Yet Again!

For someone very special, who’s been there for me in the good times and mostly in the bad times (!), who has been unfaltering in kind words while hearing my sob stories a thousand times over and over.

Thank You Dear Friend. Wish you a very happy birthday and a wonderful year ahead.

Now cheer up, a birthday isn’t another day to sweat over one more year gone by

 You go out and have some fun this year. Let’s hear about that resolution of yours… one you will stick to tho

Every night, when my Dad, retreats to the terrace for his moment of peace with himself and his fish, Capsi and Lilly accompany him. While Dad watches the fish swim to and fro and gulp in and out bubbles of air, Lilly and Capsi resort to their favourite activity of the day too. We have quite many fish at home… There’s some pond which Dad built which contains many fish, there’s some kind of large flower pot converted into breeding area near to the same ‘pond’, there’s a jar containing a fighting fish in the living room. There’s a tank with other fish in the verandah and there’s an aquarium containing yet more fish on the terrace. It would be an understatement to say that Tshok the Dad adores his fish. It’s another story that though he can spend hours – literally – just watching fish, i most of the time end up cleaning those aquariums and what have we. No wonder i hate seeing too many fish around the house.

So night-time is mostly allocated to fish-watching. For Capsi and Lilly, my seemingly innocent babies, it’s an altogether different affair!

BECAUSE: they turn into the FLY CHASERS at night!

while my dad, very happily collects these flies for display in the lab! You’d think there’s just one species of fly in his hand? Far from it! Paa can name all of the flies he’s got and not all of them are brothers/sisters. He adores Caps and Lai even more because of their chasing abilities. Once he even helped them kill this one:

which is apparently a harmful pest to the sugarcane fields.

Trivia: Flies’ bodies contain very less ‘liquid’, so preserving them is an easy task.

Following their fly-extermination, Caps and Lai have then resorted to … below … when winter crept in and flies became scarce!

There was a strange moment of déjà vu. I woke up to the distant sound the axe digging into the earth. I panicked for a moment. I called for my Dad – he was the one i wanted to see. Many years ago, I heard the same axe but then Mum didn’t tell me where my Dad was then. This time, she said he was digging a hole to bury our Shubh. I am apparently much more mature now and I can ‘supposedly’ take the parting of a companion with more courage, rather than breaking down as I did years ago? My Shubh passed away this weekend. There is no specific way to introduce or write a memoir for a lovely companion of 10 years. Shubh had just become part of us, of this house before we noticed, and letting go of her, even if suddenly, has to be that easy as well - so asks the circle of life.

I got up from bed, jumped over the wall, as I always do to go to the fields, and joined my father to help him dig this hole. The earth was rocky; the area where we live always has had too many rocks.

Paa has become a bit older. Though still a strong guy, he no more has the same strength as in the earlier days. Back then he wouldn’t allow me to help him and if he ever did, it was just to please me, to let me show off to him that I could be strong too. On Saturday he let me do the digging when he took pauses.

Shubh came from the fields; My dad took them in, she and her sister Pikachu. Nouka and I hadn’t wanted new dogs because the ones we loved had passed away and we wanted no such pain again. These two pups were miserable in the fields. Other people had taken in their brothers and they were the only ones left. Martians do not like adopting female pups. It rained the night before and from his room Dad heard them whining and crying the whole night. The next morning he brought them home, oblivious to our sulking.  We fed them and took care of them. Their poor mum, a smallish frail-looking brown dog, often jumped the wall which separated our house from the fields to feed them. You can’t stay immune to the love a dog has to give. It’s overwhelming and so out of the world that too soon we were in love with both Pikachu and Shubh. Paa had wanted to call them Aishwariya and Priyanka. He couldn’t because my little cousin objected – she was Priyanka! So Pikachu and Shubh it was. I had to choose an Indian name because it just felt natural. Shubh I thought and I decided would bring good and happiness to our homes. She did just that. She blended in the home in her own sweet charming manner. She has been the nicest dog one could ever have, never bothering anyone, just being sweet and ‘polite’ to everyone else.

The first few months of their growing up was rather chaotic – they both had a passion for de-feathering birds and chicks, roosters. These are the same animals/things I have an abnormal fear of. When they would attack a chicken which had gotten in our garden, I would simply freeze, under a seeming attack. Those were the months when we often found dead animals/birds in front of our house. The dogs loved playing and killing those. My neighbours were angry but they didn’t quite have the right to, since their hens came roaming here. My mum though angry too was secretly happy – there was finally a way to get rid of those pests.

Then Pikachu died, Shubh fell very ill. She has never been quite a normal dog. She was slow and could not always judge and coordinate her movement accordingly. She has never been able to get fully well.

The rest… was written once before too.

Thank You Shubh for being a wonderful companion to us all, for being a wonderful surrogate mother to Capsi and Lilly. They called you a useless dog, but we do know how loving and caring you were and that was worth much much more than anything else. It was endearing when you would run after Capsi and Lilly, catch them by the neck and send them back home whenever they would run away. It was humbling whenever you were happy with the little love you received while you gave much more and never whined about it. I’ll never forget your courage, and love for life, the determination to live on despite all.

Goodbye Shubh.

Year 2003/4, sometime in India, sorely missing home and reminiscing about what made home home.

Shortly after Pikachu died, Shubh developed a strange illness, her little body started shaking with spasms now and then, she sort of grew dumb. She had to grunt and make a desperate child-like whining to catch our attention. It was heart wrenching to see her struggle so much with life. At the SPCA, the vet said he had no hope for her and would have to inject the fatal drug. My dad was vehemently against. We’ve so often heard stories of these vets who have been killing dogs, when the docs were at a lost, so we would have none of it. I guess it’s attachment, i guess it’s love and desperate clinging to the lil one we loved so and hope for miracle. Paa was given the injection and told to do it himself in case Shubh’s condition grew worse. Though unwilling, he dejectedly carried Shubh’s death potion home. I wonder whether he would have ever been able to do it. Shubh was afterall part of our family now, our ray of light.
 
