One Cup Life Please!!

‘Mediocre’ that is how I do not want to describe my life as. A blatant existence earnestly waiting for some turbulence to happen and catch me off guard. As a kid I remember asking my Grandmother if there was something she excelled at or followed as an interesting hobby. She would look at me from between those plastic jars she was filling with freshly made pickles and tell me that during her time she was not allowed to have hobbies. She just existed and fulfilled her duties as a woman, whatever that meant or included. 

Then came the woman who introduced me to the world, my mother. I was forcefully enrolled into a music class by her during the early years of my school life. My Sundays were dedicated to a funny looking master with his colourful Harmonium, painstakingly trying to make a nightingale out of me. I never understood the concept of doing something you never enjoyed, even if you were good at it. Many a time I would find my mother humming the songs I was forcefully taught the previous Sunday and when sometimes I whined to her regarding my lack of interest in learning classical music, she would look at me with genuine sadness glinting in her eyes and remind me of her dream to learn music as a child, which I was now supposedly fulfilling. Offcourse, I opted out of it when I had enough of the man and his grating harmonium. 

       
My father is a virtuous man whose life revolves around his family and the bank he works for. He believes in a stable existence and risks are something he admires when others take, but it has never been his cup of tea. Regular money pouring in every month, loan instalments being met sincerely, lands being bought as an investment, kids scoring well in their studies, the stock market being Bull market, needs of the family members being piously met; all of this and he is a content man. But does this satisfaction denote true happiness? How duties subjugate a man and deceive him unceremoniously. Everyone in my family, has lived a perfectly planned life. School check, college check, job check, marriage check, kids check and from there began kids school check, kids college check, kids job check.  The list goes on till death reminds them that life ends unplanned anyway. 

       
The point is that now I am at such a crossroads, where I have two options. Live a planned life like my family has, or not plan at all but live a beautifully unplanned one. For I do not want to be someone who was so shackled as to never even remember to have a hobby, or someone who relishes on seeing her child pursue a hobby she was not able to, or someone who is so crushed by moral and worldly duties that life became a balance sheet for him, which must tally at all costs. 

       
One should not be compelled to know as to what step he/she is supposed take next. I am 23 yet clueless as to what I must become. Rejected some good job offers because I did not feel connected to the whole corporate lawyer scenario. Still blank as to what life demands from me. Well I did become a lawyer. Isn’t that a good enough achievement for now? Time is of essence, but let it not bind me. Life can wait for right now living is what I want to do.

P.S- No explanations for the hiatus. How are you guys?

Mommy or Daddy the greatest??

Since childhood I have wriggled out of complex situations. Complex situations where a kid doesn’t like to get caught in especially in front of his/her parents, because how much ever mature they seem to be, parents are an insecure bunch. As I grew up, there have been numerous instances where my parents would force nerve jittering questions down my ears.

My Amma would alarm me in the most relaxed manner and would shoot the most venomous question ever. She would ask me “Mole, you like Papa more or Amma? Be honest to me Mole”. Now since I know that the answer decides what she would cook for dinner and whether she will polish my school shoes for tomorrow, I would innocently look into her eyes and say “Amma, you and Papa are like my eyes. I can’t like one eye more than the other.” This answer always awarded me with an extra scoop of dessert serving after dinner. I always stick to this answer, but for the sake of not appearing to be a trained parrot, I would change the body parts from ‘eyes’ to ‘limbs’ or ‘ears’.

Today my father asked me the same question and I like a Ninja answered him and made his chest rise from 40 to 44. But today as I lay on my bed for an afternoon nap, I couldn’t stop myself from actually questioning myself regarding my allegiance. Did this Mole, love her Amma more or her Papa? Who was my inclination towards? I had to find an answer once and for all.

