The Birthday Post

I am writing this post in advance, because I know I will be hit by the birthday blues soon on the day, and the post may not turn out, the way I want it to. It is really strange how birthdays have become so normal and neutral over the years to me. Ten years back I would not have thought it possible. But it happened... and I am learning to live with it.

This time I turn a year over 30, and it just does not feel special, atleast numerically. Feels like an odd out-of-sorts number to turn into. Strangely I don't feel 31, at all, maybe 27, but not 31, the sprouting grey strands tell a different tale altogether, though. And since there is not much I have to write about, unlike the last time, where it felt like I was going from one era into another, I decided to write about the most special thing in my life, the one thing that I am the most grateful for, the GP. He is my most precious blessing, not only because, the wonderful person he is, but also for the anchor and influence he is in my life.

We have been together for over 9 years, married for almost 8 of them, and I think having him in my life, has definitely made me a better person every single day. Sometimes, when I sit back and think, I am amazed, and can't believe that he is actually mine. He is calm, cool and collected always. (Trust me, I do need that kind of an influence in my life to function smoothly.) There have been moments, that I could not believe he was being as calm as he was, and had it notbeen for him at those times, I might have permanently damaged some relationships. I love the way he thinks before he leaps, so so unlike me.

He is the greatest support, and my pillar of strength. He is not romantic, nor an elaborate exhibitionist, nor a man with fancy words nor the one with pomp and show. But with him, you can be assured of true support and total dedication. He actually supports me in all my decisions, and life choices, stands by and helps me the best way he can. I have learnt to appreciate that in leaps and bounds the past few months. From the day I started my training, he was my rock. He pushed me, when I got cold feet, about leaving the BB at daycare and going, he took the day off from his work (which runs this household), when the BB fell ill on the day of my training. He, took a few hours off work, when I had my mid-training interview on a day, when the BB was to be at home. He has been just extraordinarily supportive. I could not have actually done the training and got on with the work had it not been for him. And I know, its a lot more then most other men would have done. Its surprising, how so many people, at the workplace have actually asked me, if my husband was OK with my volunteer work. I could not in a couple of sentences, explain to them, just how supremely supportive he is. He treats my work, with greater respect, than possibly even I do. After every shift he asks me about the day without fail, does so much to make me feel that my work does count. I have infact been divided on whether to call my 'work' work, or just something I do, and it was again the GP, who recently called my place of work, my office, that actually, made it real work to me. Had it not been for him, his time, effort and support, I would definitely not be doing what I currently am.

Ofcourse, I would not have the wonderful BB without him, and that just fetches him extra brownie points in my book. And to top that,he is just such an amazing father. I am not half as good a parent as is he. His amazing calm and patience, with the BB surprises me. The few hours of the day he spends with the BB are so much more meaningful and productive than the whole rest of the day that he spends with me. The GP teaches him so many things, and I wonder how I never think of any of those. He is loving, giving and amazingly forgiving as a father. He sits on the floor, and plays with the BB's Lego and blocks with him for hours, encourages him in his fun kiddy adventures, lets him play havoc on the laptop, and learning that way. The GP is the more worried and tensed of the two of us, when the BB is ill, he just cannot rest or sit in peace, till the BB is up and running again, I have grown better with that over time. Most of his life decisions are now based on how it would affect the BB. I never stop admiring how loving and giving GP, the father is.

He is neat and tidy, understanding, open-minded and a great great cook to. I forever count my blessings, and feel thankful for his being mine, and truly believe that he is God's greatest gift to me. Thanks for being mine darling, and I hope I celebrate many many more birthdays with you.

Presenting... The Friends Of Kolkata!

As a child, growing up in Delhi, there were Diwali melas and fetes galore, each year. And though I rarely got to attend any, what I really missed about them, was being a part of it from the organising group, because I envied all the kids my age, who ran around selling the tickets to the event, or the raffle draw. In groups of two or three, running along from door to door, selling tickets, it just seemed like so so much fun. My want to do something like that is finally being fulfilled, and how! I have raffle tickets to sell, flyers to mail out, put up, invites to send, and am enjoying every bit of it. The best bit is, the entire event is a fund raiser for a charity called Friends of Kolkata.

I have been wanting to write and tell so much about this organisation, and more importantly the incredible group of people who have formed it. But let me first go on and tell you about the event that is being organised.

