The One Movie

Lots of things happening.... and I am scrambling for time to blog.... all those thoughts in my head are not finding an outlet and that is driving me crazy!

Meanwhile, here is something I always wanted to ask you all...

If somebody told you that you are allowed to watch just one more movie in your life. Just one. Which movie would you suggest to that person?

If somebody told you that he/she is allowed to watch just one more movie in his/her life. Just one. Which movie would you recommend to that person?

I have many favourites... but right now, I can confidently say - "The Shawshank Redemption". For the pure thrill, ecstasy, agony, excitement, horror, pity, revulsion, exhilaration, disbelief, joy - and for the superb ending.

Which is your One Favourite Movie? Do let me know. Any language is okay. You can take it up as a tag, or leave your choice in the comments section.

I am waiting!

Teddy Bears

Puttachi has five Teddy Bears. The four smaller ones are gifts and hand-me-downs. We bought the big one for her because she saw it at a shop and hugged it and didn't let it go. This was about 3-4 months ago.

Shortly after the big Teddy Bear came home, she would pretend to pat it to sleep just like I pat her to sleep. Around this time, I introduced her to a book from the Disney Babies book series, "Baby Mickey's Toys". Basically, Baby Mickey has lots of toys and one of the toys is a Teddy Bear. So at the end of the little book, Baby Mickey hugs his Teddy Bear. Whenever I read this to Puttachi, I would hug her and show her how, and then give her one of her Teddy Bears to hug.

It must have started then. This craze for Teddy Bears. She has been particularly attached to her Teddy Bears, but from the past couple of weeks, her craze has reached dizzying heights. She dreams of Teddy Bears. She spots Teddy Bears everywhere. In shops, on roads. Even the car-driving bear in the Airwick ad... and videos of herself with teddy bears.... She even spotted a tiny Teddy Bear on a cracker packet in a supermarket, and she screamed "Teddy Teddy!" for the whole place to hear, and would have ripped the packet open if I hadn't physically carried her away.

A few mornings ago, she woke up early and was in a very sleepy state - too sleepy to wake up, but not sleepy enough to go back to sleep, so she was cranky and was crying. All I did was say, "Puttachi, where is Teddy?" And her eyes cleared up, her face brightened, and she was fully awake in five seconds.

When previously, she would look at pictures in books, now, all she does is look for Teddy Bears in books.

Sample this.

Me: Look, Puttachi, Zebra! Giraffe!
Puttachi: *looks, turns a few pages, spots a Teddy Bear*
Puttachi: Teddy! Teddy!
Me: Yes, Teddy. Now look at this... Park! What is this? A tree!
Puttachi: Teddy? Teddy?
Me: Yes Teddy is in the other page. Now look at this. So many flowers! Red flower, pink flower...
Puttachi: Teddy? Teddy?
Me: Ok, you finished seeing Teddy, now look at this...
Puttachi: Teddy! Teddy! Teddy?
Me: Ok ok, let's see Teddy one more time.. there you go..
Puttachi: TEDDDYYY!
Me: Yes, now look, what is this? A chimpanzee!
Puttachi: Teddy? Teddy?
... and so on.

And it so happens, that many, many of her books have Teddy Bears in them. So her favourite pastime now is to sit on the bed, ask me to take out one book after another, and then she opens the pages laboriously with her tiny fingers and looks for "Teddy". She now knows which book has Teddy Bears, and which doesn't, and she also knows which book has multiple instances of Teddy Bears. The other day, she took out a book saying, "Teddy Teddy!", and I tried to tell her that this book doesn't have a Teddy Bear, but she shouted and protested and took the book, and turned it around to show me. The back cover had small pictures of the other books in the series, and one of the books had on it - a miniscule 5 mm Teddy bear. Phew!

She also recently realized that the bear in her animal book is the same as a Teddy Bear. The moment she made that connection is worth remembering. She went still for a moment, then her eyes sparkled, and with tremendous excitement, she pointed to the bear and said, "Teddy!"

She drove me crazy yesterday. She placed all her books around me, sat on my lap, and said, "TeddyTeddyTeddyTeddyTeddy.." at the rate of about 70 times per minute, for about twenty minutes and looked at every Teddy in every book repeatdly until I actually cupped my hand on her mouth, dragged her away and distracted her with something completely different.

Don't be surprised if you shortly find me chanting "TeddyTeddyTeddyTeddy..." - there is a high probability that I might go completely insane.

Sweetness

On Sunday night, we had been to a Gujarati and Rajasthani Special Dinner Buffet at a restaurant. Needless to say, I ate till I was fit to burst and enjoyed every mouthful.

What strikes me as unbelievable, even to myself, is that being such an avid food lover, and a person who is always looking to taste new things, I had never had a complete Gujarati meal, ever. Dhokla, yes, Gujarati snacks, oh yes of course. But a Gujarati meal? Never. So this was something new to me, and I loved the taste, especially the sweetness in all the dishes.

I have heard people say disapprovingly about Gujarati food - "Oh, but everything is sweet!" Well, everything is not sweet, as in completely sugary, but the dishes do have a distinctly sweet element in them. I can understand if people do not like it, but I, personally, quite enjoyed it.

Actually I have heard people complain about sweetness in food quite a bit. A Delhi friend of mine, working in Pune for a while, complained to me that the chicken preparations in Pune are sweet. I have heard people shake their heads disapprovingly about Bengali food and say that they add sugar to everything. I don't know about the chicken of Pune, but I have eaten Bengali food a number of times in my friend's place, and I have enjoyed it every time.

But what surprised me, was when someone, a few years ago, complained to me that Karnataka food is sweet.
"Sweet?" I said, "I don't think so."
"But you add jaggery to everything!"
"Ah, of course, but that is just a tinge of sweetness!"
"But it is sweet!"

Ah well, I guess what is normal for me is sweet for this person! And then I observed the food that my mom makes. Yes, that slight element of sweetness - is it there, is it not there... that mild. But it makes so much difference! I remember once when my mom was away and I made the huLi, and I tasted it to find that it was not satisfactory. When my mom came back, I said, "Amma, I have forgotten something! Not the tamarind, the salt is okay, the khaara is okay, but something is missing!" Mom tasted a bit of it and said, "Bella!" (Jaggery). I quickly added a teeny tiny piece of jaggery to the huLi, mixed it and tasted it, and lo, it was perfect! The sweetness is so mild that you cannot really make out its presence, but it does make a difference.