CALL IN DISTRESS- As a child I was my Daddy’s pet, still am. I was treated like a boy and I disclosed the torments of my childish mind openly to him. As a kid, I never liked Amma giving me a bath because she never told me stories of her childhood adventures while foaming me up. She had a boring childhood anyway. My Papa was the man I wanted to become when I grew up, though I turned out to be a woman. But as I grew up, I stopped opening up to Dad and he never probed me into revealing my problems too, for he knew that it was not his field of expertise. Mom was the one I approached and she became my therapist, though she was a bad one. She became my call in times of distress.

Dad-0 Mom-1

FREEDOM- Now I am boasting when I say this but I really do have the ultimate man as my Papa. During my tenth boards he caught me reading Cosmopolitan. I was busy staring at the picture of topless and hairless Hrithik Roshan in the magazine by keeping it inside my Chemistry book. He didn’t scold me at all, but forced me to keep my Chemistry book down and read the magazine for 2 hours straight. That was my punishment, though I never understood how. My mother on the other side was a pain in the bum during my teenage years. She would run and enter my room faster than a coyote just to inspect what exactly I was doing online. She never trusted me and I can’t blame her for I knew that the curious me couldn’t be trusted. My mother always brings the whole concept of being a woman into everything and anything I do or did, while my Papa like a gentleman that he is shuts my mother off and listens to the apple of his eye i.e his Mole.

Dad- 1 Mom-1

SPOILING ME- Amma, Papa and my Acchamma (Dadi) all have a fair hand in this.  My Amma used to go around scolding my nursery teachers for not treating me well because they complained to her regarding my biting problem. Now I have to confess, I used to bite my teachers as a kid if I they ever scolded me or tried to make me answer the questions I didn’t want to. But my mother conveniently blamed them and never pointed a finger at me. My Father would buy me balloons and Samosas at 12 midnight because I cried out loud for it. For this he had to walk half a kilometre into the neighbouring slum and safe himself from probable thieves. You don’t want to know about my craze of bursting balloons and then crying till I got another one. If I was my Papa, I would have disowned me. He once made six omelettes for me before making the perfect one, because I do not like even a fragment of the existence of whiteness in my omelette. He made 4 omelettes, slapped me, said sorry and made another 2.

Dad-2 Mom-1

MONEY BANK- My parents provide me with money without any interrogation whenever I want. Me giving them false reasons for the money is a totally different aspect and I know for sure that my parents are not dumb enough to actually believe every word of what I utter. But they know for the fact that their Mole spends most of the money in her cute little purse, hogging at every restaurant standing in the town. She can lie for food and they know it. My Papa never opens the message I send him, for her knows that the message contains just two words ‘PUT MONEY’. The guilty me never calls for money and when I do, I always report to my mother directly who takes care of the situation. So I believe both share an equal stand in this aspect.

Dad-2 Mom-2

CRY ME A RIVER- The only way to deal with the situation is to ask myself this- ‘ If I ever do anything wrong, something which makes me feel guilty, something I am truly not supposed to do, whose face comes in my mind? Who is it that I don’t want to see hurt or disappointed? Whose judgement on my character matters more?’.  Now when I review my life till date, I notice that I have always tried hiding unwelcoming facts about myself from my parents. If I tell my mother, she will pass it on to my father which I don’t want. My Papa has provided me with everything I have asked for and didn’t ask for or dreamt about and this comes in my mind whenever I fall into a messy situation. I can tolerate my mother’s indifference, but never the disappointment in my father’s eyes. I have never seen him cry, not even when he lost his father and I never want to be a reason behind his eyes brimming over with tears. I don’t know from where this special soft corner towards Daddy came from, but I have to agree that it has always been there and how much ever my mother tries to win the position by feeding me Gulab Jamuns, she can’t win. We don’t need to tell her that, do we?

Dad-3 Mom-2

So, it turns out that I am my Daddy’s little grown up girl and always will be. Amma might hate this revelation but she wouldn’t mind losing to him for she knows he is worth it. And if my younger brother happens to read this, I just want him to know that no matter what I do, wherever I go, I was their first baby and they love me more. I know they might use the arm/limb/eyes story which dealing with your queries, but you know who stands tall and first. THE SILLY OLD MOLE, ME!

