Pastures new...

The people or the lack of people was the rudest shock! In India it is people, people everywhere, not a spot to stand! Here, I could see cars after cars on the roads, speeding away but not a single soul on foot! Perhaps this was because I was living in the sub-urban New Jersey and not a proper city, but yet the difference was blaring!

At home, the carpet flooring, though soft to step on and nice to look at, never gave the feeling of absolute clean! Nothing like sweeping with a nice broom and swiping with nice Lysol-mixed water thoroughly! The ceiling of the apartments is much lower than what we are used to. It gives a feeling of being in a tiny apartment. Having the washer-dryer right inside the home did save a lot of trouble, but no hanging the clothes in the sun to dry?

And the biggie, driving on the right! The first few days were spent very confused! On the roads, it always felt as if something was wrong. Poor A, he had to start driving our rental right from Day-2, so as to help settling in. And yea, another shocker, lack of public transport. If you have to get from a town to the next one, yea, there is Train and in some cases buses too. But if you have to get from your house to the grocery store, there is none! So the first thing one has to do is get a car…at least a rental. Coming back to A, we had to start shopping and buying things in order to settle into our apartment and that called for numerous trips to Wal-Mart and the likes. Luckily, our hotel was very close to the shopping area, but still required driving a portion on the High-way! It was so tough! Not only do you have to follow the right lane, you have to listen to the darn GPS to know when exactly to turn and also mind the speeding cars. Getting honked at is another big No-No. It is considered a big insult if you get honked at, rather it means you’ve made a mistake. And many-times, the GPS would tell you just a few minutes before you have to make a turn and if you aren’t in the right lane to make that, you have to miss the turn and go right upto the next junction to turn.

I had to get my driver’s license soon. With hubby’s work taking off pretty much as soon as we settled into the apartment, I knew I had to start driving soon to be more independent. I took classes from a driving school. A Russian guy ran the school and was recommended by a friend of A. “Oou want to drive za car eey? “ He smiled. With that we started our 2-hour class. Since I was already driving in India, I knew the basics well. We quickly went into learning the much-dreaded Parallel parking! It was not easy! There were going to be cones kept with just enough space for one car to park. He made me practice very hard, at the parking lot of a mall. With the mall-cops expressing their dislike to our classes being held there, we dint have too much time. The guy made sure I was comfortable with parallel parking and we went straight for the test. Since I had already taken the written test, I had to just go for the road-test. Luckily, my DMV (US equivalent of RTO) had a road-test patch inside their premises itself, which meant I did not have to drive on the actual road. I took the test, followed speed limits, came to a complete halt at the Stop signs, signaled, did the K-turn and finally came to the parallel parking. I carefully followed my driving-teachers instructions in my head and inched slowly towards the parking lot. I finished parking and the instructor got down to check if all was okay, within the cones. He gave me thumbs up! I had passed and got my license too! Yay!

The way of life here was sure different, not entirely but small things added to it. The newspaper feels smaller than ours; the cell-phones come only with calling plans; the cooking is on electric-stove, not gas; there is no ‘iron-kaaran’ near the stairs of the apartment or by a shady tree nearby; no Indian channels on TV; they like their coffee black and their Christmas white; children don’t just run into neighbors houses to play, they ask for a ‘Play-date’; The climate is different; there are very few street-lights on the roads; their coins have such tiny lettering;…Hmmm…. It’s going to take some getting used to…

Chale Chalo...

After yet another hiatus, I am back again. I have always been meaning to, the pleasure of writing just for the fun of it has always been on my mind. However, in between moving from one country to another and raising a two year old, I guess I bundled up the thought and kept it on hold.

Anyways, talking about the infamous move, we moved from good old India to the US of A, courtesy, hubby’s change of job-assignment. The move had been planned for sometime so it did not come as a surprise to us. But the amount of work and emotion that went into the move sure was a surprise!

First of all, choosing what to keep and what to toss, from our ‘wealth’ built up in the five years of marriage was of course extremely tough, but also sentimental. Like the terracotta Ganesha set that I had so lovingly bought, A’s precious books from his college, S’na’s first set of toys, my beautiful Indian clothes, the unopened beautiful tea-set given by my aunt, our collection of books and so forth. But the most painful was to part with our first car! I remember the day when we had got it; we probably took it around the whole of Bangalore, not wanting to park it for more than a minute! I remember the romantic long-drives in our newly-wedded days. I remember bringing S’na in the same car from the hospital when she was just a few days old. And when the buyer came to take it, I did not even want to see our car being taken away. I silently said bye and wiped a tiny tear!