A good friend of mine, let us call her K, was my hostelmate when I was doing my post-grad in Tamilnadu. She married a man who worked in Bangalore, and came to live here. In one of her conversations, she told me, "Shruthi, you people add jaggery to everything!"
This conversation was old now, for me.
"Yeah", I said wearily, "just a little."
"But it is definitely sweet. I don't like it, really. There is no point going out to restaurants in Bangalore, I'd rather cook at home!"
In the same situation, I know people who would have said, "Baaaah! How can you eat such food?" But K is a decent and sensible sort, so she said, "Shruthi, how could you manage eating the food in Tamilnadu?"
"I had no choice! You can cook at home, but I couldn't do that, I had to eat in the mess!" I said.
Then I decided to be more gracious. "Oh, perhaps adjusting to no sweetness in your food is easier than adjusting to sweetness in your food, who knows?" I said.

Well, something that I don't even notice in my food, is such a deterrent for someone else!

BUT. Stating that "Kannadigas add something sweet to everything" will be a false statement. Even though S~ and I are both Kannadigas, and from comparatively similar families, our food is quite different. My mom-in-law doesn't add jaggery to any dish. It took me a very long time to pinpoint what the difference was. As always, we tend to find most comforting what we are basically used to, and so I still prefer that imperceptible tinge of sweetness in my food.

Food habits - fascinating, aren't they?

The Park and the People

The Neighbourhood Park is one of the central themes in Puttachi's life. It is a very well-developed park, one of the many in our area, but this stands out for its beautiful landscaping and unique design. It is not too big a park, just the right size, I would say. And it is the closest to our home, and so Puttachi gets to go to this park every day.

There was a time when we would carry her in the sling and walk around the park. Then came the era when we would half carry, half hold her hand as she attempted to take unsteady steps. Then we watched her carefully as she took steps on her own. And now? Now we run after her as she sprints towards the children's play area in the park. Yes. Yesterday's little baby now plays on the swing, goes on three types of merry-go-rounds, and slides down the slides.

Puttachi is an extremely friendly child. Her walk in the park is interspersed with "Hi"s and "Hello"s and hand-waving and smiling at random people. All strangers. She has a special liking for couples who huddle together on the benches. New couples, veteran couples, happy couples, quarelling couples - our girl has to stop and talk to every one of them. And she invariably leaves smiles behind.

Her walk is also interrupted by her squatting suddenly to look at an ant, or a fruit, or an oddly-shaped leaf, or even a smudge on the walking path. Only dragging her away serves to break her concentration.

There are many, many children in the park too. Puttachi delights in talking to them. She carries on a conversation with every child, whether they want it or not. Some of them respond in kind, some get alarmed at Puttachi's advances, and hide their faces in their mothers' dress. There are different kinds of parents too. Some of them stop to talk, and we exchange data like ages, number of teeth, and latest activities of our children, and there are some garrulous types, after fifteen minutes of talking to whom, I will be privy to details like how long the labour was, and why the child wears Huggies and not Pampers.

Then there are also parents who look like they have just swallowed a spider, and who drag their child away while s/he is attempting to make conversation with Putachi. I don't understand these types, but well, to each his own.

And there are these over-friendly adults, who come right at Puttachi, and without any warning or by-your-leaves, snatch her up and start cuddling her or covering her face with kisses. The poor thing gets shocked and uncomfortable and bawls. People!

And then there was this 2.5 year old boy who came to Puttachi and started patting her cheeks. His parents told him, "Cute baby, allva? Give her an Umma." The boy dutifully bent down, and before we could even react, gave Puttachi a big wet sloppy kiss... on her LIPS! The parents looked at us proudly as if their son had bestowed a huge honour on us, but the moment their backs were turned, S~ took out his handkerchief and wiped Puttachi's mouth clean :D

Then there was this chubby little white child, about a year older to Puttachi, who skipped and hopped her way towards Puttachi. "Say hello", I prompted Puttachi, but she was busy scrutinizing the child's blonde hair. Meanwhile the child's mother came up from behind her and said, "Say Namaste!" And that left us feeling slightly embarassed. "Hello", as opposed to "Namaste"! I went home and taught Puttachi Namaste that day.

Elderly men and women are particularly friendly with Puttachi. The grandmothers smile and nod appreciatively while asking about her age, and express delight at what a quick child she is, and tell their friends, other grandmothers.. "The kids these days....." Grandfathers, on the other hand, are silent admirers, they just reach out with a walking stick while Puttachi stares in fascination at their mufflered heads. One old grandfather gives Puttachi something each time he meets her. The first time, it was a few coins, and yesterday, it was a mint, which I immediately confiscated.

Puttachi loves the park. And she gets to go twice every day. Once in the morning, and once in the evening. When she wakes up in the morning, I feed her a little something, after which my father-in-law takes her to this same park for the better part of an hour. After she gets back, she promptly comes to me, says "Bow Bow!" and "Kaaka", implying that she saw a dog and a crow at a park, which, in all probability, she wouldn't have. But well, that is the routine. And then I feed her a second, heartier breakfast.

Well, this morning visit to the park has ensured that she has a set of morning friends too. Sometimes these morning friends meet us in the evening visit to the parkand talk to us. Just yesterday, a man who was passing by, jogging, stopped and said, "Puttachi! Fancy seeing you in the evening too! Oh you are her parents" He gushed on. and this kid looks up and bats her eyelashes at him, while I am still reeling with shock at a stranger calling my baby by her name. Then this man told us, "She comes to the park every morning with her grandfather. She is very popular in the park, you know!" "No, I don't know! Are you talking about my baby?" screamed my brain, while outwardly, I was smiling and nodding. My 1 year old daughter already has a life of her own, of which I am not a part! :)

One thing about life with a baby - there is not a single dull moment!

On Reality Shows

I am sure you have heard about Shinjini, the 16-year old girl who was criticized for her performance in a dance reality show, driving her into depression. She has now lost her voice, and the movement in her limbs, and is under treatment in NIMHANS, Bangalore. Her parents blame the jury of the show, and are angry that the media is pointing fingers at them. Who is responsible? Well, I say that everybody is responsible. The parents, the jury, the makers of the show, the channel, and all of us too, the audience who watch and applaud these shows.