P.S- Sorry about the extra long blog post! This just had to be done!

Mole! Let's Shop!!!!

I am a big blot in the name of womanhood. I think I should have been born as a boy, but I am sure I would have turned out to be gay then, because I cannot even imagine rubbing myself to a woman. So, anyway I feel sad to acknowledge the fact that I lack the most basic characteristic of a woman, i.e her colossal craziness for shopping. 

Now this is why I love my Dad. We enter a shopping street, we follow him like a herd of buffaloes  while he does a marathon speed walk from Starting point ‘A’ to the end point ‘Z’ and then poignantly declare that the street has nothing good to offer.  This is followed by my mother nagging me to join her on a secret mission of going to the same shopping street the next day without my father. Shopping with her is a more than just terrifying experience.  

The day starts of with her nudging me out of my sleep, just so that I help her make a list of the things to be bought. She stopped making lists herself from the day the shop keeper boisterously laughed and thus embarrassing her just because she wrote ‘PEARS SOAP’ as ‘PIERCE SOAP. If the list includes ‘Saree’ then I know for sure that my day is doomed.

My mother’s shopping can be divided into three parts- The quarter finals, the semi finals and the finals. She enters a Saree shop and asks the man to show her the latest silk sarees. He starts showing her every silk piece of cloth in his shop, only to realize that the woman is now interested in cotton, because it suddenly dawned to her senses that it is summer. As he shows her the collection, which normal people like me would have bought without even thinking twice, she affirms her likeness with a ‘Hmmm’ and rejects a material with a ‘Tch’. These are the only two words that escape her mouth for what seems like 2 hours. Out of the ones selected, she again does the ‘Hmmm’ and ‘Tch’ process two more times, hence the semi finals and the final round. Sometimes, when there is a tie between two equally amazing sarees, she lets me choose and when I do choose, she buys the one I didn’t. Oh she trusts my taste!

I am the kind of person, who loves shopping when it comes to buying gifts. But when it comes to shopping for me, hell breaks loose. I usually end up shopping alone followed by getting back home licking on a generous scoop Chocolate Ice-cream. The best way to spend money is eating. AMEN!

So, why exactly am I writing about this now? Well, I sent letters to each member of my family for this Valentine’s Day, making them my Valentine. I wrote how much I loved them, how I am what I am because of them and I even let them know what I loved the most about each one of them. Since, I am a narcissist I ordered them to reply to me via SMS, telling me what they loved the most about me. 

My father sent me- “Mole, your mother told me you sent me a letter. Haven’t read it because I am stuck in the office, but your Amma read it through phone for me. I love the fact that you are my daughter and even as you grow up, you are the same innocent little girl at heart”

He loves the fact that I am his daughter? What else did he expect!! And about being the innocent girl at heart, I hate to burst his bubble.

My brother sent me through my Dad’s phone- “I know you are trying to impress Mom and Dad by doing this. Anyway, lots of spelling mistakes in the letter. I told you, my school is better than yours! And I love the fact that you are not here to boss over me.”

My mother sent me this- “Mole, Loved the letter. Brought tears in my eyes. What I love the most about you is that you love shopping with me.” 

Sometimes, you just have to hide your real feelings. I am!! I have conspired so many times about burning down the shop she is planning to shop in, just so that I can escape the agony. Mothers! The worst manipulators! And btw, never mess with a woman when she is busy shopping. 

P.S- I have been travelling a lot and hence, the lack of action in this space. This sadly, is going to continue for a few more days.

P.P.S- Well, the considerably less comments on my previous blog post, shows that people actually comment on my posts just because I comment on theirs. I couldn’t read and comment on blogs for some days, and the result can be seen on my blog. People believe in the ‘I SCRATCH YOUR BACK, YOU SCRATCH MINE’ policy. I seriously doubt the credibility of blogging.

P.P.P.S- Happy Valentine’s day to everyone who is stupid enough to actually celebrate this. Me and Prateek did a collaboration and ended up with THIS. He is an amazing writer!

