Yes, I decided to get myself new digs
Do visit me for the housewarming at www.phoenixritu.com
and update your blogrolls please.
I’d love to meet you there.
I have moved address
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Monthly Archives: October 2008
I have new shiny digs and a new friend
I am very hep and kewl now 
I am a netizen and own property on the internet. Yes I am blowing my own trumpet shamelessly. I belong to a generation that can be called B.I. (Before Internet) and am adapting nicely to the A.I. (after internet) scenario and am feeling quite proud about it.
My friend and accomplice in this entire endeavour has been Mahjabeen of Studio M. I really admired the header that Mad Momma put up on her blog and so got in touch with Mahjabeen. I seriously toyed with the idea of uploading a pic of Praveen Babi walking out of water as my header, but was talked out of it. The argument my family used was creative to say the least
1. You are not Praveen Babi (I know I know)
2. You dont look good in a bikini (Yeah I know, snarl, shut the fuck up)
3. Every time you see the blog it will make you want to race to the gym and bust your ass trying to look like her (sigh! you win, who needs that kind of competition anyway)
So Mahjabeen, who patiently waited for my final instructions got together with me and we settled for a header having me weaving the web with my hands and draping it on the W, Kid#1 in a pilot get up on the runway, Kid#2 (the engineer) with his mechanical gears as a background on the top and the footer has DIL with very arty background as she is the artistic one (interior designer no less) on my web page.
A very big thank you to Mahjabeen who succesfully interpreted my airy, vague, and often incomprehensible suggestions and gave them a concrete visual format. It has been a wonderful experience interacting with you, my dear. I have also been enriched by knowing her, she is so polite and approachable. My mommy would have loved you my dear and would have told me ‘Why cant you be like her?”
I have told my sons that if they dont behave, I’ll put baby pics of them in the nude or dressed in girlie frocks for all eternity on my web page! After all Mere paas Maa …. oops sorry …. Mahjabeen hai.
I had bought my domain a month or so ago and now the domain had to be shifted on the server. I swear it was like the final stages of pregnancy. It took more than 24 hours for the move to be accomplished, and guess who held my hand and told me :
Take it easy Ritu and
-
- Inhale through your nose 2-3-4, exhale through your mouth 2-3-4.
- Make sure that you don’t do it too fast.
- When the contractions become stronger again, and this technique doesn’t seem to cut it anymore, this is what you do:
-
- Hee-hee, hee-hee, hee-hee, hee-hee
Yes, it was Mahjabeen helping me every step of the way. I truly made a new friend.
Relax, wander about, enjoy the new digs and let me know what you think of it. Feedback is always appreciated.
I am a big girl now, I can take it.
If I cant, I’ll just find an image of you, get Mahjabeen to photoshop it and dedicate an entire post on you. Hehehehehe After all Mere paas Maa … hajabeen Hai
A feel good, romantic myth
My father was a very indulgent husband and a cool parent. He married my mother when she was barely sixteen and was often known to remark that he brought up three kids. He always added Jee to her name and addressed her as Tussi or Aap. Karva Chauth was big in our home. Two weeks to D-day he took Mom shopping and bought her new clothes, a day earlier, matching bangles and trinkets etc were purchased. He would wake up early and have sargi (breakfast before sunrise) with Mom. On that day, we were told to curb our energies and tip toe around because Mom was fasting. He would come back early from office and depute us on roofs and trees to keep a watch and holler when moon was sighted so that Mom could break her fast. Sigh! It was sooooo romantic.
Naturally I also kept the Karva Chauth. And naturally it did not go too well for me. I just dont have that kind of luck you see. During my harmonious freakingly stormy wedded life, there were wars, and there were short intervals of I’m too tired to fight uneasy breathers. We had a biggggg fight on one Karva Chauth when ex said something majorly caustic and rushed out to work. He is King of Sarcasm. I totally lost it. In retrospect, I think it was because I could not top that one as he had left. It was so frustrating, you know. I could think of a dozen things to say which could top his lines, but he had effin left!!! I did not want to keep the fast for him. In fact I felt majorly martyrd by the entire concept of being hungry and thirsty for the entire day. I had cooked a sumptious feast for the sargi which was still lying on the dining table. So I sat down and ate. I was not hungry (I had already eaten sargi) but I ate the paranthas, the sewian, the gulab jamuns even though I felt sick. Yes I am a spiteful cat if you rub me the wrong way.
Stop pretending to be shocked, its all a myth okay. Nothing bad happened to him. He is still alive and healthy, and being tiresome. It takes more than a couple of aloo paranthas eaten by an angry wife on Karva Chauth to kill a person.
Stop laughing!!!
