Healthy competition?

My article that appeared in the Feb 2014 issue of Complete Wellbeing is now online. In this article, I attempt to understand if there is any such thing as "healthy competition," and whether competition is necessary for children.

I am interested in your views on this.

The link to the article.

Day 29 - Outrageous prices

Saturdays are always difficult in terms of writing.  Something is always happening, and there isn't much time to sit down and think of something to write about.

Besides, I've spent all my available time enjoying the music and the amazing liveliness of this random video

We had been to watch Man of Steel today, and before that, we were loitering around the mall, and I played a little game I play with myself when I am jobless - check out an outfit, guess how much it is priced, and then check the actual price.  Today, I found a cotton frock in Puttachi's size.  It was well-tailored, good cloth, and I thought ok, considering the label, about 1000 bucks.  I checked and it was nearly 5000 rupees.  5000 for a frock.  The last time I was so surprised was when I lost my way and found myself in an upmarket store in UB city.  I picked up a handbag and said, "4500 for this?  I can get it for 450 in 4th block!"  And S said, "Check the price again."  I checked, and it was 45000.  I fell over backwards.  (Not exactly, but I did crash into the nearly invisible glass door on my way out.)

People who actually pay money for these things - even if they can afford it, why would they?  Are brands really that important to them?  I feel really sorry for them, actually.

Day 25 - Power Naps

When Puttachi was little, my day was tough.  Everything that came with being a full-time carer of a little child, and along with it, managing a house with all the cooking and cleaning and other things that go with it.  By afternoon, I would be ready to drop.  It used to be okay when Puttachi had naps, for I would crash alongside her.  But she gave up naps very early, just after she turned three.

It was at this time that she started school, and driving her up and down, and squeezing in walks and chores and cooking and me-time in the available 2.5 hours when she was in school was tiring in itself.  So, after she came back and ate, she would start playing, and I would be on the verge of collapse.

It was then that I accidentally discovered the power nap.  There was no question of taking long  naps when Puttachi was awake and mobile.  So, I used to just lie down next to her on the bed when she was playing, and I would fall asleep.  Within minutes, Puttachi would shake me awake, and I would find myself so refreshed that it was unbelievable.  The refreshment definitely did not seem proportional to the time I actually slept.  After a few times, I decided to make the falling asleep intentional.  I set an alarm, and told Puttachi not to move from my side, and not to disturb me until the alarm rang.  Of course, I was (still am) fortunate that Puttachi did as she was told, and is very empathetic too, so it worked.  The alarm would be for 12 min, out of which I would actually sleep for 10 min, but that was enough to last me the rest of the day!

10 minutes - like an instant battery charger!  I still do this.  In fact, Puttachi herself sometimes looks at me and orders me to take a nap.  She even sets the alarm for me.  And sometimes, if I haven't been able to catch a nap, S can make that out by the way I walk and talk in the evening that I haven't had a nap!

I don't need the nap every day, and this kind of intense nap doesn't come easily if I lie down when I am not too tired.  I have to be really very tired - it is then that it works best.

If you haven't tried this, try and see if it works for you.   I'll accept your thanks later.

Day 24 - The joy of exercising your body

By no stretch of imagination can I be called a fitness enthusiast, but I try.  Apart from a healthy diet, I try and get in some exercise on most days.

Mostly, I walk.  Sometimes, I do yoga.  Occasionally, I just do some stretches.  I am nowhere near those who go gymming and running regularly, or swim or play a sport every day, but I try to keep up whatever little I do.  I intend to step up my exercise regimen, but... all in its own time.

But the beauty of it is that even this little bit of exercise does me good. I cannot make out that exercise has been helping me until I stop exercising for a while.  And then I can really make out the difference.

Regular exercise keeps me  in a good mood, more alert and interested in my day.  My digestion is better, I  suffer less from PMS, and on the whole, I feel better about myself and about life.  Isn't that reason enough to exercise regularly?

Small things make me feel good - when I run up three flights of stairs and don't collapse with exhaustion, for instance.  Or when I'm walking along the road, and I don't have to literally heave myself up on too-high footpaths, but instead cruise along - feels great.  And then during the actual exercising itself - yoga, for instance - the stretches feel so good.  Anybody who has experienced the pleasure of a yoga stretch will know what I mean.

It isn't easy for everybody, but do try.to fit a little exercise into your day.  That small investment will prove its worth by making your day better and easier for you.

Stay tuned for tomorrow, where I will pontificate on power naps.