After somehow managing to sort our entire household into only very essential items and packing them, I remember my mom who had come to help me making me promise that I will not do this to her again. J Then I spent a month long vacation with my parents before we actually moved, which was thoroughly enjoyable given the pampering we received. Be it amma’s loving cooking, affectionate taking care of the grand-daughter or appa’s patience to take us around and show us all some good time, it was delightful!

Then came the actual move. The 20-hour or so flight was ok but the 20-hour or so flight with a 15-month old was terrible! Poor thing, hated sleeping on the seat, didn’t understand why she couldn’t run around and most of all, hated the tiny cubicle which mommy took her to, to change her diapers! I had packed all kinds of toys and items to distract her and one of them included a sticker-bindi set. It finally held fort for me…she loved plucking the bindi and sticking it to different places on daddy dearest! It was fun, inexpensive and easy to handle…by far the best idea I have had! :)

The flight landed and we reached the US. Neither A or I, had any special importance to being in the US, it was an official move and that was that. Having moved around quite a bit in India itself, again thanks to his job, we treated this as one more. As we stepped into the taxi to reach our hotel, I remember thinking, though the travel was over…the journey had just begun.

This new journey in a new country is what I will share in some of the following posts...

A scared citizen...

Mumbai came under attack. Terrorists. They came with a purpose and achieved more than what they wanted...

I am a citizen of India and now, I will think twice before going to a Mall, Cineplex or a Hotel. I will never set foot in a 5-star hotel after this perhaps. I will always look at 20-something boys carrying shoulder-bags with a little suspicion or for that matter anyone carrying a rucksack. I will, at all times look for owners of bags and suitcases in trains, buses or even public places. I will make a mental note of all the fire-exits and nearest staircases at all places, wherever I am. I will not believe in the efficiency of metal-detectors, for a man just illustrated that even after carrying a gun, the detector did nothing. I will not have any faith in our so called ‘leaders’. I will look at most politicians with disgust. I will feel unsafe in my own country.

I will worry for my daughter, for the world she will grow up to live in. Will I ever have the peace and calm that I am entitled to?

A Mother’s Memoir

Being a mother and watching your child grow is I think one of the best gifts from god to a woman. The way those tiny fingers which knew just to curl up, slowly unfold and learn to point at things, to hold things. The way the unsteady neck, strengthens up to hold the head high and mighty. The way the tender legs, which knew only to kick the air listlessly, toughen up to crawl, stand and even walk! It’s truly wonderful, the way a small baby grows into an active, inquisitive little toddler! And am truly lucky to have been with my li’l one, all through out this beautiful one year!

I remember all those milestones and the joyous emotion it evoked every time. For instance, when S’na was three months old she had turned over once or twice and then gave up on it until suddenly in her fifth month she decided to do it all over again and this time she really loved it. She would be on her back and in a jiffy just roll to her sides and go onto her stomach. How much Arjun and I loved those times she did it and then would smile graciously at us!

She started sitting at the beginning of the seventh month. I will never forget that day when she first did it…I couldn’t believe she did it so easily, as if someone had tutored her on it. From her fours, she just moved back in such a way that she hit the floor and then she just sat! Of course, she just managed to sit for only few minutes and bang, she fell. Falls always happened along with the achievements. But it never deterred her. She continued to sit and look at the world from a new perspective.

From sitting, graduating to moving on all fours happened very swiftly. We had bought her a toy bike-rider that used to play a song and move along. One day S’na decided she’s had enough of the toy going round and round and so started crawling behind it and caught it. Once she discovered the joy of independence, she never looked back. She would crawl to all the parts of our house, explore the dark corners, go behind the line of ants and crawl on and on. She loved it.

