Euro 2012 – unites some and divides some…..

In my household, if a survey is conducted to understand the preference for TV programs, we four will vote for four different categories. My daughter prefers to watch serials based on historical characters (which is quite unusual for girls of her age) and some amount of cartoons while for the son, Ben 10 cartoon is the ultimate entertainment. As regards my preference, I have never been able to sit through the high-strung drama of Hindi serials (I only watch these off and on to get to know the fashion trends) and I only watch TV when there is reality shows on singing and dancing (more of dance shows to improvise on my newly acquired Zumba skills!) whereas my husband bores us, almost to death, when he is in town, by only watching News Channels of all sorts!

Given such varied preferences and with only one Cable connection at home, it should have been blood-shed at my home everyday but thank God for small mercies – my husband travels 20 days a month and Reality shows are far and few. Hence the fight for TV remote is practically confined to the brother-sister duo while I experiment in the kitchen or endlessly scroll up and down the Face Book posts.

……and then there came Euro 2012 with all its glory, craziness and fanfare!

I have a ‘Ronaldo-in –the –making’ at home who has recently caught fancy of the game of foot ball and has been sweating out with the ball religiously everyday with the hope that someday he might get to play for Manchester United (if only I buy him  football boots!). In the last six months, I have made ‘Go Sports’ richer by few hundred Dirhams by buying footballs (may be, secretly, I also have started hoping someday I would become glorified as the mother of world’s richest footballer!) .Even though, his dad has never shown craziness or madness around any sport (be it cricket or football or anything else), he appreciates football over cricket and declared one day after coming back from office that he would watch the Euro Cup 2012 every evening!   

“How crazy!” my daughter exclaimed fearing that she might have to forego her daily quota of TV-viewing.

“Yes, yes, yes! You know Daddy, to become a good football player, I must watch foot ball matches as many as possible!” screamed my little pumpkin, jumping with joy, almost breaking the sofa. 

When they became partners-in-crime, the daughter became a minority audience and silently compromised (as always) by watching cartoons after coming back from school but her evenings are empty now. In my effort to give her company, we have been watching DVDs together, cooking together, and stitching her doll’s cloth together throughout the evening. The house hold is now divided between boys and girls!!

While for the boys, each football match brings new excitement each day, for us girls, it is the same movie, and we have finished stitching clothes for all dolls….boredom prevails during the evening!!

“Why not sit and start learning about how football is played? May be, we will find some fun element to keep us engaged,” we pondered and silently crossed border. The daughter curled up in dad’s lap while the boy leaned on mum’s shoulder (their most comfortable position while watching TV) and wondered how they players sustain so much of running around for 90 minutes!

“Why are those men with yellow shirt racing up and down the border line?” I could not contain my ignorance!

“Ma, you need to know the rules of the game first. They are Lines Man (did I hear it right?)”, pat came the reply from the would-be-famous-soon footballer, followed by a forcefully controlled laugh. Was it a laugh or a taunt? Whatever……

“Yeah, we are precisely trying to do that, you know. Daddy, what is penalty kick, free kick, off-side and the like?” asked the daughter with genuine curiosity. “And by the way, you must thin down if at all, you wish to be a footballer, Chhutku. Look at their tummy and look at yours,” Misti hit the most sensitive button of her know-all-about-the-game brother.    

Even though we were trying very hard to understand but it is never easy to learn anything in a single day and we, kind of, gave up! After all, girls are never expected to know all about free kicks and penalty shots rather they should top-up their general knowledge about Prada and LV bags, Channel perfumes, and Jimmy Choo shoes and stuff like that!  

Surprisingly, we realized after one or two matches that watching 22 men running after a lone football, tackling others and tripping over each other, is not so boring as watching same DVD again and again and now we are ‘regulars’  during the matches! Wow!!!

The Euro certainly has divided the four of us into two groups – the boys who watch the game because they love the game and the girls who watch the game because there is no choice but then it has also brought all four of us to sit together and enjoy together for those 90 minutes…

In these gadget-age, where the childrens’ world are ruled by i-pod, i-pad, video-games etc, and when the children are fiercely independent (we only teach them to be like that, so they can take on the world head-on from day one), how much time do we sit together as a family to enjoy a laugh?

