The world is their toilet.

In a recent post, when I expressed my ire about a man urinating in public, I was flummoxed to find at least two people commenting on the lines of, "Poor guy, there are no public toilets, what else can he do?"

Poor guy, no restroom. Sooooo sad. What do you think we females do when we are in that situation? We also have bladders, you know, that sometimes get uncomfortably full. Have you seen females do what males so blatantly do? No, you haven't! Why? Are there special restrooms only for women, that are invisible to male eyes? Or do the contents of our bladders just evaporate by magic?

For heavens' sake, we face the same problem! And so what do we do?

Let me tell you what I do.

* When I know that I am going somewhere where there will be no easy access to toilets, I avoid drinking fluids for about an hour before I leave.

* The last thing I do before I leave is use the toilet.

* In spite of these precautions, if my bladder gets full, I control. Until I reach a toilet.

* If I am in a state where I just HAVE to go, then I look around for a restaurant. Most restaurants oblige if you say you have to use their restroom. At one restaurant, I was politely told, "Only for customers, ma'am", and so I went in, ordered and paid for a cup of tea that I did not drink, used the toilet and came out vastly relieved.

But of course, why would males go through so much trouble? Just find a wall and pull down your zipper and you are done. Busy road? No problem? In full view of everybody, females and children alike? No problem. The stench resulting from your action? No problem. Health hazards because of your urinating everywhere? Nooooo problem.

Please. When you know that there aren't going to be restrooms when you need it, don't you have to prepare accordingly?

And don't give me BS about how there are no public toilets, what is the government doing and what not. Dozens of public toilets (like "Nirmala") have sprung up in Bangalore. And what do I see? Men standing NEXT to these clean, inexpensive toilets and relieving themselves. Men toting mobiles, who can afford to pay the rupee or two to use these toilets. The world is their toilet, after all!

Yes, it is a fact that we do need more public toilets, but more than that we need a whole shift in the attitudes of the people.

A channel (MTV? Or is it Channel V?) had gone on a drive, taping these obnoxious people indulging in public urination, and broadcasting it - I thought at that time that it was a great idea. But I wonder, if these fellows are so shameless as to pee in public, will they feel any kind of shame if they appear on TV performing a private act? Most likely, they will just be thrilled that they are on TV.

Is there any solution at all?


[My mom had written on the same issue, and related problems, in "Sudha" of June 7th, 2007 [Page 30]. [In Kannada] If you cannot find a copy, you can read it online at http://sudhaezine.com.]

Bond Forever

Bond... the one with the license to write. Ruskin Bond. Here is an example of why I adore the writer! - Way We Are in today's Sunday Herald (Sunday supplement of Deccan Herald).

Unfortunately, our stage manager had forgotten to put any tea in the pot, and poor Guttoo looked terribly put out as he went from cup to cup, pouring invisible tea. “Damn. What happened to the tea?” muttered Guttoo, a line which was not in the script. “Never mind,” said Gita, playing opposite him and keeping her cool. “I prefer my milk without tea,” and proceeded to pour herself a cup milk.

After this, everyone began to fluff their lines and our prompter had a busy time. Unfortunately he’d helped himself to a couple of rums at the bar, so that, whenever one of the actors faltered, he’d call out the correct words in a stentorian voice which could be heard all over the hall. Soon there was more prompting than acting, and the audience began joining in with dialogue of their own.

Do read it for a good laugh!

An old post on the day I met Ruskin Bond

Regression

I was up on the terrace for a breath of fresh air and happened to spot a couple of bright green parakeets on the telephone wires. As I broke into an automatic smile and gazed at them, along came a boy of about 12 years, looked at the birds, picked up a stone and threw it at them. The birds flew away, and the boy hardly even stopped to see what happened, he skipped along and went on his way. What kind of a perverse mind in such a young boy would make him do such a heartless and meaningless thing?

