Learning something new.........

Learning a new language is quite daunting especially when we all know that learning ability decreases proportionately with age.  We are dogged by apprehensions like ‘will I be able to make it?” or “will I be able to hang on there if I cannot do it quickly?” or “what will the instructor be thinking of me if I make too many mistakes?” and so on.  These apprehensions are quite normal I guess for anyone who starts to learn anything new.  But the excitement of learning something new counters a major part of those fears of unknown.

When we moved to Dubai two years back, we were told that Arabic was compulsory for children in the curriculum of the local schools and my ‘panic button’ was switched on automatically.  My children would have to learn the language from scratch.  I presumed it would be more difficult for them as they missed Year 1 and Year 2 and I nagged my husband relentlessly as to how they would cope with it without knowing the foundation / basics.  To add to my misery, the father and the children were unfazed about the severity of the challenge!  

I was feeling more helpless as the language was unknown to me and there would not be any assistance from my side in case they encountered any difficulty while learning Arabic but I probably underestimated the steepness of the ‘learning curve’ of children.

The children started their school and to my complete surprise, they were not complaining on how difficult it was to read and write Arabic.  The ‘mother ‘in me started panicking again.  “Are they learning something at all or not?” and I decided to seek an appointment with the Arabic Teacher which she obligingly gave.

Just before the appointed date of meeting, I discovered a circular in my daughter’s school folder regarding an “Arabic Workshop for Non-Arab Parents” and the circular carried an underlined statement at the end ‘Seats are limited and will be allotted on First Come, First Serve basis”.

Driven by the fear that all the offered seats might be taken by proactive parents, I immediately  logged on to my laptop, and completed the On-line Registration Form.  No delays at all in order to be one amongst the few fortunate ones!  This was quite unlikely of me as I am infamous in my family for deferring things till the last date but when you are a worried mother, you don’t mind to walk the extra mile for the well-being of the children!

I wanted to surprise my children and husband with my new found skill in speaking & writing Arabic and hence, kept quiet about the workshop.  On the first day, I got ready right after seeing off my children to school and tried my level best to not to look like a harried student but a ‘fashionable smart mom’!  The dilemma of whether to carry a notebook and pen was decided in favor of not taking one for few reasons:

Firstly, that might look too student –ish and could blow a dent in my “smart & fashionable mom” status.  Secondly, getting dressed for the occasion took too long and left little time to dig around the house for a pen and note book.  Thirdly, I was too lazy to dig out a pen from somewhere in the house.  Lastly, I was a very smart and confident mom, very trusting in my memorizing capability.

The teacher was really sweet and helpful.  On the first day, she only wanted us to have a visual familiarity with the alphabets and taught us few very common Arabic words.  A one and half hour session of learning Arabic was reason enough to settle down for a cup of coffee at the school cafeteria.  I came home very happy and satisfied that now I would be able to help my children in their Arabic lessons , if needed.  

When the children came home in the afternoon, it was time to throw a grand surprise at them that ‘Mama can also speak Arabic’.  Out of excitement, I forgot how to greet in Arabic (I was too smart not to carry a notebook and pen) and my ‘memorizing ability’ let me down badly.  I learnt my primary lesson of learning something new:   

With age, brain also ages and storage capacity reduces drastically.  Must carry a pen and notebook everywhere henceforth.

Anticipating that my son would be eating rice with a fried egg, I called out to him from the kitchen, ”Chhutu, shall I fry one Haleeb for you?”.  Both the children sprang up on the sofa and exclaimed in unison, “What? How can you have one Haleeb and how can you fry it?”  “Oh, God, failure of memory for the second time! What was word for egg in Arabic?”, I I tried in vain to recollect !

I was nervous to the hilt and red-faced with embarrassment.  I did not have the notebook to refer…….

I took my second lesson of learning something new:

Never be over-confident. There is no harm in cross-checking from people who know better.

When I showed them the egg, they immediately screamed, “its Bythe and not Haleeb, Mama.  Where from did you get these words?”

I had no other option but to tell them the truth and the brother-sister duo giggled and laughed and rolled on the carpet with amusement,” Oh, Mama, even we can teach you Arabic.  You don’t need to go to school….and then you are saying everything wrong”.

The next moment, they started rattling out the alphabets, the common words for daily use, the action verbs, and few sentences to my utter surprise!! I took my third lesson on learning something new:

A teacher does not have any age, so what, if they are your children.

The whole incident was narrated to their dad with lots of animation and he also chipped in with his suggestion of how to learn the language quickly and correctly.  

So he handed out few CDs and a book on Arabic, gave me a pen and notebook to practice and whole thing seemed no less than ‘a student learning for examination’.  

After coming back from school and office, the three ‘proficient in Arabic’ teachers of mine started testing my day’s learning verbally and in writing and the pressure to prove myself started building up within me unknowingly.

I decided to quit … I took my fourth lesson in learning something new:

You might have been a good student in many subjects in younger days but the status of ‘good student’ is not permanent.  Must learn to accept that different persons have different ability.

I must say that my children and husband are certainly more able than me in picking up a new language.

As I am now confident that kids are learning the language with proficiency under the sincere care of their teacher, I can allow my mental faculties to rest safely.  I am very happy that I know how to greet and say ‘good bye’ in Arabic and occasionally take lessons from children without the precondition that I have to apply them at appropriate time.

I took my last lesson in learning something new:

You will never learn something until and unless, the learning is mandatory for your survival

The day the Government of UAE makes Arabic compulsory everywhere in the country, I will start learning and certainly carry a pen and notebook for class.  Till then, I can concentrate on many things in which I feel myself more capable.

A last note before I close today…..

During Eid-Al-Adha Holidays, we had been to Al Ain for vacation and me and my children went to the Zoo.  While watching the bird show, the host, a young Emirati with a wonderful sense of humor was explaining that ‘owl’ can fly silently during nights.  He was first explaining in English and then in Arabic and followed the sequence throughout except once.

While one of the ‘bird trainers’ made an owl fly over the seated audience, the host broke this sequence and first asked something in Arabic. I yelled, “Yes, Yes” without understanding what he said.

My daughter sitting in front of me gave me a grave look and said coldly, “Mama, stop screaming ‘yes, yes.  Did you understand what he asked?”

She was visibly embarrassed.  I nervously asked,” Well, no, what did he ask by the way?”

“He is asking whether you could hear anything when the owl flew over you.  So you should say “La La” as he mentioned owl is the silent flier”, she explained, distraught fully.