Day 6 - The joy of owning less

Every increased possession loads us with new weariness. -John Ruskin, author, art critic, and social reformer (1819-1900) 

This quote came along with AWAD a couple of days ago.  Coincidental, when I was just experiencing the freedom of owning just two pieces of footwear. 

Ok, to start from the beginning.  From the past few months, I've had a pain in the ball of my foot, for which I've been advised to wear special footwear, and get a bar attached to it for support.  Temporarily.  (Hopefully.)

So, in essence, I now have just one pair to wear at home, and one to wear outside.  Whether or not the outside pair suits or matches with my current outfit - I have to wear it anyway.  Initially, I felt quite wretched, not being able to wear footwear that I found elegant, but as the days flew past - what freedom it brought me!  No having to decide what to wear - will I have to walk a lot, will this suit this dress?  Nothing!  And this is being said by me, I, who at any given time in my life, possess just about 4-5 pairs of footwear!  Can't even begin to imagine how all those with dozens of pairs of footwear manage.

It reminds me of my mother telling us about how many clothes they had back when they were young.  She and her sister both together, owned 3 sarees for regular use.  And perhaps one for special occasions.  It could all fit into one single shelf of a cupboard!   And there is a Kannada phrase "mai mElondu, kOl mElondu."  "One on your back, one on the pole (a horizontal pole on which they used to hang clothes)"  - meaning, they just had two outfits.  Wear one while the other is being washed.  That's it!

Many new items that you buy force you to buy something else for them. We call this  "Sanyasi samsaara" in Kannada, referring to the traditional tale of the Sanyasi who bought a cat to get rid of the mouse that was chewing up his dhoti.  And then he had to buy a cow to provide milk for the cat, then a shed for the cow, and then an attendant to look after the cow, and so on until he ended up becoming a landed man with a wife and three children.

Sounds familiar, huh?  

I don't know about you, but I am a great believer in owning fewer things.  Those who know me well will nod their heads sagely and say that it is only because I am too lazy to maintain things, and it is my way of shirking responsibility.  Be that as it may, but for me, less things = more peace.

The joy of walking

One of the nicest things about our new place is its proximity to Puttachi's school.  Though I drive her to school (as of now), I bring her back walking.

The lovely thing about coming back walking with her is that I hear all her school news, hot off the press.  We are lucky to have a quiet, tree-lined road part of the way, and as we walk, Puttachi swings her bag, and skips along, ponytails bouncing, and she chatters away.  Contrast this with driving back - my eyes are on the road, she is in the back seat, and I am only half-listening to what she says.. and since she also doesn't get the eye-contact and reactions she needs, she becomes quiet too (relatively.)

It is just a kilometre's walk, but it surprises me that everybody who hears that I bring her back walking says, "Isn't she tired after school?" and "Can she walk that distance?"   She is as tired as an active kid is after school, but this leisurely, short walk doesn't make her more tired.  Of course, there are days when she doesn't feel too good, or she has fallen down at school and complains of aches, but I always carry enough money for an autorickshaw in case she cannot walk at all.  But more often than not, once she starts talking (and walking), she makes it home pretty easily.  The second question - seriously?  1 km?  It is nothing.  The very people who are surprised that she walks that distance would have walked many times that distance when they were Puttachi's age. I think the adults of today underestimate our children.  We presume weakness in them.

Walking is such a dying art - very few people walk to a friend's house, to a shop, or to the barber.  Distances, traffic and smoke, creepily lonely roads and uneven footpaths are all culprits.  As a result, even when the conditions are conducive to walking, people don't even remember that they can include walking among their options.

Walking is such joy - the freedom to go where you want to, the luxury not to have to park your vehicle anywhere, the feeling of being part of the landscape, the space you get to think when you are alone, or the opportunity to have good conversations when you are with company.....

I come from a family of great walkers, and I am married to an extreme walker, if there is any such phrase, and I  think Puttachi has already been inculcated in this "art" - I hope that the future gives her the space and the opportunity to continue to experience the pleasure of walking.

An open kitchen

As a cook, I suffer from a severe dichotomy.  One part of me loves cooking, and the other part hates to spend too much time in the kitchen.  So I am always looking for shortcuts and quick-fixes so that I can get the tastiest and healthiest food ready in the least possible time.  I feel particularly bad when I feel I am missing out on family time.  In the house we lived in previously, it kept coming to my mind that an open kitchen would solve this problem.