The Case of the Annoying Tenant and the Missing Tree.

We are the epitome of what law abiding citizens should be. In India the term ‘law abiding citizen’ has a realistic definition to it. According to this definition, a law abiding citizen in India is that person who breaks the law given under the code and yet gets away with it by passing a bundle or two of notes to the concerned authority. My family comes under this category of Law abiding citizens.

Our ancestral home which we were forced to sell in lieu of a family feud 2 yrs back, had a huge Eucalyptus tree right in front of it. It was a majestic tree which grew beyond all measures and sizes, to the extent of covering up our entire house with its thick branches and leaves. Sometimes these thick branches would break and fall on the terrace and cause minor cracks on the roof along with water tank breakage. 

We had given the top floor of our home for rent to a tenant who stayed there with his wife. He was a genuine miser who even though could afford to build a house of his own, believed in saving up the money by staying as a tenant on our property. To top it all up, this man was not only a miser, but also the most lethargic man alive on the face of the Earth. Being a miser and also a chronic lazy bum is a really bad combination. 

He hired a chauffeur to drive him and his wife around whenever needed, in his OMNI VAN and also used to tip the poor guy peanuts for cleaning the pathetic van ones a week. I got up early one day with the intention of making my Father proud by taking an early bath and visiting the temple nearby. I got up, did the morning ritual of brushing followed by bladder and bowel relief, took a bath and got ready to give the good Lord a visit. As I stepped out of my home, the first thing I saw made me change my plans and go laugh myself to death. 

The poor lean driver was cleaning the OMNI in a very religious manner by using a tiny red cloth. He bent down to dip the cloth in a soapy solution and got back up presenting before the world the little wonder in his hand. He was holding a Red Underwear with a big hole right on its crotch area. I couldn’t help but ask….

Me- Ye aap kya kar rahe hain?!!

Driver- Dho raha hoon jee van!

Me- Woh toh dikh raha hai, par ye laal kapda kya hai?

Driver- Malik ka laal phata hua Kaccha hai. 

I ran back inside the home and dug my face on my mother’s lap as I laughed half my life out. My father on the other hand, was already bugged with the looser upstairs since he had turned our property into something which looked like a war zone. He marched upstairs and ordered the chaddiman and his chaddiwoman to move out of our property after a period of one month, which they could utilize to find a new place. 

Monsoon approached and made our peaceful existence a problem. Because of the heavy rains, many of the branches of the Eucalyptus tree broke and fell on the terrace crashing the railing down. My Father decided to take the tree down. Some people came, chopped off the tree and took it away. For the first time in 15 years, we saw sunlight the way we should have. I don’t know what they did with the wood. Nor did I care. 

But like I have said before, fate is a jealous bitch of the highest order. Some Police officials visited our home and enquired about the missing tree. My father told him that it was our property because it was in the land which was owned by us and decided to chop it down when it became a nuisance. The officials informed us that someone had lodged a complaint that a majestic Eucalyptus tree had been chopped off without getting the needed permission from the local authorities. This could result in my Dad tasting the Jail food.

But you know these poor underpaid policemen and officials. You really cannot blame them for accepting a note or two in exchange of getting your work done in a speedy manner. I am happy corruption exists because otherwise the policemen wouldn’t have accepted the few green papers my Dad gave them and nor would they have taken the complaint off the register. 

But if you know me well, you would know that I cannot live with the term ‘Curiosity’ lingering in my mind. I badly wanted to know who the man who lodged the complaint was. Sources told me that it was the Chaddiman. Some people and their ways!!!

P.S- I am going through writer's block and hence jut published one of the draft posts. Let me just assume that you all actually give a hoot about my life and that is why you read this post. 

P.P.S- Now is not a good time to ask you parents for money. Valentines day is fast approaching and parents have turned into detectives. So save up!

P.P.P.S- Blogging has become just so boring. This place is dead too!

MY MOM THE BRUTE....