No sooner did this boy leave than a well-dressed middle-aged man came by. He stopped at the corner right opposite our house, pulled his zipper down and proceeded to relieve himself. In broad daylight, in full view of five-six homes, definitely in full view of me. Then he zipped up nonchalantly and went his way. I wish I had a catapult.

Then along came a woman who spat noisily right in the middle of the road, and behind her came hooting and spitting males, sitting atop a huge truck spewing noxious fumes. So much for my breath of fresh hair.

India is full of people like these, and we expect to be called the next superpower?

And to crown it all, we now have a President who talks to dead people.

India Shining? Bah! India rotting and regressing is more like it.

Yes, it is one of those days.

The record

I probably hold the record for taking the longest to finish Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but at least I finished it!

I had actually not even bothered to pre-book the book coz I was sure I wouldn't be able to read it what with the Little One and all. But S surprised me with a copy on the very day it was released. Oh the joy! Pretty brave of him, though. Didn't he even once think about what would happen to his daughter if I had my nose buried in the book all the time?

Anyway the week went by without any major disasters. But seriously, thanks are due to my mom for understanding my need to finish the book and tolerating my virtual absence. Probably she was just thankful that I hadn't forgotten that I have a baby now!

Like my uncle said, looking at me holding the book with an "I-can't-wait-to-devour-it" look - "And to think that this girl has a baby. Wouldn't have believed it had I not seen it myself".

Now I can return peacefully to Muggle life.

Snippets - 2

.... from the Little One's second month. [I can't believe how time flies when a baby is around. Both the hours in a day and the days in a month.]

* I finally relented and cut her hair. It was getting into her eyes and ears too much for comfort. I went snip-snip when she was asleep, but she woke up when I was cutting the hair on the base of her neck. So the hairline out there looks like India's coastline, but that's ok. She now looks fresh, clean, and much happier.

* People have started looking at her and saying, "Ahhh, NOW she looks beautiful". And I go, "Huh, excuse me? What do you mean "NOW"?" [Excuse a mother her indulgence. This mother thought that her child looked good even in the ultrasound images].

* She smiles and squeals and gurgles and talks non-stop. And she holds her head steady and turns it this way and that looking at anything and everything with big, wondering eyes. Curious kid, this.

* She recognizes me instantly - such a heady feeling :)

* She beats her limbs non-stop. I sometimes awaken at night not by her crying but because the bed is shaking from the force of her limb-flailing.

* S has suddenly graduated from she-is-too-small-i-am-afraid-to-carry-her to is-she-crying-give-her-to-me. When he carries her, she goes about with a everybody-tortures-me-look-how-happy-and-secure-i-am-in-papa's-arms look.

* She now has different signals for different needs. If she is hungry, she rams her fist down her throat. If she is sleepy, she rubs her ears and cheeks with the back of her hand. I am still learning to recognize the "I am wet" expression.

* Her boredom cries are so funny - it like she is pretending to cry, but she is not really crying!

* She now has a new cry - the protest cry.

* Take out a camera and she stops smiling. N, my little sis PeeVee's shutterbug friend came over with her fantastic camera and proceeded to click away at this kid as if she is a celebrity, and all she did was cry and be grumpy. The moment N left for the airport, she became her usual cheerful smiling self. Nevertheless, N got us some fab snaps. Thank you, N!

* She loves her bath and the massage preceding it. She ruins it all by screaming her lungs out when we wrap her up in the towel to bring her out of the bathroom.

* Let's face it - she likes men. She fixes her stare and talks excitedly to men - what does she see different in them? Can't be facial hair... none of the men who interact with her regularly have facial hair.... strange.

* My parents (I am staying with them now for a while) are besotted with her. They drop all their work and sit by her and watch and play with her for hours. Then they suddenly look at the clock and say, "Is THAT the time? Is the clock right? Are you sure?" Then they look at her and say, "You time waster!" She replies by smiling and batting her eyelashes at them, and that is enough - they settle down again to play with her - work be damned :)

Each day, there is something new, something to smile about, and something to look forward to! There are innumerable trying times too, but which path in life is smooth?