Its called the 'Bollywood Extravaganza', and its happening on the 12th of September. The place will be alive with electrifying performances of salsa and belly dancing. There will be mehendi/henna painting, food, raffle prizes(like crumpler bags, dance class vouchers from The Salsa Foundation, large prints of professional photographs, drink vouchers and lots more) and more. The best bit being, every penny, anyone puts in, goes to charity,

To support ten children in Kolkata, India, with
education,social work, housing and health care.

And anyone in Melbourne/Victoria, reading this, you just need to hop over to the website, and get yourself entry tickets, and then just drop in for an evening of fun and dancing. All details available on friendsofkolkata.org .

I have been associated with this group, very recently, and have been amazed by the people I have met. A small group of Australians, running a charity for kids in a far away land. These are not high-profile, rich people, or the ones, who just write out fat cheques to charities, and their bit is done. But just average people, working hard to earn a living, maybe studying on the side too, and devoting their time, and energies for a cause. The group, as a whole or a few individuals at a time, visit the children they support in Kolkata, spend time with them, not as the people, who pay for their living, but as their friends. I was so touched by the genuine love these people have for the kids. Most of the members are twenty somethings or in their early thirties, most live in shared accommodation with friends, buy their stuff from second hand stores, travel using public transport or on their bicycles, and yet I have not met a happier group of people under a roof. These are people who are actually being the difference they want to see in the world. And no, they are not a group of amateurs here, I was amazed to see how well, each one had prepared their bit for the upcoming event, well set, and working just as well as any well paid event management group would. Just shows how far a little want to help and good will can take us. All I can say, is I feel so so lucky to be a part of them now, just to be in the company of such altruistic, loving and inspiring people, most of whom are much younger than me and thank God, for putting me onto this organisation.

And here is presenting the wonderful video shot by one of the brand new members of the group, just like yours truly, as promo for the Bollywood extravaganza.



Love it! Don't you. If you are in Melbourne, in or around, just drop in, don't miss the event.

The Month Of June, Me And Some More

A blogger ... do I qualify to be called one anymore? I don't know, and judging myself, I would say no. I have done just two posts in the whole of June, nothing that was thought provoking, or about things I think about, things that invoke the thinking-me, but just one-off updates on what has been up in the Goofy family. I don't think this post would be much different either. And honestly I don't think too many people are going to read it. For one, in a world inundated with professional writers, a nobody like me, hardly makes for good-writing, and so I have but a few readers, most of them read me just out of courtesy, since they have now also become my friends add to that the huge intervals in my posts, I really cannot expect people to come back and read now can I? And hence, secure in the knowledge that pretty much no-one is reading me, I will write haphazardly, just the way my mind works.

I am in a strange place right now mentally. I don't know if I qualify to be called a working-woman or an SAHM or even a part-time-working-mum. I seem to be somewhere in between all of that. Besides being tremendously self-satisfying, my work does seem to have all the downsides of working, and none of the upsides. I am working, but I don't make money. I spend time away from home, away from family, but gain nothing monetarily in return. Infact I end up spending quite a bit in my travel, eat-outs, day-care charges for the BB and such. Add to that, this work, comes with home-work (I am still training remember? So I have things to read up, assignments and presentations to work on), which means I need to dedicate time to it during the rest of the week. And with the commitment being 1 day a week, during training, and just half-day a week post that....... my slog-like-a-dog = work trained mind, cannot really accept this as work. And so if anyone asks me, I don't think I would say that I work. And hence I am in middle-land, and I really don't know what label will suit me the best. But what makes it all worth it, is the immense sense of self-satisfaction, finally understanding that I am in a field of work that I really like, and would love to pursue for the rest of my life. This is the kind of work that would leave me with a contended tiredness at the end of a hard day's work.