On our house-hunt, when we looked at this apartment that we ended up buying, we liked it because it fulfilled a majority of our requirements in all respects.  But we knew that the apartment would require some major rework for it to suit our needs.  The greatest problem was with the kitchen and the store room, and we found that the simplest and logical solution to make it airy and spacious was to break open some walls, combine the kitchen and the store room space and make it a wide open kitchen.

So, a lot, and I mean a lot of work later, the kitchen has been modified to suit me, and the best part of it is, yes, it is an open kitchen.  It integrates seamlessly into the drawing room and dining room, creating the sense of a lot of space.

So this open kitchen has made such a difference to our lives, that I just had to write about it.  A major problem in the previous kitchen was that when I was in the kitchen, Puttachi would clamour for my attention, if not for anything, just for me to hear her talk or watch her draw, or be with her when she ate.  Even if I pulled a chair inside the kitchen for her, it was a little congested, and there were only a few things she could do in there. 

Now, with this kitchen, complete with a kitchen table, Puttachi sits at the table when I cook.  She talks to me, she eats, and she reads or draws or does whatever she wants to - I am happy because I can be with her, and yet get my cooking done, and she is happy that I don't have to keep running away into the kitchen.   Such a great set up.

The other advantages are all secondary, though they are important too.  When there are guests, I don't feel cut off if I am finishing up something in the kitchen, or if I have chosen a menu which needs me to linger in the kitchen.  And guests also feel free to enter the kitchen and sit at the kitchen table - because the  kitchen is no longer a separate space which is out of bounds.  It makes things more comfortable and informal.

And in general, I feel more connected with the happenings around the house even if nobody is in the kitchen with me.  And this open kitchen has kind of made the kitchen a central part of the house.  We also have our meals at the kitchen table. 

Another associated advantage is that when I finish my meal first, and Puttachi is stil eating, I can rise from the table and start clearing up without making Puttachi complain that I am "abandoning" her.  So by the time Puttachi's meal is done, the kitchen is wound up too!  What joy :)

Of course there are negatives too.  You are forced to keep the kitchen neat and tidy all the time in case of surprise visitors (which is actaully a good thing for messy and lazy cooks like me.) 

You cannot steal a quick bite if there are visitors sitting in the drawing room. :)

And the smell of course.  A good chimney is a necessity for an open kitchen, is what I feel, to contain the smells of cooking.

Another disadvantage is that you cannot hold back the sounds of the kitchen within - for example, clanging of steel vessels, and the whirr of the mixer.  

And I am sure I'll discover more disadvantages (and advantages) as the years go by... but yet, I really feel that these disadvantages are minor when compared to the change in lifestyle that an open kitchen has given me. 

Yes, open kitchens are not very popular in our culture, because traditionally, cooking is a private affair, and the kitchen is a sacrosanct place.  Also, some people are just not comfortable with it, and I can totally understand that feeling. 

But I wanted to share my experience with you, because if you have the temperament and the opportunity, do go in for an open kitchen - it is such a life-changer!

Excess baggage

One of my PG-mates in Mumbai came to the city with three suitcases.  She got the last available accommodation in our PG place, but that room didn't come with much storage space.  So, she transfered her essential items into one of her suitcases, and left the other two in her father's friends house, to collect "when she got more space."  She stayed in the city for 1.5 years, and managed very well with the things she had in her one suitcase.  She did occasionally mention something or the other that was in one of "those suitcases" but it was clear she did not need them.  When she left Mumbai, I went with her to drop her at the railway station.  We took a taxi, went to the friend's house, picked up "those suitcases" and went to the station.  So in the end, those two suitcases with their contents just ended up having a ride to and from Mumbai, and a good hibernation in someone's loft.

Ok, what I am getting at is this - my friend could make do with the essential things in that one suitcase for 18 months.  Yet, she dragged two times more baggage with her when she came.

I have been remembering this ever since our move.  Comparatively, we don't have too much stuff in our house.  Both S and I are very careful to buy just what we need and nothing more.  In fact, the bulk of the stuff is Puttachi's, since I don't know where to draw the line, sometimes.  Yet, her things are much less compared to what I see in other kids' houses.

When we moved here, two of my friends laughed when they saw so many full-length built in cupboards in our new house.  "All the clothes of all three of you will fit into just one of these cupboards," they said.  "What do you need the others for?"

And yet, in spite of having such less stuff, I realize how many things we have that we can make do without.

The weekend before the move, I packed and sent across all the non-essential things, and managed for more than a week without them, and didn't miss them either.  And then when we moved, we took the essentials with us.  And naturally, when we started to set up house, we  unpacked the essentials first, and due to various reasons (not the least of which is lack of motivation and laziness) I am yet to unpack the non-essentials.