Oh man, there she is, she has woken up and is looking at objects on the wall and smiling at them, and waving her arms around and playing by herself. Ta-da for now!

Eight Random Facts..

... about me. And who would care to know these facts? Bit Hawk does, apparently!

Here they are:

• I started wearing specs at age seven. I use contact lenses now.
• I was into athletics as a kid.
• Kids used to irritate me till I was well into my teens. I changed overnight, I don't know how.
• I am a right hander but I wear my watch on the right hand.
• I love wearing sarees.
• I can spend hours looking at photo albums.
• I never cared much about how I looked, as long as I was neat and presentable. I particularly never made any major effort to make myself look good, until S' cousin's mother-in-law told me to change. It was the way she said it that did it.
• I was a spoilsport as a kid. When it was my turn to be the seeker (In Hide and Seek, not Quidditch), I would wait until everybody hid, and then go home. My friends would wait and wait and then come out from their hiding places, then come looking for me to my place, to find me lost in a book.

And I tag... let me see.... the first eight people who comment on this post, who WANT to do the tag. ;)

Thinking Blogger Award

Ano the Thoughtraker, Pooh of Pooh's Den, and Poppins of Babies Anonymous have bestowed upon me the Thinking Blogger Award, and said such sweet words about me too... *wipes tear from eye*... Thanks a ton :). I really am glad that I make you think - unintentionally though ;)

Now I have to take the tag forward and name five bloggers who make me think. But every blog that I read makes me think. A serious thought or a funny thought, something in every blog leads to different thoughts, and a totally unconnected topic can set off a chain reaction leading to an entirely new world - that is how my frenzied brain works.

So if I have to name just five bloggers, it would be terribly unfair to all the other blogs that I read. Besides, some don't update too often, some have already been tagged many times over, and some have already tagged me ;)

So, I slip out of the back door.

The test of tolerance

Remember the Karna-Parashurama story in the Mahabharata? Karna goes to Parashurama to learn the secrets of warfare from him. But since Parashurama has decided to take only Brahmins as his disciples (or because he hates Kshatriyas?), Karna presents himself as a Brahmin boy. Parashurama instructs him in all the techniques of warfare.

One day, Parashurama lies down under a tree to rest. Karna offers his lap as a pillow. As Parashurama sleeps, an insect bites Karna's leg. Karna doesn't move as he doesn't want to disturb his Guru. He tolerates the pain. But blood flows from the wound and wakes Parashurama. Parashurama takes in the scene, and tells Karna that a Brahmin couldn't have tolerated so much pain, and so Karna must be a Kshatriya. When Karna confesses that it is indeed so, an angry Parashurama curses him, saying that he would forget whatever he has learnt at a time when he needs it the most.

Now why am I quoting from the Mahabharata? Coz I often find myself in Karna's situation nowadays.

Sometimes, it takes a major effort to make the Little One go to sleep. After a long long time, I find her eyelids finally getting heavy, and at that time, I am usually holding her in a position that involves both my hands. At this stage, I am terrified to make the slightest movement, in case she wakes up.

And then, just then, my nose HAS to itch. My hands are full, there is no convenient surface within reach against which I can rub my nose, and I cannot call out loudly to someone to come and please scratch my nose for me. I just sit there like a statue, nose quivering, wondering which will be first - the Little One falling asleep, or me giving up, dropping her, and scratching my nose.

Sigh.

I wonder how many more tests of tolerance this kid is going to put me through!

Horsing Around

One Sunday morning, many many years ago, my father drew my attention to that section of the paper which reported news of the Bangalore Derby. He pointed out to me the names of the racing horses and said that I might enjoy them. I went through one column, and he was right, I was immediately hooked.

The names were delightful, a treat to my crazy imagination. No boring Chetaks and Ranjhas for you. The names ranged from pretty(Morning Dew, Soft Sunshine) to macho(Fierce Warrior, Daredevil) to exotic(Bravissimo, Chiquitita) to optimistic (Speed of Light, Assured Victory) to plain nonsensical (Daring Daschund, Adorable Aristotle).