Euro time, family time – Long live the Euro!!!     

Marriage .....thy name is evolution!!

The requirements that I had set for a probable groom for myself were not very complicated – I only wanted my man to be very educated (to match my academic record), to be able to speak English like an Englishman (I still have the regret that I could not go to a first-class English medium school as there was none in the vicinity of my village) and he must smell good at all point of time ( smelling sweat does not sound ‘macho’ to me) !!

Even though I felt that was not tall order at all, my father sometimes grumbled at the ‘good smell’ part and my relatives were almost sure that I would have to spend the life unmarried …. But I was adamant and waited patiently till the age of 32, rejecting 16 aspiring groom-to-be!!

…and then there was this guy who I met for the first time in a meeting of Chartered Accountants in connection with an assignment of National Horticulture Board in Delhi. On the fateful day of first meeting in Gurgaon, I reached late as usual (by that time, I was convinced that reaching late everywhere was my birth-right) and had to barge in while the discussion was on regarding some issue. As the premium seats were all occupied by those old, moronic CAs, I had to make do with a seat at the last row and before I could get the hang of the discussion, the Chairman declared ‘lunch break’! Uff, I finally got some time to run my fingers through the mess of my long hair and straighten the pleats of my crisp cotton saree ….

Whatever be the issue of discussion, I could only hear this tall -dark - handsome guy speak as if he had been unanimously chosen to represent those 55 CAs. Well, even though I was not there when others chose him to speak, I loved the way he conducted the entire discussion, I loved his authority on the subject and I liked his leadership skill, even though in some part he sounded very arrogant and snob . To be very honest, I liked him so much in those few minutes, that a shameless thought crossed my mind, “I wish…”    !

Two of the requirements were already met by that time - that he was well-educated and that he could speak flawlessly in English-man like English and the third one?  Well, even that was also fulfilled within few minutes once the lunch break was announced when he opened his satchel and whipped a deo-bottle to spray some on him before going to the hall (North India reaches almost boiling point during summer)!! He stole my heart completely at that point and that shameless thought again crossed my mind, “I wish….”.

Being the only young lady, would anyone blame me if I say that I was expecting some degree of adulation from the male folk? Few exchanged customary greetings while this tall-dark-handsome good-smelling man merrily bonded with other young and old CAs and ignored me completely….

I was bursting partly with anger and humiliation and partly with hunger as I intentionally waited in the corridor with the hope that he might come and say ‘hello’ to me. After all, I was quite snob and arrogant too to fall in love with any random guy and my sky-high ego was very badly hurt!!

The decision was made then and there that if I marry at all, I would marry him and only him and the rest is history…..haven’t we heard it for umpteen number of times that nothing is wrong in love and war!!!

I conquered him in this glorified war of love in a matter of six months!!

…..and now that we spent 12 years together, we have understood without any ambiguity that evolution is the key to peaceful existence. There is no denying that adjustments and compromises have come equally from both sides but few things worth mentioning….

He had to adjust to my ability to talk incessantly on matters relevant and irrelevant while he only listens– did not I adjust in the first meeting (and in many meeting afterwards when he became partner in the same firm where I worked) when he only talked and I listened (I admit that he talks less irrelevantly but, come on, I am his wife now!). He evolved to the art of ‘listening without paying any attention’…..

He had to adjust to my ability to stay within mess around me (clothes lie on heap on the bed in one side, I have books and papers strewn all around on my study table, I have never been able to fish out the lipstick with the correct shade when I need it, and stuff like that) ….but didn’t I adjust to his habits of organization and order during our courtship period and first six months after marriage (To impress him of course! He is paranoid about keeping things in place and in order)? He evolved to the art of ignoring clutter and finding one corner in the bed to lie down….