I am a bad person. I love to see my parents fight or rather I want to see my parents fight. I am saying this because in my 22 yrs of existence I have never seen or let me put this in a better way, ‘witnessed’ a good domestic fight. I am not saying that it doesn’t happen but that even if it does, they never let me catch a glimpse of it. No tears, no raised voice, no angry faces. 

As a child I used to love watching those dramatic Bollywood movies, especially that movie Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Ghum. The way Amitabh Bacchan would say “ Keh diya na… bus keh diya” and Jaya Bacchan would go all quiet and then towards the end of the movie, she finds those missing balls and says “Keh diya na.. bus keh diya”, making Amitabh feel like a little lost puppy in a storm. Since then, I have wanted to see a bit of drama in my family, a sight of my dad and my mother having an exchange of epic dialogues. 

So some days back, my mother had to make her monthly visit to the doctor. Our family is crazy when it comes to personal care and regular visit to the doctor’s clinic. For some reason alien to me, she forced me to tag along and ordered my father to be the driver, which he happily agreed on one condition. The condition being that after dropping us at the clinic, he be allowed to go deal with some official matter and that he would come pick us up, as soon as the appointment with the doctor is done with.

The consultation was over, the medicines were bought and the call was made to ‘THE DAD’. I remember him saying that ‘He is on his way’. I also remember me and my mother standing in the blistering cold for almost half an hour waiting for him. My mother kept quiet while I started pulling my hair, when suddenly she said … 

“He thinks he is the busiest man alive”

I stopped pulling my hair from its root and directed all my senses to her words. Was this going to be the day I have been waiting for? Will I be able to witness a real life drama? Is this for real?? I am going to support her this time. I will nod my head to every accusation she makes and I will also add some fuel. 

Mom- He thinks it is because of him that the office runs. He thinks that the boss will die without him.

Me- True true!!

Mom- We have been waiting for so long! Who knows maybe he lied to us and is now sitting with his friend Anil, who owns a shop nearby. 

Me- Possible!!

Mom- I hate it when he does this. I also work! I never make him wait! He always does this. Half an hour it has been. I even want to pee!

Me- Tch Tch!! 

Mom- Why cannot he buy a new phone. Still the Nokia basic model. As if he does not have money for something better. One day I will throw the phone into the washing machine. Always out of coverage area.

Me- Yes it is embarrassing!!

After exact 45 minutes, my father appeared before us with a face that had a very boyish grin pasted on it. I was determined to support my mother on her fight for justice. We got into the car and I waited for my mother to give my Dad an earful. Maybe I should record this one. It’s going to be epic!

But you know how sometimes life plays cruel games with you. Like for example, you are finally going to eat the ice-cream you have been craving for and when your tongue is just a second away from the delight waiting on the cone, it somehow slips from your hand and falls on the dirtiest of all grounds. Similarly, life showed its ugly face to me again.

My Dad asked us if we had any trouble waiting for him. I looked at my mother with expectations surpassing all heights. But she ditched me and said something which made me want to open the car door and jump right in front of a truck. She said…

“Not at all! Our daughter was creating a fuss though. She is hungry you see”   
   

‘Why God Why!!!!!!! ‘ is all I thought, as my Dad gave me his blank stare.

P.S- My mother's facebook password is 'ILOVEMYSCOOTY'. Facepalm would be an understatement.

LIVING WITH A BROWN FAMILY

 I am now officially bugged, beyond redemption. I qualify for the post of the most fickle-minded person alive on the face of earth, atleast that is what I feel. When I was living my life my way 2017 km away from my home, I brutally missed the whole family and ‘MY-HOME’ thing.  So when the semester break arrived, I decided not to intern in another far away state but to pack my bags and go where my heart is, which I supposed was at this place called HOME.

 

Now the first 3 days were epic! I think the reason behind the chaotic rush at the airport on 06-11-2011 was that my entire family and few sets of relatives were present there to welcome me. A crushing kiss on the cheek by my mother, a bear hug by my Dad, a pony tail pull by my brother and a massive cheek pull by my Granny, I realized that I was finally home. 