It was cute, I admit it, when the first reality show with children was aired. We watched transfixed, marveling at the immense talent of these kids. The TRPs soared, the other channels caught on, and now you have a proliferation of reality shows in all channels, all languages, all kinds (dance/music/talent/you-name-it).

As I hardly watch television, I am not too familiar with national shows. But I get fleeting glimpses of the Kannada reality shows when my mom-in-law watches television. Admittedly, the kids are super-talented, and it is a pleasure to hear a few of them sing. But to put them through all that stress, the competition, is it really fair on them?

I have seen how those innocent faces crunch up with tension when the results are being announced, I see how some of them break down when they are eliminated, I can see the tears and disappointment in the parents' eyes, I can see some parents who get up and start fighting, and then I can see embarrassment on the child's face... really, is all this necessary?

Do they want to bring out talent? Let them have shows, just shows, not competitions.. but of course, the TRPs will drop you see..... I know people who watched the elimination rounds of Indian Idol and American Idol just to see how rude the judges were to the participants. So, obviously, people like to watch the judges put the participants down, and so the programmes have them. TRPs, you see...

A couple of Kannada shows that I have seen have the judges being very soft to the children. They correct them, but very gently. It can be argued that the kids can be praised publicly, but corrected in private. But that is not enough. To put kids through stressful competitions like these is not excusable.

And I don't even want to talk about those dance shows. Little girls, dressed in shiny, skimpy, stuff, moving their body to obscene lyrics - cringe-worthy and disgusting to say the least. I cannot believe that people actually watch it with pleasure.

Everything, everything for that elusive fifteen seconds of fame.

Childhood is the only innocent stage we have in our lives. Why sully this golden period? Let children remain children.

Quirks

I have observed that all kids have quirks of their own. What is more, they change from time to time.

Puttachi's latest quirks are:

-- Barking like a dog. When she wakes up from sleep/nap, she gives me a huge smile, says "Hi-ii" exactly like I say it, and then her eyes widen and she barks sincerely "Bow bow bow bow". She comes back from the park, she barks. She meets me after any period of time, she barks. She wakes up in the middle of the night, sits up and barks. I have no idea why she does that. But from time to time, she barks with great concentration.

-- Kids have "loveys", objects that they like to hold when they fall asleep, objects that comfort them. Some have teddy bears, some have dolls, some have other stuffed toys. Puttachi has.... the ring on my finger. Yes you heard it right. Her palm has to hold my ring finger, and her fingers have to grasp the ring, and then she is comforted and falls asleep. I have no idea when she picked up this habit, but even in the middle of the night, when I reach out to pat her, she gropes my hand for the ring. If I sleepily pat her with the other ring-less hand, she flings that hand away, and whimpers until I give her this hand, and then she clutches at the ring and promptly calms down.

Last week, I was laid up with a terrible catch in the shoulder, so S~ slept on that side of the bed closer to the crib so that he could be the one to pat Puttachi back to sleep. When Puttachi groped for the ring, he had to take my ring, and slip it on his little finger(the only finger it fit), and offer his hand to her. But our Little Miss Particular would have none of it. Finally, S~ had to put Puttachi on the bed next to me, where she held my finger and fell asleep. Phew!

-- She has this habbit of appending a "n" sound to most of her words. So, "Teddy" is "Teddn", "Tata" is "Tatn", "Taachi" is "Taachn", "Haaku" is "Haakn" and so on. Her favourite activity these days is hugging - and she goes around saying "Hugn" and hugging everything in sight. The "n" appendage is not pronounced as "Hug-en" it is a Hug, followed closely by the "n" sound. The "n" is the same sound as the nasal consonant that comes after "Ka Kha Ga Gha" in the Kannada/Devanagari alphabet. And S~ and I speak in her style - "Let's go for a walkn in the parkn", "Have you hadn your lunchn?"

****

Ok, this is not a quirk - but I just remembered, so added it. They say kids say it like it is, and I just got a taste of it. Puttachi was looking through a very bright Picture Dictionary that she has, and suddenly she pointed to one of the illustrations and went "Amma! Amma!" excitedly. I peered into it to see what she was pointing at. It was one of Cinderella's step-sisters, a caricature with thick black hair and a long nose, and it was an illustration to explain the meaning of the word - "ugly".
Sigh.

Discpline your kids, they say.....

Scene 1:

Puttachi is chewing on one of her toys and I am teaching her not to do so.

Me: Puttachi, ringna baayige haakikobaaradu. (You should not put the ring into your mouth).

Puttachi smiles, and continues chewing the ring.

Me: Puttachi, listen. Ring.. baayi.. no-no (Ring.. mouth.. no-no)

Puttachi: nonnonnonnnnooo

Me: Yes, that's right. Ring.. baayi.. no-no.

Puttachi: Baayi.. nonnonnnoooo

Me: Correct! you got it. Ring.. baayi.. no-no-no *shaking my finger*

Puttachi: *wags her finger* baayi... nonnooo

Me: Yes! *Satisfied, settles back on the cushions*

Puttachi smiles and puts the ring back into her mouth.


Scene 2:

Puttachi loves the slippers I wear at home. She touches them at the slightest opportunity. I have spent weeks telling her not to touch them, that they are "Thoo... Cheee... Vakk"... and I make a big deal of washing her hands and I keep repeating it ad infinitum.

Yesterday. I am watching her play, when she spots my slippers where I have left them near the bed. Instead of jumping up and hiding the slippers, I watch to see what she will do. Puttachi goes up to the slippers, looks at them, starts to bend down, then straightens up and walks past them.

I exult. I jump up. I pump the air with my fist, and do a little jig. After I am done, I turn around and look at Puttachi, only to see her standing there, happiness written all over her face, and........holding a slipper in each hand.

Scene 3:

Puttachi is playing on the bed, and at short intervals, she takes a couple of toys and throws them off the edge of the bed, and takes great delight in it. And then she screams for me to pick it up and give it back to her. I have been telling her for the past half an hour not to do that, I have been refusing to give the toys back to her because she threw them. I have been pretending to be very angry.... all that. Finally it looks like it has worked, she goes nearly ten minutes without throwing toys off the bed.