Earlier he used to accumulate clothes, accessories mindlessly and every six months, there used to be ‘clearing’ whenever my parents visited us .Now, he changes his wardrobe every two years and I changed my wardrobe every six months!  Isn’t it evolution for both of us? (Occasionally he buys an Omega or Raymond Weil or Longines but I ignore that as an aberration)

In our residential society in Greater Noida, I was the face of the Ray family as very few saw his face partly, because of his tours and partly because he liked to spend time reclusively lazing around in bed and reading during holidays . And now? Ever since I forced him to meet Fatafati sangho members (our very own Bengali association in Dubai), he feels his weekends are boring if there is no get-together! Wouldn’t you call it evolution of highest order?

….the list goes on …and my story of evolution?

Just to highlight the degree of evolution of me after marriage, one example is enough, I guess.

 Ever since he has become a member of Malt Society, I have started tasting single malt (what an achievement! I could not even take a big gulp of pepsi few years ago)!

In a nutshell, after 12 years in marriage, I have evolved as a rich, snob, arrogant wife of a well-placed executive of an MNC and what about him?  Oh, who cares? No matter what he is, wife is wife. He roars occasionally but I bark continuously….

Marriage, thy name is evolution!!!!!!

  

An evening with Single-malt whisky lovers…..

My association with the terms like whisky, beer, rum, or anything alcoholic is very brief. During my B.Tech course in Biochemical Engineering, I had to study one course on Fermentation Technology and I only know that any of those alcoholic beverages are end-product of a biological process called “fermentation”.

Any time before or after that brief introduction to the subject and the “object”, I never came close to it – primarily because there was no precedents in my parental home of someone being a connoisseur of these and hence there was some degree of apprehension about the “use , abuse and negative effect” of all these ‘substances’. In fact, one of the reasons of falling in love with the man I got married to later was, probably, because, he understood my sentiment fully without any cribbing or complain and I have never seen him drinking ever since I have known him except occasionally buying something which might have caught his fancy in airports duty free only for collection purpose!

Then we shifted to Dubai and gradually started getting to know friends! One such friend (a passionate lover of Single malt whisky) introduced my husband to a society that few of such people who share the same passion, formed – Malt Society in Dubai. A casual introduction became a passion within no time for my husband and he started buying single malt whisky from air port duty free every time he travelled out of Dubai, like a maniac! Within a matter of two months, we needed to buy a shelf (or whatever it may be called) to keep those bottles and cases in various shapes, sizes and colors! So from now onwards, instead of the usual hugs and kisses when he comes back from tours, I started to greet him with a stern look moment I noticed that “duty free” bag in his hand ( he took extreme care so that not a single credit card slip comes to my notice!). Before buying anything exquisite, he would complete his research now that he owned a “whisky bible” too and tried to read out to me also some of his research outcomes!!.....I was the last person on earth to show any interest on this obnoxiously smelly “object”

Till this point of time, I did not erupt and allowed him to take pride in his increasingly growing collections (now he has stopped buying watches) mainly because he still maintained his promise and never ever tasted anything from his collection or outside! All hell broke loose the day he mentioned that he would be going to attend one of the tasting sessions!    

Then the second one followed and I knew it was time to make him realise my utter dislike for this new -found passion of him. He was given a chance to choose between his passion which I disliked from my core and his wife! He never attended any of those tasting sessions after that (he did not even complained once about that embargo)and I allowed him to continue with his collection spree so long as he gifted me a piece of jewellery of equivalent worth (hoping that would deter him)!!

One evening he came home and showed me a dinner invitation from one of the Malt Society members and asked me whether I would agree to go! I agreed instantaneously and while the kids enjoyed “Motocross Championship” with their grandparents, we went to the party!

This was the first time I saw a collection of whisky (Oh, they say, its single malt even though I have no idea what is so special about that!) of that magnitude and the bottles of innumerable shape, size and color, stacked so neatly, made such a beautiful art! The male folk started their discussion on Single malt head-on while we ladies talked on our favorite issues starting from cooking, kids, jewellery, shopping and what not! Surprisingly, none of the members drank more than one or two sips, contrary to my belief, and the sheer details with which they were discussing the uniqueness of each whisky was a testimony of how passionate they are about it! How can a person be so passionate to gather such amount of knowledge on anything?  The sip that they took was only to get a feel whether the taste corresponds to the age, maturity etc of the variety.  It indeed overwhelmed me!

