tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81924129532141196282024-03-13T22:29:59.405+05:30The Maxims of LifeMaximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-84988491000734127932017-10-24T21:42:00.002+05:302017-10-24T21:42:49.075+05:30Scattered Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Random thoughts that flitted through my mind</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">as I sat brooding this morning, feeling completely let down and lousy, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">looking for some kind of outlet for all my pent up frustration and bitterness, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">a build up from the chain of events that transpired yesterday evening.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Scattered thoughts</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Mundane routine</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Over and over</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Wearing us out</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Now is this what </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Life is all about.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>No joy in the doing</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>No fun in the living</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Time dictates, and</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>You just follow it out</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Now is this what </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Life is all about.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">At the end of the day I'm far from any of those depressed and bored feelings I nursed this morning. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">Well I guess I have come full circle for now but might go on another rant when something or someone lets me down in the future.</span></span></div>
Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-26949650158646664982013-02-04T09:54:00.000+05:302013-02-04T09:54:29.735+05:307th Anniversary!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She opened the bathroom door with a soft knock. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the lamp in their bedroom. He was sitting there on the bathtub rim, lost in thought, cigar smoke swirling all around him. Sensing her presence he looks up and smiles. But the smile falters, seeing her upset, because he's AGAIN sitting up late in the night SMOKING.<br />
"This is the last one, I'm going to quit. No more cigars from tomorrow.", he says.<br />
She rolls her eyes in anger, which then gives way to a resigned look. She's been hearing it on and off since they got married. 10 years of marriage and 3 beautiful daughters later the story is still the same. The resolve usually lasts only for a day. And he sits idle that entire day. To do anything worthwhile, he needs a puff.<br />
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He follows her into the bedroom, turns her around and repeats his promise earnestly. And like all the other times, hands her the remaining packet and lighter asking her to destroy it. She takes out her anger on the cigars, shredding each and every single one to bits. He looks on, feeling guilty. But she knows that his guilt has a vanishing quality, come daylight.<br />
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Some evenings when together in the garden she used to say, "I can make a life size model of the leaning tower of Pisa using all the stubs you've tossed into the garden". It irritated him, but he kept quite, because she wasn't very far from the truth. He smoke close to 40 cigars a day, an almost chain smoker. And on days when they had project deadlines to meet, she often had to put up with passive smoking, it was like sitting with your head in a cloud.<br />
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When he had attempted quitting as part of the new year resolution, she had backed him. She'd gone out and bought Nicotinell gum, to help quit smoking. The kids had been excited. But two frustrating days later he had gone back to his old ways. A month later he makes the same claim and she hadn't expected anything much different to happen this time either.<br />
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Their house was littered with cigar lighters, the bathroom, kitchen, window sills, garden, porch, in the car, at office, everywhere. He seemed to buy one almost every other day, which vexed her to no end.<br />
The next morning she goes around collecting all these and dumping them in the garbage bin, just out of spite. He wakes up and the usual drama, that ensues his pledge come morning, is reenacted. He's going through all the usual places looking for that last cigar just to get a puff. He tells her that she shouldn't have destroyed those cigars so fatally, at which she gives a, "I knew this was coming" snort. He goes out to the grocery and buys a single cigar, instead of a packet. She never had any faith to start with, but now it was a hopeless case.<br />
But, wonder of wonders, he contemplates the cigar for a long time and then throws it off without lighting it. And reaches out for the Nicotinell gum instead.<br />
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You're supposed to chew on the gum every now and then, and not continuously. But the 2nd day he was so worked up, he kept chewing the thing and nearly fainted, from too much nicotine in the blood. He lost his temper unreasonably. People at the office were already scared of their bosses short temper, now they avoided him like the plague.<br />