I would pick a random favourite and follow its fortunes every morning, reporting delightedly to my father, "Papa, Crowning Glory won again!" or "Oh no, Ginger Garlic lost this time". My mother must have started suspecting that the father-daughter duo was placing bets on races behind her back.

Anyway, like all fads, this one passed too, until yesterday, when I chanced upon the results of the Kingfisher Bangalore Derby. Along with the results of the races, were the mugshots of all the winning horses.

Now, pardon my ignorance, but all horses look the same to me. It looked like they had taken a picture of one horse and printed it twelve times. On taking a closer look, I saw that they were slightly different shades of brown, much like the browns section of an Asian Paints colours catalogue.

I was thinking of the plight of the reporter and the photographer, if they are as ignorant about horses as I am. The photographer takes a pic, and the reporter laboriously writes down the name of the horse. And what if they mess up and put a different name on the pic of the horse? I can well imagine the irate owner ringing up the office and shouting at them, demanding a correction. What will the resulting apology look like?

"In yesterday's edition, we inadvertently mixed up the names of two horses. The one that is the colour of a roasted coffee bean is Sultry Seductress, and the one that is the colour of a lightly roasted coffee bean is Brave Bheem. The error is regretted. - Elegant Editor... err.. I mean, Editor."

This year's winner is Bourbon King. The name is not at all imaginative, as horses' names go. I was disappointed, but then, I saw that Quintessential Queen, Jumping Jackass, Shimmering Shennanigan and Rusty Rhombus weren't far behind, so I was satisfied. What about Assured Victory? He, I assure you, will gain a victory in the next derby.

Shots and Thoughts

We had been to the paediatrician a couple of days ago for the Little One's immunization shots. (DPT, Hep-B, Hib). The doc told us that there were two kinds of shots for this - a local one, costing Rs.850, and an imported one of Rs.2100. When asked what the difference was, he said that both served the same purpose, but the imported one was superior, and it resulted in less pain and fever.

Now, if it had been a material thing like a carry-cot or a pram, I could have inspected both and made an informed decison - that yes, the imported one is more comfortable and convenient, it is worth the extra money, or naaah, there is not too much difference between the two kinds, lets go in for the less expensive one.

But what could I do here but take the doc at his word? And after all, parents wants to give their child the best that is within their means, especially when it concerns health. So we opted for the imported, supposedly superior one.

I later asked an uncle of S, a well-known paediatrician (he stopped his practice a few years ago), and he said that yes, the imported vaccine truly has lesser side effects. If we had known earlier that we would be given a choice of vaccines, I would have discussed it with this uncle earlier, and we could have taken a confident, informed decision, rather than one based on sentiments. ;)

[And yes, the Little One hardly had any fever, and I doubt if she had much pain either. But she has been a little fussy since her shots, crying at the drop of a hat, but that's supposed to be normal.]

This episode set me thinking.

1) Forget the imported vaccine, but Rs.850 for the local one? Isn't that very expensive in itself? How many people in India can afford that? Does the government offer free immunization at government hospitals, or a subsidized version for the poorer section of the society? Does anybody know anything about this?

2) No wonder pharma companies have a gala time pricing their products exorbitantly. We the consumers have no idea about the products whatsoever, and when it comes to health, we are helpless, we just have to buy the products. Is there any hope for a transparent system where we know what we are buying, and how much it ought to cost? [Even as I write this, I say to myself, "Ha! High Hopes!"]

3) I realize that parents have this weakness - when it concerns the child, we tend to become blind, and spend any amount of money on the child. Manufacturers have identified this very weakness and have made excellent use of it. Have you seen how expensive baby stuff is? 800 rupees for a teeny tiny frock!! One I can make at home in less than 50 rupees?? One which the baby will outgrow in a month? What kind of madness is that? Even with all that knowledge, I look at the frock, imagine the Little One in it and think, "Ohhhh she'll look so cute in it!" We are getting fleeced.