This month we celebrated the GP's birthday..... And I did not even do a post on it. So you can imagine, exactly how hard-pressed I am for time. I am the kind of person, whose writing and thinking is polished with practice, and when I have not posted in a while, my mind is all rusted and has very little to say, amazing thoughts, don't translate into more than just that one-line of the basic thought. And hence there was no post on his birthday. I think the GP being him was the least bit affected by it. Birthdays mean nothing to him, and unfortunately that emotion transcends even to the BB's and my birthdays. But on the up-side, that means there is not much I need to do for his. There was the customary cake, which the man, wanted, plain vanilla, with no icing. He is a all substance, no show man, and well, it shows. His birthday present was the much needed replacement of the laptop the BB destroyed, well let me be honest and say, that I just chipped in a bit of the cost. The BB and I wore new clothes for the day, while the GP himself did no such thing. And that is how the day was spent. Oh! yes, and an absolutely delightful Indian meal at a local restaurant. Loved it! It being the man's birthday, I only feel fortunate and thankful that he is mine, and supports me the way he does, inspires me to improve myself as a person, and guides me so well in that journey. Yes, if anyone needs it to be said plainly, I love him, for being mine.

All those with plain and at most times terrible hand-writings just like myself, was there anyone with that ornamental hand-writing in your school or college whom you completely envied for that. Well I had more than one. One of them is in-fact even a blogger. Her class-notes' notebooks, would be neater and prettier than my fair-copies. Its not just that the writings are cursive, or neat or beautiful, but what I envied most was the naturality with which it was produced. I would look at such peoples' handwriting, be inspired, and try to get there. Well I would atleast turn up my own work up, a few notches, but nothing to match these people, and most importantly, it would mean writing much slower and more consciously. Its been a long long time, since I have seen those gorgeous hand-writings, and I had pretty much forgotten about my own failings in the department, and was contented with my sloppy work. But then, just this weekend, my sweet loving GP, decided to buy me a fountain pen, after all, since I love it so much. He looked up the store online, and took me there. Its heaven for a stationery lover like me. The fact that pretty much everything in the store is more expensive than precious metals and stones, is not to be mentioned of course. But, then I digress. Just as I finalised a pen, and was testing the various nibs available with it, on a writing pad, I saw the words written by someone who had tried out a pen earlier, and I felt ashamed to even scribble on the same piece of paper. It was beautiful, like a work of art, and I stared at the words, 'Electric Dreams', written in beautiful cursive handwriting, in a clean straight line, on a plain piece of paper. I was once again engulfed in the shame of my own horrible hand-writing, like I was back in school-days. Even my best attempts don't compare. And I just wish I could have a beautiful cursive hand-writing. Surprisingly all the women in my family, right from my grandmother, have the kind of writing that can directly be printed on paper and sent out as greeting cards, and its just unfortunate that I never ever managed to pick it up. Forget pretty, my mindlessly written stuff, is not even neat. Even neat writing requires an effort at my end. The typing on a computer does not help much either, since I completely lose practice with my ability to write well with a pen. All those out there in the world, with a gorgeous, ornamental handwriting, I pay my obeisance to you.(A confession - The oldest lady in my training group, has one of those beautiful print-like handwritings, and I make a conscious effort to not sit next to her, so that I can concentrate on the session, more than stare at her writing and wallow in self-pity!)

I am still hoping that I can get back to more regular blogging, make more time in my day and do it. And hence I am not saying I have given up, even now. But what really happens, only time will tell.

The Sound Of 'Something'

Looks like I have to eat my words, and fortunately for once, I am doing so rather happily. When I recently wrote the post, which stated, I was expecting a disappointment heading my way, I was rather sure, it would come my way, and I would mope and moan about it for a really really long time to come. I even had a super duper post title prepared in my mind to share my woes with the world. It was to be called, 'The Sound Of Nothing'. And since things turned out to be different from my expectations, so did the title of the projected post.

Now to bring you in the loop, about what happened. Since the last few months, I have been a little edgy, feeling the need to add more to my life, wanting to do more. Even the blogging has slowed down, often enough I have opened up to write a post, and been unable to go beyond a few lines. The reason being my mind is dulled, and yet agitated. My mind works the best when it has a lot to do, when I lay it to rest, it just does not start up easy. As simple as that. Coming back to 'my thing', I was not sure, how exactly to add to my life. Time-wise, I have pretty packed days as is. I am a really slow worker, you see, but I needed something to keep me happy, something to feed the mind and heart. I had planned on studying a course, close to my heart, but it did not work out for certain reasons. And so I was back to square one. Went back to looking for options. The only one being work, and even there I have a million constraints. I don't want to go back to where I once was, and I cannot work full-time, and I cannot work from home, and I cannot travel too far, since I don't yet drive, and......... well so you get the picture. The thing is, I wanted to start working, in a field, where I would be interacting with people as persons, I wanted to get into something along the lines of social work, counseling and such. Tough luck again, because I have never even dipped a toe in that river. But I kept looking.

