should've been a doctor!" she says. Yeah Sona, count me in as well.

On sight of the imposing building of the Asian Heart Institute at BKC, you'd be forgiven for thinking it is a five-star hotel. Well, they treat you like a five-star patient atleast. Dad is in for his bypass. Never thought things would advance to such an extent, but they did. What's important though, is that he survived a major heart attack that struck him this month. 100% blockages, the doc said. In both of his left arteries (LAD, CX). Yet, he lived to tell the tale. I know I'm reiterating this, but it can only be that supreme Force above that averted this near-fatal incident. And not just pure dumb luck. I am not worried sick 'bout Dad. Only a little anxious. I know he is in safe hands. I know this surgery will be a success. I know he will recover wonderfully from it. I know that if He saved him the last time around, He will this time too! And I know, dear reader... that you will pray for him too.

Hoping and praying for the best!

Last, but by no means the least - Here's also praying for the victims of that awful, awful strike on Mumbai. My heart goes out to them and their families. What a great loss for Mumbai!

Let peace prevail.

Times like These

Its times like these when you are starkly reminded of your capricious existence and how easily it can be taken away from you in an instant. The realization hits you when you least expect it. A rabbit-in-the-headlights kinda situation again. Though this one time, the rabbit wasn't me, it was Dad. Thank God it was only a mild heart attack. I stop short of thinking what would've happened if it was anything graver than that. Mom, sis and myself wouldn't be able to deal with that. It has not been an easy time for the family, however we have surprisingly come out stronger than before. As I've said a thousand times in the past, I couldn't admire Mom more. She's rock solid, even though her world is being torn apart. She's shit scared inside but she won't shed a cowardly tear on the exterior. Its the hardest thing to put on a smile for your loved ones when in so much pain. She credits us for being so brave during times of distress, but I think otherwise. In truth, she's the stuff heroes are made of. She's been through a lot of undeserving crap in her life, but everytime she comes out unscathed. Shaken, but not stirred.... a la Bond.

As I am typing this, Foo Fighters are playing in the background. The words are apt:

I am a one way motorway

I'm the one that drives away

Then follows you back home

I am a street light shining

I'm a wild light blinding bright

Burning off alone

It's times like these you learn to live again

It's times like these you give and give again

It's times like these you learn to love again

It's times like these time and time again

I am a new day rising

I'm a brand new sky
To hang the stars upon tonight

I am a little divided

Do I stay or run away

And leave it all behind?

It's times like these you learn to live again
It's times like these you give and give again
It's times like these you learn to love again
It's times like these time and time again

Here's wishing Papa a full & speedy recovery. I know 'hospital' is synonymous for 'jail' in your dictionary by now. But take heart, only a few days more, and then you'll be walking out in the sunshine.... to embrace a blessed second life again!

Happy B'day Ma!

Ma celebrated her b'day today. She's graced a full 50 years on planet Earth now, so yeah yeah.... golden jubilee/half century maraa. When she wakes my lazy-self up early in the morning, I wish her a very happy b'day and tell her I hope she lives a long life. Almost instantly she incredulously retorts, "No no, I don't wish to live for long... tum dono (me & sis) ki shaadi ho jaye... bas, uske baad mai Bhagwaan ko boloongi ki mujhe apne paas bulaale...." Sigh. As if Bhagwan is on her speed-dial chummy-buddy list, "Hey pal, now that I've sent my two batty kids packing off, do you think you can save a seat for me on that enormous lotus sofa of yours?" Dear 'ol Ma. Always the theatrical, semi-blackmailing, ultra-nagging but yet, extremely adorable one. What would I do without her?

I ain't gonna launch into a (cliched & dreary) tribute to Ma, cause honestly, she is beyond any such stereotypical eulogies. I could sum her up in one word though - WONDERWOMAN (minus the outlandish costume, of course). The enviable manner in which she juggles home, work and not to add, deal with two extremely unreasonable brats (I am one of them, the other is my pompous sis) is laudable. Hats off to you, Ma! You will always be my hero - the sole shining star in my darkest hour and the constant ray of light during my happiest times. Thanks Ma, for bringing me into this world. And untiringly being by my side whilst I journey through it.

Though gifts wouldn't convey a shred of what she means to me, for what its worth, Ma smilingly accepted a pretty saree & a neat lil' watch from me. Once again, happy b'day Ma!

Pack of Cards

Thats my bratty cousin Aniket for you. He surprised me with his unrelenting dedication (and focus) while building the pyramid of cards. I bet he could've added more levels... he just ran outta cards. And he built this in a jiffy, shaming me in the process, as I could only manage 4 levels. The topmost level kept falling off, evicting several curses & under-the-breath mutterings from me. It ain't easy as it looks. The *bluhdie* stubborn cards just won't stand up (of course... duh! Its the oldest law in the book - gravity!). Never before has the statement 'fell down like a pack of cards' made more sense to me!