Now when the host asked the same question in English, I understood this time and screamed, ”La La”. My daughter looked at me with a puzzled face,” Now why are you saying 'La La'.  You can say ‘No’ as he is asking in English. “

 “Oh, so ‘La La’ is the Arabic word for ‘no’, Babu”, I nagged her.

“Thank God, finally you learnt some Arabic, Mama. Don’t forget, ok”’, she warned.

Remembering ‘La la’ is not so difficult for the sake of making my daughter proud that she taught her mom ‘some Arabic’.  With lot of practice, even at this age, I can remember that for sure!!

....and hence I have been saying ‘la la’ too many times a day these days!

So, to each of you , young and old - Happy Learning!!

Being mother of a boy and girl.......

That I would establish myself as a ‘very successful career woman ‘was never on my priorities which was quite unusual given the fact that I worked really hard all those years of my student life to score a ‘perfect ten’ and I became majorly successful in writing an enviable resume with all the gems that I earned with my hard work and diligence. Being a full time house wife was also not in my agenda, though and I decided on my priorities very clearly long before entering into matrimonial ‘bliss’. As per my list of priorities, post marriage, I wanted to be a mother most of the time and thought of ‘doing something’ to keep myself ‘meaningfully engaged’ so that balancing ‘work and home’ does not take a toll on my children’s well being!

Although there was nothing against boys, I always wanted a girl to call me’ Ma’ first and when I was expecting my first child, my imagination was full with all those lovely frocks and dresses, barbies and kitchen sets, hair bands and clips. May be, because I wanted the girl so earnestly, I was granted the wish and a ‘pretty as picture’ princess was born to me in January 2002. I plunged into full time motherhood straight on taking a break from my ‘meaningful engagement’. There was not a single moment when I had to regret my decision of taking a break as my princess was quite a handful.

As soon as her body clock was set to routine, she ate and drank whatever I had given her and slept whenever she felt like. I never quite believed the mothers who said that they had to be up and awake the entire night to feed the baby or putting him/her to sleep! Ever since she started speaking, we mother-daughter ran into endless conversations the entire day and slept like hogs during the night. She learnt to keep herself busy with her toys, dolls, kitchen sets, crayons, drawing books and things like that from an early age giving me enough opportunity to catch up with my things. I didn’t even realise when she turned two and started her pre-school.

She is as sweet as her name goes ‘Misti’.

 Around that time, we decided to bring a companion for Misti and this time, it was a boy to complete the family. Misti was over the moon when she first saw her brother in the hospital even though she was barely two years old at that time!

Ah, our peaceful world went into a frantic frenzy from day one when Chhutku was born. He invaded into Misti’s world like mercenary with all his wailing, whining, erratic sleeping schedules, and distinct taste for spicy food!  I was going crazy by the day with all his tantrums and nights were nightmarish as he would not allow me to rest for 15 minutes at a stretch during nights till he was about 3 – 3 ½. Misti did all the adjustments whenever needed without even being asked to do that but she would never complain! As if that was not enough for a responsible big sister, she would put an all-out effort to play with her brother so that Mimia (she used to call me mimia when she was small) could catch a few winks after lunch. She is my adorable ‘big princess’ now.

On every parent – teacher meeting in Misti’s school, the teachers unanimously agreed that she was a child far mature than her age, caring and accommodating to everyone in the class and outside and she was a ‘teacher’s pet’ in true sense of the term. Certificates and medals, academic and extracurricular, filled a whole drawer and she added to my pride each passing day! When she shifted to Wellington in Dubai, the first parent-teacher meeting that I attended, the teacher started,” Poushali  (her good name) is a rare gem, Mrs. Ray” and my pride knew no bound ! She achieved the “best learner medal” this year and sometimes, I do not hesitate to seek her opinion when I cannot decide on something serious……. She is only 10 and already a ‘friend, philosopher and guide’ to me. Can any mother ask for more than this?  

And here comes my little devil – Chhutku. He settled down gradually and started his pre-school but was more interested in the variety in his lunch box rather than learning his alphabets. He finds out weird tricks to drive all of us insane even now. When he started going to regular school (same school as his sister’s), all teachers commented, “Divit is very intelligent but very restless as well. Mrs. Ray, he loves to talk with so much expression and we love that!” and surprisingly enough, he was the favorite amongst teachers and classmates for his innocence, simplicity, lack of maturity and honesty. He became a member of the ‘dramatics club’ for his ability to ‘talk with expression ‘and the ‘drummer’ of the junior choir of his school and without him, there would not be any cultural activity in school. He also earned quite a few numbers of certificates from school for various achievements and I am certainly proud of whatever he is.  He has started Yr 3 at Wellington with a bang this year with a determination to earn the ‘best learner medal’! All the best my little pumpkin – you can do that!

Now that he is going to be eight very soon, his sleeping habits have changed drastically on the opposite direction – he would not wake up for school unless he is splashed with cold water, almost! He will fight tooth and nail with his sister for a piece of crayon, sometimes, but will seek protection from his sister when he needs to settle score with his enemies. Had his sister not been so blessed with sanity and maturity, there would have been blood-shed everyday in the school, or bus, or park or playground probably!! Misti can win any battle out with her word power, clipped accent and measured expression but at the hour of need, Chhutku will only let his tear duct open and after few moments of helplessness, will let his limbs loose!

As a mother, I know he is gem of a boy  but with only one short-coming that he cannot hide his emotions – his sadness ( he will cry his heart out in front of whole class if hurt), his joy ( will give you few hugs and kisses when happy even if you don’t like it), his anger ( will punch you straight on your face if you irritate him for no reason),  his frustration (will use those bad words ,the big brothers at school use , to my horror ) and he knows no pretence! I am worried that there are very few people in this world who would value his innocence, honesty and simplicity and does emotion have any place in this era of machines (human or otherwise)? He would be a total mis-fit in this big, bad world if he does not learn to hide his emotions and be mentally strong.

He is equally adorable with all his naughtiness, wittiness and frequent “you are the best Mum” anecdotes and is quite popular outside home for being responsible, sharing and caring, much to my amusement. May be, with time, he would adapt to the requirements of ‘survival of the fittest’.

…….but he must know that his Mum will always be there for him, if he needs a shoulder to cry on or he needs someone to listen to him when no one has time for him or for all those hugs and kisses which might embarrass others…..

A rare gem that he is…….

