I love my hair - I pledge it!

I love my hair – I pledge it! Indian woman treasure their hair like nothing else. It is a symbol of beauty, feminineness and so many other things. And for that reason, we end up spending a lot of money, effort and time transforming our curls into straight ones and perm and curl the straight ones. We google for remedies for all our hair problems, if any and also for silky smooth, long and strong, black and shiny, you name it, we want it all! Haircuts mark important events in our life – may it be a heartbreak, marriage, pregnancy and motherhood. And for this era of makeovers, we drastically change our style to make a statement. Unfortunately for me, before I pay the credit card bill for a designer haircut, my hair grows to make it undone. Does anybody else think so? Okay, apart from all this, how would it feel to donate hair for a cause you believe in. Changing lifetyles, pollution and all new research findings need not tell us Indians are being more and more susceptible to Cancer. Stories of those who battled with Cancer and won makes us proud indeed, but do not forget there was a stage in their treatment course when the lost all their tresses and felt weak because of that, with the same intensity how we felt proud with our long, shiny tresses like a Rapunzel. Here is where the movement of Hair for Hope – India makes a difference. If you have at least 10” of hair to donate, go ahead, do it. For you, it will grow back and bring a smile to a chemo patient. Mass donations are being driven in schools, colleges etc and celebrities join the cause to make it look even better. As for me, since I have layered my hair drastically, even if I donate now, some portions will not match up to the requirement. So what I plan to do now is to go for a straight hair cut and grow it out so that I can donate the same and be proud of it. I am writing this so that that I don’t back out and change my decision to grow my Hair for Hope!

My Miss Vanity

Some people are irreplaceable and so lovable, even when they get on your nerves. My Miss Vanity is a person like that.

Case1.

During a long evening walk, when my dear friend Miss Vanity looks at the lightning in the faraway sky and exclaims ”Thunder!”, my jaws dropped.

When I gather my senses to think that the other brain cannot be more stupid, she corrects herself, “yeah, I call it silent thunder”.

Boom! I just had a heart attack.

Case 2.

Miss Vanity is hungry and have not had breakfast at 9.00 am. We have very little time before getting picked up for a team event organized at the suburbs of the city. Almost panicking, we hunt for a darshini for a plate of idli. But Miss Vanity peeps into each petty shop which sells mostly only cigarettes. Finally, I am  pissed and turn around to ask whether she wants cigarettes.

She blatantly replies, “I DON’T DRINK!”

Case 3.

Actually, this was the first case, but slipped my mind. I had to get help to remember this one!

Initially, myself and Miss P had some apprehensions about the grey matter content in Miss Vanity’s brain. So one day, we directly asked, “ are you dumb or just acting?”

“I can hear!”, she replies, answering all our questions!

P.S.: Any resemblance to people living or dead are purely coincidental. LOL and phew!

An open letter to my daughter

Two days before, as I was listening to Kiran Bedi’s speech as part of an office event, I realised my inspiration to work outside home is not my working mother, not Kiran Bedi herself, but my Daughter who joyfully goes to her creche when I drop her off before I leave for work.

When I got pregnant with my girl as soon as I joined by new office, I had a feeling that this is the end of my career. Nevertheless, the pregnancy period was incredibly exciting and me enjoying that superwoman attitude. So now since I could still continue to work, all thanks to the in-house creche facility in office, I should apologise to my girl. Hence, I came up with this open letter for her.

My dear sweetheart,

The first sight I saw of you was the big black eyes looking around, curious to see the world. 21 months later now, we are partners in our development. Every morning, we have our bags to pack- mine with my office documents, lunch box, ID tag etc and yours with food, extra clothes, diapers etc. If you were not supportive enough, I would have had to stay at home wasting the investment on me.

So I want you to remind me of my following promises to you if at all I forget them out of my selfish love and insecurities:-

• ·         When you grow up, I want you to be empowered not just educated.
• ·         Choose your career based on your passion and not mine.
• ·         Be involved in outdoor games, to build endurance, be disciplined and have a sense of sportsman spirit.
• ·         Learn to be independent but take sensible decisions about what you think is right.
• ·         Make your own share of mistakes and learn to move on with renewed spirit.
• ·         Believe in yourself and not pull yourself down because you are a girl.
• ·         Treat the disadvantaged with compassion and lend a helping hand whenever possible.
• ·         I do not want to discriminate and deny you anything which I would have given you if you were my son.