Shubh was a lovely dog, ever so calm, gentle and not as commanding as had been previous doggies. But my beautiful one wasn’t getting any better. Before long, her previous shiny coat -hair- had all fallen down, She now looked very skinny, with just too little hair, a tail which looked like a dirty stick. She would barely make two steps and thud heavily on the ground. I had to follow her everywhere when she was out, lest she fell on her head, lest she hurt herself bad. Oh i cried and cried loads at this helplessness of mine and pain of my lil one. By then, i was the only one who was taking care of her. Dad would do it very rarely, mum couldn’t do it, Nuka wouldn’t do it, each with reasons of their own.
 
I was out in the garden once, in the gentle morning sun with Shubh on my lap, helping her to eat her food and wondered whether it was any right to let her live such a painful life. I remembered the needle, the injection and pondered over it. I knew then that i could do it, if it meant an end to her suffering. She wasn’t getting any better and there wasn’t anything which was helping her to. It had become almost intolerable watching her thus. I wished she would talk and tell me what to do. Gently stroked her neck as she loved it. She lifted her head from the food and shot me that look which melted my heart. There, her face spoke of kindness, love. She held my gaze for awhile, then she focussed on her food, lapping it up hungrily. It occurred then, that she wanted to do better, that she was eager to live. I resigned to her wish and to helping her with life.
 
Some month later, her coat grew back and the lil one seemed to be putting on weight too. Though her gait was still awkward and though she still fell now and then, she looked far healthier than she did earlier. I was ecstatic, so was everyone else. But the joy was short lived, for we discovered that her tummy was in fact bulging and growing fatter each day. My Shubh was pregnant! It was frustrating, a horror story come true. How i yelled and howled and cursed the dog which had ventured in our compound. We had altogether forgotten that her body mechanisms were sort of working normally. Had we also thought about it, it would have been impossible to get her neutered. Wondered about the future of our Shubh and only hoped and prayed. On the other hand, Shubh the cheeky thing, seemed the least bothered. She was her usual happy self and seemed to be getting better in fact!
 
Came back late from my cousin’s wedding one June night. I was in my room, when i heard a puppy cry. It didn’t take a second to guess what was happening. Flew down the stairs, with Naman (the young cousin who had come to stay over) and Nuka at my heels, yelling like a mad, “she’s getting her babies…” Indeed when i reached Shubh’s house, there i heard it again. There was no light there, so asked the others to bring candles and torches. Shubh, happy to receive night guests was more interested in welcoming us to her house than bothered about the puppies. She was leaping on us and plouk another puppy fell. It was the funniest and most beautiful sight ever. Tried to calm her down and almost had to force her to sit down. and plouk plak plouk… little wriggling puppies around us. They were sooooo super beautiful. It was one of the happiest days i’ve ever had. One two three four five six seven eight puppies, black white brown of all colours! Can you believe it?? We couldn’t either. :)))))
 
After the miraculous births of the many healthy puppies, Shubh started gaining weight. After some time, she realised that she was now mummy and was the most caring towards her babies. Despite all, she was still our baby too and guess what? Shubinette was getting better…and better, shiny long brown coat was back and she was trotting nicely too. We found homes for the puppies. Now that Shubh was once again on her own, she befriended the bunny, Conni.(remember her?). Both rabbit and Shubh now shared Conni’s food, ate together–the green stuffs– and talked to each other and were bestest of friends. Shubh slept under her(Conni’s) hutch and forgot her babies and other big kennel.
 
Nowadays Shubh is the most beautiful dog it seems. Dad says her coat has gotten so heavy that she pants when she runs just over a short distance(yes she runs!) and her tail so thick. My relatives who had taken a habit of making fun of my frail bony monster were as surprised as could be! No wonder… N guess what? She also started barking too!! Miracle? What else could that be.
 
Oh and imagine my surprise… When i went home for holidays… a happy, though lil shy Shubh had climbed up the stairs to wake me up, her tail swishing swashing to and fro and her face glowing!

Part One is here

“There i am sure some nice guys will get in at this stop.” Our faces lit up with hope.

A look outside and that decided it for us.

“Girls, it’s Sunday, we can’t be here. We have to get out of this smelly bus.”

“LL, it’s your call. What do you say?”

“I don’t want to be here either. But how? What do we tell them? Is it not going to be so very rude of us?”

“Look i would rather be rude than stay here”

“can’t we just get out without telling anything?”

“Noooo what if the oldies start looking for us all over Curepipe. Creepy isn’t it?”

“What do we say then?”

“I don’t know. Let’s get out!”

The three of us, took our backpacks and hurriedly got out of the bus.

“And now?”

“Mads you are sick, i get to stay with you. LL you go talk to the guide.”

“How convenient. I am always the one doing the dirty job. Both of you come with me. But what’s Mads got? What disease?”

“She’s pregnant, she’s going to have a kid.”

“Okai”

I breathed in, and put on a doggy face, approached Patrick, “Hi. Am sorry but I think we will have to cut short our trip. My friend here is not well, She is having the nausea.”

Patrick smiled and in my head i could hear him snigger, liars.

“Oh what’s wrong, will you be okay?”

And then?! That was when Mads rolled her hand on her tummy and declared that she was ill. Her acting was so so ridiculously funny, but we managed not to laugh.

“So i think it’s better we pay you.” On that we disbursed Rs150 each – the most costliest trip ever to be taken by someone from Plaza to Curepipe and that too by the bus.

“I hope you can make it to the next trip.”

“Oh sure, the trois mamelles right. I’ll be there” I replied.

“The deux mamelles actually”

“uh huh.. Okay yes definitely.”

Then we quickly walked away.