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Her happiness knew no bounds. She continued to remain patient and supported him. Putting up with the temper tantrums and unreasonable demands. It was a family struggle now. The kids lavished their love on him. At the end of a month they even had a celebration. The biggest reward was the changes that started coming about in him. His fingers and lips regained their actual colour. He had an appetite which had otherwise been non existent. He gained a few kilos and looked healthy, and not like some lethargic sack of bones. And the biggest benefit, no bouts of coughing. That actually stopped from week 1 itself.<br />
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There are days when she has nightmares, where she sees him with a cigar between his lips. Thinking back to those days, a smile involuntarily crosses her face. There are candid moments when at a traffic signal or something, he points to some guy pulling on his cigar and says, "You know how much he is enjoying himself", and that starts to scare her. They've come a long way now. Today they are celebrating the 7th anniversary of his successful No Smoking Resolution.<br />
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That saying, "If there is a will, there is a way" is so simply true. :D</div>
Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-70426608715939773612012-11-05T06:00:00.000+05:302012-11-05T06:34:22.058+05:30Nosy Neighbours<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sleep seems to have evaded me. So thought of tapping away on the keyboard and the outcome is this post.<br />
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It was only last year that we moved down to India. Having lived abroad most of our life, it has been very difficult adjusting to the way things work out here. Back in UAE we could set the schedule for a year and not have to worry about making many changes. Life was that predictable!! Save for the occasional bouts of cold or fever that came with the seasonal changes, nothing much happened that disrupted the smooth functioning of our household. </div>
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Woaw! Things happen pretty fast here. Sometimes you can't even plan ahead for a week. An unexpected Hartal or Bandh, someones's Shaadi or a House warming, the list just goes on. But what I found most interesting living here is the scenario I have with my neighbours. Initially I was shocked by the kind of nosiness that these people showed. For me relationship with neighbours had been limited to the polite smile you shared when you crossed them, rushing out to work in the morning or while returning after a shopping expedition on the weekends. And may be the visits you made during festivals. And I could count these people on the fingers of my left hand. Here, the entire village is entitled to the "Neighbour" status. They have a right to walk in whenever they wish, and are authorized to ask you questions that range from the mundane "Cooking done?" to more nosy stuff like "Why have you decided to live here? When will you be going back? How do you carry out your work from home? How much do you pay your maid? Blah blah blah blah.........</div>
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Until very recently a typical conversation at the bus stop would ensue like this:</div>
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Neighbour: "Where are you going?"</div>
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Me: "To the town/ school (or whatever)"</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">If I'm accompanied by my eldest daughter (who is 13), the next obvious question is,</span></div>
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Neighbour: "Is this your sister?"</div>
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Me: "No my daughter" </div>
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I'm feeling all nice and at least 5 years younger, when the bomb is dropped,</div>
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Neighbour: "Which college is she studying?" </div>
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Me: "She's in school, 9th Std" (Feeling like a deflated balloon now)</div>
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Neighbour: "Your husband is here?" </div>
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If my answer is yes, the question is followed by, "When did he come?" and "When will he leave?" </div>
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If answered with a no, the next inevitable question is, "When will he come?"</div>
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From there it moves on to grander topics. </div>
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A female recently asked me whether we were actually from around that place, after having gleaned the fact that we were both engineers. I said yes, since my husband is from Wayanad. She immediately wanted to know the exact place where we are from. So then I go on and explain that my husband is from here, where as I'm not. Hearing that she wisely announces, "Oh, so your's is a love marriage?" I'm flabbergasted, now where did THAT come from? Even after all my explanations she doesn't seem convinced and neither does my youngest daughter who overheard the conversation. I have a feeling that no amount of clarification is going to set the story straight for either of them. My mother is going to have fits of laughter, imagining her meek and almost boring daughter, having gone out and had a love affair :D</div>
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Funny thing is you can't give these people vague answers or in any manner evade their questions, they need precise to the point answers, making you feel like you are in the witness stand being drilled by the lawyer of the rival party. I'm not a very talkative person by nature, I used to feel so threatened by the flurry of questions. A feeling akin to someone pointing a gun at my head.</div>