All my inhibitions vanished within few minutes and when Uttara suggested I should try “margarita” (is the spelling correct?) and Tabarak graciously fixed me one, I enjoyed my “drink” so thoroughly now that my apprehensions are gone! 

I loved the company of the ladies and they accepted me with so much of warmth! I loved the way the men interacted! The only binding thread was love for single malt whisky and hence, nothing else was important! The members and their lovely wives were certainly people I would love to meet occasionally!

I became a fan of Malt Society by the time we came home and freed my husband from the embargo I imposed on him, fully convinced that they have not formed the society for unlimited drinking ! I have requested Sujeet with a suggestion that occasionally they should invite wives also during tasting sessions!

(I got this piece of information from Puneet that my husband writes for their blog! May be, after some time when I know a little more about single malt whisky, I will add some input to his writing – after all I have more experience in blogging than him! )

  Everything in life is worth tasting!!

   

 

A Tribute to Lord Shiva......

Today is Maha Shivratri! On this day, I must tell you all a small story as to how someone as powerful as Lord Shiva got a dose of my ire and tried his level best to find me a perfect match!! Well, he was hugely successful in doing that, I must admit.......

As goes the belief, that Shivji is the sole distributor of "ideal grooms", like all young girls, I also started worshipping him eversince I joined my B.Tech course in Jadavpur University (JU) as JU is believed to be the "nurturing ground" for "ideal groom" in the shape of Computer Engineer, Electronincs Engineer, Electrical Engineer and so on.......

I stayed there for three years and moved to Delhi to pursue my career without getting hitched by anyone but my faith was unshakable that He must be having someone better waiting for me in the big city of Delhi .....I continued worshipping him with more dedication keeping fast for full day(unimaginable as I can not tolerate hunger for more than 10 seconds) and standing in queue for hours to offer him all those sacred stuff ( unbelievable knowing my patience level)!!

Almost 6 yeas passed after I got down to New Delhi railway station from Purva Express on an August morning and i could not even manage a decent affair with anyone in the city (not that I didnt try, but failed miserably as I was too snobbish to choose someone to strike an affair with below the level of a Chartered Accountant)! Oh, by the way, I was by then a qualified Chartered Accountant and was practising!!

All these years, I did not stop believing neither in the power nor fair treatment ability of mighty Shiva and I continued making a trip to the nearby Shiv temple on this day particularly and quite frequently.....to remind him that I was still waiting in the queue for an ideal match.

In the 7th year, on the day of Shiv Ratri, I just couldnot hold my tears and grudges that I had been waiting for too long and labelled him as incompetent, powerless and unfair (by that time so many of my friends got married without even keeping fast on Shivratri) and I decided not to visit him this year.....

In the evening when I came back to my rented apartment from office, the elderly landlord asked me as a matter of fact," Which temple did you go today to offer prayer to Shiva?". To his astonishment, my answer was a blunt,"nowhere Uncle. There is no point in worshipping someone for something who actually does not have any power at all. I am done with it after so many years."

My landlord and landlady were a very gentle and sweet old couple and traeted me always as one in the family.....they immediately sat down with me over a cup of tea to convinced me to visit the temple next day early morning and I did quite reluctantly ....

While going to the temple, I bought everything that was part of the ritual and instead of buying a green coconut, I bought a big, round bael with solid surface ( a fruit which is also Shiva's favorite, i dont know why). I just threw all those flowers on Him without even a hint of devotion and cracked the bael on his head ( literally ) instead of keeping it at His feet just to make Him realise my level of frustration.I left the temple without even bowing my head to Him and with a threatning," If you do not sort this issue within this year, I will never visit you in my life, forget about worshipping."