Yes, I do remember something from those things, sometimes - saying, oh I wish I had this handy, but the point is, I can make do without them.

How much we accumulate, without even realizing it, when in reality, all we need are just a few things!

A wonderful breakfast

I've been meaning to blog about this for a while now. When in my aunt's house in England, we had cereals and fruits and nuts every morning. I enjoyed that breakfast. After S joined us, he was totally taken with the idea of such a healthy breakfast. When we got back, we discussed it, and decided to try out that breakfast for a couple of weeks.

We did try, and we're hooked. I cook oats in milk, and add chopped fresh fruits, nuts and dry fruits. I also add a fistful of ragi araluhittu/hurihittu (popped and powdered ragi.) For a bit of crunch, we add a little Kellogg's oatbites. It's working wonderfully for us in many ways, at many levels.

Every morning, at about 9 or 10, I had a tendency to feel terribly tired and drained out. It was worse when I ate bread and uppittu. (My mother and my grandmother also have the same problem, and we're still not clear why it happens). After we started this breakfast, it hasn't happened even once. I do feel hungry again at about 10 or 11 (but I feel hungry around that time even after an Indian breakfast), but I've never once felt drained out. Peevee, my sister, the nutrition expert, says that it is because of complex carbohydrates in the oats - it releases energy bit by bit.

Besides, the compulsory dose of fruits and fibre has done wonders for Puttachi's digestion. Initially, Puttachi wasn't very receptive to it, and I felt guilty about giving her something she probably didn't like. But one Saturday, when I set a plate of something else before her, she frowned and said, "Why haven't you made oats? I want oatmeal." "Don't fuss, eat whatever is on your plate," I said, but inwardly, I was doing somersaults! It's been eight months and she is also enjoying this breakfast as much as S and I do. As for me, who is so crazy about good food, I was quite sure I'd get bored with this after a while, but each morning, I approach my bowl with great enthusiasm, and that is saying a lot about it!

To an extent, this breakfast means lesser time and effort. But it does take time chopping fruits and breaking nuts down into small pieces for Puttachi, and cooking the oats just right so that it doesn't get gooey - it does have it's own effort. But the biggest plus is that I needn't wonder every night what to make for breakfast next morning.

But I make make Indian breakfast in the weekends - one, for my tastebuds, and two, because I don't want to forget how to make all that, and three, if I feel tired, I can very well chuck everything and take a break mid-morning.

If, for any reason, a hearty Indian breakfast is not working for you, I urge you to try this.

The UK Files - The Elderly

Everywhere we went in the UK, I saw old and elderly people. Many of them. Lots more than I've seen walking on the roads in India.

They were invariably elegant in dress and manner, most of them had smiles and a kind word for Puttachi, and they carried themselves with grace and dignity.

Some of them were so old that they were stooped, wrinkled, barely able to walk, and yet they came shopping alone. One old lady took one minute to walk one metre, holding on to a walker. No exaggeration. Yet, she came shopping alone. Another lady, with crutches - so old, so old that I've never seen anybody older, got off a bus and on to the footpath, and went about her shopping. Alone.

Yes, it is because they live alone. Yes, it is because they want to do their own work themselves. But there is a far bigger reason why I saw so many old people out walking on the streets in the UK, and why none here in India.

Because the cities are friendly to them. In every way. The footpaths are even, with little ramps from every footpath down to every road. Cars STOP at pedestrian crossings when someone is waiting to cross. Even if there is no signal. They stop not only for the old and infirm, not only for young mothers with prams. They stop for everybody.

Buses are convenient. Easy to get in and out. And the drivers wait until people finish getting in and out. They help.

Here, pedestrians are at the bottom of the pyramid. Even an alert, energetic youngster finds it difficult to cross some roads nowadays. People tell me that I'm very fortunate to live a stone's throw away from an excellent shopping area. But there is one huge obstacle. I've to cross a road to get to that area. And that one road is enough to put you off crossing roads for ever.

How can anybody except the elderly to cross such roads? To walk on footpaths with crooked stone slabs? Travel on buses? No chance. No wonder we don't see old people up and about here.

Of course, they do have other advantages there. Little buses go around, pick up the old who live alone, take them to shopping centres and then drop them back to their homes. It arises out of necessity, of course, with so many people living alone.

It made me sad. Outdoor life after one point, perhaps eighty, is totally out of bounds to us here in India. Is there no alternative?