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I don't feel the inclination to shoot them with personal and invasive questions at my turn. But, I'm beginning to understand the way things work around here. Now I play the inexperienced outsider, keep them occupied talking about stuff like farming and means of procuring dairy and eggs easily, and rush off with excuses before they can bring up questions about my place of origin or family history or why I was out till 8 in the evening last weekend. I don't feel like a deer caught in headlights any more :D Ain't I SMART? </div>
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Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-41559221900243491112012-10-28T08:55:00.001+05:302012-10-28T09:06:59.127+05:30Random Musings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Several friends who've come across my blog have been wondering why I haven't posted anything in such a long time. And since I'm not really inspired to write right now :( I'm going to post the few lines I've put together on various occasions and get away with it :P<br />
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Music is an expression of life. </div>
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The changing seasons from birth to death.</div>
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Some people form the notes of our life, </div>
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Others join along to give rhythm.<br />
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The music moves on</div>
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Scaling ups and downs.</div>
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Eventually the music comes to a stop </div>
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Yet to start again as another life......<br />
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You bring a smile to my face</div>
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And add sunshine to my days</div>
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You are my happiness and cheer, always.</div>
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You bring a twinkle to my eyes</div>
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Making me feel young and nice</div>
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You are my joy and spirit, always.</div>
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You make me want to do more</div>
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Pushing me on to the fore</div>
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You give me courage and my strength, always.</div>
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If, I were to lose my loves</div>
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A bitter sadness it would arouse,</div>
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And Life would never be the same, anyways.</div>
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I often get pushed unawares,</div>
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Into a dark abyss.</div>
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People call it depression.</div>
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The fall is always rapid.</div>
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But the comeback,</div>
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Slow and tedious.</div>
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Oh Lord! I pray to thee,</div>
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That I never get thrown,</div>
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To the bottomless depth,</div>
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Where there might be no return.</div>
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Heavy downpour yesterday,</div>
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The outcome?</div>
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A swarm of dead may flies</div>
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Scattered at my door step.</div>
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I'm told, everything serves a purpose.</div>
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I don't know what it is,</div>
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But the mayflies seem to have fulfilled theirs.</div>
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Yesterday, is like the first born, </div>
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Sweet memories cherished fondly.</div>
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Tomorrow, the youngest, </div>
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Always vying for attention.</div>
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And in the wild race between the two,</div>
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Today, the oft neglected middle child,</div>
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Is lost and forgotten.</div>
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Guess something is better then nothing. Thing is my creativity is directed elsewhere right now ;). It had been cooking a while ago as proved by my previous post. Then I was busy doing pencil sketches. It then moved on to sewing (:D I got a new sewing machine) and from there to gardening (it ended after my attempts at reviving the rose bushes by pruning them like a pro ended in disaster, sigh!) and right now the craze is crochet. I guess like the hands on the clock it will come back to blogging some time soon and then I'll start blabbering here again. But overall I'm happy and grateful, that I don't sit around and mope over silly things. I'm busy doing something productive and relaxing and most important of all what I love doing. </div>
