Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Don't think too long. Remember, there's a fire.
I’d first take the photos. My babies, sepia-tinted me as a baby myself, of friend-filled manic years, of getting married (if only to prove I once had a 24 inch waist) – these are memories – can’t let them burn.
Then to the kitchen to take the recipe books full of Ma’s hand-written recipes that no one else on the planet can make… ooops, kitchen’s full of smoke – oh that’s ok – I left the fried egg still frying. While here, must take Nik’s sipper – cos without it, he’ll never drink a drop again (Alcoholic Anonymous’ pledge).
Can’t take something of Nik’s and not Neel’s. Will have World War 3. OK, take Neel’s light shoes with Xoxo masters on them. And his glow-in-the-dark pig. Oh, there’s his birthday drawing for his Dad – a dinosaur eating up someone (hopefully not his Dad) – must take that.
The antique grandfather clock, the wedding portrait of my parents (which makes everyone ask how 2 good looking people produced someone like me J ) , the sword we got from Venice, the hand-made quilt.
My jewellery? Or will the fire melt it to one solid lump of gold, which I can use to fill my teeth. Our leather-bound family bible. S’s bible – the Best of Rolling Stones. Our collection of Just William books.
MY LEVIS JEANS.. nothing else makes my legs look so long…
Fire all over the house now !
Box full of papers? Proof of birth, proof of marriage, proof of graduation….S’s 180 proofs?
Too much to take, too little time.
And then I hear the little voice that says : Leave it all behind. You’ll go, as you entered. Without anything.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Learning : going to begin this with a learning this time. In order to run, walk or things like this, you must set SMALL milestones. Count in steps.
Case Study of Day 1 :
2 minutes to get my running shoes on.
Can’t find matching red sock – does it matter? Marco has 1 chewed red sock in his basket. Ugggh – can’t wear that. Will wear one red sock and one striped (can’t find other striped sock too).
That took 10 minutes. Oh well !
2 minutes to breathe in and breathe out – before starting on my run.
Haha – look at my stomach when I breathe out – looks at least 5 months pregnant.
Down the lift.
Up the lift. It’s going to rain. Best take an umbrella. Must go running. Come rain or shine. That’s me.
Can’t find the umbrella. Wear a hooded jacket instead. Now, I look like a serious runner. Or a terrorist. Must change into pink track pants to match the jacket.
25 minutes. Have not started the run yet.
Ok. Make it down the lift to the back gate.
Meet a neighbour who asks about school admission. 17 minutes.
10 steps to the tailor shop. 10 steps to the lamp post.
Meet a boy walking a pup peeing on the lamp post.
Stop to coochie coo the puppy. 8 minutes of giving gyan to boy and pup.
Pup is now looking at my leg as a substitute for the lamp post.
Time to run.
20 steps to the dhobi cart.
Cell phone rings. Old friend from Delhi. 20 minute chat about how I have started running seriously, while resting on a tree trunk.
Serious run now. 14 steps to the next tree.
Cell phone rings. Spend 6 minutes trying to explain to someone why I can’t talk now.
15 steps to the … shoelace opens out.
Bend to tie shoelace and then do 3 steps to the street corner.
Starts to rain. Where’s my umbrella ?
Aaah. Left it at the first tree or second tree or dhobi cart?
14 steps to the shelter of Sree Krishna Sweet Mart. Fastest run of the day yet.
Rains for 15 minutes.
I consume 2 pieces of mysur pak and 1 over sweetened badam milk shake.
Not good to run on a full stomach.
Call home and ask S to pick me up and take me back home.
Feeling real good. Running is real good.
Must do this every day.
Friday, September 4, 2009
“damn”, I shout, then seeing Nik (2 ½ years old) - “damnnadiffadoooodidoodilaaaa ! “
We all have a favourite word – the one that comes out first – when that son-of-a-female-dog driver cuts in front of you, or the lice-infested, onion-smelling boss calls you in on a Sunday to office. Or when the damnadooodillaaa door jamb stubs your toe…
I call them dwords (door jamb words), and they tell me more about people than anything else does. Here are some of the results of my life-long research. Feel free to add your own.
“AIIYYO” = “All people listen, I am a proud southie and I don’t care what You think, so sod Off !”
“Oh God” = I don’t think there’s a God, if this is happening to me.
“Awesome” = I have a limited American vocabulary of words like “like”
“Yeeeeoooow “ = I’ve been watching too much Cartoon Network
“Shit” = i was born before MTV
“Fcuk” = I am so fcucking uber-cool that I need to use fcuk 5 times in a sentence before I brush my teeth
“Aaaaaah “ = I am a normal human being in a normal reaction of pain… (which is why you never hear anyone saying this).
While writing this, Nik, who has dropped a monster truck on his own toe screams “Mamaaa ! “ – that’s his dword – and it means “Mama, drop whatever you’re doing (on your toe) and get your butt here at once to make the pain go away! “
“HaHa” says S, which is his dword, since he finds almost everything funny. Also called Laughing Buddha by a wise friend, he is an unflappable person who finds a furious screaming Nik, who immediately stops crying when a furious me arrives, and then immediately drops the same monster truck on his same toe – funny !!!
And suddenly I feel a laugh coming on myself… hehe haha.
“HaHa” – yup – that’s a great positive dword – I will use it from now on till forever.
Nik looks at both his parents cracking up and drops the monster truck – on MY door-jambed toe !