On a lighter note, dealing with his emotional outbreak is still easier for me but when he asks me,” mum what kind of engine does a Lamborghini have?” or “ Mum can we connect our PSP to the TV?”, or “ Mum, what is an i-pad or i-pod or i-phone?” – I draw a blank face. After several of such occasions, he now does not wait for me to fumble for answer rather he initiates search in Google and explain things to me with so much sincerity and authority! Machines of any kind fascinate him so much that all his electronic toys are dis-functional because he wanted to explore the mechanism but could not re-fix after that!!

But I trust him completely in matters related to machines and techniques, be it putting cells in TV remote or fixing the screw of my pressure cooker handle. After all to make a name in the field of engineering, he must be given enough opportunity for on-the-job training……..

While Chhutku would happily settle for ‘biriyani’ or ‘chicken tikka’ or ‘palak paneer’ from any restaurant in the city, Misti would prefer to have ‘lunch at Hilton or Movenpick’ occasionally ,even though , she would not express her wish vocally. She is elegant, subtle and sensible where as the little one is simple, vocal and sensitive! Is not God great for balancing the flavors when He decided to make me mother of two – a boy and a girl?

….and so even if they are way apart in their attitude and attributes, and there are moments of crisis dealing with the ‘sensitive’ one and the ‘sensible’ one, my days and some parts of nights ,are full with laughter, tear, fist fights, and loads of hugs and kisses .

Sometimes, I wonder how children of same set of parents can be so different in attributes but whatever be the fact, in my world, there is no sunshine without my Princess and the Devil!!

Dilemma of a teacher

I was never trained to be a teacher; rather I was trained to be an auditor in the last phase of my academic career.  I started my career as a practicing auditor right after qualifying the CPA examination and was adequately warned by my seniors that the profession needed a great degree of honesty, integrity and dedication towards the job.  After all, the auditors and only the auditors were trusted with the duty of presenting the ‘true and fair ‘view of the financial affairs of the corporates owned by general public of the country.

Even though I started my Auditor’s career very enthusiastically, I realized in no time that I was not meant for this.  I was reminded frequently by my senior that an auditor must have senses like a sniffer dog in a sense that we must be able to ‘smell’ fraud without actually looking into the books and accounts and that I must look for evidence even in dustbins in the bathroom for probable irregularities. The idea of sniffing all the time and sieving through dustbin wastes for evidence was not appealing at all. Even though, almost all sniffer dogs ( I mean, auditors) I came across during my stint at the job were fat and well- fed, I decided to quit and settle in a job more suited to a lesser mortal like me.

I joined a corporate house right after marriage and was put under probation under an MBA (Finance).  I started off with all sincerity and dedication.  It was clear within a month that I terribly lack in matters of “organizational behavior” as we, Chartered Accountants never study the subject ‘OB’ but MBAs do.  My supervisor had a clear advantage in that.  As I was accumulating quite a few praises from the Executive Director for my clarity of thought, I was ruffling few feathers of my supervisor unknowingly.  On a particular day when I disagreed openly on some points (which were quite ridiculous) made by him and narrated the episode to my husband back at home, he smiled and said, “Start looking for another job as your days are numbered and you are not going to survive the performance appraisal”.  He could not have been more right.  Coexistence of a know-all MBA (Finance) and a proud-of-lineage Chartered Accountant was impossible and I had to bring my corporate career to an abrupt end.

 As I was gearing up for another round of job-hunt, God smiled at me and I was spared the trouble of going through few rounds of interviews to prove my suitability to prospective employers …… I was on my way to motherhood!! In a span of two years, I became mother of a princess and a devil-in-disguise. Amid flurry of activities day in and day out, I completely forgot that I once qualified one of the toughest professional examinations in my first attempt!  Honestly speaking, those five years of child-rearing were physically taxing and mentally stressful and I lost all connection with professional developments in my field.

After a sabbatical of five years, I took out a print of my CV to be circulated amongst prospective employers but employers were convinced beyond doubt that a mother of two young children could never be a responsible employee…..my candidature was never considered even though academically ,in many places, I was the best candidate.  But isn’t it a proven fact that everything happens at the right time?

For me, the right time arrived without any hint and voila! I was hired by a National Federation as their Finance Controller before I realized even.  The job was my last chance to prove a myth to be wrong that mothers can also be responsible employees. My sincerity, hard work, dedication and determination compelled the Management to extend my part-time appointment to  a full-time one with additional responsibility of teaching’ business finance’ in the Hospitality Management Institute run by the Federation.  Little did I know, that this would be a turning point in my professional career…….

The students accepted me with open arms in their innocent but mischievous world and I became their mentor, friend and mom at once and probably for the first time, I liked something so much as a profession.  As I started contemplating taking teaching on a full-time basis, the students only made my decision making easier when I was voted the “Best Teacher of the Year”.  I was overwhelmed with emotion and decided to leave a well- paid corporate job to be a Teacher with all earnestness.

I accepted an offer to teach Finance in a Business School and assumed the responsibility of making them fit for the big bad corporate world. The responsibility left me sleepless at times.  I never boasted to my students that I knew all and they came back to me for an answer later if something was unknown to me.  Such was the understanding! Each day was new as students in a classroom are the most unpredictable lot but I took every challenge to my stride…… was this all about the job? Not to the least bit as there had not been a single day when I did not yell at them for not being disciplined or when I did not scream at them for neglecting their studies or when I did not boycott them for not doing their assignment.

To make life worse, at those moments of heightened tension, some of them giggled or some of them came up with weirdest excuses to drive me insane.  Life became similar to nightmares when I took charge of “Placement”.  I even forgot to wish my husband on his birthday as I was immersed in placement activities; I did not have time even to look at my children’s homework after a hard day and so on…

  ….but their faces full with expectation, kept me going with all sincerity.  I might not have been able to place them in places of their choice but I know for myself that I tried my level best to see them through during the most crucial juncture of their precious lives.  All pain come with rewards and here also, my rewards are more than adequate:

I have a hotelier student in Chennai who promised me “stay free of any charge as long as I wish” in his father’s hotel as I helped him draw up a budget during his internship in London on long distance phone call at 2 o clock at night.

 On an occasion, when I had to rush to my daughters’ school as she suddenly fell ill, five of them escorted me to the school just in case any help was needed.

As they knew very well that my husband travels extensively, they demanded that they be gifted Swiss chocolates whenever ‘Sir’ travelled to Switzerland.  I kept my promise and all of them stood ever ready for even my grocery shopping!

