Lumping back

After the extended festivities, this lump of lard finds herself limping back to get on with her life. Diwali was great as was the wedding which followed immediately. Met plenty of family, yakked non-stop, compared notes, dressed, matched, accessorised, gossiped family gossip, fought, wept, umm, the whole range you know.

It was fun while it lasted but now is payback time and all those 'empty' calories need to be worked off. With my wavering resolve, it devolved on dh to give me the push and he accompanied me to the gym this morning even while I sought to reduce the punishment to a longish walk to Ulsoor Lake.

The greetings began with one of the gym trainers talking enthusiastically about the beautiful, wet and cloudy Bangalore morning and how it was likely that the sun may not appear all day as I had actually taken the trouble of coming to the gym this am! The other trainers there had their share of similar jibes apart from pokes at my ribs (under all those layers of adipose). Love these guys and their easy banter which makes even an over-the-hill matron feel kind of special!

Given that we went so late, neither the usual morning studs were seen nor were the lissome svelte PYTs there, and both dh and I feasted our eyes on the Tiger in the Park on ESPN to the strains of Worldspace music which was blaring.

Back home I was exhausted, sweaty, aching and while all else remained the same, I am a bigger, fatter me! :(



(I know this is not much of a post, but bear with limping lumpa me- as Statcounter tells me the same people keep coming bak to check my blog whether I post or not!)

At The Eighth Hole - You've come a Long Way Baby

Some time before six a.m. on a dewy nippy morning at the Golf Greens in Bangalore.

A group of three men (along with their dedicated caddies) were restlessly awaiting the arrival of one who would complete the four-ball and let them tee off when their tee-time came. The minutes were ticking by and they dreaded the letter (Memo, it is officiously called) which came from Honorary Secretary the pulling up all those who did not show up after booking the time-sheet.

Sixth of an hour and still no show!

Till a saviour angel walked by. 'Hi guys', she said cheerily. 'Waiting for a fourth? Mind if I join your three-ball?' 'Oh yeah, do!', they chorussed, even while they did the typical male mental shrug about ladies' tee, minding their language around the lady and all the male cracks at lady drivers (even if they be golf drivers!). But the caddies- they knew her better! Knew that she meant business and that her drive was as straight and long as her corporate strategies. They'd be safe in putting their money on her.

Of course the game started and the three golfers felt special to be actually playing with such a powerful woman- whom they have known only from the talk at the nineteenth or all those Page 3 reports. Her power came through in her drive. It was a Big power game with the three alpha males strutting while the most powerful of the four ball was, the lady.

Grudgingly they were coming around to admit that her drive was as good and straight on the golf course as her shots reportedly were in the corporate circuit. They were totally in awe of her game and then it happened.

She suddenly turned to her caddy at the Eight hole and issued some rapid fire instructions.

The guys looked at each other in loud silence- had they actually heard her saying 'that'?

She realised their sudden discomfort and repeated calmly and clearly for their befuddled male brains. 'OK guys, I have started my period and I've have asked the caddy to go and fetch me some pads. You guys can walk ahead and I'll catch up with you at the 9th hole. '

She directed them to move but set off herself before they could collect their faculties. She left three golfers agape in her wake!

Fine Tunes

Atul, who recently tagged me, had another tag on songs and tunes (which has been implicitly limited though not expressly so to Hindi film lyrics) too which he passed on to some of his fellow bloggers.

Though unbidden, I feel tempted to take this one up - only thing being that I do it my way!

The first question of the tag is: Who is your favourite lyricist and which lyrics do you remember the most? My entire post is limited to that one query. I confess to being totally in love with Sahir sa'ab and cannot lump him with any other- so this is dedicated only to Sahir songs.

Such a prolific and popular poet, is it possible for me to pick out his best or come up with a Top 20 list? No. For that you may look here though more of his poetry is there. Or hear him here though Amitabh really brings out the best of a part of his talkhiyaan in the bit from the other kabhi kabhi.

So what do I attempt? Not a top 10 or 20 (sacrilegious), not even all my favourites (that would be too long). All I list here are some of his lesser heard songs I love and wish I could hear more often, from films like Shagun and Phir Subah Hogi) The songs are listed in alphabetic order and not in any order of preference- love them all.

(the lyrics of nearly all these songs are available here)

aaj sajan mohe ang laga lo janam safal ho jaaye

aasma pe hai khuda aur zameen pe hum,
aaj kal voh is taraf dekhta hai kum

abhi na jao chhod ke (the Asha part more than the Rafi part)

*(jahaan mein aisa kaun hai ki jis ko gham mila nahi)*

chiin-o-arab hamara, hindoostan hamara

itni nazuk na bano, haay, itni nazuk na bano

kabhi kabhi mere dil mein khayal aata hai
ke zindagi teri zulfon ke narm chhaao.n mein

maine poochha use ke kaun hai tu
haske boli ke main hoon tera pyaar
main tere dil mein thi hamesha se
ghar me aayi hoon aaj pehli baar
- mere ghar aayi ek nanhi pari

parbato ke dero pe sham ka basera hai
surmayi ujjala hai champayi andhera hai

pyaar par bas to nahi hai lekin
phir bhi bataa de ki main tujhse pyaar karu.n ya na karu.n

tum agar mujh ko na chaho to koi baat nahi
tum kisi aur ko chahogi to mushkil hogi

tum mujhe bhool bhi jao to yeh haq hai tum ko
meri baat aur hai maine to mohabbat ki hai

har ek jism ghayal har ik rooh pyaasi
nighao.n mein uljhan dilo mein udaasi ...
- tum hari hai tumhi sambhalo ye duniya

humko taqdeer se be-vajaha shikayat kyun ho
isi taqdeer ne chahat ki khushi bhi di thhi
aaj agar kaampte palko.n ko diye hain aasoo
kal thirakte hue hooto.n ko hasi bhi di thi
- zindagi zulm sahi zabr sahi gham hi sahi
dil ke faryaad sahi rooh ka maatam hi sahi


The enduring spirit of Sahir! And the fine tunes.