And I came across a women's help group. They recruit and train volunteers, and the whole set-up really appealed to me. I called them up, and they sent me information brochures, from which I learnt, they were about to take in a new set of trainees. Obviously I applied. So the week before last I attended an orientation session, where they told us, everything about themselves, the training, and the work thereafter. I filled up my forms, and was requested to attend a group interview the next week, for them to assess, if I fit the bill. Surprisingly, for a place where an applicant needs to pay for training and then commit to a whole year of volunteer work, they had double the number of applicants, to the number of positions they needed to fill. It has been ages, and really ages, since I attended a formal interview of any sort. And here, I did not even know how to prepare. But knowing myself, I know I perform best impromptu and so I left it at that. Last Tuesday afternoon was my interview.

Things can mess up horribly, when you are really looking forward to it. I had to drop the BB to his day care centre and then take the tram to my interview. I needed to leave home, the latest by 12:30 to be able to make it in time. The BB however had coughing fits throughout the previous night, fell asleep only at around 8 in the morning, and I had to force him awake at quarter to 12. Fed, him dressed him and finally left home only past 1. I knew, I was running very very late. Had to call a cab to the centre to pick me up. Made it to the venue just in time, and the rest of the group was waiting. Started off, and what did I know, there were women with so many qualifications and and such vast experience in the field, that I felt like a complete fool, even being there. There are confidentiality issues here, and so I cannot go into details, but believe me, there was no one, as inappropriate to fit the bill as me. I just prayed, that, my true zeal for the work shows. When we were done, the ladies interviewing us, told us that the ones selected, would be called up and informed, before the end of the week, which basically meant by 5pm Friday. And I thought it would be better to get some confirmation of a rejection, instead of no intimation at all. And hence came the title, 'The Sound Of Nothing', to my mind.

Thursday afternoon, a friend and her little one were around, and the house was one hurricane hit place, with the BB and Aadya having the time of their lives. We were sitting around sipping tea, when my phone rang, and I wondered who it was, since I receive very few calls, and when I do, they are usually ones that I am expecting. I picked up my phone, and saw the number belonged to the training coordinator of the organisation. And I knew that I had made the final cut, and my joys knew no bounds. I pretty much gushed through the entire call, where I was offered an opportunity to volunteer. The lady at the other end, infact even commented, that she was happy to find me so excited. Once the call ended, I hugged everyone around the house. Called up, the out-of-town GP and informed him of the good news and bounced like a ball around the house a few times. Then in my usual fill of low self-esteem, went on to dissect the reason I had been selected, such as, I am not working or studying anywhere, so they can be sure I have the time to dedicate and such like, till finally I think Trishna got tiered of it, and said, "Maybe, it is because you were good!". It felt so nice, just hear someone say that, and I felt even better.

So basically it has been a cloud nine thing for me, since the call. I am settling down, and also realising the fact, that this is not fetching me any money or anything, and yet this is just the kind of work I want to do, and it does not need me to commit much time. The training will be a little rigorous, but even that will just need me to commit one working day in the week. And that is just such a great way for me to start off at this point. I am just not prepared to leave the BB everyday of the week and go, and the fact that really gives me comfort, is that the GP's workplace is close to his Care Centre, and that way one of us will be close by at all times. And that brings me to, my beloved GP. He has been happier than me about this, more supportive than I can imagine. I had almost dropped going for the interview, since the BB was coughing so much the night before, but he persuaded me to just go and give it a try anyways. And had it not been for his pushing, I may have, just not gone.

Since a baking spree is on currently, I decided to bake a cake, to celebrate my own success. This one is made with whole wheat flour instead of the all purpose flour/maida, and hence healthier than the average cake. Frosting is a newly learnt skill, so I indulged myself there, and decorated with a few gems. It tastes absolutely heavenly, and everyone who tasted it, rated it as the best one I have baked here so far! So please be a part of my joy, and dig in.

In Which The BB Goes Solo

I has been over two months since I got here, and exactly two months since the BB turned three today. And just yesterday was the first time ever, that he was without either the GP or me, and there was no related-by-blood adult taking care of him either. His first time, on his own. We will ignore that fact that I refused to leave the building, and kept peeking in every now and then, simply because he was not aware of that!