Any thoughts?

The Gift of Life

When I was expecting the Little One, there were some mornings when I would open the newspaper, only to see news of terror, intolerance, bureacracy, hypocrisy, perversion and pure stupidity. A sudden wave of fear would wash over me. What on earth am I doing, bringing a baby into this big, bad, polluted world? Why am I compelling another human being to live in this black hole?

A talk with my aunt revealed that she occasionally felt the same way when she had been expecting her son. In fact, I found that we were not alone in harbouring these thoughts. I even heard of a couple who decided not to have children because they didn't think that the world was good enough to bring a new person into.

But I am not that much of a pessimist. My optimism usually would return very quickly, and I would think - the earth is after all, a magnificent place. There are so many things to do, so many beautiful places to see, and so many wonderful things to.. err.. eat. Life is waiting to be Lived.

Yes,there have been moments of teenage frustration when I have shouted out loud, "I wish I had never been born!" But I must say that I am really thankful for the gift of life.

And it is this very same gift of life that we are giving another individual, someone I hope will make much better use of the gift than I have done so far.

I have nothing to fear. We just have to teach the Little One to enjoy the joys that Life has to offer, and at the same time, equip her to deal with the darker side.

We have work to do.

Black Magic

I thought babies were supposed to be attracted by bright colourful things. But the Little One is fascinated by.....Black.

The things that hold her attention - the cordless phone, a black hairband, black clothes, speakers of the music system, black bags, and ....my hair.

When I talk to her, she doesn't look at my face, she looks at my hair, and those of you who know me in person can probably understand why (I have quite a mass of hair). If I want her to look at my face, I have to struggle to tie up my short hair so that it is not visible around my face. Even then, if a couple of wayward strands escape, she looks at those instead of my face.

After a few days, if you show her two photos, one of just my face, and one of just my hair, and ask her where her Amma is, she will point to the photo of my hair.

Sigh.

P.S. Am finally working on replying to the comments on all the previous posts. Apologies for the delay :)

She

She is my best friend and my confidante.
She is my partner in crime.
She and I have shared everything.
She and I have burnt gallons of midnight oil - chatting into the night.
She and I have driven people crazy with our giggling.
She and I can carry out entire conversations without speaking a word.
She is bright, witty, cheerful, and very sweet.
She is the one I miss the most, during this time when the Little One has arrived... coz..
She is far far away doing her MS in Stanford University.
She is my little sis P.

And..... At Long Last...She has started a blog!

Go read, but puh-leezzz do come back!

The making of a foodie

I am a person who thinks that food is one of the best things in life. Of course, you already know that. But just this morning, I got wondering about what makes a foodie, well, a foodie.

In my case, it involved having a mother who is not only a great cook, but also the kind who is not afraid to experiment. While growing up, we were never bombarded with the same dishes time and again. She always thought of a way to make food different and interesting. She never stuck to the rules of "Ok, this vegetable can traditionally be made into two types of dishes, so I will make one of those". She is the kind who improvises, who mixes and matches, and out of experience and an innate instinct, is able to turn out a dish probably never made before, but delicious all the same. So naturally, I always had something exciting to look forward to at mealtimes.

It also involved having a father who is not fussy, doesn't demand that such and such an item just has to be present in each meal, and who is never averse to mom's experimenting. He in fact, made the right appreciative gestures during meals and my mom was accordingly encouraged. Besides, being brought up in the north, he was accustomed to North Indian dishes, and my mom learnt them all very quickly after marriage, and so North Indian cuisine was a regular part of our food, along with the usual South Indian. Also, my parents' short stint in Germany probably got them started on continental food too - and after that there was no stopping them.

But of course, in spite of two food-oriented parents (politely expressed?), it isn't necessary that the children turn out to be foodies. My little sis P, for example, though she enjoys her food, is not much of a foodie. Not like me, who dreams of food all the time, and wakes up in the middle of the night craving some obscure dish.