Last but the most important of all, I do not want candles lit before your photograph like any other mother in the World. So be safe, be brave and know that your home will always be there for you.

,Love and hugs

Amma

A Series of Unfortunate Events

The reason why I chose this name? Read on…

Saturday, 7 September, 2012

We were relaxing after a busy week, read busy as both of us successfully managed to go to office on all five days(me to office and Jiya to office creche).

J went for his football practice early morning. Generously, I gave him a cup of tea and a small breakfast and again both of us went back to sleep together. Woke up again at 9 am and started playing around. Jiya was hungry, so I decided to make oats for her. If alone, she is like a siren which went berserk, she’ll simply cry but surely without a single tear.

So I carried her while cooking, bad decision. As soon as I removed the cooking vessel from the stove, she put her hand in it. The whole palm was burning, all red and swollen. Immediately I kept her hand immersed in water. But she was going on crying and writhing in pain for the next 2 hours.

By that time, J returned home with a knee injury, to be welcomed by the crying twins – me and Jiya. He did not know what to do; he was cursing himself that he went out.  He did not even get time to look at his wound or attend to it.

After long hours of crying, she finally slept in my arms while applied medicine. When she woke up, she was quite normal until she saw the blisters on her hand. She started crying again. But my brave girl recovered faster than I thought. J too got his wound medicated.

Sunday, 8 September, 2012

This Sunday I wanted to go to church, which is a luxury post-baby. But due to the previous day’s burning session, we decided to stay at home while J attends church on our behalf too. Jiya started showing symptoms of fever. All the pain and crying bothered her so much that her body temperature rose. Calpol drops, every 6 hours and wet cloth on forehead, the routine started.

Can we go to office tomorrow? I don’t think so…

Monday, 9 September, 2012

Jiya and me at home, taking rest and worrying about office too. Fever subsiding…

Tuesday, 10 September, 2012

No fever, Jiya is perfectly fine and back to all her mischievousness. Her hand is also recovering fast with no more blisters to be seen. We got ready for office and loaded ourselves onto our bike, Pulsar 180 and started for office, which is just 3km from home.

Tragedy strikes again. Halfway through, I felt as if I’m being pulled off. Before I even knew it, my duppatta got caught in the bike’s tyre ripping skin off my neck. J hit the brakes and we got down to find no trace of the duppatta anywhere. The entire cloth got pulled inside the chain case of the back tyre. And the right side of my neck had very little epidermis left. The bike was not running properly and so J removed the case; he is always ready for an emergency. He removed the duppatta and threw it off.

Though the wound was burning, it was not bleeding. So we went to office where I dropped Jiya at her creche and then went to the nearby hospital to get the wound dressed. The doc said it is nothing serious, just skin abrasion.

It is indeed God’s grace that I did not fall off the bike even though the pulling force was too much; if I had fallen, Jiya would have fallen along. God forbid, nothing like that should happen to anyone, for that matter.

All wounds are healing fast. I hope the dark cloud which was looming over my family has moved away. God save us all!

"And lead us not into temptation.

but deliver us from evil."

Agonies of a Meeting Room

I was just a meeting room a month ago. Now I have a bunch of hooligans who indefinitely sit here and work (?!). Now I bear the load of 6 systems on my feeble horse-shoe shaped table and on my electrical capabilities.

If I had a manager to complain to, I would escalate these issues, which have tarnished my image forever:-

• Sometimes they complain that the room is too cold; I see them wearing their jackets, hoodies, sweaters etc and if they don’t have one, they publicly insult me by borrowing from others sitting in some ‘not-so-cold’ corners of the building. 
• Some other times, they tell it is too hot and congested, or even that there is no air circulation. 
• They sulk about the lights that it is bright, it is yellow and it dries out their eyes. 
• They sent out emails sitting in my heart telling that the work environment is poor. 
• They keep my doors open on the pretext that there is no ventilation , but I strongly believe that they do it for the sake of staring at guys and gals who admire me while passing by.

How long have I wanted to hold a meeting? To discuss, to solve and to assess problems and issues. Wasn’t that exciting?

Will that era ever come back to me?

Will these guys, these shameless guys go away any time soon?