“Hold it girls, hold it. He might be seeing us still. Don’t do it.”

Once we reached at least 500m, we burst out laughing till our stomach truly began to ache. We had done it. We had escaped our sad fate, we were so happy. Later when we recalled the story to our friends, they couldn’t believe that we threw up Rs450 on just a trip. The three of us however are so convinced that was the best way we ever spent our money – freedom has truly no price.

The rest of the day? We took a bus, went to Mads place, took her car and went very very far – to the opposite end of the island – to the North. The hiking group was headed South. We spent the day sitting on the beach, watching fake Italians (actually stupid Martians who pretended to be cool), a BEAU with an oldie, and i managed to shout at a kid who threw his football on a stray dog. The kid was apparently related to the fake pasta guy. We got to know about the true identity when the pasta guy opened his mouth and talked to a fake poncho clad woman in Martian. Ah well.

“Hey what was it the guy said about Deux Mamelles? Was he joking or rude?”

“We don’t know, but you are going to find out right? You are going there next week.” And they burst out laughing.

Insight moment: On Mars, we have a mountain called Trois Mamelles. In French Mamelle means Breast. Trois mamelles means three breasts. Deux Mamelles means Two Breasts. I don’t know why they named the mountain so – a heritage from the desperately perverted French. Some humour apparently.

I used to be an avid hiker couple of years back, together with friends and family, we would visit even more exotic places of the already exotic island. I would climb mountains with the agility of a …monkey?, get down cliffs through the rope like … a monkey? I used to feel so proud of myself? Oh and specially when people would pause to clap?? I still tell people I ‘hike’, though I can’t remember the last time I went for a ‘randonnée’/hiking trip. I think I love saying over and over how sporty I am, I love the projection of a sporty me in the minds of others!

Anyway, so when the gals (read my best friends Mads and PrettyPlum) eventually got enough of my non-stop rambling, they agreed to join me for one so ‘hip’ hiking trip to please me. I chose an easy one for them, a hike of 12km on the beach, one which is so easy that even kids were invited to join.

ON the D-Day, last Sunday actually, our tasks and roles were well defined. PrettyPlum had to make veg sandwiches for me, because she didn’t know how to make a veg chocolate cake. I had to make the chocolate cake and Mads had to make non-veg sandwiches for both PrettyPlum and herself. As the official chocolatecake maker, I had a huge responsibility on my shoulders. We were back to the days when the three of us had projects to complete and each of us had to work out the pieces so as to add it all up later. We almost always did everything at the very last minute. Saturday saw me wasted what with some movies, and a party which I remember no more. So I only had Sunday morning (!!) to ‘work’. I was stressed and could almost hear Mads voice screaming in my head, “still not done? Where have you reached? Let me see what you wrote.” Et Merde.

If only I knew then, that my friends were no better off, I suppose I wouldn’t have stressed so much. PrettyPlum woke up at 5:30am, I woke up at 6:15am, Mads woke up on 6:45am ON A SUNDAY …. to prepare food! The chocolate cake looked awful but the girls thought it tasted good.

The hiking group had asked us to be on time for the bus as they wait no more for the ones who get late. So at 8am sharp, Mads, PrettyPlum and I reached the pick-up point, Plaza. There were a lot of people at the Plaza that day. Some of the younger fellows were sitting on the stairs which gave way to the entrance of the theatre, some oldies hung around the garden chit-chatting. I met Patrick – who was our guide and the tour organizer, a guy I knew from four years ago and who now looked so so so much older. I wondered why I ever thought of him as much younger in my head? Or was it another Patrick that I knew? I am still not quite sure whether they are/he is the same guy actually. Soon two buses came, and as the younger fellows headed to the blue bus, so did Mads and PrettyPlum and I….But then, the guide signalled for us to enter the red bus and that was when our adventure began.

Now before I continue, I have to mention that my girl-friends are quite special. They do not like to mingle with the usual crowd, they are quite finicky and they are quite different in a way. To expand further on the subject, when PrettyPlum was forced by her school to go to the orphanages, she spent a very horrible moment. She disliked it when the kids came close to her, when they touched her (I don’t think she ever let them touch her). In her own words, she did the kids a favour by not going there, she made them feel bad. Rest assured, she did not do those things on purpose, some people are like that. Mads? Well read on.

As we stepped on the steps of the bus, we couldn’t help notice that the guy in-front of us was wearing ultra dirty muddy clothes. We cast each other glances and whispered, “Either he just came back from a randonee or he is one very dirty guy” and giggled. It turned out that we nearly suffocated as our giggles died in our stomach and throats once we entered the red bus. The bus was full of such dirty people and all of the people in it were grandpas and grandmas!!

The bus smelled of old people. It truly did have that hospital like smell and to add to our plea, all the windows were closed – because of the cold. So the bus was not aerated at all. To add to our miseries, the girls and I didn’t get a three-seater, but had to accommodate with other old people.

Mads proposed we move out of the bus right then, “I can’t believe you did that to US. How could you?”

“What did I do? You came here on your own didn’t you? C’mon it’s going to be fun.” I looked around and was so unconvinced of what I had said.

“Let’s get out of the bus right now,” Mads barked again

“yes LL, let’s get out” PrettyPlum pleaded too.

“Girls we can’t do that. You must be kidding, we already booked. C’mon it’s going to be fun”

They looked at each other and I knew right then that I would have had to spend the day trying to make up to them.

Patrick and a toothless guide entered the bus, said hello to us all and the bus started off. I was so relieved, the girls were trapped now.

“I can’t believe I let you talk myself into this. I thought there would be young fun people” Mads wailed, “on a Sunday that too… I could have slept till much later. I hate you.”

“Look I didn’t know these people grew old so fast! Or maybe I got mislead about the group? I am sorry but we are together, we don’t need other people to have fun. I even brought champagne chocolate” and with that I removed the chocolates to share.