One more thing. My advice to all you single people out there. When choosing your partner, do go in for someone with similar food tastes (if you care enough about food, that is!) I have seen some ill-matched couples, one of them itching to try out exotic cuisine, the other sticking religiously to Anna-Saaru. It is quite a painful sight.

I am very fortunate in that S is as good a foodie as I am, perhaps a level or two higher. Now my aim is to make sure that the Little One is appropriately introduced to the joys of fine dining. I know, I know, long time to go, but what's wrong in planning?

So are you a foodie, and what do you think made you one?

Fleeting moments

The Little One is a month old today. She has finally stopped looking like an alien, and only occasionally looks like a baby chimp.

Just a month and there has been so much change in her. She was such a non-responsive little being in the first week, who just lay in one place, stared off into space, and cried and slept. She has now become an active, alert child, who holds and follows your gaze, follows the movement of objects, responds with gurgles and smiles, and on the other hand, cries with a vengeance. Her strong little legs kick non-stop, and I have often bore the brunt of the fury of her tiny fists. She goes still when her name is called, and recognizes me when I hold her.

Even as I exult in her every milestone, I watch with awe, the passing of the innocence and helplessness that preceded it. I now know what people mean when they say, "Enjoy your baby, she will grow up very quickly". How true that is.

All I can do is try and capture little moments of her life now before she grows up. It is quite easy, actually. I can capture it all on camera - movement, voice, everything.

But there are some things that can never be captured. The warmth of her cheek as it rests on my arm. The feel of her little fist around my finger. The soft, yet firm push of her feet against my tummy. The nuzzle of her soft mop of hair against my neck.

And the smell. The fresh, adorable, baby smell. The smell that compels you to pick her up and cuddle her.

All there is to do is enjoy every moment with her and live it completely!

Snippets

.... from the last four weeks

* All those of you who had visions of my baby bawling while I sat blogging away, do not fret. Nothing comes between baby and me - blogging gets squeezed in anyhow. Time online is difficult - not impossible.

* 4 weeks ago, I desperately needed a copy of "Babies for Dummies". Now, it feels like I can write the book myself (At least the Chapter "The First Month"!) Phew! Gives "Learning on the Job" a whole new meaning. My fears that I wouldn't know what to do with the baby were totally unfounded.

* What I have learned in the last 4 weeks:

1) Sleeping anywhere and anytime. Haven't tried sleeping while standing - yet.

2) Ambidexterity.

3) Having a bath within 5 minutes

4) Timing toilet breaks not according to "nature's call", but according to the baby's call.

5) Meals are no longer eaten, just gobbled up.

6) Earlier, you would have needed an off key wedding music band next to my ear to wake me up. Now, a tiny whimper from the baby is enough to wake me up. Well, usually. Last night, the baby was bawling and my mom had to shake me awake. (I was tired, give me a break!)

7) After carrying her around, I have discovered muscles in my arms that I never knew existed. I have also realized that as she grows bigger, I will discover newer muscles.

* At all times, I hear sounds which I am sure is that of the baby crying. So I come running to the room from wherever I am - to see the baby sleeping peacefully. Hallucinations. That's what it is.


About baby -

* She has had three nail cutting sessions in 25 days.

* As for her hair, she had a huge unruly mop of hair when she was born - now, it has grown even longer, and some strands reach her shoulder. Some strands get into her eyes, and some get into her ear, and I suspect, tickle her. It runs in the family - my mom tells me I needed a haircut at three weeks. She really needs a haircut too. But I keep feeling that a haircut will take away her new-ness, if you know what I mean.

* The Electronic Tamboori still works. If I sing a soft lullaby in accompaniment with it, it works faster. But there are some times when nothing works. The little one just lies there and stares at me, while I doze off myself, the lullaby still on my lips. Then I awake with a start - to find her looking at me with those big black eyes, with a question mark on her face.