To get to the starting point of it all, I wanted him to start kindergarten/pre-school this year. Unfortunately we arrived here a wee bit too late, since all the admissions for this academic year had already closed by then, and most of the private kinders run programs only for those who are four and above, the ones for three year-olds were once again booked out. This meant, another year of him at home with me. This I did not want, simply because I want him to socialise with other children. So I found a playgroup and started him on that. And then started looking up for other options, found a few activity-like things to do, picked up one, and still wanted more. I needed him to start going to a place where he would be without his parents, so that he starts understanding the true meaning of getting independent and having to take his own responsibility. With kindergarten not happening, the only option I had left was day care. Once again the council day cares, atleast the ones within reasonable distance are all booked in for the year, and hence I started looking at the much much more expensive option of the private ones. There is one that has newly opened at walking distance from home, and not knowing exactly what it is, that was the first thing we had looked into. We had even gone for a tour and looked in on the facilities. While the GP was keen that we fill in the forms and start him off immediately, especially since he has been keen on letting the BB grow his own wings(as if he does not have them already), but I kept dilly dallying. The place is gorgeous no doubt. New and swanky, well done, bright and colourful, everything, but somehow it seemed to be missing a basic vibrancy, a soul. The place just felt too processed for my liking, maybe even a bit haughty. And since I go by my instincts, this centre, just did not speak to me much, I did not feel a vibe or energy, I would love to send the BB to. In the meanwhile the playgroup happened, I looked up some more online, found a few other day care centres, the ones I can reach on my own. And so I called up a few, and booked a tour in one of them too.

This one had been around for a few years. It looked neither swanky nor uptown, and yet, I loved it the moment I walked into the place. It simply was not processed. I had been there in the afternoon with the BB, the kids his age, were out in the play area, doing their own thing, while the carers just kept an eye out. One boy actually came up and introduced himself and his friend to me. I could see that the kids were happy. I loved it, and booked in a half day for the BB immediately. They had been around for a while, and were better aware of the needs of children. When I told them it was to be the BB's first time at a care centre, they suggested I do a couple of orientation sessions first. Which was just what I needed, since I would not have been very comfortable just dropping him off and coming back home on the very first day. He did a one hour session on Friday, and was due for a longer one on Monday, which did not happen, because he was not too well, and I wanted him to stay in and get better.

And yesterday we directly went in for him to start. I stayed in the building, in a waiting room, but he was not aware of that and was on his own all the three and half hours that we were there. From what I see, the BB is loving the place only for its play area, that is the only place he wanted to be, since we got there. So as soon as we went in, he opened the door to his room, and ran in. The door to the play area though, was locked, since it was the middle of the afternoon, and the kids were sitting around being read to, while a very few of the others napped. What do you know, this did not appeal much to my little son, and he wanted to come right back out with me. I stepped out and went away. I knew, he would not get too upset about not having me around, but not being able to play outdoors, may bother him. The carers took over, the lady reading, sat him on her lap and went on, and I went into my hiding place. An hour later I come to check and I see the kids are all out playing, and I spot the BB all smiling and shining in the sun. The manager there told me, that he was a bit upset and had some tears, but has been happy since they were allowed to step out. And that they had let them out a bit early today, since it was his first day, but they won't be doing it always. Works just fine according to me.

The GP arrived there from office to pick us up, and we went in, and the BB was still outside playing. The lady told us, that he had been invited in to paint with the others, but he just enjoyed being outside and stayed right there. Had he been left to it, he would have happily stayed on there till the very last person left the centre. We brought him back home, and I had to give him a nice long wash to get all the sand, from the sand pit out of him. But over all, I believe it was a good day. He definitely did not care a hoot about whether I was around or not(what a blow to my motherly self-esteem that is!) as long as he was out there having fun. There was no drama-shaama about missing me, which is great. And that is how, the BB went solo for the first time yesterday.

He was satisfied with all the playing I know, because he readily agreed to head back home, and happily and nicely bid good-bye to all the carers. I know that his hunger to just play will diminish as he forms bonds with the other kids around, and he sees the carers regularly and becomes friendly with them, and I am sure it will be loads and loads of fun for him. I still think next Tuesday will be tough for me, since I will infact drop him there and go away, hopefully heading back home, and knowing I am physically far apart from him will bother me a bit, but I am sure I will get used to it just fine too. And suddenly the little bundle who was handed over to me in a nursing home, not too long ago, seems to have become big enough to be left on his own. How time flies indeed. Just hope that he keeps growing and learning at each step, and moves on, finding his own friends, rules, likings, passions, while knowing always that his parents stand firmly behind him whenever he needs them.