“Are you crazy? Put that back in, what will these grandparents think of ourselves.”

“Like they are bothered with us. Either they are engrossed in their newspapers or they are deaf. Look at the one behind LL”. We burst out laughing – the guy in question seemed high and lost in trance.

“It’s all your fault. Look we are the only ones wearing sandals – everyone else is wearing shoes. Are you sure we are going to the beach or is it to the mountain?”

“yeh I think it was the beach…”

“oh we can’t trust you. Mads you know how she is. You better ask your neighbor. He’s chinese”

“I don’t like this kind of Chinese!” The Chinese guy next to Mads was indeed not her kind of Chinese guy.

“Why don’t you talk a bit louder? Anyway PP, you wanted to come to this thing too, don’t be a hypocrite and don’t both of you jump on me like that…”

“well I thought it would be nice, my colleague was talking about the group… oh my god, we are going to walk on the beach and my hotel managers will see me. Oh my, how will I ever face the hotel people ever again. What will I ever tell them about the trip. We will be there on the beach, like a herd of cows and the three of us walking behind everyone else. Tourists on the beach will say, Oh look at those three, they must have had botox. Want to look young but can’t keep up with the pace. OMG, we can’t let that happen.”

Of course we were all the time laughing non-stop at our plight. It was pitifully hilarious.

“These outings are for people who cannot go out. We can, we shouldn’t be here”

“Well you are here now, nothing we can do about it.”

We all stayed quiet for what seemed like eternity. THEN we reached Curepipe, the next pick-up point!

While this is really what i wished for:

What i ended up with is this one:

Lots of people think it doesn’t quite fit my character – for you buy a car which suits your character usually. However this one fitted the bill, so there, the Nissan March AK12/Nissan Micra is my first car. Some call it the beetle, i call it the beetlefly… despite its small size, this one does fly on the road. It’s a 1240cc car, equipped with 4 cylinders, which give it super power, and incidentally even more than some of the bigger cars.

Test drove on the motorway at 130km/hr and the car took it quite comfortably. Apparently the day i pushed on the accelerator was the same day cameras were installed on the motorway and pictures were taken of those driving beyond the accepted 90km/hr! I just hope no letters get home – my folks would probably give me another lecture.

Once we took the starlet for a drive – the old thing is mum’s car, but Xsis and i had borrowed it indefinitely from her. We thought we’d give the Starlet a drive of its lifetime and zoomed by many many many cars on the road. Dad and my uncle happened to be on the same road that day and the yelling we received from both of them was quite unforgettable.

Anyway i really like the March, the visibility is formidable, it feels spacious inside, the brakes are ABS, discs on the front and ‘tambour’ (don’t know the word in eng) at the rear, mine is manual with 5 gears, and it is so easy to move around in town. The downside? It apparently consumes quite a lot of fuel… in fact more fuel than cars of its category and even bigger cars. It eats around 8.8L/100km. I’ll follow up on that!

Dad’s house needed painting, so he asked a painter to come along on Monday to paint the house. When at 8am, the guy still didn’t turn up, father of mine grew restless… He waited some more and then decided to go check out the guy at his home.

When Tshok the dad knocked, Painter’s father answered.

“Goodmorning, am looking for MrPainter. Is he there?,” Tshok said.

“You are looking for my son, eh? He is not a painter, he is an artist” PainterzDad replied.

Tshok, a bit perplexed, still insisted on seeing the artist son.

“I am sorry he is sleeping right now. I can’t wake him up.”

“I only need to see him for couple of minutes, he can go back to sleep after…”

“Look Mister, I cannot disturb my son. At night his spirit wanders looking for inspiration. It’s only in the morning that he can sleep. Am sorry I can’t help you.”

And with this, Tshok my dad was sent back home!

Elo

It’s been a while again. Yet again shall we say? Once exams over, i barely have had time to breathe. There ought to have been a video here of me walking on the sea bed, but i haven’t managed to do that yet. Winter crept in too fast and the idea of spending half an hour under the water… or rather in the water didn’t feel that tempting anymore. Not that i have altogether forgotten about it - am still so very eager but will wait for warmer weather.

Mads already done the underwater seawalk, but i managed to convince her to accompany me again. The deal was as such – i have dinner with her ultra boring friends, and she in turn comes with me. Dinner i did have, boring it sure was, but even worse, i played an important role in somewhat ‘blowing it all’; when instead of putting ketchup on my plate, i grabbed my apple juice glass and poured the whole thing over my dinner plate. Imagine the humiliation.

Needless to say, next time i meet Mads, i bet there will be a lot lot of leg pulling.

Anyway, i wonder whether i am not losing ‘it’ – the head, mind of mine i mean (seriously). When i told my dad about the incident, all he could come up with, “Oh pizza tasted nice with apple juice?” I guess i owe this weird brain functioning of mine from him. Maa however seems to think it can’t be genetic. She has always explained my father’s funny weird behaviour, as the aftermath of the cranial fracture he once had. Poor fellow, even if he were genuinely special and unique, the excuse would always be, ah he fractured his head once didn’t he?

It all started once upon a time, when Tshok, the dad of mine was a young handsome fellow of 26 (?). I think he wouldn’t quite agree if i write, “WAS handsome” – he still is, okay. So, in those days, despite his timid and apparently unconfident demeanour, Tshok had managed to save enough money to buy himself a huge motorbike. A motorbike which rode faster than the winds blew, which made more noise than the thunders and which shone brighter than the sun in winter, for Tshok took great care of his vehicle. He was proud of his bike, and felt that he was the conqueror of the island. Every day he rode his bike past my future-mother’s house. (At this point of the story, Shang is not yet my mum, neither is Tshok my dad for that matter).