DIL asked me the first year of her marriage about what to do for Karva Chauth and I told her “Beta keep it for one year, after that, if you dont want to, dont. Doll up, apply mehendi, pamper yourself. The fast is optional” and I told her this tale of mine. She found it insane and repeated the damn thing to her mother and sister. I know I know, I shouldnt have told her! Her mother told me, “Both you and my daughter have the same nature”. Ah well, I have decided to take that as a compliment.
She looked lovely all decked up last year (It was her first Karva Chauth) and has just informed me that she wants to keep it again this year. Awwwwww, sooo romantic. I am so happy that she is keeping it for her own sentiments and out of her own free will. Of course I am also so happy that I dont have to keep it.
Edited to add: Both the lovebirds are keeping the fast – for each other. I am so impressed!
Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty
I have two sons and no daughter. I felt very discriminated about this because I really wanted a girl child. I had this burning desire in me to show my family how a girl child should be given confidence and empowered. I had visions of how I would bring her up, how I would not be bothered if she wanted to fly kites, play marbles or climb trees along with her story book and spend time reading on the branch of a tree. I was scolded and beaten up for doing that. But unfortunately this was not to be.
Life happened and I have had no time to actively participate in any kind of programme but I contribute to this charity and hope it makes a difference. I am a guardian to one girl child and fund her education. At least it keeps one little one off the streets. Do visit the website.
No one takes me seriously… sigh!
Let me give you a folk story from North West India …..
In a remote village, a bossy woman lived with her daughter-in-law. Although her son and husband lived with them too, it’s she who held sway over the entire family. One person who was always on her radar was the daughter-in-law. Like most mothers-in-law she used to point out flaws in almost everything her daughter-in-law did. As this woman took her role so seriously this reforming activity fast became a habit. The habit brought in her the ingenuity to find faults where they were none. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?
One day while her daughter-in-law was preparing dough for the rotis (bread made out of wheat flour), to be cooked for the dinner, she stared at her rather furiously. When the daughter-in-law reacted with a questioning expression, pat came her reply—why do you move so much while making the dough?
Now I am sure it sounds familiar
Such absolute power. Not one daughter in law could afford to ignore that mother in law.
I got this lovely invite in the mail
I sent it promptly to the DIL (in my defence I sent it to a whole lot of people including her)
She promptly rings me up from her work place and cant speak because she’s laughing her guts out.
“Mom, trying to become a regular mother-in-law like Lalita Pawar are you? You can’t so forget it”
Humph! No one takes me seriously. Sigh ……………………..
No one takes me seriously … sigh!
Let me give you a folk story from North West India …..
In a remote village, a bossy woman lived with her daughter-in-law. Although her son and husband lived with them too, it’s she who held sway over the entire family. One person who was always on her radar was the daughter-in-law. Like most mothers-in-law she used to point out flaws in almost everything her daughter-in-law did. As this woman took her role so seriously this reforming activity fast became a habit. The habit brought in her the ingenuity to find faults where they were none. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?
One day while her daughter-in-law was preparing dough for the rotis (bread made out of wheat flour), to be cooked for the dinner, she stared at her rather furiously. When the daughter-in-law reacted with a questioning expression, pat came her reply—why do you move so much while making the dough?
Now I am sure it sounds familiar
Such absolute power. Not one daughter in law could afford to ignore that mother in law.
I got this lovely invite in the mail
I sent it promptly to the DIL (in my defence I sent it to a whole lot of people including her)
She promptly rings me up from her work place and cant speak because she’s laughing her guts out.
“Mom, trying to become a regular mother-in-law like Lalita Pawar are you? You can’t so forget it”
Humph! No one takes me seriously. Sigh ……………………..
It’s all in day’s work
6:30 am, wake up, curse the effin’ mobile which sings happily “Dil kabhi ganda, kabhi hai nek banda”, fall out of bed, walk into the bathroom door, groan, walk into various fixtures cursing a blue streak and then open eyes, look at my own reflection, (OMG I look like a hag) groan, close eyes, wash face and then feeling kind of awake, open bed room door, stumble over sleeping dogs, walk into kitchen, start breakfast and lunch, open door to let the dogs out, wake up live in servant …….. Good Morning NCR 
7 am, live in help takes over kitchen and I go back into the room, start doing various exercises (I hate them but I have to) while watching music channels to divert my mind from the pain of exercising … while training my ear to the going ons in the house … ahh DIL is up, good, dammit Kid#2 will get late for college, dammit Ramu should be doing the rotis by now. I have found that if I get annoyed or tense, I exercise more vigorously – so I suspect I work myself up – so that the damn kicks reach higher and the damn moves are faster. I work myself into a fine sweat and then feel happier with life. Yayyy the pheromones are kicking in …..
