A bunch of books

A bad book is best left alone. However, once I start a book I find it very tough to leave it midway and move on. It feels like desertion. And so I soldier on.. sometimes losing the thread out of disinterest, sometimes letting it lie for days before taking it up yet again and sometimes reading it without making much sense.

It's worse if the book is 'famous' and I feel I 'should' like it. Okay I guess I should rephrase what I said earlier... 'a book you don't like should be left alone'... it eats into your reading time and keeps you away from other books you might enjoy.

These past few days I've been stuck with a bad read and finally today I decided to give it up. What made it worse was that over the last two months I've been treated to some half a dozen wonderful books in a row. .. I didn't just get lucky, they were handpicked by my SIL from her massive collection.

The settings have been as diverse as they possibly could be.. from Nigeria to China to 1962s Mississippi, Germany during the World War and India during the Independence struggle. Take a look...

First for some was uncharted territory -- the Nigerian Revolution.. I'd never read anything about it before. In fact I've read very little of any African literature. It was completely fascinating. Half of a Yellow Sun, Purple Hibiscus by the same author -- Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.. great reads. The first one is more about the revolution and the second is the personal story of a young girl set during the same time. I liked Purple Hibiscus better simply because personal stories appeal to me.

Then there was World War Germany. I've read plenty of that yet these were wonderful, specially The Boy in Striped Pajamas by John Boyne, which I've already written about. The other one, The Reader by Bernhard Schlink, is also a great read.

Then I moved on to China. The only Chinese author I've read is Pearl S Buck and she is ancient. In the Pond by Ha Jin was more recent. I loved his style... funny and satirical.

If I had to settle for a favourite I'd probably go for this one -- The Help by Kathryn Stockett. The book is about black maids raising white children. I found plenty of parallels between the book and how we treat our maids in India. It's fast paced and gripping. A must must read. The other book about another black woman I got to read is the Pulitzer prize winning The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Wonderful.

Finally there was Homespun by Nilita Vachani. The book spans three generations, goes slow in bits but tells an interesting tale.

And then I went and picked a bad one from the library. Am at bit of a loss now. What are you guys reading? Any suggestions?

Man in blue

This week's Thursday Challenge : "BLUE" (Water, Sky, Vehicles, Houses, Flowers,...)

If it's blue it has to be Hrit.. he's a boy you see. This colour distinction got so bad at one point that he would refuse to eat Strawberry Icecream because.. yes you've guessed it... because it's pink. What's worse I got so caught up in the whole pink-blue thing that once The Husband used my towel inadvertantly. And my annoyed rejoinder was "How could you think it was yours? It's pink."

This picture was taken before a pre-wedding dandiya dance night. He'd bought the hat and glares just that day and wouldn't part with them. And so we ended up with this traditional-modern Raju-ban-gaya-gentleman look.

Happy Birthday Krishna

Krishna happens to be Naisha's 'favourite God' and so his birthday had to be celebrated. She went on a drawing spree. Here are some of her works.. 'some' being the key word. The house is littered with her drawings. I really need to find her an art class.


Krishna Radha

Points of Note (PoN): Radha's hand increases in length to hold her pot.



More Krishna Radha

PoN: The pink thing on Radha's head is not a pot but a flower she's wearing in her hair and that's a mango tree by the side.



Krishna holding up the Govardhan Parvat



Krishna Radha in a temple



Krishna with his friends in the Yamuna



Kalia the snake comes on



Krishna getting at the pot of butter



Krishna and Radha on a pink Dolphin.. don't ask me where she got that idea from



Finally.. the two under a rainbow



Open House at school

Open House Day.. their first in this class and I was curious and a little anxious.. not about their academic performance, that doesn't worry me yet, but I like to see that they're bonding with their teacher. I'd hate it if they are lost in the crowd of students, if they have no connection with their teacher, if they get comments like "She/He is quiet, conscientious, hardworking." Please... it's just such a dull, average kind of feedback, the kind of thing a teacher says when she doesn't really notice/know the child.

I don't know if I'm making any sense but I hope the kids are a visible presence in their class. Of course I'm here to encourage each ability they have but school brings out different sides of children's personalities. I need the teacher, to do her bit too.. to notice something I might have missed... to encourage them at something they're good at.  I'd hate it if their pluses are hidden behind that 'quiet, shy child thing'.. gosh I hope they're never quiet... even if their teacher and I nurse permanent headaches.