He would notice her almost everyday, waiting for the bus stop. Shok had met her before in one of their common relatives wedding, and shall we call it a love at first sight thing? (am not sure it was – he won’t tell). Shok slowly grew fond of the shy and apparently sweet girl that Shang seemed to be. (If only he knew! The poor poor guy, i feel sorry for his unsuspecting nature.) So every day, it would be the same routine, he would get up in time, drive fast till he’d reach her bus stop and then slow down his bike. Apparently my future mum never noticed. (all this effort gone to waste)

Then one day, on his way back from work, out of nowhere, a dog appeared in the middle of the road. Dog! Shok swerved and braked just in time, to miss the dog. In doing so, he fell off from his bike, crashed his head against the bridge and fell unconscious. All of my mum’s relatives and cousins lived on that road. I mean - not on the road, but in the area where the road was. So they quickly gathered around, found a car and took him to the hospital. Verdict: a fracture. He had to stay in the hospital for many days. Till date, the folks (my parents) keep the X-Ray film as a souvenir.

Once better, he went back to the village where Shang lived and thanked everyone. But he spent more time at Shang’s house… Not that Shang’s people had helped him more than the others – yet! A cunning Tshok eh? Thank goodness the fracture didn’t erase his memory though. What if he had forgotten all about the existence of a certain apparently sweet docile girl?! (*grin* – my mum is the most nagging woman ever)

One thing led to another. And here i am, without a fractured head but with similar symptoms as the Dad with one.

My exams are finally finally finally over! I really am not that excited as the three finallys make it seem to be… actually it sounds so unreal, i still can’t believe it’s all over! Apparently it is tho!  Once the exams over, we all - (my batchmates, prettyplum, mad and i) went out for drinks and dinner, over which we suddenly grew nostalgic and sad and the kind of handkerchief types of stories. WE promised * to keep in touch - it’s another story whether we actually will. So here’s where ends my two year stint as a part-time university student! tada! am very relieved in fact. I have tons of things to do and time is what i need.

BEFORE EXAMS

AFTER EXAMS:

anyway, guess where we all rushed to on Saturday following the exams? Barbers, beauty-parlours, dermatologists, pharmacy! The stress did us no good!

It came a bit too soon didn’t it? It’s winter alright though, the nights are colder, the days are gray and rainy and the mountains covered with clouds! Pyjamas, socks, jackets, sweaters are out. I badly want to eat gajar halwa – not because it’s winter, but i saw this Hawkins ad on TV. The Bhabhi of that lucky guy made such awesome halwa with her Hawkins pressure cooker. I wish i were in that guy’s group of friends… Then, it’s weird that she cooked such good halwa in Hawkins, because as per my ‘experience’, halwa in pressure cooker never comes that tasty. Ah well… i would give anything to have a gajar halwa dish as I imagine it to be.

I have too many stories to tell that i no more know which one to start with – as usual, the kind of perpetual mess which exists in my mind. Oh some of my answers (on my exams paper’s) came just as jumble-oh too. Anyway, i just pray the guys who read my papers understand the plight of my brain. Today was the worse paper I gave amongst the ones programmed for this year. I still have one to go – scheduled on Friday, but then am quite sure it will not turn out to be as catastrophic as today’s. The problem? I felt lazy! Have you ever feel so so burdened that you cared not a damn about the outcome and just gave in to the vice? Well to start with, i barely thumbed through my notes, read almost nothing as the words always seemed to be floating about, watched two movies yesterday and slept a lot lot. People sympathise with me when they see that my eyes have gone quite deep in their sockets. They believe I have been studying too much. Poor Gal eh?! If only they knew, not one day went by in the last 15 days when I didn’t sleep more than 10 hours a day! With the overdose of sleep, my eyes have become quite small – now we won’t tell this secret to anyone will we? Am only worried about work – how will i ever manage to stay awake in afternoons, when I resume?!

Anyway, back to ‘Le Produit et La Marque’, for yes, that was the title of my module - In French s’il vous plait. My questions were set in French and i just tired myself translating terms in French, English. I ended replying everything in English. The French Professeur said he wouldn’t mind even a bilingual answer, so there; at least I stuck to one language. I was done with the paper forty minutes before due time! Everyone else was of course still working, scribbling fast away on the paper while i fiddled and wondered and wondered… should i leave and pretend i had done it all correct. It would certainly cause a stir amongst my peers. Should i leave and pretend i didn’t know anything – this would also cause a pity stir amongst my classmates… So i just sat there quietly, wishing time would go by faster.

Suddenly, thoughts so weird and seemingly inspiring struck me and before long i was writing French poems on my answer paper. Of course, i was careful to do so with my pencil so i could later (unfortunately?) rub them off. I wondered whether Monsieur le prof would have given me exceptional grades because of my exceptional prose. Then i l ooked at my answers, pretended to be revising my answers – which of course i didn’t have the least intention of doing. Even if the answers were incorrect, you didn’t expect me in such ‘etat d’ame’ to rewrite anything. I started calculating approximately marks i could obtain, made some averages, and counted and counted – i have no idea what. I wrote weird numbers on my questionnaire. Then i got bored, started looking at my desk for some interesting scribbling – you know those wooden desks almost always have some cartoons engraved on them. Mine only said, “Midi at …..”. Midi – noon, reminded me of my growling tummy. The rats were on a roll and didn’t miss to make themselves heard. On normal days, my second breakfast is around 10.30- 11am and we were so past that time. Such misery these examiners put us through. I started writing my name on my rubber. Wondered why the staedler rubber still had that blue part to it. The blue portion of the rubber has never ever erased any ink mark as far as i know. In fact all it has ever done, was drill holes on paper. I wonder why these people still manufacture it that way when no one actually uses the blue portion. The gal next to me asked for my rubber.