In that very year, in June 1999, I met my soulmate quite unexpectedly and we got married next May. Well, journey from June 1999 to May, 2000, was not as normal as it may seem as I had to gather all strength and courage to ask him," Will You marry me, please?" as I was neck deep in love after the third meeting. Now whenever I narrate the incident to anyone, the reactions vary from," OMG, how could u do that? Proposing a boy? Adventurous!" or "Really? so interesting! you must be kidding!" or " So what was his reaction?".......

In retrospect, whenever i think of those few months and the hilarious, courageous, one - sentence adventure, I think Lord Shiva gave me the courage or shamelessness or whatever it takes to propose a boy!! After all, His reputation was at stake and He just could not afford to loose an ardent devotee like me... I keep fast and go to see Him every year wherever I am and after the prayer, offer my apology for hitting Him so hard with the bael.

Happy Maha Sivratri to all who have already been lucky and to all who are still waiting in the queue!

Blogging woes.......

When my Misti became a young blogger for her school, I was bursting with pride and emotions! Little did I know that for a mother of two young kids (read rivals!), nothing lasts for more than few fleeting minutes....

Between brother nd sister, Misti is at the receiving end, almost always as Chhutku has unlimited ideas of bothering Misti - sometimes unknowingly but most of the time, with the purpose of irritationg her! When a fight is inevitable, Chhutku wins 'hands down' as he is a stronger opponent than Misti. ....but didn't we hear the age-old proverb - Pen is mightier than the sword?

The first piece on the blog that Misti wrote was 'about my brother' which started with the opening sentence,' My naughty brother....'. As morning shows the day, the opener was good enough hint as to what the rest of the piece might contain! As a kind gesture (or was it a part of her strategy to settle score?), Misti allowed Chhutku to read it but the smile on her face said it all! Chhutku took this with a pinch of salt but couldnot do much as it was her 'personal thing' and had already been approved by the teacher!

So far so good .... but I failed to notice the sign of a storm brewing within Chhutku. He came to me with a visibly distraught expression on his face and complained,"Ma, you also write for your blog but you have never written anything as 'my naughty Chhutku....' and look at Babu! Was it necessary that she had to write on me ? Could not she think of some nice words? Dont I love her?" and the floodgate of tears opened.

Mothers are the best diplomats !

.....and after a long discussion, Misti agreed to edit her writing only to the extent of adding some positive words like 'my amazingly naughty brother....'. Chhutku was by then choked with sobs and acknowledged with lots of hiccups that 'amazing' indeed was a positive word and allowed Misti to go ahead with the rest of the writing! A sigh of relief for me!!

On thursday afternoon, when the kids were busy playing and listening to music, I decided to have a shower. Within minutes of entering into the bathroom, I could hear thumping footsteps followed by loud knock on the door and Misti demanded that I must come out immediately or else she would kill Chhutku! She was outraged that Chhutku stole her password and opened her blog without even seeking her permission! Before I could pacify her, the devil arrived to add salt to Misti's wound,"Babu, we are a family so we dont need permission to see each other's things. Do we Ma? ...and then, I was only checking whether you have again written something 'negative' about me! Remember - Ma told you to write only 'positive' things , if u at all write something on me".

Misti packed a punch," Don't I have anyone else to write about except you? The blog is not for writng about ' naughty brothers' ; dont you have brains to understand that?"

In a state of desparation, I ordered Misti to call up Dubai Police so they could give them a solution - I was too tired to think of some diplomatic answers!!

The innocent devil of mine is very scared of police for unknown reasons and he immediately changed track," Ok Babu, my mistake. I will never do it again. By the way, I opened it for you to write something, just in case.... But I promise you Babu, next year when I will also have my blog, I will write about you first with sentence like 'my crazy sister...' and no positive word" and both went back to their respective activities.

A mother needs to walk on fire and ice and practice makes it as easy as breathing!