Thankfully the school has a policy of 25 - 30 children in each class with two teachers... so the child is not ignored. They got fairly good feedback.

Hrit first...

While I was worried about Hrit's 'mirror image' reading and writing,... he often reads and writes English like Urdu, the teacher said it was a common problem.. so one sigh of relief. Then his speech is not very clear and I've been toying with the idea of going to a speech therapist for the past one year.. the teacher said vis a vis the class she hadn't noticed anything significant.. so second sigh of relief. She had issues with his eyesight.. he reads with his nose in his book and can't see the blackboard and looks with one eye sometimes. I had already taken him for an eyetest a few days back so I hope that would be taken care of too.

Academically he's doing wonderfully, is genuinely interested in everything academic, loves to study.. yes study.. where did he come from, I wonder sometimes.

.. then Naisha

And then there's Naisha. She's really not into studies but she does enough to get by. She makes an effort to do well not out of a love for learning like Hrit but because she hates to leave a bad impression and loves to be the teacher's pet. She got a decent review thanks to her ability to talk... now that's my daughter... well spoken, articulate, she knows what she wants.. those are the things the teacher said. In fact Naisha has always spoken well and clearly. Perhaps that is why Hrit seems like he needs help. Anyway, I've decided to give him some more time before I go to a specialist.

On the whole not bad at all.

The Husband at Open House 

The Husband had come along... in fact he has been coming along for the past few times. I like the way we have two completely different takes on issues. Each time we sit with their teachers my question is 'What are their weak areas? Where can they improve?" While his question is, "What are their strong points that we can encourage further." He does surprise me still, sometimes. I have to admit I liked the positivity of his perspective.

Finally some shopping

At each Open House Scholastic puts up a book exhibition and the kids get to shop. The Husband and Hrit have been bonding over the Solar System these days so Hrit picked a book on planets. After Sharks and Bugs this is his new passion. He knows all of them.. the smallest, the largest, the shiniest.

Naisha is always lost when it comes to choosing something for herself. She takes ages.. yes ages to pick a simple toy. She just cannot make up her mind. She looked at scores of books and in true womanly fashion, was completely blissfully oblivious to the two men getting restless by the minute. Finally she settled on a 'Princess - Things to Make and Do' kind of a book and we all sighed with relief.

Right brain left brain

Come evening and I sat Naisha down with her homework.. which Hrit had already completed. The Husband disappeared in the study with Hrit to read his newest buy with him. Anxious that Naisha would lose out on her share of gyan I told The Husband to read the book to her too after she'd finished with her homework. However, "No more planets, mama', she declared with finality, "I'm going to do some drawing." And that was that. I'm reconciling myself to a scientific, academic son and an artistic daughter.

Really, God believes in variety.. not just did he give me a boy and girl he made them as different as he possibly could.

A good day.. Saturday.

For that first crush

He wasn't the hottest star around. He hadn't been seen in a film for years. He wasn't in news either. Yet Shammi Kapoors's passing away last week filled me with immense sadness. He was our first crush, my sister's and mine.

The Kapoor Khandan must have intrigued every Bollywood Buff back in the 70s but for us it was just Shammi all the way. Our grand affair was fuelled by the new arrival of the television. How we waited for those Chitrahars when he would come on dancing, clapping, teasing, romancing... all with equal elan.

We'd sit glued to the telly soaking up each expression of his eyes, each inflection of his voice, each wave of his body, each shake of his head. Could anyone have done a better Aa aa jaa, or his ever famous Yahoo? He certainly had the Kapoor sense of rhythm. If those were his high points he could also do a meltingly soulful Deewana mujhsa nahin or Ehsaan tera hoga mujh par. We remembered to breathe only when the camera moved away from his closeups.

We stocked up cassettes of his songs.. "Mohammed Rafi sings for Shammi Kapoor Vol 1, 2, 3... " We knew them all by heart.

I fought many battles for him. Each time there was a Kishore Kumar versus Mohammed Rafi debate I stood up for Rafi not realising then that it was primarily because he was the voice of Shammi Kapoor. We had these huge struggles with our grandmother who was also a television freak but didn't seem too fond of Shammi's juvenile act. "He'll break his back dancing," she'd comment wryly. However I suspect she wasn't untouched by his charm as we'd often find her smiling at his antics... juvenile though they were.