Eclipse!

Did you watch the eclipse? I did! It was beautiful. I have never seen the sun eclipsed so much (with my own eyes - from behind sun filters!). As Puttachi said, it looked like a "'C' in the sky."












What saddened me no end was that Puttachi and I were the only ones on our terrace, apart from another mother-daughter pair on the terrace of a neighbouring block. Out of the entire neighbourhood, only the four of us were eager enough to catch this fascinating event.

The rest, I am guessing, more out of false beliefs than out of disinterest, stayed inside.

I don't get it. Our ancestors didn't know what was happening. They had reason to believe that something evil was happening. But we are in 2010, for heavens' sake! We've been to the moon, we've been to space, we've photographed things from space - we know what is happening! Just that the moon has come between the earth and the sun! So why the fear? Why the fasting? Why the bathing? I am trying so hard to keep myself calm here, but indulge me a bit while I scream - IT IS RIDICULOUS!!!!

Puttachi and I went out into the eclipsed sun's rays, we ate during the eclipse, and we did not bathe after the eclipse, we did not offer prayers to propitiate anybody. And I am living, and hale and hearty, and writing this post. And this is not just us, everybody in my family has sat and eaten through a countless eclipses over the last 6 or 7 decades. Two of my aunts have gone out during eclipses when they were pregnant, and they have strong, healthy, intelligent sons.

What further proof can I give you? What else can I say? I know that there are some people who are "careful", you know, "Just in case". But think. The sun's rays are coming onto you. The moon blocks the rays for a while, and then moves away. What can possibly be the harm? It makes me want to cry.

Many people are trying to eradicate these silly superstitions, but is it really working? Rationalists do it, yes. But look at this. During the last eclipse, the seer of Murugarajendra Mutt of Chitradurga sat outside with his followers, and watched the eclipse, and even served food to them, and ate it himself, during the eclipse. (can't find the link to the report). During this eclipse, a couple got married at his Mutt!

I am your fan, Seer of Murugarajendra Mutt! We need more people like you! If people don't want to believe rationalists and scientists, at least I hope they will believe you spiritual leaders!

If you know Kannada, you might like to read this.












This post is too late for this eclipse, so I'll probably re-post it before the next eclipse. Please, people! Wake up and see the eclipse for what it really is!

The new park, Puttachi and me.

The apartment we have recently moved into is located just opposite a terrific park, a very old one, and a very large one at that. It is full of mighty old trees, broad walking paths, huge grounds, and old vintage buildings. [No, it is neither Lalbagh nor Cubbon Park]

They do have a kids' area, but the play instruments are old and not very well-maintained. They will do, though. I guess I am just comparing it to the play area in the previous park I used to take Puttachi, which was so good that people travelled 5-6 kilometers to bring their kids to that park.

But the charm of this park lies in its trees and its walkways, its people and its birds. In its "ancientness". In its magnificence.

Parktime with Puttachi previously consisted of just taking her to the park, letting her play on the rides, and coaxing a small walk out of her, and then bringing her back. But in this park, it is different. It is as much as a pleasure for me as it is for her.

The moment we get inside the park, she spots the swing and the slides and we do the mandatory exercise of her playing on it. But very soon, she gets waylaid by a stone, a dog, a bird, and she is off, running along the walkways. She finds something interesting at each corner, and there is so much to explore. I just let her be, and follow her around, making sure not to hover about her, but being close enough to ensure that she is safe. It is so lovely to watch her. She picks up stones, leaves, shows them to me with delight. She spots a dog and runs after it. She finds a particularly huge tree and looks up at it wonderingly. She talks to everybody who talks to her, and even calls out to people who walk by without talking to her.

5 30 pm seems like 7 00 pm because of the thick canopy of trees in the park, and it gets cold very soon because of the number of trees. Though it is warm when we set out, I make sure to have put Puttachi in warm clothes, or else I carry along something extra.

When dusk approaches, the chirping of the birds becomes deafening. Birds fly all over the place from one tree to another, and Puttachi looks up excitedly at the sky full of birds. She jumps about with pleasure, follows the flight of the birds across the sky until she almost loses balance.

For me, just taking a walk in this beautiful park gives me a feeling of joy, of peace, of tranquility. Watching Puttachi enjoy herself is a bonus. Running along the walkways like the wind, pointing out things to me, listening to my explanation of this and that, collecting pebbles and putting them into her pocket to go home and show her dad - every little thing that pleases her amplifies itself and pleases me that much more.