On a side note, the BB is totally enamoured by the video of 'nani teri morni' on youtube, since I showed it to him, when Monika posted it on her blog. To say he is totally taken by the video will be an understatement. Whenever I am on the laptop, he keeps saying 'mori, mori'(meaning morni). He does not let me so much as touch my laptop, as long as the video is playing, and as soon as it gets over, it needs to be repeated. A different video of the same song would not do, none of the other songs are good enough, so basically my mind is sick and tiered of the repeat loop on which the song is currently playing here. And Monika, I completely and totally blame you for it. A friend who was online after ages today, could not chat with me on Skype, because no way on earth could I halt the 'mori' video. So well, that's the song-of-this-household for now. And I need a change.

The Valentine's Day Loot

Valentine's this year was the biggest and brightest for the youngest member of the goofy family. It was the BB's day all through the 14th. He was showered with an amazing number fo gifts and toys, and I am still with an ear to ear grin about it. Not only the gifts, but he got something he adores, a bike. His own bike, with his very own helmet. He was not prepared to leave the display piece in the shop alone, and was pretty much ready to bring it back home with him. It took all the combined convincing powers of the GP and me, to have him believe that, the box in our shopping cart was infact the very same thing.

The entire set of gifts.

The bike assembled, and off it goes!

No time for shoes, but the helmet made its way.

The BB awaited with bated breath for the cycle to be opened up, hovered around the GP while he put it together, and ran off almost as soon as it was done. Yes, he does love it. And no, my darling of a husband did not forget me. I have a pair of white-gold loops to show off now!

PS - I am trying to do a month-long no break blogging thing this month, and hence removed this post after it was mistakenly published yesterday, since I had done one for the day, and my shrunk brain has about as much ideas to post everyday!

Happy Happy New New - A Celebration, At Last!

When the BB was born, I knew that for the rest of my life, new years would be associated with my son's birthday. Born just a couple of days after the New Year came in, his birthday celebrations happen along with the Christmas-New Year festivities. All my past regrets were finally put at rest, because we did in fact had something like-a-party to celebrate the day this time. Considering the fact, that it was just about a fortnight, since I came to this entirely new place, I am happy that atleast something could be done.

We invited three families, one of whom, we met for the first time in our lives and fell quite in love with, Trishna's. It was rather sweet of everyone to come in. The party actually happened on the eve of the BB's birthday, since I did not want to spend his birthday all busy with the dinner preparations. A set of friends, trooped in earlier, and helped with the decorations and preparations. Below is a photo of what the living room looked like, just after being decorated.



And next, is one of a gorgeous cap, that was gifted to the BB, which was just ideal for the day, since it is shaped like a birthday cake, with exactly three candles on it. I think it is absolutely adorable, so just wanted everyone to peek at it.

My job for the day was to prepare the dinner. And never in my life have I cooked for eight adults and three kids. I have a great habit of choking up, while cooking, and invariably mess up the food, when having guests over. I neither had great cutlery, nor my regular resources and so the task just got more daunting. The cake was ordered from a shop ofcourse, I have no idea about cake icings, and I had not even tested the oven here till then. Chips and dips were all that was kept on the ready for starters. A friend made some yummy pineapple raita, and fortunately, the rest of the food, that I prepared, turned out quite nicely, nothing was burnt, had extra or less salt, and that for me is good enough reason to celebrate. There were seven dishes including the raita, and I am super-duper happy that I could pull it off. A completely Indian meal, and decently edible. Unfortunately, I was all rushed, and have never hosted a party at home, so I don't claim to have been half as decent a host as I would have liked to be, but I loved the guests, who were gracious enough not to mind that, and just go about the whole thing happily.


The spread above, is what was served. The meal consisted of peas pulav, puri, raita, chhole, sukha aalu and lamb curry, followed by kheer/payesh.Yes, yes that is completely me bragging. But I am sure the serving, and presentation could have been greatly improved. But I give myself the concession of having just moved in, and managing with whatever I had.