We cried together when Kumud,a dear student  lost her mother and my students insisted that if I could go and sit by her side for few moments, maybe she would be able to gather herself to continue with life! Such was their trust and faith in me!!

Is it comparable with any material reward I might have acquired in my corporate job someday? I guess not.

Someone honored me with the responsibility of convincing his girlfriend’s father about his suitability as he believed only I could do this….

We decided to celebrate “Basant Panchami” at my place and a troop of 25 young lion cubs descended at my house frightening the neighbors in the housing complex where I resided.  They invaded my kitchen, drawing room and terrace without hesitation and cleaned the house before leaving so that I could sleep without worrying about cleaning the next day.  We could only manage Khhichdi, pakora, and chutney but they polished off the last grain with so much appreciation!! Before leaving, all of them touched my feet and said,” You are more than our teacher to us and we all know that you will always be there for us.”

They glorified my existence!

 Animesh, Piyush, Nitin were the first critics of my blog and their encouragement and appreciation motivated me to write, my Masters Degree midterm exam notwithstanding..

On my farewell day, Khusboo, Navita, Esha, cried inconsolably uncertain about their placement.  Shikha called me early morning when we were leaving for the airport and was upset that she could not say “bye” to me the previous day.

Devesh was sad that I did not include 'my students' in the list of precious gems I possess! (All of you , are, indeed precious gems)

One student’s father confided in me about some psychological problem of his son and was certain that I might be able to help him out as I was his favorite teacher.

 So much of trust, love, affection, faith are my “extra earnings” and I have the privilege to keep them safe for years. All these compensated more than adequately any material losses that I might have accepted in terms of less remuneration compared to a corporate job. ….. but do I regret my decision? Not at the least bit and I will remain a teacher if ever I go back to work somewhere.

Dilemma arose when I started receiving invitation to be ‘friend’ on Face Book from my students. 

Should I or shouldn’t I accept?

Would that not be an invasion on my personal space? So I left them alone without accepting or ignoring the invites completely…..thinking that they could always e-mail or sms or call if they wanted to convey anything personal to me and vice versa? Was the student-teacher relationship to last for only two years that they were under my supervision in my class? What if anyone needed my advice or assistance, just in case, in their professional career?  What if someone needed to share anything that he/she could not have been able to do with anyone else?  What if they needed guidance even if they are now settled in their respective jobs?    

Just in case, they need my help, will they be in a position to call me or sms me at their discretion now that I am in a distant land?

I should assure them that I am always there for them for the rest of their lives wherever I am and whatever may be their dilemma.

I opened the door for them and accepted all FB invitations from all of them!

I am always there for you all, all my students!! I owe part of my existence to you all, my dear children!!

Pujo Holiday for Ma Durga and Family

Pujo Holiday for Ma Durga & family….

A Bengali is not a Bengali if the annual ritual of Durga Pujo does not affect him / her so much that everything else takes a back seat during those five days – such is the profoundness of the event! I am no exception and more so, because we perform family Durga Pujo every year at our ancestral home.

The preparation for the event starts quite well as this puja is quite elaborate in scale and Ma Durga comes to visit us with her whole family. As she can manage only once a year, all members demand their due share of attention!

Back home, the days used to be fun filled as everyone tried to take few days off and descend at our place making the event a huge get – together for all cousins, aunts, and uncles and so on. The evenings used to be adventurous as we kids would set out for Pratima Darshan to the neighbouring areas holding each other’s hands negotiating our ways through the darkness with the help of one single torch light of my dad – without any senior supervising us! What freedom!   Occasionally, we   would act as messengers of ‘love letters’ of seniors as love bloomed in every corner of the dark alleys of the village – some for real and some for the fun of it!

Then we reached the dangerous phase of adolescence and were inevitably bitten by the ‘love-bug’. As many things are forgotten and forgiven during those five days in honour of Ma Durga, everyone seems to be taking an advantage of the occasion. I was proposed by my next –door neighbor during one of such puja days and I finally considered myself a ‘girl of sweet sixteen’. Whether I accepted his proposal or not is besides the point – Durga Pujo was not the occasion to break any young heart and nobody would take it as offence if any of the promises made during those few days were not honored. So……..

Even though I was eldest in the family, nobody trusted me ever with any of Pujo responsibilities as I was known to be the most forgetful and unorganized variety. I have still not been able to claim for myself some responsibility even after I became a responsible Mum and wife as Suparno and my children also believe the same way. What a pity! People might think but I enjoy my position immensely as I get unlimited opportunity to wander around aimlessly gossiping my heart out with friends, neighbors (actually anybody and everybody). What fun!!  Especially when the Pujo is such a regimented and highly disciplined affair at my home under my father’s supervision. While everyone else (the responsibility holders) shivers in the morning chill (wake up time 3 am in morning strictly), I keep on snoring off to glory till the sun is up and high! In a hurry, during the morning pujo, I barely manage to drape around me a green saree with red blouse but who cares!

Pujo, for me, is associated with a mixed bag of winnings and losses……

 Just before puja on one particular year, we lost our dearest elder cousin and she took away all the shine of Durga Pujo with her permanently. She used to arrive with her full contingent (husband, two children, and few relatives from her in-laws side) in four rickshaws with full load of choicest of sweets from the town and the best dress that we kids ever had during those years would be gift from her!   While we were still trying really hard to get over this tragedy and move on, tragedy struck us again. We lost our second dearest cousin brother in an accident, again just before Pujo!

…… we have not quite forgiven Ma Durga for stealing these two precious jewels from us and we never will. Are you listening, Ma? 

In one of these years, I fell in love for the first time truly and deeply and the very thought of spending one full month without meeting him (in my state of Bengal, the puja holiday is for a month) was more than enough to make the Pujo dull and devoid of any fun. I realized for the first time that such long holiday was totally wastage of time and hence unwarranted! Ma Durga might have smiled sitting on her high pedestal.

. …. And after precisely three years, I was defeated in love for the first time just before the start of puja holiday and cried my heart out in front Her. The thought of going back to the same place so full of memories were so terrifying that I pleaded frantically to extend her stay so that I got some more time to come to terms with the reality! …….. She might have smiled again at me looking at my naivety.   

And that I remained patient throughout while She was busy putting up some plans for me, I was rewarded more than adequately – I discovered a real gem in an unseemingly situation in the shape and form of Suparno, after long seven years, again before Durga Pujo! I declared an all-out war of words with Her that she dared not give him to someone else…..  She did not dare!