* Babies should be born with some inbuilt rules. If I spend half an hour trying to get her to sleep, she has to sleep at least for half an hour for my effort to be worth it. Sigh!

* What I did the other day - Ran to the crying baby, saying, "Oh-ho, the little one is wet, here comes Shruthi Akka to change her nappy!..... Err... Emm...... I mean, here comes Amma to change her nappy!" It will be my good fortune if she doesn't call me Shruthi Akka when she grows up. Very very difficult to digest the fact that I am some one's Amma.

* Hazards of Motherhood:
Listening to unwanted advice - Everyone on earth wants to advise you. Advice flows uninterrupted. It gets highly irritating at times. All I do is keep an open mind and take every bit of advice, inspect it, and then discard it, or keep it aside for further research. Meanwhile, how do I react to the advice-giver? Give a polite smile, and nod-nod. They are happy, I am happy.

Watching your baby get man-handled - I don't care if you have mothered ten children, I don't care if you have years of experience with children, and I don't care if "nothing will happen", but I cannot bear to sit and watch you handle my child roughly. I am thinking of sticking a "Fragile - Handle With Care" sticker on her tummy. Sometimes I almost think that the tradition of nearly quarantining mother and child for the first three months, does make some sense. At least the child will be away from prying hands.

I know what you are thinking - She has a lot to learn. I know too. :)

There, I hear her whimper. Her face will now pucker up and become red - and her face will start crying before a voice emanates to match the face. (She already knows the laws of physics - Light travels faster than sound).

Ta-da until next time!

The Sound of Music

The little one is a darling. So far, she has been very cooperative - crying only when she is hungry, wet, uncomfortable, or when she is too sleepy and can't get herself to calm down enough to go to sleep.

Quietening her down is very simple in the first two cases. The third can be difficult, but once you nail what is bothering her, it is ok. The fourth case can be very tricky. Initially I tried singing lullabies to her. But singing a lullaby at a volume a couple of decibels higher than her crying volume is not very easy. I end up sounding like a hard rock lead singer. And it has no effect on her at all.

Now we have a solution. Discovered accidentally, as such brilliant solutions always are. Whenever she cries, and I ensure that she is not hungry or wet or uncomfortable, all we do is switch on the Electronic Tamboori (Tanpura).

The soothing drone of that blessed machine almost acts like a tranquilizer gun. The little one's cries stop as if a sound system has been abruptly turned off. Her big black eyes open wide and focus on some obscure point in space. Her flailing arms and legs stop in mid air. Slowly, very slowly, her arms and legs come down to ground level. Her tiny fingers unclench slowly, and she intertwines her fingers and places her hands elegantly on her chest. Her nostrils flare ever so slightly. Her eyebrows arch just that little bit. A miniscule frown appears on her forehead. Her mouth forms this cute little "O" and her upper lip juts out. She relaxes completely and just seems to listen indefinitely.

She just stays like that until a valid crying reason comes up, or until she falls asleep.

I just hope this fascination for that sound is not just a passing fad and I fervently hope that this solution does not stop working.

Besides, I like to think that this is an indication that she is a musical baby! Hurrah!

Yes, I know that in no way is an Electronic Tamboori comparable to the sound of a real well-tuned Tamboori. We have not one, but two "real" Tambooris too. But we don't have anybody who will drop everything and sit and play the Tamboori endlessly for the benefit of her little royal highness. So the Electronic Tamboori it is.

Do your bit, please!

June 5th is World Environment Day. Please wake up, look around you, see how friendly (or unfriendly) you are to the environment, and please do your bit to protect the environment. Every tiny effort counts.

This year's main topic of discussion is Global Warming - "Melting Ice, a Hot Topic?"

I wish I had more time to write in detail, but I don't, so I will leave you with a couple of interesting links. [Not connected to Global Warming]

An inspiring story -

A small town in Devon has become the first place in Europe to turn its back on plastic shopping bags. But how did it do it? Rebecca Hosking, the local activist who galvanised traders and shoppers, explains.