When S~ joins us, I let down my guard, depending on S~ to look after Puttachi. I walk about at my own pace, enjoying the park in my way. Anyway you see it, the park is a pleasure.

The best part is that by the time Puttachi gets back, she is hungry enough to wolf down her food, and tired enough to go to bed without a fuss. And as for me? I don't know if it is the oxygen, or it is the green of the trees, or it is just the park itself, but I am thoroughtly rejuvenated.

Before we moved in here, I used to pass by this park and look at these apartments and think how lovely it must be to stay so close to it. I cannot believe that I am actually living a dream.

Frocks - A tale of woe

When I was expecting, I didn't really care whether the baby turned out to be a boy or a girl. But whenever I saw pretty little frocks on displays in shops, I would wish that it was a girl, so that I could dress her up in those cute frocks.

Little did I realize that those very frocks would turn out to be such a pain in the wrong place.

Sometime ago, I had expressed surprise that one tiny frock costed 500 rupees, and someone had commented with a "This is just the beginning/ you haven't seen anything yet". I know now. I can't believe how terribly expensive baby clothes are. And their quality? Don't get me started on them.

No, wait. There are pretty frocks available at pretty reasonable prices, if you take the trouble of looking. Most of these frocks are based in white, with pastel prints, and a couple of ribbons and buttons and laces here and there. Some can be incredibly cute, and invariably, I tend to buy them. Left to myself, I can be very content dressing Puttachi in these beautiful light-coloured, white/pastel/light floral dresses.

But my mom-in-law craves to see her beloved grand-daughter in bright clothes. "Take advantage of her beautiful complexion - bright colours will suit her", she says. I know exactly what she means, and I would gladly dress her in bright colours, if I could.

For here is where the problem lies. Look for dark and bright frocks, and all you get are utterly atrocious pieces of cloth that make you wonder whether the designers were stoned. Colours that corrode your retina, prints that make your head go round and round. And designs that make you wonder where the neck is and the sleeve is, and what is this hole for.

Psychedelic prints. Solar systems. Grotesque teddy bears and bunnies. Animal prints. Sequins and beads all over. Sparkly writing, with some kind of shiny powder all over. Glittering paint. Gaudy coloured lace. Brass-coloured buttons of various shapes sewed on in the strangest places. A huge belt with a huger buckle in some weird place. And all in horrible, sweaty, prickly synthetics. I can't bear to inflict the synthetic-torture on Puttachi's tender skin.

The other day I saw a frock that looked like a fish's scales, and I could swear it had fins too. Another frock looked like a cross between the skin of a panther and a panda. And it had a few porcupine quills too.

Really, how difficult is it to take a nice, soft, piece of cloth and sew it in a simple design, add a couple of pretty buttons and motifs and attach a lace?

Actually, there are such frocks, yes. I saw a stunner of a frock in Weekender Kids and a heartstopping one in Lilliput last evening. I snatched them from the rack and my brain took a trip imagining how cute Puttachi will look in those frocks. Then I glanced at the price tags. 600 and 750. Can you believe that? Gaaaaah! I dropped them like hot bricks and hurried out.

S~ baulks at 600 and 750 too, but he is more liberal than I am when it concerns frocks that cost about 400 or so. Come on, he says, it is not everyday that we buy good frocks for her, and this is such a pretty frock, let's go ahead buy it. But I just cannot bring myself to do it. For one, Puttach will outgrow it in two months, and two - and this is the core problem - I know just how easy it is to stitch those frocks. I grew up only in home-stitched frocks. My mom and grandmom and aunts pored over Sears catalogues, selected good patterns, and churned out the most beautiful clothes for us. I know that this frock worth 500 can be stitched with ease by any of them. And that is why I cannot bear to pay so much for it. I know, a screw loose in my head, but that is hardly news.

S~ also says, come on, let's try one of those crazy hallucinatory prints sometime, I am sure Puttachi will look good. Oh yes, I say, I am sure Puttachi will look good. Like all mothers, I think my baby looks great whatever she wears (and doesn't wear). But really, even little girls are entitled to a bit of elegance. Little girls should look like little girls, and not like item girls.

Sigh. What do I do? Oh, I know, I know, mom, the solution is in my hands - pick up a good piece of cloth and stitch a frock myself. But it is one of those things that I "could" do, but don't do.

All I have to do is bide my time and look for a pretty, dark coloured, bright dress, which is not too heavy on the pocket, and meanwhile, I have to exercise utmost strength not to buy any more pretty light coloured clothes.

Now, if only it was that easy.