Then i saw HIM – the guy who like me didn’t know what else to do! He sometimes closed his answer sheet, then looked around, then he opened it again only to close it too soon. In between, he even managed to get out for a toilet break. He was cleverer – i had forgotten about the toilet break. Then i saw him looking at his paper and putting correction paint wherever he had scraped out things on his paper. Hmm! Interesting idea i thought – why didn’t i think of it before him. Anyway before long, i was putting white dots throughout my paper.

When the weird invigilator finally announced the famous three words, “TIME IS UP”, boy, there couldn’t be a happier me!

Hallelujah! N there’s one more to go

4 more to go! just thought i’d peep in here….

I have been away from the blog-net scene for quite a while, that i also forgot all my passwords! Anyway, will be back on the 23rd or before if i get bored with this studying pudying.

She is smiling, is she happy?

I will most probably feel guilty and shameful later on when i come across this post again, but right now i care not. And the reason is a purely simple and silly one - WE DID IT!! We scored the highest marks on our assignment and presentation! tadada! Why all the fuss you’ll ask? and at an ‘age’ where marks should not matter as much as the knowledge gathered… We’ll retort most probably - JUST!

If you do not know about my team, read about us three gals here and here and here! We were 5 in the beginning but when the other two people dropped out of the course, the three of us stuck together. We managed to score quite nice marks throughout the semester and even highest marks but never quite surpassing the infamous group! So there, a certain kind of thrill for having been better at last (for this was our final presentation). This was ‘healthy’ competition of course (*evil grin*), one required to keep us motivated.

Anyway, going to bed now. This wkend, will be working yet again over another assignment. Need to shop - my brown trousers got paint on them and my army green trousers got burnt when i tried ironing them. Since i wear only trousers, i’ve run out of two very important colours in my wardrobe.

Need to swim (it’s become really a need). The beach looks so heavenly from far and with the kind of hot weather we’ve been having, the water will most probably be warm in the evening. I can resist no more.

Need to bathe Caps lai and shub! That’s a lot of dogs, but thank goodness the daschund sweethearts are tiny dogs - i get done with them within 15 minutes. Shubh is another case though - it takes an eternity to scrub scrub and wash her. She’s as hairy as can be. Would you believe that this girl once had not a single hair on her body and was an ugly creature?? Life is so full of surprises aint it?

Need to sleep right now. Syonara!

are just two weeks away and i still am busy with submitting/completing assignments and presentations. Plus i havent even started studying. The usual pre exams mess -  I ought to be used to it by now.

will be blogging on and off… it is so cool to think that these two years of studies are finally finally done with. When i started, it felt like such a huge chore that would take an eternity and it used to bother me the most. Every single day used to feel like a drag. I am so glad i am done with it .. well almost. i still have a dissertation to submit in mid september. After that, freeeeeddddooooommmm… erm.. i didnt mean doom!

Latest updates from Mars - Home is okay. Laila and Capsi are as happy as can be. The skies are blue, so are the seas…. Ah talking of the sea, my very first plan once the exams are over: underwater sea walk. I am so so excited about the trip-treat already, i can’t seem to wait.

well then goodbye for a while - i’ll be back with my underwater sea walk video- howzzat!

Turn of events at home sent us all into philosophy-mode, where we all (make that mum paa and i) took a few steps backwards in the years and re-examined our lives, our actions, dissected and analysed every hook and crook. The objective, a root cause analysis of why we were recipients of ’shit’.

It often happens that you believe life is a rainbow and whilst moving higher and higher towards the sky, we forget that the rainbow is an illusion, we forget that though the arc takes us back to the ground. By the time it does, we have since long forgotten what’s the taste of crude earth. I badly miss couple of things now that am back to level G, but i would rather be on firm cloud rather than floating again, with imaginary companions, with make belief trust and love. Word of advice: take life as it comes, do not expect too much, do not trust too much. Actually do not trust at all. There are bunch of assholes out there, just prying and waiting for the slightest excuse to pounce on you. Before long, that’s how you end up in shit. It does happen to most of us at some point. 

The father of mine received flak as well. He thought and thought deeply (like the rest of us) of the reason why, of when and where he erred. Then it struck. When we were kids, Paa had made one awesome (a relative word, for awesome it is for me) bed for my ex-sister and i. He had created the bed on his own, with love, and care and it had turned out to be just as special -  A bed with a very cool bookshelf attached to it. I adored it. When we grew up, we no longer shared the same bed. While SHE had a newer ‘common’ bed, i stuck to mine. I was probably too possessive about the bed to let go as well.

Many many years later, the Dad suddenly realised that the younger daughter probably felt SHE had been neglected, that he had probably been partial in letting me have my way with the special bed. (Yes i did tell you we all went back in years.) So he started working on a similar bed in secret. He assembled all the pieces, away from the eyes of everyone else, and ohla, one blue day a new bed was made. Just as lovely as mine, made with even more love than mine, for this time the bed was created with the hope of winning back a heart he thought he had lost. He took special care to colour it the same as the rest of the furniture in HER room. When it was done, he called for help from neighbours to move the bed into her room whilst SHE was not at home. He wanted to surprise HER.

Dah, surprise he did get. A lot more shit. She absolutely hated the thing and wanted it out of her room the soonest. Silly Dad never even received the slightest word of appreciation. Talk about being hopeful eh?  My chemistry teacher always reminded us of the famous saying,”L’espoir fait vivre les imbeciles” (hope keeps alive fools).  The Dad was really pained at having been rejected. The rejection of his creation implied the crushing of his hopes. Since, he prefers not to step into her territory and keep away.

You’d think he’d have reformed? Far from it! A dad in love with his daughters, is vain really.

The other day, he stumbled upon a bottle of paint. You can really stumble upon these things in my house, for Dad’s stuffs are all but strewn over the place. So he got down to work, by painting whichever place he judged right to color white. When he had enough of the usual task, here’s what we got:

Dotted Plant! My friends were due the next day and the only live plant on our floor(mine and ex-sister’s) now had white dots, like they were sick. I was enraged and didn’t miss to yell at him for being a fool. The DAD had thought he would beautify the plants for me! “Such plants come from France, you will not ever get these on Mars” he didn’t miss to tell me. I could have murdered him.