First 3 days-

Mom- Mole!!! Look at you, you became so dark and look at your hair, full of split ends. Did you not apply the home made Hibiscus Flower shampoo I sent you? What about the Coconut and Tulsi oil? Now that you are here, I will take care of you Mole!!

Granny- Utthappam Or Dosa? I know my Mole likes Utthappam. Afternoon I will make Jeera Rice with Khatta Meetha Dal, your favourite no??!! I asked your Papa to buy some Udad Dal, to make Vada in the evening. 

Father- Mole! Tell me about your college life. Are things okie? Tonight we will have food from outside, right after we check out the new dress collection at the mall. You wanted to buy a dress right? 

4-10 days-

Mom- You became so fat! You should join the gym. Today itself we will go and check out the gym nearby. You need a good personal trainer too. Don’t sit so much! Always sitting in from of your laptop! You just rip off your clothes and leave them for the washing machine to wash. Why can’t you wash sometimes? And your room is so dirty! Is this how you live in your hostel? I am sure your place can host a junkyard war show. 

Granny- What do you mean you won’t eat rice in the afternoon? Have the rice with the curry you had in the morning. And you are asking about the evening snack? You know how old I am? Make something yourself or there is Rusk. Have it with tea.

Father- I don’t think that you should go to the gym just one time in a day. You come back and eat and do nothing. I think you should go in the evening too! This will keep you fit. Mole you have become so lazy! We will go out in the evening and buy you some more gym cothes.

11-25 days-

Mom- You come back from gym and you eat and then you are on bed like you are some old lady. When I was your age, I was married, had a job and also had you in my womb. How will you manage a family. You cannot even cook a chappati properly! You know Mrs. Susheea’s daughter Meena? She just finished school and she makes the dinner, while her mother rests. Tch Tch! What are we going to do with you!

Granny- You are ripe now!  Eligible to get married and you are still stubborn. Why cannot you eat rice and sambar eh? We will get you married to someone who eats just rice and lives for rice. Kids these days do not mature only! How will you take care of a child!! 

Father- Why are you watching Masterchef Australia? I would understand it if you actually moved your lazy bum up from the chair and made something they cook on this show. Why can’t you watch the news channel? Ones you get your Law degree, I am thinking about sending you to Delhi and you shall prepare for your Civil Judge exam. Why have you not sorted out your life yet? Tch Tch!

NOW, all I dream of is my Hostel bed, but I have 16 days more left at my home where like I said before, apparently my heart is. Life is so awesome when you are far away from your family and all you get is those loving and caring calls by your parents. I love my family and I cannot ask for a better one because I am blessed with the perfect one, but ones you have tasted freedom or life on your own, you become intolerant to dominance. I agree I am lazy, and I am not mature and I am not half the perfect woman my Mother is, but I am me!! Someone says I am perfect and I like to believe him.

Meet My Family,

Father- I can kill you for him and yes die for him too. The first man in my life and the best one too! He is the reason why I am proud of myself.

Mother- Too sweet to be true. Has a 9 to 6 job, but always took care of me as if she is a housewife. Too innocent, beautiful and the woman I want to be.

Granny- Looks sinfully beautiful even with those wrinkles at the age of 74. Makes the best food my Taste buds have tasted. A gem of a woman whom life has made strong.

Brother- He and I share a love hate relationship, but he will kick anyone’s ass if I ask him to. 

P.S- I did not reply to the comments on my last post, because seriously I did not know what to reply with. I am really thankful to everyone who read because you know it means a hell lot!

P.P.S- I am overeating. The gymming is making me real tired and end up hogging as if my life depends on it. I cannot diet! But yes I am not putting on weight.  Somebody kill my gym trainer. Please!