Lemonade, sandwiches and some sports,

I was shaken out of my mandatory post-lunch siesta on a particular day when the kids entered home after coming back from school and announced loudly in unison, “Mum, it’s our sports day on Wednesday,” . Before I could gather myself properly on the sofa, the war of words ensued as to which house is going to grab the 1^st spot this time, Emerald or Onyx. The war of words gained momentum to such extent within few minutes that both of them had to use their limbs to win over the other and I had to intervene, “Well, kids, if you are practicing hard, then you have equal chance to win. Now let us decide what am I going to bring to school on that day to snack on during breaks.”

(They were put in different house on my request so that a healthy competition between brother and sister is fostered. In retrospect, I think that was a pretty bad idea actually!).

….and they immediately settled down to decide on “something healthy” list of snack and drink that would keep them energized throughout the day to win the battle. Chhutku went on to suggest “kind of chicken pizza” as according to him ,chicken is protein and gives energy (so Chhutku-ish) and Misti  went diagonally opposite to suggest some” fruit & nutrition bar” in her trade mark tone of a authoritative big sister as her Sports Teacher said so…

The list grew into a full page within minutes and I apprehended another round of verbal and physical series of attacks and counter attacks. During these moments of crisis, I am often compelled to use the ultimate warfare that I have in my stock and I had to announce,” Babies, stop fighting. Let Dadda come back from office and decide.”Their Dad has the ultimate veto power on any issue which we cannot decide upon amicably!

After a long day in office, my husband had to put on the Judge’s cap (a virtual one) to decide on the things that I should carry to school on sports day and Chicken Pizza was the first item to be struck down! Chhutku grumbled endlessly behind the closed doors but the list had already been finalized which included glucose biscuits, fruit slices, fruit juices and lemonade (home made).

Well, this part was still easy but here comes the next part – execution of the decision! “Obviously, Ma is going to come to school with these in a “Fly Emirates” bag,” stated Chhutku very casually.

Was it that simple? Nah!!

So Misti quipped,” Yeah, I know, only if she remembers the day and date.” By now, along with everybody in my family, my kids are also convinced that I am a living example of “forgetfulness”. Chhutku never had complains if ever I missed any Parental Engagement Day as he inherited many traits of mine(forgetful, unorganized, clumsy) but unfortunately for me, Misti is blessed with many traits of her dad (elephant’s memory, methodical, perfect). So she took it upon herself to remind me every day. She prepared a list of items on a A-4 size paper with flashy colors and wrote the day and date in Font size 40 in bold and pasted it right on the Fridge Door. As if, that was not enough, everyday she read out from that paper quite a few times with the hope that it would get etched out in my memory cells before the D-day arrives!

…..and finally the day arrived. Misti gave me the final reminder before boarding the bus and instructed me categorically to bring everything in two sets in two bags so that there was no confusion in the last minute. Nervous as never before, I packed everything as instructed and hopped into a taxi well in advance so that I could reach before the March Past. I took a seat in the front row managing three of my bags (two “Fly Emirates” and my Purse) somehow. The moment Misti spotted me in the audience, came another hailstorm from her, “Ma, got everything? Remember, the yellow-purple bag is mine. Have you got a schedule of the events? Please get one from Mr. Todd otherwise, how would you know where to go? Come back quick, ok?” I ran in vague direction to collect a schedule from Mr. Todd not knowing where he was and somehow, managed one and took good 15 minutes to figure out where the various pits were and how the events had been organized. I froze almost when it was clear that they would be in different pits simultaneously as they are in different class and to make matter worst, the pits were diagonally opposite at any point of time. How could I make myself present in two places at the same time? What if Misti feels thirsty when she was running the sprints? …and Just in case Chhutku feels hungry when he had been lined up for long jump? Brain stopped working, as usual and I took a deep breath!

 By the time, I could decide on my strategy, the announcement came,” Please do not enter the play ground with heels.” Now where do I keep my sandals (my favorite one)? Exhausted with so many ifs and buts, I dumped it in one corner of the ground and started running towards the pit where Misti was going. She was participating in the long jump while Chhutku was trying his hands on with Cricket shots in other side of the field. I barely stood there for few minutes watching Misti and she came towards me, “Now I will have to wait for my 2^nd and 3^rd chance. You go to Chhutku if he needs you. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything for drink or snack’.”