And then she takes a couple of toys and goes up to the edge of the bed. I am giving her piercing looks. She pauses at the edge, looks at me from the corner of her eye. When she sees me watching, her eyes fill with mischief, a huge grin breaks out on her face, and with the utmost delight, she throws the toys off the bed, and giggling with glee, she turns a back flip, lands on her back, cycles in the air with happiness, all the while looking at me. And me looking stupid with the useless stern look plastered on my face.

Kids!

But really, how do you make them understand? She watches me throw her dirty clothes into the tub kept for that purpose. Sometimes I just drop it in, sometimes I throw it across the room into the tub. She imitates everything I do, and so she does the same with other objects. Amma throws clothes, I throw toys. How can you tell her the difference?

How do you make her understand that footrugs and footwear and bathroom floors can be touched with the feet, and not with the hands? How will the poor kid make out the difference? Feet-ok, hands-not ok, why?

You encourage her and clap when she upturns her box of blocks with a flourish, and you expect her not to spill a glass of water with the same action, the same flourish. How will she understand?

But even when she does understand that something is forbidden, she does it all the same, with greater delight - what do I make of that?

It will happen with time, I know.. and until then... Puttachi! Puttachi! Stop! come back here this instant!

Time

I was watching the beautiful movie "Fiddler On The Roof" for the nth time. There is this song during Tzeitel's wedding, where her parents look at the couple and this song plays in the background"

Is this the little girl I carried
Is this the little boy at play

I don't remember growing old
When did they?

I feel that way already about my one year old Puttachi. I remember the way she was when she was brought to me minutes after she was born, and I look at her now... how much she has grown. So much time has passed, but I am still the same. Well, time hasn't stood still for me. Time has aged me that much more, but I don't feel it. But the passage of that time is more than evident on my baby.

I am sure it will be this way... My daughter will become five years old, ten years old, twenty..... and I will turn thirty, forty, fifty, sixty... and then wonder.. where did all those years go?

Sunrise sunset
Sunrise Sunset
Swiftly fly the days

Says the same song. That is how it is, isn't it? And those days become years before you know it.

During Puttachi's early days, my mother would tell me. "All this takes me back to the time when I was a new mother. Being awakened at unearthly hours by a tiny whimper, and the sleeplessness, the smell of milk and baby powder, the baby clothes, the soft, warm, bundle in my arms... it is the same thing happening all over again... this could be yesterday.... this could be my baby... but hey, when did my little baby grow up, old enough to have a baby of her own?"

Where did those years go? How did the time fly by? It is an unsettling thought.

Some news, and a tag

I have started working from home, part-time. I'm enjoying it. So If blogging becomes slow, you know what to blame!

And, as if I have extra time now, I have decided to start responding to comments again, because I feel terribly guilty for not responding to all those nice, insightful comments that I receive.

And now, since I don't have any ready posts in my kitty, I take refuge in another tag, again passed on by Shyam.

The rules of the tag are:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

The book nearest to me is "Baby Donald's day at the beach", which has only about ten pages, so I am going to pick up the book second closest to me, which is "Love in the Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (recommended by and borrowed from Ano).

The relevant passage is:
"It was addressed to his daughter and the monogram "J.U.C." was imprinted on the seal. He slipped it under the door when he passed Fermina's bedroom, and she never understood how it had come there, since it was unconceivable to her that her father had changed so much that he would bring her a letter from a suitor. She left it on the night table, for the truth was she did not know what to do with it, and there it stayed, unopened, for several days, until one rainy afternoon when Fermina Daza dreamed that Juvenal Urbino had returned to the house to give her the tongue depressor he had used to examine her throat."

I wonder what the point of this tag is. Any ideas? :)

My favourite literary characters!

Shyam asked me to do a very interesting tag, the name of which I have shortened to "List your ten favourite characters from literature." So here they are!


Atticus Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird; Author: Harper Lee) - THE man. Smart, caring, bold, stands up for what he thinks is right, and a great father - in my view, he is the best character to have walked the literary earth.

Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice; Author: Jane Austen) - The dashing gentleman - rich, handsome, proud, wronged and misunderstood, but comes out smelling of roses at the end. I read this book in my teens, and I was head over heels in love with this character.

Rhett Butler (Gone with the Wind; Author: Margaret Mitchell) - Oh, he is wicked, he is dashing, he is smart - and he totally enjoys his life - without any qualms. The man who can sweep anybody off her feet. I don't really remember "liking" this character, but I waited eagerly for passages with him in the book, and I guess that makes him a "favourite"!

Mma Precious Ramotswe (The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series; Author: Alexander McCall-Smith). The very likable protagonist of The No.1 Ladies Detective series. She is firm, opinionated, independent, capable, brave, and intelligent. And supremely contented with life - except when there is a mystery to solve!

Treebeard (The Lord of the Rings; Author: JRR Tolkien) - An "Ent". The most interesting creature that I have encountered in fiction. Ancient, huge, tree-like, slow and measured, and most of all, fascinating.

Jeeves (Jeeves series; Author: P.G.Wodehouse) - The perfect butler. Poker faced, brilliant, just-so. The perfect foil to his bumbling employer Bertie Wooster (who is also a wonderful character). I absolutely love the way Jeeves gets Bertie to give up a piece of garment that Jeeves find jarring, by just giving his employer the cold shoulder, and by refusing to fish him out of trouble.

Mark Thackeray (To Sir With Love; Author: E.R.Braithwaite) - He is smart, he is intelligent, and he knows just how to win the most difficult people over. Without any effort at all. And what a teacher he is, how patient, how understanding! It also helps that I absolutely loved Sydney Poitier in the movie of the same name.


Miss Marple (Miss Marple series; Author: Agatha Christie) - The tiny, fragile, mildmannered old lady with the sharp brain. I love how she sits in her armchair and solves mysteries just by comparing the events with seemingly harmless occurences in her countryside village.

O-lan (The Good Earth; Author: Pearl S.Buck) - The strong-willed, hardworking wife of Wang Lung. I read this novel too long ago for me to give you a reasonable character sketch, but I remember being very impressed with her.