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The outcome is that my family is happy. When I'm down, the kids feel down too and it effects the family as a whole. My mother once told me, the family is like a mural painting on a wall. Its beautiful, everybody loves and admires it, but it exists only as long as the wall does. And the lady of the house is that wall. When she crumbles, the family shatters down to bits and pieces. I have the choice to make or break the painting, and I've chosen to be that strong wall that stands and keeps the whole act together. </div>
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Well, I really need to thank <a href="http://lafemmenirvana.blogspot.in/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">My Dear Friend</a>, whose writing inspires me and whose query (among several others) was what finally led to this post. And I would also like to give a special thanks to this <a href="http://www.homebakedonline.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Kind Soul</a>, whose blog inspired me to quit the dark ages (as I call it), make the most of my time and cherish all my blessings.</div>
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Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-23752013305030278262012-03-26T13:45:00.002+05:302012-03-26T13:45:40.354+05:30The Weighing Scale<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I don't know how it works for the others out there, but for me a slight dip in the reading of the weighing scale gives me immense pleasure. Not that I am a Size 0 fanatic or something, but I feel so elated whenever the scale dips, even if its only by a mere 0.5 Kg. I feel so full of glee and guilt free at having lost some weight, that I don't think twice when I sink my teeth into the next calorie loaded yummy thing out there.</div>
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My current station usually doesn't permit for the kind of fast food trend I have been previously accustomed to. Since the kids are having their vacations, I've ventured into the world of experimental cooking. Hubby darling not being around helps a lot, coz a hungry testosterone laden male is hardly conducive to experiments in the kitchen. They'd very much prefer the tried and tested fares we lay out, especially during meal times.</div>
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My first attempt was at banana cookies because I was craving something really sweet and buttery. Since I had a bunch of fresh ones from the garden lying around, I thought I'd give it a try. (Well, nothing wow about having fresh kelas for Keralites)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxhU-42rdRFe610Q8uD9QEkAkBKvNr42Wdb2Ufq3SWFr8Up8EQK2zkKaNRTrLf4tG9cnD9WUx6n0I-tCbfiA3Cqtdtoi7EXeF6OuSJRXCwV_ccJBf2mSVqpts5NZi61IXduYIrHt2_GPW/s1600/150320121072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Banana Cookies" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxhU-42rdRFe610Q8uD9QEkAkBKvNr42Wdb2Ufq3SWFr8Up8EQK2zkKaNRTrLf4tG9cnD9WUx6n0I-tCbfiA3Cqtdtoi7EXeF6OuSJRXCwV_ccJBf2mSVqpts5NZi61IXduYIrHt2_GPW/s400/150320121072.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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I made a batch of some 30 cookies, with pure sinful ghee. My trio polished it off in a matter of minutes. Giving me the much needed confidence to present it to my better half, when he comes down next month. :D</div>
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The scales didn't seem to be tipping in the right direction, so I decided to eat healthy and grilled fish on my traditional firewood stove, in my next attempt at playing The Chef. I made individual fish wraps with some veggies tossed in to make the thing more HEALTHY. The outcome was simply yummilicious, we had it with white rice.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeHyA3GKkkR2ooKER00wf8LWxLbmtwdxa8_EqyAQq5q1owNH_xKx_6EwamNunSRtT-FyO5URaYHXH-pFft8jKU8uXPv4Y1upzIuFTiCzN1glI6Y0jwssK4aAi6H7LYPHZYaALI-OxAFnN/s1600/150320121069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbeHyA3GKkkR2ooKER00wf8LWxLbmtwdxa8_EqyAQq5q1owNH_xKx_6EwamNunSRtT-FyO5URaYHXH-pFft8jKU8uXPv4Y1upzIuFTiCzN1glI6Y0jwssK4aAi6H7LYPHZYaALI-OxAFnN/s400/150320121069.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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This weekend I had a thing for Pasta, so went out and made my own Tagliatelle Pasta. The four of us enjoyed the cutting and drying part, but the rolling out bit was a bit tough. The end result, however made up for all the time and energy that went into making the stuff.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2zh9ZwYPMSF4qzyXM1c3ECuphICPYBDOGGOFgeK7JC0waa9ysEZT3bVvQ2apT-yiO1XvsYQQ7_XQtCghVYTa8SggA6pXDan_4XkX62kzAK3UnSzMiRih04O7A_PiTfxJILKAF4M6uoeW/s1600/250320121117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu2zh9ZwYPMSF4qzyXM1c3ECuphICPYBDOGGOFgeK7JC0waa9ysEZT3bVvQ2apT-yiO1XvsYQQ7_XQtCghVYTa8SggA6pXDan_4XkX62kzAK3UnSzMiRih04O7A_PiTfxJILKAF4M6uoeW/s400/250320121117.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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So, what I'm actually trying to express here is that anybody can cook (only thing you need is a fairly good recipe, which is available in plenty on the net), provided your heart is involved in the process. </div>
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Churning out meals at breakfast, lunch and dinner, is something I do out of lack of a better choice. Coupling it with my work only makes it an even more tiring job. But on my free days, its a different ball game altogether. I really enjoy the cooking. </div>