ImageCourtesy- iamstillzero.blogspot.com

THE NUDE VIDEO

Oh my poor readers!! I am so going to break the bubbles of your expectation. I have been nostalgic lately and have been constantly basking in the ambience of my cherished memories. Two years back I turned twenty and my doting Father gifted me the best gift I could ever dream of. He had managed to keep safely, my almost destroyed 1^st Birthday Video Cassette with him and spent quite a fortune to make it viewable enough and gifted it to me. It also had my very first UNATTENDED and ON-MY-OWN walk. When I say ‘unattended’, I choose to ignore the constant watch of my Father and the saving grasp of my tiny hands on my underwear. Yes!! That helps a lot in the balancing act I swear!

So here it is! A minute long video of my first ever walk. I have spent  a considerable amount of time trying to cut this special part out for you and bigger chunk to upload it. So you better watch it. And Yes it’s a NUDE VIDEO too :P

P.S- The Grandfather reading the paper behind and the House are no more a part of my quintessential life. But  the moments and the memories live forever in the heart. I am blessed! GOD I WINK AT YOU :)

And the Award goes to

And so I have been thinking. This is my blog and I haven’t been writing much about myself and what else provides me a better excuse than WRITER'S BLOCK. So I am just going to scan the 22yrs I have lived so far and present awards to certain incidents in my life in the following categories.

The “Gulp me Oh Mother Earth Moment” Award- Age 17- Our miss RED HANDED never had stage fear. She has learnt Carnatic Sangeet (which she remembers no more) for 9 never-ending years. Our Red used to perform every year at a cultural meet in her town where around 1500 people used to squeeze in the auditorium to witness the show. Clearing her throat she makes her way gallantly to the stage and starts singing a famous Lord Krishna keertan. Halfway through it, there is a pause and some nincompoops think that the music show is done and start clapping violently. To their dismay the music continues and Miss Red Handed has to sing the next para. But you know her. She is born with an extra tickle bone and so she laughs into the three microphones fixed in front of her. So loud that I am sure our own KUMBHAKARNA would have been awake hearing that. The laugh continued as long as the song was meant to last and once the time was over she gave a giggle and left the stage. What happened at home is still a blur.

The “Forrest Gump is a genius before you” Award- Age 18- Miss Red Handed sees a parrot being sold on her way back from the Parents teacher meet and forces her Dad to buy it for her. “Rs 20/- what the heck?” her Dad thinks. The parrot is bought and so are some chillies and mangoes and guava for the parrot. Red loved her bird and feeds it all day long to the point that the bird started acting like a ZOMBIE. It would remain at the same place without moving a muscle. The troubled Red contacted her ‘I hate birds trapped in cage’ Dad who told her that the bird had diarrhea or constipation and should be allowed to step out of the cage. The trusting daughter opened the cage and allowed the parrot out to catch some fresh air and stretch its muscles. The bird gave her a 'You are the dumbest human i have ever come across' look, danced around the cage for some time and flew away.

The “Aww I am so loved” Award- Age 18- She had her 12^th pre-board exams in the month of December and you all should know that our Miss Red loves to attend marriage receptions in the month of December since the hot and butter loaded MOONG KA HALWA is the love of her life. A family friend living some blocks away was getting married and it was a huge thing but sadly Red couldn’t be a part of it. Her Dad bought a Sexy Grey Raymond’s suit for himself and the entire family went for the reception while Red stayed back. Some hours later her family returns and her lil brother enters the room with a paper bowl filled with moong ka halwa saying that Dad couldn’t eat it thinking about her, so he hid it and brought it. Red ran to her Dad to ask why he did so and the answer was “Anything to make you happy” .She didn’t ask him how he brought it since it was evident. There was a big oil stain on his Brand new coat pocket.

Well I don’t think anyone would read a longer post than this and so the award ceremony has an abrupt end.

P.S- More awards to be given and thanks to some very special people in my life for making everything so beautiful! My family, the three best friends who have been with me since the age of 4 and a Ghost who makes my life cuter as the days pass by. 