Heidi (Heidi; Author: Johanna Spyri) - One of my all-time favourite characters, from a novel I loved as a child. Heidi is this adorable, bubbly little girl who goes to live with her Grandpa in his house in the Alps. Such a feel-good story. And there was a fabulous animated series on Cartoon Network on Heidi. Very well-made, with the most beautiful music. I still hum with pleasure the title song, after all these years. [I just did a search on youtube, and to my utter delight, I found the opening music, and the very lively and lovely closing music - my personal favourite - too. I am listening to it over and over again and feeling young and restless again! :)]

Ah! That was one of the most enjoyable tags ever. I'm sure some of you would enjoy doing it, or rather, I would like to read your choices. Ano, Devaki, Anil, Anu, Chitra, Poppins, my2cents, Usha, would you like to try?

And any other book-crazy person out there, please pick up this tag! I assure you, it's a lot of fun.

Graduation

This is a much-awaited day. A day that my sis Peevee has been waiting for, for quite a while now. I am sure, on some days, buried under mountains of work, she must have wondered whether the sun would ever rise on this day.

But the special day is finally here. She is graduating from Stanford today. [Btw, Oprah Winfrey is the keynote speaker for the graduation ceremony.]

I wish I could have been there with her to share her joy, but I am glad that at least my parents have been able to go there to attend the ceremony.

Here's to my little sis, and her friends! :D

Where to find good outfits for kids!

Look what comes from pouring your heart out to dear friends - Solutions!

In response to my tale of woe in my last post, many suggestions poured in. Wunderyearz mentioned Dolphin's in Malleshwaram. Just as I was planning my next trip to Malleshwaram, Collection of Stars wrote to say that there is a Dolphin's in Jayanagar 4th Block. I immediately did an online search, got the phone number of the Jayanagar outlet, called them, found out the location, and landed up at the place yesterday. [It is on 11th main, 4th block Jayanagar, in the basement of Pizza Corner].

It is a small place. Not too many clothes, and they are all displayed on the rack. Not like in other places where you ask the salesperson to show this and that, and then you find that you don't like anything and then you feel bad for having asked her to show you so many outfits.

Oh yes, and the clothes are good! Bright, and smart designs, and easy on the pocket. I liked most of them. We bought a nice sunny yellow dress for Puttachi.

Collection of Stars also mentioned "Desi". I haven't been to Desi after Puttachi was born, but I have visited a similar store (sister concern??), "Parampara" in Mysore. I got a very pretty copper sulphate blue frock from there for just Rs.65. It is very pretty. The only problem is, of course, that it runs colour and it needs to be handwashed. [I also got a very beautiful skirt for myself at Parampara, but I am digressing].

Kanti Joshi mentioned "Solo" and "Crystal" on DVG Road.

Solo puts up a sale regularly at the hall next to Aavani Shankar Mutt in Basaveshwaranagar. I have gone there twice since Puttachi was born, and we found that some of the designs were very good. And most of them were at unbelievably reasonable prices. I was just thinking that I should try and catch up with the next Solo sale, and so I am glad that Kanti Joshi told me about the Solo outlet.

Sumi Akka presented Puttachi with one of her first frocks - a very pretty one, and said that it was from Crystal, Mahakavi Kuvempu Road (The road connecting Navrang and Malleshwaram Circle), but I never got around to checking out the place. I am guessing the Crystal on DVG Road that Kanti mentioned is a branch.

Any other good children's clothing stores that you know of? (In Bangalore) Please leave the info in the comments section! Thank you all, and once again, hurrah for blogging!

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.

A very verb-y tag.

Thank you Usha, for this tag. I enjoyed doing it. And I have to apologize that I retained a couple of your answers, because I couldn't see any other answer that fitted as perfectly.

I am: older than I was yesterday.
I think: too much.
I know: I am being unreasonable at times.
I want: to see the world.
I have: a loving family and great friends.
I wish: I had a magic wand that I could wave and make everything alright in the world.
I hate: to behave in unnatural (to me) ways to please people.
I miss: climbing trees and cycling in the rain.
I fear: being a burden.
I feel: happy and sad and miserable and euphoric.. all in one day.
I hear: thunder.
I smell: petrichor
I crave: for pakodas and tea and good company.
I search: for my real self.
I wonder: why people are the way they are.
I regret: not having taken care of my teeth better. (I'm undergoing a horrible root canal treatment, that is why this enlightenment).
I love: life.
I ache: when I see injustice.
I care: about people.
I am not: male.
I believe: people blindly most of the time.
I dance: with Puttachi.
I sing: in tune.
I cry : easily.
I don’t always : try hard enough.
I fight : when reasoning and discussions don't work.
I write: to lighten my heart.
I win: friends and influence people (How I wish!)
I lose: gracefully (I think).
I never: say never again. (This is not the entire truth, but I couldn't think of anything that I "never" do).
I always: try to be on time.
I confuse: myself with all the thoughts in my head.
I listen: sincerely when people are pouring their heart out to me.
I can usually be found: tearing my hair out, and running after Puttachi.
I am scared: of losing my loved ones.
I need: love and understanding.
I am happy about: how this tag has turned out.

I don't usually tag people, but how about I tag some new friends and readers this time... Sumana, Lively, Swati, ~nm, Dhanya... , and of course, an old friend, Shyam who likes tags :). Anybody else? Please feel free to pick up this tag!

Rohinton Mistry's books - impressions.

I read two books by Rohinton Mistry - Family Matters, and A Fine Balance.

Mistry is an accomplished storyteller. In both the books, each sentence is lovingly composed, perfectly worded, and it tells you the story on your face. No innuendos, nothing incomplete. It just gives you the facts.

The characters in his books are very real - very grey characters. The situation affects their behaviour, and it is not always right, but it is very real. The words and the language and the expressions they use is also very close home - it is language that you and I would use talking to each other.

He also has a great eye for detail. Each book is like watching a movie - all the details are very clear, all right in front of you!

There are a couple of unique aspects in Mistry's writing.

One is that he uses words that are so simple, so beautiful, and yet, strangely, in all the reading I have done, I hadn't encountered any of them. A simple example is the word "Laity" for "lay people". It is such a simple word, but how come I hadn't come across it anytime? The book is scattered with words like these!

Another aspect is that his characters have the habit of seeming like people you really know. A couple of days ago, after reading a particularly heartbreaking sequence in the book, I almost said to S~, "You know, poor thing, such and such a thing happened to such and such a person." I stopped, and I laughed at myself - what was I thinking? But if I closed my eyes, I could swear that I knew this person in the book. It is an eerie feeling.