I keep on nagging her throughout the year with so many demands – some trivial, some serious, sometimes lovingly, sometimes with threatening, without forgetting that She has crores to attend to! Well, so far she has responded to most of my demands even though, sometimes with huge lag. ….

She has filled my world in every possible way (sometimes with something I never even demanded and I take them as bonus for being such a loyal devotee – I have never gone to Anyone else without her permission , except Her mighty Husband , Lord Shiva once) but yes, different demand has different price tag and those are non-negotiable. The debits and credits are settled once a year during pujo. The prices have been fixed by me entirely at my discretion and whether the demand is trivial or serious is also decided by me. In these days of competition, devotees also have choice, you know and She has no option but to accept. Can she let go such a loyal devotee? She dares not!     

Every year, without fail, She sends indication that she has already started packing for her annual vacation up there in her heavenly abode even when the pujo may be a good 1 ½ months away! Suddenly, the sun softens His fierce glow as if to welcome her, the air becomes heavy with scent of “shiuli” and I can actually see her eager face through the clear sky! As it is mythological that She comes to visit her parents for four days during pujo, she strikes a chord with all married girls instantly.

….. at this precise moment, I am only remembering my parents, relatives, friends neighbors back home and actually weeping that I will not be able to go this year. Even though along with few of our Bengali friends, we have made elaborate plans to celebrate Durga pujo here, I am going to miss her all these days!

Since I could not make it this year and I will miss you so badly, would it be possible for you Ma Durga to come over to Dubai for four days? It will be great change for you as well. I see no problem as your children do not have school and you are not doing yours Masters in Applied Finance. Do you think it will be difficult for your Husband to manage leave for four days when He actually does not hold a portfolio of “Internal Audit” in any MNC up there in heaven? He actually does not have anything substantial to do except sniffing to Ganja the entire day! I will manage few tickets in Emirates Airlines as I have friends there and book Marhaba Services for assisting you in Immigration clearance. I am sure, Mahishasur will have to go for ‘eye scanning’ at the airport as he looks dangerous but Marhaba people will be able to take care of that issue. The only problem may be your Husband’s habit of sniffing to objectionable things as the law is quite strict in Dubai on narcotics. Please plead with Him to check in a ‘rehab center’ before pujo.

I would love to wait at the ‘Meet and Greet’ section at the arrival lounge and don’t worry, we have a seven seated Nissan patrol so you all will be comfortable. The beach in front is alluring under the much softer sun, in case you or daughters want a natural tan.

….. please don’t say ‘No’  Ma as I don’t know how to say ‘Thank You’ for all you do for me when I will not get a chance to stand in front of you this year!! 

Memories that will never fade away!

We had a big joint family with 16 members (young and adult) and our ancestral house was of modest size, complete with cattle shed in the backyard, a temple at the front yard and a big pond  by the side. My father, being the eldest son of my grandparents, was the head of the family and he was the policy maker for the household with unlimited authority. He used to be assisted by my Aunt (father’s elder sister who stayed with us), a very able and efficient Administrator that she was. We all used to call her “Mejo Ma”.

Even though, no one in the family had the veto power, if anguished by any of the policy decisions or administrative issues, the brother-sister duo were not autocratic and would discuss matters with my uncle, aunty, mom and grand ma, if needed. Every member of the family obeyed their instructions without question as their integrity and honesty towards their duties were unquestionable. Hence, the household used to run like a well-oiled complex machine with occasional hitches as, after all, there were 16 human characters!

 ……That taught us to obey and respect elders (be in a family or outside the family)

When I watch my children growing up, their opinions on matters related to them are sacrosanct and they accept things with so much of grudge! People say it is better to learn to take decisions from early age but have they seen the world enough to be able to decide what is good or bad for them? We had no opinions till we came to hostel but still learnt to decide at the time of need and decisions were seldom wrong! Am I teaching them enough to choose the good from bad by acceding to their decisions? Probably no.

Our family was well above the poverty line but nothing was abundantly available except books (I had at least four reference books for each subject). We would start our day with a cup of tea and two Britannia thin arraroot biscuits (Bournvita, horlics, complan? what were those?). The monthly quota for biscuits was just enough to sustain a full month but the Head of the Family and The Administrator never understood that. Hence we were left with no options but to stealing if anyone wanted to have an off-time snack.  We kids had intelligence like first-rate detectives to dig out the biscuit tin from unconceivable hiding places (once we dug it from the sack of rice!) When my mom could not offer biscuits with tea to one guest, instead of the day being at the middle of the month), a major policy decision was taken in consultation with Mejo Ma and the quota of biscuits were cancelled. We were stunned with shock and looked at each other in utter disbelief!

We always shared the ‘loot’ amongst us equally and never disclosed the name of the brain behind our crime. That probably taught us the joy of sharing and benevolence of caring!   

Now, when I go for grocery shopping, I pick up different varieties of biscuits for Misti and Chhutku as their tastes are different. How will they learn to share when they never ate those Britannia thin arraroot biscuits with cousins huddled in a corner of the staircase without making any sound lest they would get caught? Am I not falling short of teaching them to be “sharing and caring” to everyone around (in the family or outside). ?

We cousins (5/6 at all points of time) memorized our lessons sitting on a 4’x4’ mat under my father’s supervision with one lantern in the center (we did not have electricity in our village), the summer heat or mosquito bites, notwithstanding! While I would read English, the one on my left would read history whereas the one on my right would read geography. We all would read loudly our respective subjects and no one ever complained that the low score was because of ‘too much of noise around’. Can there be a better example of practicing “Zen” concept?

……this probably taught us to be tolerant and focused.   

When Misti and Chhutku sit for their homework on two heads of a 8 –seated dining table, Chhutku would churn out 95 + 15 = 100! When apprehended, his instant reply would be, “Misti is reading so loudly that I got distracted”. I order him to go to his room and complete his work. Am I giving them enough scope to learn to be tolerant and focused? I guess, not.

As a child we had limited set of clothes which used to send me to depression when compared with our cousins who lived in towns! Ever since my mom learnt tailoring, we all started wearing frock / shirt of same print during durga pujo as that saved lot of money when the material was bought in bulk. What embarrassment! But we all would wait eagerly for the whole year for those three sets of clothes in same print and the smell of new dress was intoxicating.

……that taught us to be happy with less!

Now there is no occasion for buying new clothes for my children as we used to get only twice a year (the beginning of the year and Durga Pujo). Have I ever noticed that divine joy in their face when they get a new set of cloth? Am I not giving them too much than needed? If they do not learn to be happy with less, will they ever be happy in life?