My sister and I spent long hours debating the song Tareef Karoon Kya Uski where the song ends with Shammi falling into the water with a splash. Even now she is convinced that was his brainchild.. not a planned act at all.

But then spontaneity was his charm. Spontaneity and an ability to laugh at himself. Tell me how many actors can look utterly, heartbreakingly handsome even while making a complete idiot of themselves? Well Shammi could do just that. There he was singing Subhan Allah Haseen Chehra in a burkha. Or wearing a weird contraption with the most ridiculous pom pom cap in the song Tumse Achha Kaun Hai or strutting around with a supposedly angry pout while Saira Banu sang Kashmir Ki Kali in Junglee. He could have you in splits even while mesmerising you with his green brown eyes. Those green eyes, squiggly eyebrows, broad shoulders, his trademark bracelet they were all just so Shammi.

He'll be missed. Sorely.

Really... tumse achchha kaun hai?

Care to share a hug?

This week's Thursday Challenge : "FRIENDS" (Gatherings, Parties, Time Together, Sharing,...)

The twins with their best pal

 

Polish your vocabulary

I found this really cool new parenting vocab on the Cambridge Online Dictionary. Check out which ones fit you.

The helicoptering parent: That's a parent who continuously hovers over the child.

I try not be this one and have learnt to let the kids be after plenty of practice.

The lawnmower parent: The lawnmower parent is obsessive, smoothing the way ahead for their offspring, doing all that they can to ensure that the future is without obstacles and inconveniences (and in doing so, maybe removing the challenges and setbacks that build character?).

Too lazy to be this one.

Free-range parenting, a relaxed, hand's off approach in which the child is given the freedom to make more of their own decisions and choices.
This one I try to be... but fail many times... I don't think I can handle too much freedom for the kids at five years of age.

The hugger mum: puts the infant at the centre of her world, and everything else on hold. She revels in physical closeness – often sleeping with the child – and refuses to impose routine but rather goes with the flow.

Well I like the 'hugging' bit but I'm a totally routine person.


The scheduler mum: regulates naps and meals with military efficiency, making the baby fit her regulated world.

... guilty of being this one.

The fleximum: treads the golden path between these two extremes. A paragon of sense and moderation, the fleximum imposes a degree of routine, but is able to relax that routine when the situation requires it.

I would like to think I'm the fleximum but I tend to be the scheduler mum. I'm a bit like the hugger mum too because I love physical closeness with my kids and they do sleep with me still. Though I hope to see them sleeping in 'their' room by next year. Hope.

The Husband

It’s been almost five years since I started this blog yet I’ve barely mentioned The Husband. Oh he’s been there all along… leaving wet towels on the bed, making shoe marks on freshly mopped floors, lounging endlessly before the television, getting onto my nerves yet somehow sorting out my life by his mere presence. He’s the one who pampers Naisha silly, banters with Hrit till he’s stamping in frustration, telling them stories of planets and volcanoes with the occasional prince and princess thrown in for Naisha's benefit.

Well it’s his birthday today and it’s time he got his due. So here's the story of how The Husband came to be christened 'The Husband' on Obsessivemom.

The blog, started off as a first person account from the twins’ point of view.. it was my perception of their perception of the world… complicated? I thought so too. By the time the kids were in their second year I gave up. Besides it is MY blog isn’t it? I deserved to have my say.. of course it’s another matter that it was still all about the twins, if not by them. At least the real obsessivemom got a voice.

The first thing I gave thought to, was the christening of the family. I was of course OM. I decided to let Hrit, Naisha keep their names. Before they were born we’d spent hours trying out all kinds of girl-girl, boy-boy, boy-girl combinations and all had come to naught at the time of the actual naming because we decided on something totally different. There was no way I was going through all that again.. so Hrit Naisha would be Hrit Naisha.

The husband was a different story. I wondered what to call him. The obvious option was of course DH, dear husband… but that sounded a bit corny to me… besides I knew it would come out sounding sarcastic if I was not in the best of moods, which was often back when kids were small and maids were scarce. So DH was ruled out.