This could be the reason why I actually broke down crying, with real tears running down my cheeks, while reading some passages in both the books. Or it could just be that Mistry's storytelling is so powerful. Whatever the reason, I have very rarely experienced this. I have laughed, felt unhappy, yes, but actually bursting into tears reading a book? Very, very rare.

And what are the books about? Family Matters is about an old Parsi gentleman Nariman Vakeel, who lives with his unmarried step children. When he breaks his ankle, and his condition is aggravated by an onset of Parkinson's, his stepchildren conspire to send him away to stay with his daughter Roxana and her family. The effect of this is tremendous on Roxana's loving, close-knit family. What happens after that is beautifully narrated. The change in Roxana's husband Yezad, from loving to annoyed to angry, to accepting, to Nariman's helplessness, to how her children suddenly grow up - lovingly put together by Mistry. Compelling.

A Fine Balance is about - well, it is about India. About four characters who, in a way embody what life is all about - a struggle for existence. Dina Shroff is a lady striving to preserve her dignity and independence after the death of her husband. Maneck Kohlah is a boy from the mountains who comes to Bombay to study, but traumatized by the ragging in his hostel, comes to stay with Dina as a paying guest. Ishvar and Omprakash Darji are an uncle-nephew duo, who come to Bombay looking for work, fleeing from the caste-based atrocities in their village. How these four characters get together, and their stories, and the sub-stories, all set in the time of the Emergency - is one amazing read.

Devaki recommended it to me when I wrote about perspectives. She is right. The book is all about perspectives. For example, Mistry tells you how annoying Dina's brother Nusswan gets, and you start getting angry, and all of a sudden, he switches and continues the story from Nusswan's point of view. Bam! You realize what has been troubling Nusswan and start empathizing with him. The book is full of such instances. It takes a rare talent to see both sides of a situation, and Mistry has used it very well to weave this story. Look at Devaki's review for more.

The only grouse I have against both the novels is the undercurrent of suffering, and unhappiness and disquiet. Yes, I know, life is not all roses, but sometimes you just want a happy ending :D But to give credit to Mistry, there is never an actual tone of sorrow - there is always subtle humour, light banter... - you know what, just stop reading this, and go read his books instead. Really.

Twelve months update

Continuing with the one year series, I realize that I haven't really done a Puttachi update this month, so here goes.

The one year mark was in my head all the time, but it was brought home to me all of a sudden when I opened my mailbox and instead of the Baby center mail with the subject "Your baby this week". the subject was "Your Toddler this week". Sigh. I am the mother of a toddler now. How time flies!

The nice thing about this stage is that there is something new everyday. S~ gets back home and asks me, "What did she do today?" And invariably I have a couple of new things to tell him.

There isn't much to say in terms of her motor development. She already walked steadily last month, climbs most objects with ease, eats biscuits without spilling any crumbs, things like that. So most of the development this month has been in her understanding and vocabulary.

*****

She loves looking at pictures in books. Especially if they contain animals. She brings a book to me, makes me sit down, climbs on to my lap, and settles down, expecting me to open the pages and point out things to her. Sometimes, she points to each picture, and demands "Enu?" (What?) and I have to name each object for her. Sometimes, I point to pictures that I know she knows, and she identifies them, either with the name of the object (Kaa for Car, Teedee for TV), or the sound (Tick tock for Clock, kack kack for duck), or the way it moves(jumps up and down for Horse, moves her hand in air for Aeroplane). And sometimes, if the object in question is around her in the room, she identifies it in the book, then points to the corresponding object in the room.

This book development has happened all of a sudden in the last fifteen days, so you can imagine how overwhelmed and surprised I am at each incident of recognition.

*****

When she wants a book she cannot reach, she points and says "Ada!" (Adu is "That one" in Kannada), and if I point to one and say, "Ida?" (This one?), she shakes her head impatiently, points again and says, "Ada!" and repeats until she gets the book of her choice.


*****

For lunch, I dish up a concoction of Rice, dal and vegetables for her. Usually I leave chunks of cooked carrot in the food for her to chew. Once I was out of carrots, and there were chunks of other vegetables instead. Puttachi ate about two spoonsful, peered into the bowl, and then demanded, "Catat?" (For carrot). It left me shaking my head in disbelief. I had a tough time making her eat the rest of the food. I now ensure we always have carrots in stock.

*****

She enjoys putting "Taala" on her lap, something she picked up watching my mother teach music to her students. So I encourage it by singing "Saregama" to her, complete with taala, and nowadays I started singing "Lambodara" too. [Lambodara lakumikara is the first composition taught to students of Carnatic music]. So now, out of the blue, she stops doing whatever she is busy with, shakes her head from side to side, and sings, "Ta pa ta pa" (I guess it is Sa Pa Sa Pa), all the while beating out a vague rhythm with her tiny hands. Now she also sings "Ambaatuta" with it. [The second line of Lambodara lakumikara is Ambaasuta Amaravinuta"]. She likes Ambaatuta and sings it all the time. My guess is that she thinks it is a song about cows, because "Ambaa" is her word for cows.

******

I once caught her putting something into her mouth, and tried in vain to remove it. She had swallowed it, whatever it was. I made a serious face and told her not to do it again. She was disturbed, and she took my hand, shook it, and whimpered. I didn't allow my expression to change. She made a pretending to cry face, but it didn't work. Then she sat down cross-legged, made this sweetest face, and put Taala on her lap, and sang "Ta pa ta pa ambaatuta". Was she actually trying to make me smile, because she knows that this is something I find very cute and always burst out laughing at it? Who knows!

*******

The little devil also tests my reactions when she does anything forbidden, like putting something into her mouth. She takes it close to her mouth, keeps it there, and looks at me, and laughs with delight when I admonish her and repeats it again and again. How on earth do people discipline kids?