I don't think the BB got the point of being the star of the evening. He was rather smitten by Aadya(Trishna's daughter). So much so, infact, that even while cutting his cake, his eyes were fixed on her. After the eventual shyness, she too became relaxed, and these two little ones, under the supervision of an elder, kid managed to amuse themselves well. Did I tell you, all my culinary efforts were completely ignored by these two kids, and they actually survived the evening on just the chips served with the cake. Just look at them, hovering around the bowl of chips.

The candles were blown, people sang the birthday song, My BB cut the cake, and so it was the kind of celebration I had been waiting to have for his birthday since the day he was born. And finally it was done. Not huge, but a party all the same. And here is saying cheers to my little baby, who had suddenly turned into a boy of three, and life has become a bit tougher!

Joi Maa Durga

(roughly translated as 'Hail The Divine Mother Durga' )



Durga Pujo, as experienced by a Bengali cannot quite be comprehended by anyone who has not experienced or observed it firsthand. It is romantic, it is an affair like none other.The thrill of festivities, the numerous new clothes, the mouth watering bhog, the late night outings, the pandal hopping, all these are just the superficial joys, but this festival means a lot more to a Bengali, the joy and anticipation of it runs in our very being. From the day a child is born into a Bengali family, he learns to anticipate those five special days of the year. It is the kind of anticipation that fills you with happiness and hope, joy and contentment. Five days of fun, enjoyment, new clothes, good food, entertainment programs, the mindblowing sound of dhaak (a kind of drum), the smell of dhoop, the mouth-watering bhog(food distributed to the devotees), hanging around with friends, late nights and a lot lot more. In all my years as a true-blue Bong, this is the festival that has always been awaited with bated breath all year long, and it was all about festivites, and very little of it was religious. Most of our friends and family went about these five days with full gusto and enthusiasm to celebrate. And so it was for me, five of the most awaited and enjoyable days of the year. New clothes saved up all year round to be worn on these days, enough stocked up, so that I can have a couple of change of outfits each of these days. It is not quite describable in words, the emotions, and love associated with this festival. The day the festival got over, the wait would begin for the next one.

Even during my hostel years, I would either manage to wriggle a few days of leave and get home, or make sure I dropped into the local pandals. Just being in the pandal, smelling of dhoop and bhog would make my heart beat harder with joy. Those were five the most important days of the year to me, besides my birthday and way to often they both the things would come together.

However, things don't remain constant. My association with Durga Puja has reduced considerably post my marriage. The first year was the toughest, because the reduced association had to be enforced, it was not one that came naturally. I shed many a copious tears, for the lack of being able to celebrate it the way I always had, that first year, but over the years the disassociation has worked its way into me. My first Pujo after marriage, was in Bombay. I had no idea where the celebrations took place, the DH had to bear the brunt of my frustration. Found out about just one place, a long way from our place, and visited that on just one day of the Pujo. And that one time made me realise, that it would never be the same for me again. Cannot really feel at home in a pujo pandal, if one does not speak full blown Bengali.This was not going to happen for me with the DH. He does not speak Bengali, and I don't expect him to either. We have two languages available to us for communication to us, and that works out just perfectly. It is difficult to visit a place where people see us with strange eyes, being obvious outsiders. This makes us even more conscious and the the whole cycle of events gets worse. So since then, Pujo for me is not longer about festivites, but just about going and paying my respects to the Goddess. Though Durga Pujo still remains special to me, but not in the way it had been to me as a child. In foreign shores, where people of the community are fewer, I am further discouraged to visit and be gawked at for being an outsider, joining in not that easy either, because I have no wish to explain my choice of husband, or why he does not speak Bengali and now more about the BB. So I have reconciled to letting that festival be a small window of happiness now, and hopefully with one sighting of the Goddess in her full glory.

And hence I was fortunate enough to participate in the Ashtami Anjali, as well as attend the Nabami's Aarti in the Pujo this year. With the BB dressed up in the most amazing clothes, these are memories that will remain with me forever. It was wonderful being in Bombay and attending the local Pujo this year. Photography was prohibited the first couple of days, and only allowed on the last day, so I took many mental pictures of the Pujo. Pandal hopping was not an option due to the swine flue scare and the overly protective GP, but attending the one I did, made me happy enough.

Here is wishing everyone a Shubho Bijoyaa (Happy Dussehra).