Pepping it Up

I don't know if this brand of craziness is somewhat genetic, but I was rather surprised to find the little imp doing what I do rather regularly when I m ill - pep talk my body into fighting the germs so I can avoid the pill popping(I have names for some of my WBCs, yes, thank you). So there she is, talking her headache into gowingaway. And I could swear that she has never seen me when I m sick. Ah well, quirkiness- much joy and relief you bring sometimes!

Breathing, Snoring, Living

You know how kids are young, you check on them multiple times when they are sleeping. Making sure they haven't covered their faces, they are breathing okay, they haven't kicked off the sheets and then you cuddle up to them and silently kiss their sleeping faces , careful not to wake them up. Then, you let out a deep sigh, and wish they wouldn't grow up so fast, though it is exhausting to run behind them, take care of them and mother/aunt them.

I feel that way as my parents grow older. So yes, we have painful adjustment issues - but when I hear them snore, and breathe (loudly, not so smoothly), I think a lot of those differences dissipate briefly. All that matters is hearing the reassuring sounds of living, and that you can be there within touching distance, not obscured by a dozen nurses, beds, tubes and visiting hours.

Govvvaway

With more time (to doodle-deedle-do that thing that she really doesn’t want to do) on her delicately unmanicured hands, D has started to read the forbidden sections of the paper, the bastion of the intelligentsia-the Editorial pages. A giant leap, for someone, who gets her weekly dose of the happenings (he doesn’t do parties though, tcha!) from Broacha’s The week That wasn’t . Have to hand it to the man and his sartorial sensibilities-something about dressing up an overgrown baby in a suit (top half at least!) and a (can’t help but swoon!) baby pink shirt and dark pink tie .Vested interests (most probably over-zealous Ministers with shares in cable networks ) have denied this ( long-been -looming -under -a cyclonic -threat) city , the privilege of watching Jon Stewart and his so-cool mate whose name cannot be remembered now, but used to be religiously worshipped several weeknights ago. Broacha is, thus, the man. Occasionally, the weather man is also the man, but D don’t like the rain or people who predict it, albeit inaccurately. (He thinks no one may have noticed, but D, super-sleuth, did -the guy now has a jet black wig, a wig, okie topa!!)

Yeah -editorial pages on a lazy afternoon (Unlike JN’s India , when the rest of the world sleeps, D does too.)The author makes a spirited case for India to not spend on investing in emission reductions (which would amount to about 1% of its GDP). Now, D is known to have no views on most subjects that concern the world and its population (its increase or decrease, proximate causes for the same, birth and control, pre/post…), but on the subject of Kyoto, ERs, and carbon trading, D has the most vehement views. The author was kind enough to point out that views of a majority of scientists on global warming (the one time that the eggheads agree) needn’t necessarily be right, merely because it is a majority view. No arguments on that-good point on the majority view, if you are a lawyer, or an accountant (hee haa!), but no sir, not in matters of environment.

[Conclusion on reading: More fanatic Greens needed. As green also has religious connotations, let’s be specific and go with Jungle Green (bittersweet!).That must be the new color of politics. Surprisingly, the world’s largest democracy doesn’t have a Green Party…we are having red, though…also lantern, gas cylinder, cycle all-but no green?]

BTW, I miss the sun. Miss like I miss Jon Stewart and friend. Hate dark clouds that foretell a wet afternoon, when all it is , is a very unpleasantly humid day and a bloody muggy night. Hate weather that forces me to sit at home, watch TV and read the darned paper (or go out and get wet and dirty, just when I am in my whitest whites). Or worse, think. That last week, I was planning Mercara, and now all I want to do is roast in Rajasthan-except with my luck and cloud following, it may even rain there. Abnormal weather makes me want to punch the guys who oppose 1% investment in trying to control it.

(Title: imp lingo for annoying people and things who/which must be made to govvvaway)

Imps and pink tarantulas

There is a relationship, just over two, that “makes me want to be a better person”-[I will thank Jack Nicholson later for that one].

Parenting is a huge responsibility. Aunting, equally so, especially when little Bonnie Blues prefer company in the same size and intellectual package as them! So, my daily duties lately involve brushing tiny teeth with more fervor than I do my own, developing milk muscles and making up other acceptable reasons for gulping milk (even as my daily morning cuppa languishes unattended); my nightly chores include listening to detailed accounts of how you can meet a lion, tiger and various other endangered species (including the pink tarantula) on a two kilometer drive in the suburbs, convincing imps that red carrots make red cheeks and berating my complete lack of imagination in concocting tales that can put a little princess to sleep. Unfortunately, the Ramayana happens to be a bed-time recital (blame the grand-parents later), and I am at odds everyday—I ought not to paint Sita to be a wimp, if I need to nurture the feminist instincts early; Ravana wasn’t really that bad a fellow, but every story needs a villain;need to dwell on the bonding between the brothers, but tread cautiously here-cannot have the brat demanding a sibling now!; Hanuman is a divine monkey, but yes, a monkey…no, not the same monkey as in the crocodile story; oh yes..Dasaratha had three queens, Dad doesn’t.

Today was a Sunday, full-time hands-on job. So we went butterfly chasing at noon, and yes, I have never caught one, and I don’t intend to, either, but I can make a pretence of trying and failing. And as we ambled along, it struck me that it has been years since I actually saw butterflies! Or stopped to admire flowers and buds. Or bees and miscellaneous fauna and flora, whose names I do not know and cannot tell. My sense of inadequacy is heightened….and then, she comes and wraps her little arms around me, and kisses me, for no reason at all, without any prompting or needling….

I don’t know if the purpose of life is procreation, but I know that kids can bring you great joy, when they are young….someday, they turn out like older people around, capable of erasing all that goodwill.

Is the world a place that I would really want to bring a child in? I am sure all parents start on the premise that they want their kids to be better persons than them.., but we didn’t turn out that way, did we?

The light of my world.

..I am returning from a client's...frustrated and visibly angry with the general population of the world.A kid in a vehicle next to mine at the signal , stares at me,wide-eyed .She isn't scared, but wary.A slow smile emerges there, as my eyes meet hers.

If that isn't the nicest thing that I have seen in a while....!
Children do make fighting ,slaving and existing ,worth the effort , sometimes.