She loved crawling so much that I think she decided not to move on to walking very soon. So it was only two months past her 1^st birthday that she started walking. I remember the lengths Arjun and I would go to urge her to start walking. We got her a walker, with those fancy play-things attached and a musical horn. Then when she dint walk much with it, we thought perhaps those fancy things distract her and got her another walker, this time a more traditional one made of wood and without any frills. She dint seem to like this one too much either. I would also take her to the park for her to see other kids running and playing and maybe get inspired in the process! Of course, I was just being an over-concerned parent. Anyways, the day did come. It was Diwali and maybe the diwali-spirit in her got her to do it, her tiny feet took their first steps…it was the best Diwali! J

So there you go, now she is fourteen months old, walks around the house as if she owns it and has even started saying some words. She says bow-wow when she sees a dog and says cheese when she wants some. She loves to play with her toy piano which plays different tunes for each button and she enjoys playing with her rubber ducks while bathing. She loves for me to read her a book, her first book with colorful pictures and cartoons, before she goes to sleep. She adores playing peek-a-boo with appa and loves for him to cuddle her as soon as he's home from work.

I know these coming months are going to be a lot of fun, as she’s going to be learning to talk much more and I can wait for it. Her every tiny step is precious and the memories are worth a million!

Rock On – Zindagi Millegi Na Doobara!

I booked tickets after a lot of thought and persuasion from my brother. As the day neared, I felt a guilty twinge inside me. I was going to watch a movie with my brother, leaving my darling daughter, who is all of eleven months back at home, with hubby dearest. What if she throws a tantrum, what if she doesn’t fall asleep, what if she’s hungry and my hubby doesn’t know it and lot of other ‘what ifs’ haunted me. However with my husband putting his foot down on my taking a time-off, I relented and went along with bro.

The movie we saw was Rock on…and boy, it sure rocked! The movie was essentially about four guys, who used to be a rock band but fall apart due to some reasons (hey, I have to be vague else why would u watch the movie) and how they get back together. It has some stunning performance from Farhan Akhtar. In fact all the four guys in the band have acted brilliantly. But the real star of the movie is the music…its just awesome. My personal favorites are ‘Pichele Saat dino’, ‘Socha hai’ and ‘Tum ho tho’. It’s a must watch for anyone who enjoys a good script, excellent acting and rocking music.

The tagline of the movie went Live your Dream. It urged viewers to think about what they really wanted to do, what their real passion was and pursue that without loosing faith. Like the protagonist, many of us live the seemingly perfect life, but deep inside we know that its not so. Sometimes we forget that our dreams and desire is what completes us and ignites the spark within.

I know we also have to live a practical life. I get it that only if I earn good money with a decent job will I even be able to afford say a guitar class or cameras for photography. But unfortunately we loose ourselves in our dreary life that our dreams and aspirations are all bundled away. Of course, there is also the question of time. As it is we juggle with so many different things in a day. I can hear someone ask, “Where is the time to do one more thing”? Well, only you should answer that…to yourself. As for me, I know that for me to be able to do something, for just myself, like say a dance class or tennis lessons, I have to not only afford the classes but also a good baby-sitter! :)

Anyways, after a thoroughly enjoyable break, I got back home to my sleeping daughter. As I tucked her in, I silently vowed to myself that I won’t be engulfed by the repetitive, dull living, I owe it to myself, owe it to her as well.

Nine months route to Rapture

After a self imposed hiatus for the past few months, am back to the blog world. And it’s exactly in these months that I went through a very new experience and a very special one at that…the divine experience of becoming a mother…

I remember it was a windy Friday evening when my husband and I were waiting anxiously for the test results in the hospital. The laboratory assistant entered the room and very coolly just said “it’s positive”. Those two words rang in my ears loudly as Arjun, my husband, and I hugged with happiness! And that’s how the journey began.

The first few months were very tough, both emotionally and physically. I contracted some infection and grew ill, my husband traveled extensively on a project abroad and I had to decide to resign from my cushy job! Some days were spent cursing Mother Nature for being so difficult on women and yet some more went by thanking god for this gift. I stayed at my parents, when Arjun was traveling and thoroughly exploited their pampering :)!