We all are settled now in our respective lives (some with little more affluence and some with less). The less affluent ones have never felt jealous about the more affluent ones and we all connect to the same wavelength when we all get together. My cousins are a proud lot that I am so educated, they are proud that Suparno has reached a decent height in his corporate career, they are proud that my children can speak fluently in English at such an early age and will bring the best shirt and frock available in the local market for Misti and Chhutku when we go there. Four of my cousins almost get into a competition as to who gets to meet me first and who gets to choose from Suparno‘s old shirt / tees (well, Suparno outgrows his clothes really fast) first. They are not ashamed to the least bit and flaunt them proudly to everyone else. Should we call it ‘lack of self respect or ego’? …..  Never. To me, it’s the simplicity of thoughts and unadulterated love for each other. Will my children ever learn this when they never have to live with 3 sets of clothes?

…..and the story will go on seemingly without any end. I feel so rich with so much of childhood memories and get started with slightest of pretext. Will my children ever have so much of treasures to share with their friends, children and the like? …. I doubt.

Before I close, every time I go to my village, I pick up gifts for my brothers and sisters depending on who wants what ( I start the process quite early before I actually leave so that I get good bargain during off-season) . This time I will take bagful of variety of biscuits along with other gifts and we will huddle under that staircase to eat our biscuits without the fear of getting caught.

……..and certainly munch with lot of noise!!

(Mejo Ma is no more and the Head of the Family has retired long ago but we have never failed to stick to the values that they taught us till we started taking our own decisions in life)

 

The Watch Keeper

The Watch Keeper…

I love to do things leisurely and get pretty messed-up, if at all, I do something in a rushed manner. I have so far only been able to complete my academic lessons well ahead of the dead line and have always reached the examination hall an hour in advance of the scheduled time. Except this small aberration, I keep everything for the last few minutes or hours before the deadline (even in my professional career). For me, multi-tasking at the last moment gives me such a ‘high’ and I am fully convinced that I am at my productive best during those last few moments. Hence, the concept of “time management” never appealed to me.

Since managing time was not a priority, using a time-keeper (a watch, I mean to say) was never an important thing for me. I got my first watch as a gift from my uncle for one of my exemplary academic achievements and I lost it on the very first day in my college hostel. I never bothered to buy myself a good watch even after I started my career as an Auditor (!). 

Things took a sudden turn when Suparno entered my life! He epitomizes the word “organized” and time management is an art, according to him. I proposed to start at 10 am on the first day we were to go out after engagement and he agreed readily. I did a thorough mental calculation that 10 am was a safe bet but to my horror, I woke up at 9.30am! Oh my God, only 30 minutes to get ready for the first date! ……. I had to compromise on 10 am starting time and reached the meeting point at 10.30 smiling broadly in a beautiful saree as if to make up for the lost time.

It didn’t help much as I could understand from his cold expression. “Was it too long a wait?” I wanted to be cheesy.

“What time did you wake up? Don’t you have a watch at home?” (by that time he was aware of all my bad habits), he quizzed me in a tone fitting to be an Auditor’s and not indulging like a lover. Could I afford to tell him the truth? Wasn’t it the first impression?

“No, I woke up long ago you but you know there was no water”, I tried to be sounding convincing. “Isn’t the saree nice? I am thinking of cutting my hair short, you know. It’s time consuming to maintain such long hair”, I went on incoherently trying hard to please him. While agreeing to 10am starting time, I did not take into account that "bad habits die hard".

The next day he came to office carrying a packet of Time House with a table clock in it for me and said curtly, “don’t come with the excuse of ‘no water’ next time you cannot wake up on time”. I forgot that he was a seasoned Auditor. I never lied to him after that day in these years of togetherness!

To train myself to be organized was the natural corollary post marriage. He gave me enough opportunity for self-learning and tolerated much more than expected. ….. but I love to stay with mess around me and went office without breakfast most of the days as time management was not my forte’.

On our first anniversary, I got a watch as if to remind me to live life coordinated with the tick of the clock. I tried whole-heartedly but gave up within a fortnight – it was too suffocating.

I got the second one on second anniversary as he was not the one to give up. I tried again doubly hard as the wastage of money on expensive watches started to pinch me hard. Huh, failed again after a month!

Before third anniversary, I tried to give him a scientific reason for this pitiable trait of mine to avoid being gifted another watch. “See, I think this has been genetically ingrained in me and hard to undo that”.

He was ready with his answer, “… but dad and mom are extremely organized”  

“May be there has been mutation of genes. It happens, you know. I have studied genetics, so…..” I was desperate.  On the third anniversary, I got a piece of jewelry but he gifted himself with a very expensive watch! He was determined to teach me ‘time management’.

In a span of 11 years, he acquired 28 watches, anniversary or no anniversary (some of them being really expensive one). Every time he buys a watch, I mentally calculate how much it would have added to our bank balance had he not purchased them and that really upsets me. To add to my woe, not only there is cost of acquisition, but there is a cost of maintenance too (he knows how to take care of his belongings unlike me). All these watches show time according to different time zone of this world as he tours the world and carries at least 7/8 of them wherever he goes. He immediately does not adjust to Dubai time once he comes back from his tour.   

I know about his love for watches and you can call him a ‘mobile encyclopedia’ on watches available on this earth. But is it only for the love for watches that he buys so many watches? Or is he still hoping that someday I will learn to be little organized and take time management seriously, at least, according to some time zone?

How do I make him understand that I set out to plan the day well but so many watches showing different times confuse me so much? So even if it is 12 pm Dubai time but may be 8 am in some part of the world (in one of his watches) and I decide to laze around for another hour before I start cooking. I get no clue as to how the kids have come home from school when it is 1.30 pm and I am still not done with my cooking! Then realization dawns on me, “ In Dubai it is already 3.30 pm”

“Oh! These hopeless watches! I need to keep all these watches locked in one drawer positively and today itself! Let me first empty one of the drawers today. In a second thought, I decide, “today? Nah, may be tomorrow”. That tomorrow never comes and I really do not get a chance to improve my time management skill!

The last weekend that we had been to Marina Mall, he set his eyes on an Omega watch and done his bit of research. I must know and demonstrate time management before he actually buys this one to teach me a lesson (on time management, I mean to say). I have a moral responsibility, after all, to help him improve the bank balance as well.