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And according to my eldest one, its all a question of presentation, which she proved beyond doubt when she served up my Dosas (from whole wheat flour) and Black eyed beans curry in this fashion. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzkqZw_vxRdz_u5qVTFXRkN62Hi3vI2tAXtVDM4ZOtw2eXE-OyR30mkWfUOKAVYKXgbJdyi0GzkYQrOTRDsDd993RFuI86r9iciKXOwCdXgtBQ19gFTjLJsIueva8hNKS-KTpbGLbrXMl/s1600/05122011854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBzkqZw_vxRdz_u5qVTFXRkN62Hi3vI2tAXtVDM4ZOtw2eXE-OyR30mkWfUOKAVYKXgbJdyi0GzkYQrOTRDsDd993RFuI86r9iciKXOwCdXgtBQ19gFTjLJsIueva8hNKS-KTpbGLbrXMl/s400/05122011854.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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It looked so exotic, that everyone ate quietly without my nagging or their complaining. (These Dosas are actually high up there on their Hate list.)</div>
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But no matter what the incentive, the number of bartans (dishes) that end up in the sink always gives me nightmares. There are days when I prefer eating out to avoid the pain of having to do the dishes. But, we females (myself and my power puff girls) in the heart of a sleepy village can hardly opt for that. </div>
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Well, my close analysis has thus revealed that it is not the cooking itself that I dread, but having to do the dishes that come in the wake of delivering a nice meal. High time I invested in a dish washer I guess.</div>
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Happy Cooking and Hearty Eating!!!!</div>
</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-90538905283408906082012-03-13T13:15:00.000+05:302012-03-13T13:16:42.195+05:30Hearty Welcome to the Newbies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Inspired by my writing that goes in fits and starts, my daughter has started a blog :D<br />
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It was fun watching her check out names for her blog. After 5 attempts she was losing hope of coming up with a name. Most of the names she came up with were already taken. She would immediately go and check out that blog. The last post on most of them were dated anywhere between 2001 and 2005. She gets frustrated and angry at all those people who have started out with the blog name she wants and then not bothered to maintain the blog.<br />
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She put up her first post a few days back.<br />
<a href="http://www.adayyettocome.blogspot.in/">A Day Yet to Come</a><br />
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And I'm wondering what the fate of the blog will be, few years down the road. Will the enthusiasm fade and the blog wilt away like the ones she had checked out. I'll have to wait and see.<br />
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Their school has a blog, but she has always been hesitant to express her views out there. When she went ahead with this blog, I was curious about the sudden change in attitude. Her smart ass reply was, "Out in the blogging world, no one knows me personally, so I have a sense of security. What I write will hold a level of anonymity"<br />
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Very true! Coz it gave a shy person like me the courage to venture out expressing my thoughts. Whether people read it or not, you have expressed yourself and that makes a big difference.<br />
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And while I'm on the subject of newbies in the blogging world....<br />
here's one I liked reading<br />
<a href="http://manicevert.blogspot.in/">Mental Distortion</a></div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-62339443303348495842012-03-01T23:41:00.001+05:302012-03-05T12:17:29.697+05:30Dreams<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
For every post that I publish I always seem to have two in the pipeline. And this is one of those, which I actually started writing sometime last year. Procrastination and me and conjoined twins so its pretty tough to escape that bad guy.</div>
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I had made an escape from the harsh world of reality to my blissful (though virtual) blogging world. But once again, I was sucked back into the deep cauldron of life, where several things were brewing and boiling and brimming over. Its taken me almost 3 months, but whew! I've just made a short escape back, as we do in our dreams............</div>
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That blissful state in sleep where we live out the unknown. Some days you live out the serene and beautiful life of a princess. Other nights you might have aliens chasing you down mysterious passage ways.</div>
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Once, when my sister was just a kid she'd stopped midway through explaining her dream telling me to continue since she couldn't remember what happened after that point. Everybody had turned to her in surprise, but she was even more shell shocked when she learnt that people you see in your dreams aren't actually there. So there's no way I could help her out in recounting the escapade. And it took a lot of convincing to make her accept the fact.</div>
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Its been so long since I started out on this post that I've really lost my actual train of thought.<br />