******

Her favourite word is Aaytha? (Done/Over/Finished?). Aaaytha? Is the question, and Aaythu is the answer (yes, it is done). But Puttachi doesn't know that, and Aaytha it is for everything.
- When she has had enough food or water, she announces, "Aaytha!" and proceeds to try to get down from the high chair.
- When I am trying to make her do something she doesn't like, like take her to the toilet when she is not ready, or am trying to scrub the sticky remnants of a meal from her face, she screams, "Aaytha! Aaytha!" and squirms and tries to get away.
- She greets everybody with an "Aaytha?" I don't know what she intends, but I guess it is because people usually ask her, "Oota (food) aaytha", "Taachi (sleep) aaytha" or "Tata (outing) aaytha?". So she probably thinks that you have to greet people with an Aaytha. It sounds doubly funny because a traditional greeting in these parts of Karnataka is to ask the person you meet whether s/he has finished his coffee/lunch, according to the time of the day (Oota aaytha? Coffee Aaytha? etc).


*****

Her latest passion is lolling around on the bed. Watching her play on the bed is exactly like watching a gymnast do the Floor Exercises. Back flips, Somersaults, cartwheels, you have everything. And she even ends with a flourish, and looks to see if you are watching and appreciating!

*****

We actually get her to do things now! S~ and I keep giving her objects and tell her to go and give it to the other person. She does it obediently, and it is quite delightful to see her accept the object, walk over to S~, hand it to him and clap her hands herself and say "googa" immediately when we say "Good girl!"

*****

Just today, I taught her to put rubbish into the dustbin. It worked half a dozen times, and then later, she tried to pick it back from the dustbin. And as I type this, I thought of something - what if she puts non-rubbish into the dustbin? Oh, what have I done?

****

When she wants help with climbing something, or she wants to be lifted, she says, "attha! attha!" Hatthu in kannada is climb, and Etthu is lift, so I have no idea what she is saying, but she gets her work done. And she climbs me like a coconut tree.

****

Somewhere along the way, she has understood the concept that little girls are Akkas and little boys are Annas and elderly men are Thathas (grandfather). So, a walk down a street is punctuated by her calling out to random people, Akka, Anna and Thatha. When we were going by Janatha Bazaar, she started screaming "Thatha thatha" excitedly. Wondering why she was looking upwards, I followed her line of sight, and burst out laughing when I saw - a picture of Gandhiji! :D

****

She has started communicating her wants too. She once pointed to the water container to tell me she was thirsty, she pointed to her hand where she had hurt herself and told me "Abbu" (hurt), and a couple of times, just a couple of times, she told me that she had some restroom business to do too!

*****

All these days, When asked, "Where is Puttachi?", she would point to the mirror, or any reflective surface. All of a sudden, she has understood what this is all about. Five days ago, when asked where Puttachi is, she pointed to her own stomach, and as if to reinforce the information, she gave her entire chest and tummy a good massage and a couple of pats, and even said her own version of her name! That was quite exciting :D

*****

This update is already too long... so I think I had better stop. But wait, did I tell you how she conducts an entire telephone conversation, complete with nonsense talking, and a fake laugh too?

Ok, I'll really stop, and if you have read so far, you must either be family, or else, you must really be interested in Puttachi, in which case, Thank you. :D

Some numbers.

[Thank you all for your comments, mails, phone calls and messages wishing Puttachi on her birthday. I am overwhelmed! Thanks to all you lurkers who took the time to delurk and wish her :) ]

No, I am not really that jobless, but I just got thinking about numbers, and... well... here are a few numbers to mull about.

In this year,

2500 is the number of times I have nursed Puttachi.
4000 is the number of nappy changes.
340 baths
250 oil massages
170 hair washes
1200 clothes changes
1500 powdering her body
2000 clean ups
80 nail cuts
5 hair cuts
1000 meals have I prepared and fed her
2000 times have I rocked/sung/patted her and put her to bed
1000 times have I sung to her
500 times I have read to her/shown her pictures in books
5000 times I have played with her..
300 washes in the washing machine and an equal number of hanging up clothes to dry.
A 1000 times have I brushed away her tears.

If I look at these numbers, it looks like all that we did this past one year was attend to her needs and do some kind of baby related work. But if I think back on this year, I remember only things like her yawning, her playing, her rolling over, her first smile - you know, things like that. Pleasant things. What about those nights I spent walking her when she was crying uncontrollably? What about cleaning up the mess after her a thousand times? What about those? Why don't I remember those?

I guess it is because.... well, look at these numbers --

A million times have I kissed her.
A gadzillion times have I hugged her.
A tringmingzimzamxillion times have I just looked at her and smiled and felt happy.

So, I guess when they are all added up, the happy moments simply outnumber the "work" and "difficult" moments, and so all we remember are the good times.

No wonder the population of the world is so high.

Happy Birthday, Puttachi!

My sweet Puttachi,

Happy Birthday to you!

I did not believe in miracles, Puttachi, but you made me realize that there are miracles occuring all around us all the time. The development of a child from a single cell, the birth of a baby, and the growth of the baby from a fragile infant into a mobile, communicating, cognitive individual is nothing short of a miracle. The whole process can be beautifully explained by science, I know. But the feel of the whole thing is that of a miracle. And only when you experience it first hand do you realize what it is like.

It seems like just last week that you made your appearance, a little baby with a red crunched up face, and a huge yawn. It seems like yesterday that I exulted at your rolling over, marvelled at how you crawled, and watched with bated breath as you took your first steps. This year has flown by, the fastest ever. And this has been one of the best years of my life. Easily.

I had been forewarned about how not to expect my baby to be born a perfect cherub, and that a new born baby is rather ugly. But I never felt that way. Your little red face, and tiny fingers and toes were beautiful to my eyes. I thought you were a total angel. Now, when I look back on the snaps of those first few days, I marvel at how much like an alien you were, but back then, I just thought you were beautiful. And I think you just grow more wonderful each day.

I watch you play, Puttachi, your hands busy, your eyes narrowed in concentration. And then your eyes light up suddenly and look at me with a smile to share your discovery. And then you spot something you know is forbidden, and give me that sideways glance, dimple flashing, teeth showing, and your eyes full of mischief, and I swoop down and take you away, flying you through the air, doing a "Supergirl".

I watch you walk, Puttachi, confidently stepping over obstacles and crossing thresholds, carrying heavy objects in your hand, striding from room to room as if you have very important business, climbing sofas, getting down stairs - you are already on your own now!

I watch you eat, Puttachi, increasingly independent. Each morsel in the mouth returns an expression of approval (shake of head from side to side, and wobble of the body to match the shake of the head), or disapproval (a disgusted face followed by spitting out of food). I watch you try and drink your glass of water yourself, shivering with surprise when the water unexpectedly trickles down your neck into your dress. I exult when the food disappears from the bowl and fret when you seem to want nothing at all.