And the world asks this town, how can we do it too?

Find out your ecological footprint [Link courtesy Sangsta]

The first few hours

Nine months of waiting and all I could think of then was the moment when I would hear the child's cry. So, as is natural, everybody wants to hear how I felt when I finally heard the baby's cry for the first time, how I felt when I first held her in my arms.

I wish I could give you flowery details like how I burst into tears when I heard her cry, and how all kinds of philosophical thoughts were evoked in my mind when I held her in my arms - but unfortunately, nothing that dramatic happened. It was all quite ordinary, almost non-interesting, even frighteningly boring. Sigh!

Anyway, what did I feel like when I heard the baby's cry? The first feeling was that of surprise - is that it? Is the baby already out? The second feeling was that of relief - Yes, the ordeal is over.

After that, I almost dozed off. It was a kind of floating state - probably the high of suddenly feeling no pain after all that intense pain. It was like I was hallucinating everything - everything was unreal.

I could just hear the baby crying in the background, and even this I heard with a kind of dispassionate detachment. S, who was with me throughout, left my side for the first time in hours and went to check on the baby. He came back smiling and glowing and kept saying, "Relax, its over, everything is fine". In spite of all this, I felt no dramatic realization that the baby is finally here. In spite of nine months of wondering if the baby is a boy or a girl, it never occurred to me for an entire five minutes to ask and find out the sex of the baby. The doc didn't tell me coz she said (later) that she wanted S to tell me. S didn't tell me coz he wanted me to ask him first. Finally realization dawned upon me, and when S came back to me after watching the baby being washed, I asked him, Is it a boy or a girl? A girl, he said, grinning... its a girl.

Now I didn't have any particular preferences, but S had a leaning towards a daughter. As for me, each time I peeked into the baby clothes section in the shops and saw all those lovely frocks with ribbons and lace and flowers, I felt, "It would be nice if I had a girl" - Shallow, I know... but well, that's me :)

But I had a very strong feeling that it would be a boy, for no reason at all, and I had adjusted to the thought that it would be a boy. So I had a lot of readjustment to do. (In fact, the next day when the paediatrician came to check on me, I was telling her, "Yeah he slept well, yeah he had his bowel movements"..... she almost asked me, "Do you know you had a daughter?" :)

Now back to when baby was born. I was tremendously surprised to hear that it is a girl. And insanely thrilled. Finally, the baby was wrapped up and brought to me, still lying there. I just had the little pink thing in my arms for a couple of minutes - not really in my arms, but by my side - it was cradled by an unknown hand. I could just see a pink puckered-up face before it was whisked away, and given to my mom and aunt who were waiting outside. After a bit, I also went back to my room to my baby.

I was thrilled with the baby, I carried her for a while... but no way could I associate her with the tumbling, kicking being that was inside me for all those months. I felt no profound feelings or anything of that sort. It is not that I didn't have any feelings at all. The love and fascination was overwhelming, but it was still very unreal and hazy. Though a hundred people told me, "You need rest, go to sleep", I got no sleep for the rest of the night. Over-exhaustion and over-excitement does that to me - and this was a combination of both!

It was only after about 36 hours, after I had finally managed to catch about 4-5 hours of sleep, did I finally sense an emotional attachment to her... and then started all the emotions.... "Oh my god, she is mine!" "Ohmigosh, she is an actual tiny human being!" "Good heavens, she is perfect!" "Oh man the responsibility of this tiny person is upon us!".....

S and I can't seem to get enough of her.

Thanks to everybody for all the wishes!

It's a girl!

And so... in the wee hours of May 23rd, right on the day she was expected, our little 3-kg delight stepped out into the world!

Even as I am going through a rollercoaster ride, experiencing the thrills and travails of motherhood, I couldn't resist dropping by and telling you the news myself.

Now if you will excuse me, I will go and catch up on some sleep.... (grabbing the opportunity while my lovely little girl is sleeping).... I will be back again as soon as possible, with more stories.

Ta!