After my friends left, he asked, “So didn’t they ask for a branch off it? Didn’t they want similar ones?”

Weirdly, when in thought mode, if i had been a kid right now, i would have probably helped him colour every other plant with dots. That would have been the most fun thing ever. I wonder why and when we changed.

When we did, Paa didn’t. Thankfully? I do not know.

Elo

Lot many things to catch up with… last couple of days been not easy. Anyway, no lingering anymore on the cloudy days when we can finally catch some sunshine…. Oh merde, this weather talk reminded me – we have had terrible floods on the island two weeks ago. It rained so badly that some people even lost their homes, their food supplies and their lives. There was quite a hullaballoo over the so called irresponsibility and inability of the Education Minister to act and declare the rainy day a day off for school kids. To make matters worse, the idiot announced on radio, “of the 350, 000 kids, only one passed away….” Go judge whether the hullaballoo isn’t worth it.

Within the same week, one teenage girl, 17, got attacked and raped by four guys while she was strolling on the beach with her bf. The fact that she was on the beach at 4am with her bf supposedly was irresponsible on her part. Of course we’ve heard some blame her for what happened to her. She wasn’t cautious, what good girl goes out late, etc etc… She was soon forgotten when the public got more engrossed about the first mentioned issue. I, on the other hand, can’t seem to get this story out of my head. 4am is just the time I would like to find myself on the beach. Worst still, she got raped at Flic en Flac, and that’s the beach I go to every week!

The more I think of it, my lil paradise island has since long stopped being one. Crimes and violence has become part of our routine. The sensational newspapers are no more carriers of ’sensational’ news - we are so used to them by now. So one more people died? OKay, let’s turn the page to check out what’s happening in bollywood.  

Somewhere, a lot of us changed and with it, the noteworthy respectful culture that existed when my grand parents settled here. I can’t say I am proud of being a martian. Far from it, I so badly want to run away from here now.  I am disgusted by the fact that my people are quite often corrupted, or too laid back to ever try to change things. Oh we all do gossip. Tell me about one person here who doesn’t! Yet we supposedly do not have energy or time to be positive and help change things.

Couple of things that have me hooked to the place: my dogs, my parents, my aunt, my cousins, my house, my nani, the beach and memories. Now if I could carry everyone with me, I would surely like to try and build a haven elsewhere…

It’s easy to throw shit on your loved ones face,

sweetly kiss  them goodbye,

leave them to sort out the disgrace

while away you fly.

Here I am, and there is no other place I would rather be.

I write this post, with a lot of pain in thy heart today. Yesterday it was anger and hatred that overtook me, but when it subsided, am left with only pain and regret. Sadness for these little people who took away my heart in just 2 hours. You could say I felt in love and when the objects of my love were hurt, it hurt a lot somewhere deep inside.

SOS village is built around the concept that a mother alone can bring up children. Each house consists of 7 children (from tiny tots to teenagers) and a mother. I have no idea under what basis these mothers are chosen, but at the village that I go to, these mothers are women who had been having issues with their own families. Now this itself, is quite a questionable concept, when considering whether a ‘mother’ with problem can actually bring up ‘rejected’ kids of the society with the adequate care and attention. I am not too sure whether this place is really a haven for those kids who had been through hell. Am not sure anymore whether the SOS village is doing any good a job here, specially after hearing the tales from some of the mothers and kids themselves. I’ve heard of kids being pulled all the way down the stairs, of kids being beated black and blue at the village itself, of yet another being beaten on the head. I have yet to investigate on the criteria for choosing mothers at the SOS village around the world. Disgust and revolt?  Read on.

Last week, when I went to the SOS village, the kids of my assigned house were out.  I was wondering what to do, when before long, some kids holding my hands pulled me to their house. They begged and begged till the officer in charge that day gave me the green light to hop into their house. The kids needless to say were ecstatic.

Their mother was on holidays and it was the aunt who was in charge of the house that day. The aunt was a soft spoken lady, who with a lot of pain managed to keep the house in one piece with these rowdy kids. Despite their sweetness and aura of innocence, many of the kids at the SOS are somewhat uncontrollable if not treated with strictness.

When we introduced ourselves to them, Morgane didn’t miss a beat to make fun of BooBoo and call her “Boo Oh Shit Pooh” and burst out laughing loud. With a lot of patience, we managed to keep all the kids busy. Some of them were so ultra sweet and caring. One could see that Rach, Brice, Paul, had been bullied around by Brad and Morgane.  In order to get rid of Brad, I handed him some very complex multiplications to do. Morgane and Paul sat with me as we went through their french text book.BooBoo took care of the other three smaller kids.

Both Paul and Morgane go to the same school and are in the same class. However while Morgane’s book was a quarter filled with her writing and corrections, Paul’s was blank. I asked Paul to read the first text for me and he read it aloud without flinching. Thinking he had learnt it all by heart, I switched to another text, one he had not covered in class, and even then he read it for me, taking time to pronounce the more difficult words. I was so totally shocked. This fellow was good, considering all the odds against him.

When I inquired why he hadn’t done any of the work like Morgane had, Morgane immediately quipped, “He salivates too much, Miss (teacher) puts him out of the class all the time.”

Paul was embarrassed, and told, “No that’s not true…”

My heart went out to him. I held him tight and told him he’s the most beautiful guy. He gave me a large beautiful smile. I asked him to bring tissue and he’d clean his mouth whenever there’d be saliva on his lips. Told him to do that all the time, to carry a handkerchief. He said he didn’t have one.

We carried on with our work, when Brad this time showed me his work and guess what? He had all the calculations that I gave him correct. I was again so utterly surprised.