With the second trimester setting in, the kicking in the womb started getting very prominent and that I consider the highlight of pregnancy. To feel those cute little movements is truly heavenly! This being the easier of three trimesters, Arjun & I decided to go on a vacation. It was one of the best decisions we’d made, because the vacation in Goa turned out to be heaven. We stayed in a beautiful resort, lazed in the beaches, ate sumptuous food and spent lazy afternoons reading up on the ‘What to expect when you are expecting’ book! J

The third trimester proved to be more of a ‘weighty’ period, with me finally gaining some weight and looking positively pregnant. Everywhere I went I was bestowed with the ‘preferential’ treatment with motorists stopping for me to cross the road and fellow shoppers allowing me to go ahead in the billing line :). I was by now growing anxious about child birth and spent time doing relaxing yoga and meditation. The customary special pooja happened (Seemantham- for the tamilians), to pray for safe delivery and the well being of the child. As I got closer to the D-day, I read up extensively on almost everything available about pregnancy, childbirth and new-born care. And thankful I was to have read up well in time, because as it turned out, my little one was on its way out well before a month, turning out to be a premature baby.


I was blessed with a baby girl and she looked beautiful. Soon after she was born, she was plopped on my lap. As I lovingly gazed at her, I saw she was so tiny, her skin was so tender, cute small fingers tightly closed and eyes firmly shut. Hesitantly I slowly tried to pick her up and hold her. Worrying if I was holding her right, I looked around for some assurance from the nurse, but she was busy with something else. And then as I looked down, my daughter slowly opened her eyes. They were sparkling and bright and she looked straight at me….it was as if she was trying to tell me something…it was as if she was telling me, “ Mom, don’t worry, everything is going to be alright, I am with you”. And that's when I realized that my life was never going to be the same again, I was a Mom and it's the most beautiful thing in the world!!!

My brother dearest...

I hated him when he arrived….he was 4 years younger and cried a lot, which made my parents give him lot of attention! Who is this guy who suddenly landed up in my life?!?! Why do my parents fuss over him so much? I mean, it’s not like he can talk, sing or do acrobatic stuff like me, I thought, climbing on to the arm of the sofa. I jumped below and did a gymnast pose like they show on TV, with hands spread wide. My mom did not even notice… hmph!! All he does is eat, cry and sleep! How can they like him for that!

These were the first emotions when my kid brother was born. Little did I know then, that we would grow to become best of friends!

My brother was the good one in the family and I was, well…the other kind. He was quiet, calm and obedient. I, on the other hand, was naughty and talkative, always getting into trouble. But perhaps it was this dissimilarity that also made us get along well. I was the brat, devising ideas for our mischievous things and he was the perfect cover! Mom – “What are u both up to, out in the noon?” Me- “ Nothing amma, bro wants to play hide & seek” and that would be the close of matter, while we were probably throwing stones at the dog in our neighbor's house, or chucking paper rockets at someone on the road and ducking to hide in our balcony, giggling.

As days went by, we both grew out on things to do together. He’d always play cricket and football with his friends on the street and I would curl up in the bed with a book. We got into our own world, with different friends, studies and interests. It felt like we belonged to different generation altogether. I slowly stopped relating to him and Gosh, we fought a lot at that time! I went to hostel for sometime in college and that kind of broke off even the little connection that we shared.

Few years went by; I moved back into the house and my relationship with bro stirred up again. This time we were both in college; I was doing Post grad and him graduation. Slowly we discovered that we still had our same old bond. He spoke the same language (not literally of course) as me now, hung out with friends like me and watched same type of movies too. We had very common likes and dislikes too; he loved Linkin Park and hated sweetened curd, for one :). We both hit it off again, we shared our love for music, he got me totally interested in the world of cars and automobiles, and we both loved watching action movies like the Die hards and the Broken Arrows! We went for long drives and we talked a lot about our friends, family, studies and other stuff about us. It was one cool relationship yet again.

Then I got married. I knew one person I would miss the most would be my bro! Thankfully I wasn’t moving abroad and stayed close by to be in regular touch. But still, I really missed just chatting with him over a cup of mom’s coffee (yes, coffee again:)), going for drives and fighting friendly fights with him. However, we got ourselves into a very good habit of being in constant touch through phone. We both knew, at all points of time, what exactly was going on in each others life. As days went by, our relationship went from cool and friendly to something more meaningful. It is beautiful now. We don’t discuss philosophies or converse about life, but yet there exists the deep connect. We get each other. Now that he’s abroad, he calls me once every week and though we mostly just talk about weather (!!), his studies, movies, music etc…I know it is one conversation that I always look forward to and will always do. He is my perfect brother and cant thank god enough for making him that :).