I stumbled upon another one OA, other adult. Hmmm interesting.. except that involved the presence of at least two adults and I doubted if even one existed in our family.

Or there was BF, best friend. Sweet, I thought. The only problem was.. coming from an all girls’ school to me a BF was someone who sat next to you in class, or shared her tiffin with you, or watched your backside while you were picking up forbidden amlas from the school grounds, above all she was a SHE. Much later, as I entered my teens, BF changed meaning as well as sex turning into ‘Boyfriend’ which was really too juvenile to call the husband.

Then I thought of The Guy.. well he was The Guy in my life alright.. ummm but it sounded too impersonal .. no that was not quite right.

This was proving to be tough. I then considered Significant Other.. yes this was it.. the perfect fit. He certainly was my ‘significant other’. So there.. Id’ found a name for him. And then I looked at the acronym SO....what? Oops such a no no.

And so he remained simply The Husband or The Daddy. Nothing flowery, nothing mushy… direct, to the point, unpretentious.. .. just like him.

Besides, Shakespeare did say "That which we call a rose… DH, OA, BF… really what’s in a name? He’d remain the same – chronic workaholic, absentminded forgetter of birthdays, thunderous snorer. We’ve been together now for a decade and a half only because, despite it all, he let’s me be me.

Happy birthday Husband.

Love and understanding

Love and understanding really are different things. Consider for instance what most men feel for their women. Love her he sure does, but understand her.. now that's a struggle. And that's quite how I feel for technology. I love technology.. I love the things it can do, the value it adds to my life, the happiness it brings... yet it's ways remain a mystery. Fascinating, delightful and completely mysterious... that's what technology is to me.

Each time I take a tiny step and manage to unravel a bit of it, a miracle unfolds.

A few days back by a happy accident I managed to plug in my pen drive to my television. (Oh alright.. The Husband did it after I'd had my fill of struggle). However, much as I fought, I couldn't open the music files I wanted to. Frustrated, I dumped the remote on the sofa where the kids were engaged in a lively scuffle. As one of them landed bang on the remote a menu flashed on the screen. I grabbed it, tuned in and then boom.. I had all my favourite tracks playing away happily.

When it comes to technology I have always found myself struggling. There was the time when my Walkman refused to play. I took it to the repair shop only to find the batteries were upside down. That would have been dismissed as an oversight if I hadn't done it two times in a row. Hit and trial worked a long time for me till my smart sibling told me there was a plus and a minus that one was supposed to watch out for. I still sometimes wonder, though,  why the signs must be hidden deep down inside.

Then there are cellphones. Each time I get a new one (which is pretty frequent what with the kids around) I have a fight on hand. When my trusted Nokia gave way a few months back, The Husband decided to upgrade me to a BlackBerry. What a pain that was, still is. The kids must have made umpteen calls to my friend 'Aditi' (because she was the first on the contact list) till the same smart sibling got herself a BB and told me how to lock the keypad. Oh now don't tell me to read the manual.. it's full of complicated diagrams and arrows with heavy jargon thrown in for good measure.

Isn't it a wonder then that I've been on Blogger for so long? I've laboured around plenty in the dark world of backlinks and permalinks, labels, gadgets, templates.... Once I happened to click on the 'Edit HTML' option and then wondered for days where my editing menu had gone. I idly posted the query on Google Help and lo and behold I got an almost immediate reply. Someone actually figured out my error. Unbelievable, isn't it? I never thought there were people sitting there waiting to help you out. Then there was the time I deleted a post and reposted it. At least two of my blogger friends knew I did that through some tracking system. Pretty unnerving to say the least. It's like there are people sitting in my computer watching every thing I do.

By the way, in case I've given the impression of being computer illiterate let me clarify I'm not. I've been working on computers for over two and a half decades. Along with my editorial tasks at the newspaper I designed pages too and managed a fairly decent job. In fact I was better than most others, baring the designers of course. But put me on MSWord 2007 and I'm lost. The problem is with the new stuff.. and where there's technology there's always new stuff around.

Cookies, plugins, HTML, Java Script.. It's like Greek and Latin. Sometimes I think I should seriously learn computers but which is the course I should be looking at???

I WATCHED A MOVIE...