“So are you the first one in your class?” I asked

“Yes,” he beamed proudly.

“So there’s no need for me to help you. You already are good!”

“No, but am first in Maths, French, Geo” he replied.

“So you want me to help with the English?”

“Yes” he answered sheepishly, and then he strode off to swing on the curtains.

By the time they were done, it was lunch time. We were joined by a new gal, Melanie. Melanie is a stunningly beautiful girl. She is quite tall for her age and there is this cuteness, angel like around her face, that I just to look at her again! Being the eldest one (10 or 9 years?), she had to assume the role of the responsible sister, helping aunt distribute food, making sure that Morgane had enough of fish and that everyone said his/her prayer. She took her plate last, when everyone else has his/hers.

Once they were done, BooBoo and I took leave. They were shocked to learn that I drove a car. They asked in which ‘class’ I was and whether the car was mine. When we reach my car, all of them wanted a ride. There was no way I could give them a ride, since am not allowed to take any kids out. But they insisted on getting inside the car, the duration that I reversed the car and the wheels rotated twice till it reached the gate. I agreed. My papers and books were strewn on the back seat. Melanie collected them all and put them aside. She too settled quietly while I revved the engine and reversed the car from the parking lot.

The kids were happy and so was i. It had been quite a day for me to be truthful. One when I had to brace myself from breaking down and be happy for them despite all. I promised to come visit them again the following week….
When I went there again, I was eagerly looking for Paul and Melanie, only to learn that both were in the asylum! Tell me, how can two kids of one house end up at the asylum at the same time? Paul was under medication and had probably missed his medicine. Doesn’t that ring a bell of irresponsibility? Melanie, I hear, broke havoc at her school, beat up kids and broke chairs.

Somehow I have this uncanny feeling that something is not quite right at the house. I met up with some of the mothers and they were bitching about other mothers. I felt so terribly uncomfortable. There are so many things which didn’t seem okay at the place, now that I think of it. Am not sure I like this place where kids are ill treated, and not treated with love as they should be. I do not like the way the place is managed at all. I am not even happy with the people who are employed there. It’s easy to critise right, but if things were going great guns, it wouldn’t have been this easy for me to get angry.

I am not quite sure whether I still have the courage to go again there. I do not understand this world’s logic of being cruel to innocent kids. I do not understand the balance, if balance there is. 

 *La princesse et le crapaud (the princess and the frog) is the text Paul read for me.

Two years back, KetKet woke me up with colours, and we had the most fun holi ever.We were still laughing and coloring each other at 9pm. I really like holi and think it to be a totally crazy and original festival. When else are we allowed to ‘act’ silly and colour ourselves blue green red? When else can we get back to ‘playing’, something we lost along the way to adulthood…

The atmosphere was a bit morose this time… Holi on Mars has become more like a festival of yesteryears. Most people think it to be a ’savage’ thing - general feeling because of hooligans who would spread colours on passersby and use the festival to mask their wicked intentions. I wasn’t in a particularly good mood either, but accompanied my lil cousins, BooBoo and MissMoni to Nani’s place where the gang (other cousins) were to meet up. Each was waiting for the other to get started with the colours and noone quite made the move.

However when the gang got started, there was no stopping them. My aunt yelled for them to stay away from her freshly washed clothes, which were drying on the line, but to no avail. Weirdly, it’s been the same story every year - aunt shouting, while we’d be laughing nonstop.

Sharing some pix with you all - cousins will not object for they are quite unrecognisable on these! BUT Beware, these pics can scare! These are taken with my phone cam, so not so gud and clear ones.

sorry pics removed.

Time goes by very fast doesn’t it? You think you’re cutting your life nicely, till the day the scissors just cut your fingers and your own blood spoils not only your present work, but the memories of a past you cherished. Brings you back forcefully from a heaven which existed only in your imagination. I immersed myself in mundane tasks and before long, lost sight of the cyclone that was looming ahead. It came, shook the very core of my trust and belief in relationships. I was somehow reminded of her.

2 Years ago….

I cupped her tiny face with both my hands.

“Look at me, little one, c’mon give me a smile sweety…”

I receive no response at all from her. Her vacant eyes, lost in another dimension- in some void, move not at all. The eyes seem to never close even, not a single ‘bat of the eyelids’; i cannot notice even one. She is totally out of ‘this world’, lost somewhere, almost as though she willed herself out of the real world. I wonder where she’s gone, what she’s thinking about if she’s thinking at all. I cannot figure anything. Not a clue.

“Don’t be sad baby, tell me what happened to you? Look do you like this flower band? do you want it? it’s yours, look how beautiful it looks… sweetie, look at it??”

I beckon, i coax, mimick all sorts of normally funny things, but nothing works. She stays immune, almost mummy like, stares straight ahead into that other world i cannot feel. I lift her tinier hand and tie the flower band around her wrist. I receive yet again no reaction from her, the beautiful band tempts her none at all. When i let go of her little hand, it falls lifelessly on her lap.

Tell me little baby… what did they do to you? where is that brightness of childhood, where is that innocence, where are those cheerful eyes… Who robbed you of all of that? Please cutie, look at me? Talk to me? move a little bit? won’t you dance for me? The other kids are dancing and laughing, c’mon we’ll dance with them. She sits there, on her little chair and wouldn’t budge an inch.

I am desperate now. I’ve ran out of ideas. I can feel my tears welling up because i feel i am losing, cos i am giving up. However my tears are too ashamed to show up. They wouldnt dare flow, not when on the tiny face in facing mine, a long streak of tears has dried up, not when her tears probably bore pain that i cannot ever fanthom. Nope, couldnt afford to cry at all, though i wanted to.

I didnt manage to make her move from that chair.

*** Mars is celebrating it’s 38th Independence year today. Wish the kids freedom from abuse and responsibilities which are never theirs.