I ran towards Pit No 4 in bare feet gasping for breath and moment I reached there, the event came to close. With Chhutku and his group, I walked (ran) to Pit no 6 and hardy took few breaths while watching Chhutku throwing the javelin and he whispered, “Ma, give me some juice and go to Babu in case she needs water.” I grabbed my bags and ran to other pit on the other side of the pit where Misti was practicing basket ball. “Ma, how is Chhutku doing? Give me some water, no lemonade please and I don’t mind if you wish to go and stand with Chhutku,” Misti said so lovingly. Another 100 meter sprint for me…….

……and this continued till the day ended with Misti’s house securing the first position while Chhutku’s house came second. What a day! “Kids, now I need a break and some rest too. My legs are aching badly and I am very hungry after day-long sprinting across the field umpteen numbers of times,” I almost collapsed and sat on the grass in the field. “Ma where have you kept your sandals?,” asked Misti with so much of concern.

“I don’t remember, baby. Never mind, I will walk bare feet but I have no energy to search for it now,” I somehow managed to utter. Chhutku (the one who does not walk a step if not pushed) said so caringly,”Misti, You give her some biscuits and lemonade and I am going to search for her sandals”

….He came within few minutes with my sandals dangling in his hands and we headed towards the cafeteria with my two children by my sides as we were in no mood to eat those leftover biscuits, juices and stale-smelling lemonade. Once we had rested and were no longer starving, the brain gradually returned to “function” mode and we decided to call up Dubai Taxi to be transported to home. As now the brain was in fully functional mode, it came to my mind in a flash that so far, except deciding on the list of snack and drink, their Dadda had not contributed in any ways to this ‘Oh-so-important” event of the kids.

…..and I wasted no time in shooting  an sms that we were thoroughly exhausted after so much of active sports to call a taxi and that it was his moral responsibility at least to come to school, pick us up  and drop home! Emotional blackmail always works and he obliged.

Once back home, I threw myself on the sofa straightway in the drawing room itself as if I was a dead warrior and fell asleep within minutes! That day, I had to take off from kitchen duty also as I earned this right after such flawless execution of motherly duty! A hot-water footbath followed after some lovely Biriyani and kebabs (home delivered by Handi, a favorite eatery joint of mine and it was complimentary from my husband’s side!). I retired finally calling it a day!!

Even though I woke up with sore legs the next day, I had few reasons to feel very happy about. Firstly, contrary to my perception, the brother-sister duo showed that they cared for each other and both wanted their Ma to take care of the other and watch the other perform, even if it meant that I had to cris-cross the field so many times! How sweet and generous on their part!! Secondly, even if they were tired and exhausted, they took care of their Ma in the best possible way! Shouldn’t I be proud of my little ones and lastly, as it was too much of exercise the previous day, I could merrily take off from Studio Fitness and enjoyed random TV serials over left-over biriyani and kebabs!! 

The count-down for the next Sports Day has already begun and Chhutku has started negotiating hard that the list of snack must include chicken pizza next time!!

The Black Berry spill-over

“I sent in invitation and you did not accept that, Minakshi ma’m”, complained one of my very close friends over phone.

“But I have not received any invitation from you, Sunita. …and by the way, what was the occasion? Anyways, I would not have been able to go to attend the function. So…. ”, I tried to cheer her up.

I only have known of invitations for some celebrations or occasions so far in my life. She snapped me in between my sentences with giggle,” Ma’m, it was in BB and not for any function”.

BB? What on earth is that? After such long trial and tribulations, I now connect with friends through FB but never heard of BB. Generally, I prefer to avoid acronyms and love to say the full word or phrase or sentence while writing or speaking. So I was obviously not aware of the acronym “BB”.

Another round of giggle from her side and she clarified with pity that BB stands for Black Berry.