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The other day my daughter was preparing for her declamation. They had to take excerpts from famous speeches and present it in class. She'd chosen a passage from the legendary speech by Martin Luther King Jr. "I have a dream"</div>
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That speech though given in 1963, seems to be relevant in some context even today. He declares at the end of the speech </div>
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Free at last! Free at last!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"</i></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
May be we have managed to evade the grasp of racism to an extend. But, even toady are we really free? As liberated as that merry beggar, whom the king had come across in his search for happiness? I seriously doubt that. We are either in the clutches of society's countless encumbering ways of life, traditions and prejudices. Or are ill-fated and addicted to various soporific substances or even worse consumed by the greed for power, money, social status. Doomed by jealousy. The bad and mean things in life are simply endless. The Pandora's box of evils.</div>
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We have countries who are busy developing nuclear warfare while millions suffer without the very basic amenities like food and water. We have people who are concerned about their looks and are busy getting a nose job or botox injection and setting fashion trends, when there are thousands out there who lack education, shelter, healthcare and are struggling to make ends meet.</div>
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Charity! Some of us give away money, in the name of charity. But is that enough? Is that the solution? Does that money actually reach the one's who deserve it? Have you ever stopped and thought about it? What's the use of all that money if there is no compassionate soul to make a gesture where it counts. To love, to share, to care..... </div>
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I know, we are all pretending to be in that dream like state where we simply close our eyes and escape away to a world away from these harsh realities. While the rest go through the nightmare of having to lead the life of the less fortunate.</div>
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</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-16090354411849588312011-11-27T18:03:00.000+05:302011-11-27T18:03:46.058+05:30Ingenious thoughts of a 3 year old<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've had this post in mind ever since I wrote the one about <a href="http://maximsoflife.blogspot.com/2011_10_01_archive.html">my better half's peculiar mannerisms</a>.<br />
<br />
Kids tend to ramble. But my youngest one used to go about it with such a serious outlook and so much maturity that a few of them are really worth sharing. Coming from a 3 year old, some of it is pretty heavy. I bet all moms have little gems like these stashed away.<br />
<br />
Being a working mother, I often missed out on a lot of the baby talk, especially with my elder two. Regretting doesn't help, I know, but better late than never. I'd somehow managed to juggle my work timings to be available for them more. Sad to say that only the youngest one still needed me around by then. The other two had learned to survive without me. It was heart breaking, when you offered to do something, but found them more comfortable managing by themselves.<br />
<br />
Its usually when I'm in the kitchen or folding up the laundry that my 3 year old sidles up, with never ending streams of questions or to share her concerns with me.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>It was the month of Ramadan, and I was busy getting the Iftar organised. My 3 year old suddenly declares that "I want to be a Mummy when I grow up". I ask her, "Why?" and she tells me, "I want to cook lots of food like you and serve everybody". God! I didn't mind dying and going to heaven then. At least, someone was taking notice of my efforts in the kitchen.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Well after the above declaration, she went on in the same breathe, "But, if God makes me a Daddy when I grow up, (she goes on to mimic her father watching TV, a remote in hand, legs crossed over the coffee table) I'll be always watching news and if Daddy comes up asking whether he can watch cartoons or makes any noise at that time I'll tell him, "Chup!" (she puts her forefinger to the lips with a stern expression on her face). Its seems Mummy and Daddy will be kids when she grows up and she'll be taking care of us. Its going to take her a long long time to realise how right on target she is. :(</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>This happened just after my little one had started school. My husband usually fools around with the kids and pretends not to know anything and make them explain it to him. She was playing Teacher Student with her father, teaching him the English alphabets, A through E. He kept entertaining her by mixing it up, and got it right only after a dozen attempts. She gets exasperated and comes up to me, "Mumma, did Daddy really ever go to school? He doesn't know anything". She has been rigorously training her father ever since. He has to put up with dictations and tests on a regular basis and the "Eee Daddy kku onnum ariylla" remark (Daddy doesn't know anything). Poor man he's lost his self-esteem.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li> This is the funniest. My brother got married in 2008. My trio keep watching the videos of the wedding and have kind of memorized the entire thing by now. He's pretty scared to visit me, since they torture him with the epic details of that video, especially the follies he's trying to put behind. One evening my brat suddenly exclaims,"When I get married, I won't kiss my husband". All of us are kind of stuck mid sentence at her revelation. We cautiously enquire, and discover the wisdom behind those words, "What if he doesn't brush his teeth properly" Now that had us all ROFL.