I watch you sleep, Puttachi, your long eyelashes kissing your round cheeks. Your lips in a slight pout, your head falling to the side like a limp rag doll. Your slow breathing. The perfect innocence and peace on your face which belies the mischief and restlessness of your wakeful periods. I kiss your forehead, touch your soft cheeks, and sigh with relief, anticipating the peace I will have for a while.

I watch you with people, Puttachi, smiling at everybody, waving to them, wanting to be everybody's friend. Bawling when they try to touch you before you are ready. Extending a hand of friendship to them (literally) when they have been patient enough to wait for you to go to them on your own.

I watch you with the people you love, Puttachi, climbing onto them, hugging them, telling them something in your baby language, placing your head on their chest/shoulder, and looking up at them with trusting eyes, and smiling delightedly.

I watch you, Puttachi, a bundle of energy, and as we roll around the floor and play, I wonder at the fact that a year ago, you and I were nearly stangers, you just a bundle swathed in white, not knowing me, needing me only to satisfy your hunger. And a year and a day ago, I hadn't even seen you. It sounds too far-fetched to believe.

You have changed our lives in more ways than I thought possible. I have learnt that you will never really know what life will be like post-baby, unless you have a baby. And then, as I like to joke, it is too late to do anything about it.

Puttachi, I have loved you ever since I knew about your existence - ever since you were just a few cells in size. The love I feel for you has only increased with time. Every time I think that I will burst with all the love, my heart expands just that little more to accommodate still more love.

I am rambling on, Puttachi, but words seem so bland. It is nearly impossible to tell you how I feel about you. All that I'll say is, my baby, you are the sweetest.

May this be the first of many, many more beautiful birthdays.

Love you.
Amma.

A full night's sleep.

Just for the record, it has been exactly a year since I had a full night's uninterrupted sleep.

The night of May 20th of last year was the last time I slept without waking. On the night of May 21st, I had very disturbed sleep, complete with hallucinations. On the morning of May 22nd, I knew it was time to go to the hospital, and on the night of May 22nd, that is, in the wee hours of May 23rd, Puttachi was born. Since then, no sleep.

Ok, to be fair to the little one, after the first two or three weeks, her body adjusted to our sleep rhythms, and she slept at night except for when she woke up for her feeds. Even then, she just had her feed, and went back to sleep. No fuss, no fanfare.

But even now, after she has stopped taking night feeds, she wakes up once or twice each night, mostly going back to sleep on her own, or else with very slight intervention from me. But the fact is that she does wake up, and so I haven't had an uninterrupted 7-8 hours of sleep after she was born.

Actually, there was one day she slept through the night. On the night of May 8th, when we were in Mysore, she went to bed at around 10 pm, and I followed at about 12 30 am after watching a movie. I closed my eyes, and when I next opened them, the room was filled with daylight. My first feeling was that of panic. I sat up ramrod straight, and pounced on Puttachi to see if she was all right - she was sleeping peacefully. After that, I hopped out of bed and danced my way to the kitchen where my aunt was making tea. "She slept through the night!" I sang.

I have tried to replicate the conditions of that night, but she hasn't done that again, after that night.

Again, I warn you, all you poor souls who are getting inspired to have babies because of my posts about Puttachi, beware! :)

Making friends

Today, I am more regularly in touch with friends I made through blogging, than with my "other" friends. Each time someone asks me how I know such and such a person, I say, "blog friend" and smile. Five years ago, I had college friends, school friends, colony friends, and now a new category has crept in - blog friends.

When and how do blog friends turn into real friends? It is not really after a face to face meeting. But somewhere down the line, a blogger stops being just someone and starts being a friend.

But meeting face to face does help immensely. And so here is an account of the people I have met through blogging.

The first group of blog friends I met in person are what we call the Mukta Balaga. I once stumbled upon a post speaking about the then running Kannada serial Mukta, and I made a comment on it. I came back to see further discussion, and joined, and before I knew it, I had got drawn into a major discussion on the blog. about what? Everything, but mostly something connected to Mukta. Scores of discussions and daily updates later, the conversation moved on to literature, music, spirituality, politics, and just life in general. Out of the discussions and numerous commenters and more than 5000 comments (yes!) emerged a handful of us likeminded people, and we formed a yahoo group and continued our conversations there. Next, obviously, we had to meet, and the first meet had a bonus attached to it - one of them brought along TN Seetaram himself, the very popular maker of the serial Mukta. A leisurely chat over coffee at Kamat Bugle Rock followed, with the tab being picked up by the generous man. We moved on. We meet regularly, in big groups or small groups or individually, on some pretext or no pretext at all. And when someone asks me how I know such and such a person, it takes me a minute to realize that it is only through blogs that I know them!

The next blogger friend I met was Chitra, who worked in the company next to mine. We met once during office hours, and started chatting on even personal matters as if we knew each other all along - and our friendship has only grown over the past couple of years.
In March, I met the ageless Usha, whose blog is one of my favourites. I already felt like I have known her for years, and meeting the wonderful lady was just like moving to the next level. I met her at a Film Festival which was organized by Abhipraya, another inspiring person, someone I knew only slightly. And though I know her real name very well, all I could do was say, "Hi Abhipraya, bye Abhipraya, I enjoyed myself Abhipraya." It was impossible for me to address her by her real name. So much for blog identities!

And now, over the weekend, I met Poppin's Mom and her adorable daughter, who else, Poppin. I had corresponded with Poppin's mom a bit, and meeting her in person was something I was looking forward to. She is very easy to talk to, and being with her was as comfortable as her blog makes one feel!

Like the icing on the cake, yesterday I met Anitha, whom I have greatly admired through the years. But somehow we have never been able to meet. I finally did meet her and her ebullient, affectionate little daughter, charm oozing out of every pore. Anitha is as sweet and mature a person as her mails made her out to be - and I am still on a high, having met her.

There are many more I would like to meet, and then there are a few bloggers I cannot believe I haven't met in person.

Oooh I love this way of making friends, especially at this age where I realize that making friends gets progressively more difficult due to lack of time, prejudices and plain non-effort.

Bring on the next round of bloggers! When shall we meet? :)