Yes, I do possess a black berry but what connection does that Blackberry have with sending some invitation? I was still not clear and she took the hint to explain in detail that I can use my Blackberry to chat on real-time  basis or send photographs quickly or access to my e-mail account or browse through my FB account and so on…..

Wow, so many possibilities and I did not know that! Actually, very reluctantly, I accepted that Black Berry from my husband as I am a person who is not particularly very fond of accessories and a simple Nokia phone had been working perfectly fine for me. Secondly, there was no pressing need that e-mails were to be sent every now and then as I currently enjoy the new-found status of “full-time Housewife”. Thirdly and most importantly, I have phobia for complicated electronic gadgets.

Even the need to connect through BB to friends was not urgent but suddenly and surprisingly, I felt intrigued and I had that urge to know more about the possibilities. The moment I mentioned this to my husband, the initiation process started immediately (cooking for dinner could wait!) and my I-know-all eight-year old son also chipped in to throw in some piece of knowledge intermittently about how to use Blackberry effectively. (I must say, my little one has amazing knack for modern-day electronic gadgets)

After a crash course of few hours, I learnt how to send invitations to others to connect, how to accept invitations from others, how to upload pictures, how to chat, how to create profile ,sending e-mails or browsing FB account etc and voila, it is fun! (I do not know how to ping, though).

Equipped with such knowledge and a blackberry with international roaming facility, I went for winter vacation to my parents’ place with the kids this last December. Now that I can take picture and show it to friends immediately, I clicked unlimited number of pictures of my village and uploaded immediately to showcase my skill and in the process, my beautiful small village earned few praises! My children also wanted to wield the magic wand in front of their friends in the village and wanted them to listen to songs from You tube as many times and as many songs the friends requested(villages are no longer untouched by bollywood shockwaves but blackberry is still unheard of).

To make things worse, Chhutku had been completely consumed by the ‘Kolaveri – D’ effect and listened to it umpteen number of times to ward off boredom as Youtube.com was only a button away. Misti is just in the threshold of age when Justin Biber comes in dreams and songs sung by him were played a decent number of times!!

….and then tragedy struck! An sms from DU shook me up from this bliss one fine morning which said that my post-paid limit had been reached and the over-due amount was blinking at whopping and shocking AED 1727. Outgoing sms-es were not being delivered and outgoing calls were not allowed!!

Oh, my God, how is this possible? I made only a few phone calls from my ‘blackberry’ quite cautiously as I knew that International roaming was expensive – was my first reaction. Even after so frequent (and sometimes call duration is obnoxious when I speak to close friends to give them detail of my new shopping, haircut, Dubai  sales, beach scene etc) calls to friends and relatives, the bill of usage of mobile has never reached beyond AED 500!! I actually took few long breadths to come back to normal heartbeats and with lot of hesitation sent an SOS to my husband.

An epitome of generosity (I mean that), he called up to assure me that an online payment had been made and I should enjoy the balance days of stay with parents without worrying about mobile bills. Even then, I was continuously trying to find a reason for such heavy-duty usage and DU only solved the mystery through another SMS informing me that now the charges for accessing internet while on international roaming has been slashed.

In a flash, I got the clue – accessing the You tube, the FB ,come under the phase “internet access” and does not come free of cost even if I possess a “black berry” and it becomes doubly expensive when on International roaming.

 If only I knew this vital piece of information …….! But am I to be blamed for this ignorance? My husband and son (partly), who initiated me to this “blackberry” addiction, should have told me as a part of lessons! How irresponsible!! Since husband was away, I sent him a “BBM” holding him responsible for this damage (well, I still do not know whether BBM is free service or a paid one!).

Poor husband! He first had to bear the damage financially and now this accusation from the wife!

Children were instructed strictly to stay away from You Tube and I have not pressed the FB icon once, even mistakenly during the balance days of stay (except few BBM to my dear Husband). The pictures that were taken after the fiasco were uploaded once I came back to Dubai.

….and here comes my confession – I missed the fun of staying connected to FB or through BBM during those few days, folks!! Some addictions are bad for physical health and some addictions are bad for financial health - who understands that better than me ?