Are you hearing me, the Watch Keeper? I have started improving, you see. Its 12 pm Dubai time and I am thinking of starting to cook something for lunch.

 12 pm? Isn’t it a little early? I still have so many hours in the day! Let me start at 1 pm then …..

Few friends are forever!

I landed in New Delhi railway station in a hot and humid August morning all alone (1993 ) with the hope of becoming a successful “career woman” someday. At a first glance, the city seemed to be full of crowd – crowded railway station, crowded roads, over-crowded buses and everyone seem to be running towards some direction! ‘Surviving in this city amidst bursting crowd would certainly be difficult’ – was my first premonition. As I watched people running animatedly in all directions with no time to talk to anyone, my next worrying thought was, ‘’What if I do not get someone who loves to talk like me?” “I will die out of suffocation”, I exclaimed loudly to the auto rickshaw driver who was taking me to the Working Women hostel in South Delhi.

……. Life has always treated me fairly and this time around, I became doubly lucky as not only I was allotted a “double-seated” room in the ‘crowded hostel’ but also the room faced the main road and the entrance to the hostel! Within 10 days, my roommate arrived with lot of attitude in a jeans and tee but with a pleasant smile. At the first instance, her arrival gave me a feeling of depression as she was tall (my only weakness as I am not even 5 ft), fair complexioned with abundant curly hair and attractive with lovely smile. Sigh!!

I always believe that appearance does not say much about the person and contrary to her arrogant disposition, she was very sweet, simple (not from a metro city) and loved to talk.   We got along very well in a matter of about 2/3 days and we set our shared kitchen with joint contribution the next Sunday. With each passing day, our friendship thickened and we shared minutest of secrets (past or current) about everything, even though, characteristically, we were way apart.

She was fun-loving (but knew her limits), very social (had lots of friends) and happy-go-lucky kind whereas I was quite a boring variety (my only activity during weekends and holidays being studying for my CA course). She used to poke me with all sorts of expletives but I was not the one to be distracted. ….. And on one such weekend, she could not find anyone to accompany her to PVR Anupam for a Hindi movie “Ishq” and came back to the room grudgingly, “I   am so unfortunate that I have got a boring ‘Aunty’ type roommate. Wake up Minakshi, when r u going to enjoy life?”

I gave her a sheepish smile while continuing with my studies and that irritated her to no end. In a swing, she came near my chair, pulled me out and literally threw me inside the bathroom. “Take bath, get ready, we r going for the movie. If you do not study for few hours, the Institute is not going to close down,” she screamed furiously and exited the room for a cup of tea.  

She turned back again, “and please do not stand in front of the cupboard for hours in an ‘Anarkali pose. Choose fast what you are going to wear. Don’t worry; boys do not go after old ladies”. Well, I take long even today to decide what to wear but I gulped my breath when she called me ‘old lady’. I got ready in record time of 15 minutes and we were off to PVR.

The show would start at 3 pm but we were obnoxiously early (12.30pm) and I asked, “Why so early Dubari? We could have taken lunch at the canteen and come”.

She snorted at me,” Normal tickets cost 125Rs which is unaffordable and we will buy those first two-row tickets paying only Rs6. The rush starts for those tickets quite early and we have to be amongst the first few. Understand?” I did but the size and type of crowd for those tickets were unnerving. I followed her blindly and stood in the queue. After about 1 1/2 hours in the sun, we got two tickets only to discover after few minutes that the tickets were for another movie!!

“Oh, God, what kind of an idiot is he”, she exasperated and pulled me with full force towards the ticket counter. By then, there was sort of a stampede with the Mall security person trying to handle the crowd. I clinged to her as she inched forward through the crowd and suddenly started behaving pretty much like a blacker,

“Who wants tickets for ‘Runaway Jury’, we want “Ishq”. Anyone?” flapping the tickets up in the air. Two boys came forward almost in a leap and said, “you want Ishq? We can give you. Tell us where and how?”

She did not get the hint probably and said,” here and now. At 3 pm. Hall no 4”. The two boys flashed a very nasty laugh and said,” So why are we waiting here? Let’s go”

Dubari talked like a seasoned businessman and said, “Let us first exchange the ticket and then we will move”. By then she had understood what they meant, alert as a tigress.

As soon as the tickets were exchanged, she pushed the crowd with both hands and pulled me by my saree pallu. The boys followed and she gave them a thunderous yell, “why are you following us? Go to your hall. I have given you the tickets.”

 The boys tried to protest, “… but then how the ‘Ishq’ will be possible if we are in separate halls?”

They were coming dangerously close to us as if for an assault and she said with lot of authority,” We are resident in this neighborhood. Shall I call the police or you are leaving us alone”. They left spreading a fountain of abuses.

I was in a daze and followed her like her pet to Hall No 4 without a single word. She grinned like an ill-meaning villain and quizzed me, “Mazaa Aya? I was too exhausted to reply and tried to concentrate on the movie instead.

 In retrospect, I must admit that was real fun and we made to PVR many times after that. Such was her zeal to enjoy life! But on some other occasions, she would behave so sensibly that she would be totally incomprehensible!

 During those days, I was recovering from a serious heartbreak and I would shut myself out to everything and everybody for days together! She got frustrated and sad at the same time when I would behave like that. On one such night of loneliness, when I was crying silently, she sat up on her bed, switched on the light and came to my side.

 “Are you going to waste your precious life crying like this for someone who does not deserve you? Don’t you think it is an injustice to all people who love you so much? I am one amongst them”, she said with tears in her eyes and went back to her bed. 

I never cried after that day and tried to move on in life! She gave me my life back in those few seconds and in those few words!

In the four years that we spent together, we went to J Block market almost every evening for possible opportunities to flirt(opportunities were unlimited!), for shopping and bargaining, for panipuri, for window-shopping and the like with me trying really hard to look young and fashionable by her side!

….and we fought our irritating ‘next-door’ neighbor with me having taken the lead and Dubari hiding behind me! It used to be a complete role reversal on such occasions contrary to her expertise in ‘man-handling’.

She taught me the primary lesson that life is for living and I am now a staunch believer in that philosophy. When I try to think after so many years what connected us, I can only think of one quality in both of us – we were simple village girls with no pretence.

Before I conclude, Dubari is now married and settled in Mumbai and we pour on to each other with all our secrets even today on long distance phone calls only with a condition that I have to make the calls! After all, I am a fat rich NRI now (she only said that in her very own characteristic way with a throaty laugh) and do I mind that? Not at all………

It’s my “pay back” time now as she only showed me the light at the end of dark tunnel. Do we need a “Friendship Day” to commemorate our friendship? Not really, it’s beyond that!