Image Courtesy- poorjokes.in

THE ONE I HATE

 The first person I ever hated was my Brother. I was eight when Amma kissed me on  the forehead and went with Papa and Grandma to the doctor. She said she had caught a cold. I continued nibbling on the huge bar of chocolate which Papa gave me for some occasion I did not understand. I was left back at home with Acchacchan (Grandpa) who after they left went back to his Third time reading of the daily newspaper. I played around, watched Scooby doo, wrapped towel on my head and walked around as if I had long hair. I applied Amma’s lipsticks and slept off on the couch.

After some 3 hrs of me salivating on the pillow, I was woken up by Acchacchan who seemed very happy and excited for some alien reason. I was fed more sweets and this time he did not even ask me to brush later. He told me “Akku! You have a brother now” to which I coyly responded “From where did he come from?”. My Grandfather ignored me and started giving sweets to the neighbors who would pick me up and tell me “Now Mommy has a new baby”.

Papa came and took me to the hospital. I screamed yet again for a packet of Gems and for the first time without asking me not to scream he bought me those. I entered the room and saw my mother and I wondered how she became so thin. I hugged her and thought why her tummy is not feeling like a nice cushion anymore. The nurse came in with a something wrapped in blue. My Amma just took that thing in her hands and kept it close to her heart. I hated that thing from that very second. It was always crying but everyone seemed to love it. I was forced to leave the room with the others while my Amma stayed inside cuddling with the thing.

Papa told me it was my brother and he was a baby. I still hated it. They brought him home and I never expected that. He was full-time hungry and always making my Amma change his diapers. But they still loved him. I tried hiding his Cerelac, I pinched him when he slept and ran away when he cried. Sometimes I would feel bad and tried to be nice to him. I would try to feed him my favorite Gems and my mother used to scold me for that. I hated him more. Sometimes I and my cousins would sit and stare at him and try to find out why his palms are folded. I really thought something was wrong with him. I wanted to make my mommy proud. I wanted her to give me more importance. So I took the matter in hand one day. I ordered my cousin brother of 5 yrs to fetch me the trilingual dictionary which my Acchacchan keeps on the shelf. I directed my Cousin sister aged 6 to keep the baby’s palm open. When both the things where done I took the dictionary and dropped it on the baby’s palm. I was happy that now his palms will be open and normal just like mine. But it started crying and turned red. My Acchacchan shouted at me and my mother cried. My father took me away and scolded me. I hated the closed palm baby even more.

Amma told me that they are going to name the baby. Me and my cousins decided on the name after watching the Sunday morning episode of MAHABHARAT. Arjun it shall be!! Everyone even my father was happy with that. But when the ceremony began, I was told that the name finally decided is VARUN. I hated everyone!

Varun became three years old and now he would silently sit and stare at me when I would walk around him with a dress hanger in my hand acting like a police officer. He became my toy. He would be my food tester when we played HOUSE HOUSE. I would pluck roses and dip it in water and he would drink it. He would sit and not utter a word when I would write on my door turned into blackboard and play Teacher. I would lock him up in the bathroom and sing horror songs till he cried. He would take the blame when the HORLICKS jar fell off the kitchen-counter and broke under mysterious circumstances. I started liking him.

He was 10 yrs old when I left Bhopal for Cochin, to do my law studies. I would miss pinching him and scolding him and throwing things at him. Everything was started by me. He would be watching his favourite Pokemon when I would poke him and irritate him. He would look at me and then continue with his cartoon. Only when I get too out of hand did he even pull my hair. I missed everything he did for me. I missed snatching things from him and I missed fighting with him over who Amma loved more. But I used to love raiding the shops in Cochin to find him a perfect gift on my way back home at the end of every semester. Fight was more than Love but it existed somewhere.

Now it’s my last year of College and he is going to be in 9^th standard. My papa was told in the last Parents meet that Varun hit a boy so hard that the kid fell along with the three desks behind him. The kid had insulted Varun. He has grown up. He is taller than me already and he has started talking to me about girls. I never knew he grew up. I never knew that he had started spying on all the guys in my Facebook account. I never knew that my hate had died long back. I still hate him and he now returns the sentiment but in the end I don’t like anyone shouting at him but me.