A tag of eight

Another tag. Another eight.


Atul tagged me this time and while all the others he tagged seem to have smartly come up with their own versions of the tag, I have dawdled over this not knowing what else I could say about me which my limited readership does not already know about me.

1. I am known to perform and hold sustained that extremely complicated yogic asana for extended periods of time, the classic foot-in-mouth asana.

2. My nose swells quite independent of the rest of me- especially when I begin to cry, which is often.

3. I shake like a jelly when I laugh, which is often too.

4. I preen at my kids and can spend hours, even days, grooming and cleaning them.

5. I love eating bread (white, brown, warm, old, fresh, soft, fibre-rich, garlicky, flaky, buttery, cheesy, banana, raagi bread- you name it) and can actually spend the rest of life feeding on bread. Alas! I don't.

6. I am fiercely protective of all those whom I adopt as my own. I am NOT a soccer mom but can often lapse into the Mom-Fom-Hell mode.

7. I am very impressed by all the well-groomed folk, but can relate instantly to those whose hair is a bit, umm, disarrayed.

8. I appreciate people who sing and recite well, even while I am godawfully off-key myself.


And what of this tag? All of you who read this, please take this one and attempt your own tag of eight.

Grace to Blush

He loves me. I know.

He tests me. Tests my love for Him. Tests my sensibilities. Tests my sensitivities.

He shows me a preference. An indication that I am among the chosen few from amongst the teeming multitude.

He shows me respect in the eyes of the lout who who yanks poor arms before hurtling them this way or that.

He loves me, I know.

Thank you God, for the gift of Grace to blush.

The World Is So Small

(Or why I should walk more)

This evening I came home with my ample shoulders bearing the burden of all my onerous woes to see ds fallen asleep waiting for his amma to reach home. I felt further burdened by the guilt trip we working women have and was about to sink into my scowly sulky self, when I decided to step out.

Just be back in a mo. I said and strode out before any protests could begin. Keeping me company was an obscure NFAK track from an album called Nach ke Manava Yaar nu, which believe it or not sounded like, ugh! Tere bina bhi kya jeena. You know just how low things are if Nusrat sa'ab sounds like a Kal-An song! But just the sheer momentum of moving, striding purposefully in a totally random fashion helped. I'll just pick up a fresh loaf of the Daily B and run back home, I thought. I turned into the neighbourhood Food World ready to pounce on any unwary creature who may be lurking there but lo n be!

Flashback to February this year.

I sat extremely nervously at the waiting chambers of a flourishing gynae with a budding practice, among very pregnant females and feeling quite at sea there. But then having made some promises, I had to keep them too. I had with me a tiny red draw-string bag which I wished to stuff with goodies for a sweet girl. I wanted to embroider it with some suitable pattern, but was quite at a loss. I tried out some patterns, took them out, then some colour schemes. Wasn't too sure. Looked up to see the bright curious eyes of an obvious primi (nearly full term) and suddenly I didn't feel so out of place there. We made friends with each other by holding out different coloured strands of Anchor thread and golden glitter and soon swapped tales of our childhoods, schools, jobs and what have you! We parted promising to keep in touch with each other, but you know how it is- we lost touch.

And now here she was with a bonny baby in tow in mine own Food World! I burst in shrilly screeching Hiiii (without much concern for other denizens of that World) and then (not quite remembering her name) stepped back a bit in case she didn't remember me- but oh! sweetholymother she did! We hugged, shared our updates over the past few months of not being in touch(!), and then did the ultimate feminine talk of swapping birthing tales. I picked up and hugged and cooed over baby, while she gurgled happily and drooled various fluids on my shoulder.

After hearing about burst waters, 30 hours of non-progression of labour, C-section, excellent birth weight, the sweet temperament of baby, perfect regimen of feeding, a successful annaprashana, the first cold of the god child, I did feel better.

PS: This time I gave the mom my number and promised we'll be in touch more.

PPS: BTW, I returned home empty handed as there was not one loaf of bread on the shelves there today!

Very Hungry

I am hungry for air. What abominable pain it is to be denied air. And I speak not merely of asthma or physically apparent respiratory distress, but the more insiduous distresses with which we cramp our lives.

Whenever the going is good and I OD, there it manifests itself, this hunger. There, and immediately then, I desperate need to drop all, run away and take in lungfuls of air. Air untarnished by the breath of others. No odours from the past or the present, no obstructions to my pathways, no shocks to my blood gases. I cannot allow my aspirations to mix with my vital processes, without risk of very dire consequences.

Gimme my mandatory dose of plenty of air (as fresh as it can get!)


Note: This post was on my lappy as a draft for over two months. Glad to have finally expelled it!