.. in the theatre, last Sunday. That's a huge reason to rejoice because the last time I was there was almost two years back  and before that it was in 2006. That's a bad bad average for someone who loves films and worse for someone who loves the whole theatre experience...

To begin with there's the
The big screen
The great sound system
The caramel popcorn.

Plus

The maid doesn't bother you
The doorbell doesn't ring
You don't have to yell at the kids to 'Keep it down'
Or dodge the ball as it lands on you while they play bat-ball
Or handle The Husband who just wants 'a cup of tea please'

It's just you, the popcorn and the film.. bliss.

Of course occasionally you find yourself reaching out for the remote that's not there but that's about the only hitch.

The Husband gallantly volunteered to take care of the kids while I went off with the SIL. Needless to say I totally completely loved the film .. oh did I forget to mention the name?.. it was Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. The whole idea of the film is so not me but so what-I-would-love-to-be... I mean what fun it would be to go off with a bunch of friends to do things you would never actually do on your own.

That was fun. Hope the SIL and I can do it again soon.

In other developments, last Sunday was also the day the kids got their Taekwando green belts. There was much excitement and they were pretty thrilled with themselves. Despite the tiny thing that Naisha is, she did better at the exam according to the instructor's feed back. So much for Hrit's macho act.

This weekend was given over to food. We went out for a great Chinese dinner and then I 'helped' the kids finish their chocolate mousse.. thus did I desert my diet. And now is the time I start dreading that weighing machine as I ready for the gym. Mondays, I tell you, are the worst days of all.

Edited to add: The verdict at the gym: 800 gms up. Too stiff a punishment for one night of revelry, isn't it? It's back to work now.

Samosa Queen

That would be me. There was a time when the only samosa queen I could have imagined myself as, would have been the kind who outdid everyone at eating samosas. However, now that I am a grown up respectable SAHM-to-twins kind of a person, the said epithet has many more dimensions.

In fact, since I've had the twins there are times I find myself doing things I could never have seen myself doing... it's a kind of surreal, out of body experience.. when I look at myself and think 'Is that really me?'

And so it was when I found myself surfing the Net for a recipe to make samosas. The kids had something called National Day which meant they had to dress up in Indian clothes and carry and an Indian snack and I was instructed to send samosas. They are just not for the readymade ones. I looked for frozen stuff too but gave up when everyone said they had too many preservatives. Google it was then who came to my rescue.

Of course I knew the basics having eaten millions of them. The filling was easy enough - I added some beans and peas to beef up the health quotient of the potatoes. U Tube taught me how to do the dough here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3x17wnChUfY . Then it was simple.. roll small rotis, cut in half, make a cone, fill, seal, fry on slow heat. Pretty doable, I thought.

However, the first one I put in, puffed up like a blooming flower in fast forward and spilt out its entire contents... so did the second and third. I think I hadn't sealed them properly. After that, the fourth, fifth, sixth.. in fact almost all, fried to perfection. Was I thrilled! The kids loved them... at least Hrit did. Naisha barely tolerates food so if she ate even one at school I am happy.

That's how the samosas turned out..



THE BAD ONES..



... AND THE GOOD ONES

And that's how the kids turned out

One of the rare times when they posed perfectly...



.. and then brotherly affection took over.

Points of note: 1. Naisha has her breakfast tucked away in the corner of her mouth
2. Hrit wore that smiley to even things out because he had no accessories like Naisha who had bangles and hair clips

It would seem that "God helps those who persevere" holds true in the kitchen too, not just in the gym.

While on the gym.. that's the reason I've been a bit laid back on blog posts. I've been in exercise mode these past few months. I try to squeeze in short walks when I can, along with the gym and am happy to see some progress. However I still don't fit into the top which I once could, six months back... so I'm not sure I can call it progress.. I need to reach the base point before I can start talking about actual 'weight loss'. Sigh!

Oh one happy thing.. a new entrant in the gym asked me if I was married.. Heh heh heh... how's that for a compliment! Or maybe she thought I was an sulky old spinster. Humph!

Anyway, what with heavy duty cooking and exercising this past week's been pretty adventurous. I also splashed hot oil on my arm and am currently sporting some awesome blister/boils. I'll spare you guys the pictures only if I get enough sympathy comments.

PS: I caught myself spraying the loo with my favourite deo. I was just glad I wasn't spraying room freshener on me. Senility?