8 am, the kids are out of the house and its time to go get shopping list ready and take a tour of the house with Ramu while giving him some instructions and then rush back into my room to get ready for office.
TRRRRRING TRRRRRING
Me : Hello beta
DIL: Mom, you’re at home
Me: Yes beta
DIL: Mom can you please check – I think I left my diamond ring in the loo
Me : Sigh : Yes beta, am going upstairs to your loo. I’ll keep it in my bag. Take it from me in the night.
DIL : I’ll check up with you. Byeee
Uff, now where was I? Oh yes, getting ready for breakfast and office. DIL’s ring is now in my bag and I am back in the morning madness. I’m wearing my clothes when another call comes
TRRRING TRRING
Me: Hello
Kid#2: Mom do you have my passport photo
Me: Yeah
Kid#2 : Mom I forgot to take it with me in the morning, can you drop one on your way to office
Me : I work in mnbbv which is North, your college is in lkjhg which is south – I cant
Kid#2 : Moooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmm
Me : You got a car – just go to the market and get one taken. Takes 15 minutes
Kid#2 : Sigh
Me : Heavy Sigh!!!!!
Have breakfast and escape to work. On the road
TRRRING TRRING
Me : Hello
Ex : Ritu how are you
Me : Good
Uncomfortable silence for one whole minute
Ex : I guess you are wondering why I called you
Me : Yeah ………….
Ex : Kid#1 is not answering my mails or returning my calls
Me : Okay, I’ll tell him to (mentally thinking you goddamn idiot, he’s an adult, you patronise and boss him, obviously he doesnt wanna talk to you)
Ex : Okay I’ll ring you back for a reply
Me : Do it late in the night (or dont) okay
Ex : Sigh!!!
Me : Heavier Sigh!!!!!!
12 noon while busy doing up some drafting of reports
TRRRING TRRING
Me : Hello
Voice : Good afternoon Madam, I am calling from Vodaphone
Me : Snarling : I dont want your product or whatever bullshit scheme you are selling
Sigh! Poor guys. Telemarketing is a terrible business. But while juggling cooking, housekeeping, being a detective, the lost and found deptt., errand runner, advisor, relationship mediator and bread earner, I simply have no time or desire to be patient with them.
Anticipatory Retirement Blues
What can I say, here I was, walking the air nicely like the cartoon network character I talk about when I came upon this post and plummetted downwards AAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE. I am totally freaked out – am reminded of ex’s caustic remark when I was home for a long period on maternity leave. He told me ever so sweetly “Get yourself a job – any job. Dammit I’ll pay your employer salary to keep you busy”. All I did was clean his cupboard and give away all his old clothes. Oh yeah, I also fumigated the entire house, cleaned the kitchen etc etc. The thing is – I’ve got to keep busy. I can not sit and do nothing at a stretch. It makes me bitchy and temperamental. I also like earning money (who doesnt heh!) and being independent.
I think that this so-called retirement concept is total bullshit. A mother never retires and neither does a housewife – and they do more laborious stuff than a normal office worker. Even actors dont retire, they become Moms and Dads and such like stuff. So why should we?
In our culture, age is respected. Greying hair and daughter in laws/grandchildren give us the aura of wisdom (never mind if we colour our hair and go ahead and blog about boobs and wrestling heh!) I feel that we should be given a chance to work until we are ready to call quits. Of course I have no retirement plans or funds (I never plan) though I have a vague idea of packing bags and baggage and moving to Punjab or Kasauli or someplace cheaper and more friendly than the NCR.
I have seen how the elderly live in the NCR. Its a lonely life and its boring. Get up early, go for a walk, bring milk for the family. Then go to the temple, spend time there, come back with vegetables from the vendor. Then sit and read the newspaper, watch television, while away time. Then its lunch. After lunch, take a nap, wake up and spend time with grandchildren (if the grandchild is in the mood to spend time with you), then evening walk in the park, come back home. More television and then sleep. I guess it would kill me, if retirement did not. I think life in a smaller town or a village would be better – where life is slow and people are more approachable.
I am not even talking about money – I have this belief that if you are educated, you can look after your own needs. No one ever could make enough to fulfill the greeds any way – so why get into that. It is things like the fear of being redundant, being irrelevant and lonely that are scaring me. For many years, I have been at the helm, both at office and at home and this is a feeling that is new to me.
I would welcome inputs from others reading this blog …… what does one do when your employer thinks that you are old and do not have to work, and your family has grown up and does not need you? How is one to cope with being sidelined after being on centrestage for such a long time?