FEW FRIENDS ARE FOREVER!!!!!!

Cooking is an art!

We were newly engaged and went out for lunch at “Dilli Haat” on an week end. We sat down under the shadow of a big eucalyptus tree on the concrete bench of “Bijoli Grill” and settled for some fish curry and rice. My love for fish is legendary and Suparno also got the hint in no time. While I was engrossed in enjoying the delicious fish curry, Suparno stated very passionately, “Cooking is an art, you know.”

I stared at him vacantly as I was yet to experience the feeling. Out of courtesy, I only could nod a little (in a manner which could mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’) as my mouth was full with fish and rice. He went on explaining in great detail how “mix & match” of simple spices could bring out an all new flavor to any dish. I was certainly impressed with his knowledge and passion but could not contribute to the deliberation as my experiment in kitchen was limited only to “egg curry, daal and alu bharta” and that too after I became an inmate in the working women hostel in Delhi. Nothing was artistic in the whole process of cooking as was my feeling.

I was privileged as a child in many ways so to say.  My grandma (who was fiercely protective about me) and my father made it very clear to everybody in the household that I should never be bothered to do any kind of household activities as he wanted me to excel academically which I did.

……… I never entered the kitchen before I came to Delhi.

As a new bride, the first dish that I was supposed to prepare was actually cooked by Suparno and I only held the ladle for few seconds as it was a ritual. (He was already aware of my cooking skill by then!). The first meal that I prepared independently for us was almost inedible and my “basic training” in cooking took off from the very next day under Suparno.

After I successfully passed that round, I was in for an “advanced training” and then there was a prolong “internship”. During my internship period I collected enviable number of cook books, consulted everyone in the neighborhood and relatives how to add “zing” to a dish and watched cooking show of Sanjeev Kapoor with so much of focus and attention! Finally, I was given permission to experiment and invent in the kitchen the day I cooked Mutton kebabs of decent taste and made my Guru proud!!  

Long years have passed since then and my love for cooking has only increased with time as Suparno practised “positive motivation” with perfection. The situation changed drastically when my little pumpkin started to express his opinion about everything that I cooked.

Someday I will take great pain in cooking something exotic hoping that he will love that. He will take the first morsel and say, “I can’t believe that you have cooked this”. My face will lit up with anticipation of few praises and I hear a bang on the dining table, “awful Mum, fry me some chicken nuggets”. I say to myself, “may be the mix and match went overboard” and I try to defend myself meekly, ‘but daddy said it was tasty, baby”.  

He becomes more frustrated, “did he? He must have gone mad”. I take out the packet of chicken nuggets from the fridge and I put a red cross on the recipe.

The next day, I use utmost caution while churning out something for him and wait nervously for his reaction. He starts with his deceptive one-liner again, “I don’t believe you have cooked this Mum.” I sense danger and take out the packet of chicken nuggets. Around this time, I hear a loud bang on the table again,” awesome man, can I get some more?” I happily turn the bowl over his plate and put a red tick on the recipe.

Then comes my princess who seems to be on diet ever since she was born. If she has ever mentioned something that I have cooked for her which she really liked, I stick the recipe on my fridge door!

My experience of being an auditor has come quite handy. I use cross and tick in different colors like an auditor in my recipe book which goes like this:

Red tick – for Chhutku. Follow the recipe to the tee. Tolerance level (+) or (–) 1%

Red Cross – never cook for Chhutku. Tolerance level 0%

Green tick – Chhutku’s favorite. Tolerance level (+) or (–) 25%. Quantity should be enough for

                        Lunch, dinner and next day b’fast.

Underline and in bold – For Misti. Maintain a gap of atleast two months before repeating 

 No tick – For Suparno; Scope of experimenting – unlimited. Tolerance level (+) or (–) 100%       

Even after all these drills, I run to the kitchen the moment they say, “Mum can you make some momos for us? We love it when u make these” or “Mum, can we bake a chocolate cake today? Last time you baked, it was delicious” or “Mem, those vegetable cutlets were awesome the other day” (Suparno fondly calls me Mem) and I forget completely that I applied “moov”      for backache few minutes ago. Can I afford to let go those hugs and kisses? I do not exist without those hugs and kisses!!

I will close this with this last anecdote. The other day, I cooked prawns. Suparno opened the door with a big hug when I came back from University, and said,” prawns were out of the world today. What all did you add?

I said matter-of-factly, “oh, nothing. Only little fish sauce and oyster sauce towards the end. Cooking is an art, you know. You only need to figure out how much and what to mix”.

He glanced at me smilingly as if to say, “So you agree”.

I do, my adorable Master Chef.

Discovering a gold mine

Sometimes one discovers a gold mine by chance and I have been lucky to discover one at my home itself.

As the semester break is quite long, I really do not have anything constructive to do sitting at home apart from occassional experiment in the kitchen. Just to keep myself away from the unbearable TV sitcoms, I picked up a book randomly from the book shelf. We have a goldmine of books at home as I am married to a man who would probably survive without food but not without book.
Over these years, he has been able to gather an enviable collection of books and those are his most prized possessions. He even feels disappointed when I throw the weekly magazines in the bin which comes with the newspaper!
I have remained an addict to old bengali classics which my father collected for me and only for me (he does not have the habit of reading much except the daily newspaper). My father takes care of that precious goldmine painstakingly back home.
During these past years,life was quite a struggle in terms of managing a job, two small kids, a household almost single handedly as my husband's job kept him away from the base most of the time. I really didnot have time to read apart from academic books as part of my job of a professor. I used to make up for the lost time whenever I visited my parents place where my father would keep track of every new book and buy a copy for me!

During my years of growing up, I was never exposed to the writing of foreign authors partly because of vastness of Bengali literature and partly because of lack of culture.

Two days ago when I reluctantly started to read the book I picked up from the bookshelf, I didnot have slightest of hint, that I would love reading the book so much that I had to skip the cooking for lunch today!
I ran my fingers over the books so lovingly and I felt guilty that I have never given them a chance to be my companion when I miss my husband so much during his long tours.

I will always miss  him whenever is away on long tours but now onwards, I will feel him next to me when the kids are asleep and I am enjoying writing of his favourite author or may be mine.

Happy reading all of my friends! Sometimes we only need to open our eyes and look around - so many doors open which lead us to absolute bliss and happiness.