Anitcipatory Retirement Blues
What can I say, here I was, walking the air nicely like the cartoon network character I talk about when I came upon this post and plummetted downwards AAAIIIIIIEEEEEEE. I am totally freaked out – am reminded of ex’s caustic remark when I was home for a long period on maternity leave. He told me ever so sweetly “Get yourself a job – any job. Dammit I’ll pay your employer salary to keep you busy”. All I did was clean his cupboard and give away all his old clothes. Oh yeah, I also fumigated the entire house, cleaned the kitchen etc etc. The thing is – I’ve got to keep busy. I can not sit and do nothing at a stretch. It makes me bitchy and temperamental. I also like earning money (who doesnt heh!) and being independent.
I think that this so-called retirement concept is total bullshit. A mother never retires and neither does a housewife – and they do more laborious stuff than a normal office worker. Even actors dont retire, they become Moms and Dads and such like stuff. So why should we?
In our culture, age is respected. Greying hair and daughter in laws/grandchildren give us the aura of wisdom (never mind if we colour our hair and go ahead and blog about boobs and wrestling heh!) I feel that we should be given a chance to work until we are ready to call quits. Of course I have no retirement plans or funds (I never plan) though I have a vague idea of packing bags and baggage and moving to Punjab or Kasauli or someplace cheaper and more friendly than the NCR.
I have seen how the elderly live in the NCR. Its a lonely life and its boring. Get up early, go for a walk, bring milk for the family. Then go to the temple, spend time there, come back with vegetables from the vendor. Then sit and read the newspaper, watch television, while away time. Then its lunch. After lunch, take a nap, wake up and spend time with grandchildren (if the grandchild is in the mood to spend time with you), then evening walk in the park, come back home. More television and then sleep. I guess it would kill me, if retirement did not. I think life in a smaller town or a village would be better – where life is slow and people are more approachable.
I am not even talking about money – I have this belief that if you are educated, you can look after your own needs. No one ever could make enough to fulfill the greeds any way – so why get into that. It is things like the fear of being redundant, being irrelevant and lonely that are scaring me. For many years, I have been at the helm, both at office and at home and this is a feeling that is new to me.
I would welcome inputs from others reading this blog …… what does one do when your employer thinks that you are old and do not have to work, and your family has grown up and does not need you? How is one to cope with being sidelined after being on centrestage for such a long time?
Long Time No ……
So that’s your exercise. “Long time no..” is your prompt.
Fiction, poetry, essay, vignette, character study, script, whatever comes easiest to you. Better still, whatever comes hardest; extend yourself and try a genre you’ve never attempted before.
- Up to 1000 words.
- Not more than one contribution per member per week.
MY STORY
She stomped in angrily muttering expletives under her breath. I looked up from the Ludlum I was reading and asked “What’s biting your ass now”
“That bloody cow! She made me get up from the seat. She thought I was a boy. I had to stand in the bus all the way from Defence Colony to Maurice Nagar”
I threw her a bottle of Bisleri and bookmarked my page. This was going to take time. She gulped down the water and plunked her skinny ass on my armchair without removing the clothes kept on it. I suppressed a groan and looked at her expectantly.
“Effin bitch!” she said throwing the bottle at the dustbin and watching it bounce away from it.
“Who?”
“Some fat woman on the bus. She told me that the seat was meant for ladies and made me stand. Dammit I am a woman! Bitch! She probably would have noticed that I am a girl but she had fat instead of grey matter in her brain”
I sighed and looked at her. She was tall, dark and beautiful. Her 5’7” frame was skinny and this is North India where girls are supposed to be short, fair and curvy. She was normally clad in jeans and tees and had short hair like Kajol in the first half of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Her parents had named her Madhulika, but every one knew her as Mads.
“Mads you need to look and feel like a girl to be treated like one. You know what? You need a girl bra. Burn your damn sports bras and get a girl bra, wear shirts with jeans and see the difference”.
She looked at me as though I had lost it.
“Ritu, I am a girl and girls do wear sports bras you know. What’s wrong with Tees?” The tone was extra patient as though she was humoring a mental retard. I gave her an irritated look and got up from the bed.
“Okay lets go out” I said giving my Ludlum a wistful look.
WTH, I hadn’t even approached the issue of lipstick as yet… Girl bras are good and feminine – at least one doesn’t have to squish parts of your body into one sling that leads to back fat.
Mads was ecstatic with our trip to the mall even though she had to do the old lady thing of hooking the bra up front and then twisting it around. She even bought a couple of shirts. She preened in front of the mirror and then said to her reflection
Long time No See
“Talking to your feminine self?” I asked
Nah, to the two of them. Dammit I always thought I had a uniboob you know, I actually have two boobs. Oh Ritu, you know what, my shirt does that thing you know – gaping hole between second and third button.
I cracked up. We both started giggling like demented females. I somehow said between giggles, “Pay your bill and let’s move”
She looked at her reflection again and said
Long time No See, the two of you. See you soon.