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>This one is about matrimony again. She had moved on to her UKG by then and was almost 5 years old. There was this boy named Elvin in her class, who also happened to be our neighbour. She gets off the school bus and right away asks me, "Can Elvin marry me?" My eyes kind of popped out, like it does on Tom & Jerry and I squeak out a "WHY?" "Well, his family knows ours and we know theirs too. We live close by so I'll always be near you and he says he likes me", came the prompt reply. How very practical these kids are. I wonder what she'll say when the time really comes.</li>
</ul>
<div>
I've kind of forgotten some of the things I wanted to write. I have to always draft just as the inspiration comes, otherwise I usually lose my flow. Sometimes I create a post and just jot down the points to elaborate and polish later. But when I sit to write I'd be having a different train of thought. Wish there was some technology which right away put my thoughts into an electronic form and posted it when I had gone over it completely in my mind. Its something like the conversation issue I'd mentioned before. Just having gone though the thought, blocks out the sting to tap away at my keyboard.</div>
</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-16293737304880435502011-11-18T15:07:00.001+05:302011-11-18T21:15:23.111+05:30Me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few quirky facts about me :D<br />
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<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>I'm still a hardcore Tom & Jerry fan.</li>
<li>Since I fight with my trio aged 12 to 6 for my share of chocolates and goodies, their father buys everything in 4's now. He claims I'm a 34 going on 4.</li>
<li>I bawl shamelessly when I happen to watch atrocities on TV.</li>
<li>I have a passion for drawing and photography.</li>
<li>I have a phobia of frogs and lizards. If lizards were my enemies during my stay in the UAE, it is the former which is making life hell for me now.</li>
<li>Music influences my mood very strongly. But when I'm feeling down they somehow tend to make me more sad.</li>
<li>Silence and Solitude are my best friends. I prefer writing to speaking. During our honeymoon days, my hubby was perplexed by my uncanny ability to give answers with a bare minimum YES or NO wherever possible. But now he's finally realised that ingrained habits are hard to change.</li>
<li>To avoid arguments I usually debate it out in my mind, thus saving the parties involved, especially me the dilemma of having to actually carry out one.</li>
<li>I'm a night owl and can go without sleep for at least two days in a row. But I hate having to wake up in the early hours of the morning even if I've slept non stop for a week. (I really despise <a href="http://atrociouscribblings.blogspot.com/">Mr. Atro Srcib</a> for that early bird trait he has. I'll address him as Ascribe if he doesn't mind)</li>
<li>I'm very very self conscious and its taking me a lot of effort to click that Publish button. But since I'm not face to face with anyone, I'm going ahead and doing it.</li>
</ol>
</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-89884544419799684882011-11-18T02:16:00.001+05:302011-11-18T03:23:41.818+05:30Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I've been fuming with frustration and pent up anger ever since I returned from the class arranged by the RTO Kalpetta, Wayanad. A class for driving students aimed at spreading awareness among drivers. ?????!!!!!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">You'll must be wondering what my problem is? I'll enlighten you on how the whole affair was carried out and probably at least some of you will empathize with my sentiments.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The seminar was being conducted at the auditorium of a government school nearby, as part of a road safety campaign. I got there at the campus and the very sight of the structure made me want to puke. Shattered window glasses everywhere, surgical gloves and blood stained cotton swabs (probably left behind after some medical camp conducted there), disposable paper cups,. The inside of the auditorium was no better. The dust accumulation on the table seemed at least 3 inches thick and the above mentioned debris had found its way in there too. The place never seems to have seen soap or water or for that matter even a broom, since the day it was built. The only positive highlight in the entire charade of events was that, the officers arrived promptly and got the lecture started off on time.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The lecture itself was another big hoax and a pure waste of time. This guy goes on and on about the rules to be followed on roads that don't really exist in this part of the state, as though he lives in some other world. </span>And somewhere during the talk he says that it takes only a minute to save the world if mankind joins hands. Now I really felt like throwing up. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He never once said what we had to do if </span> on the center of the road <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">there was a pothole, as big as a volcanic </span>crater<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> which could probably swallow up your entire car. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
I don't know if you city people will understand, but at least 70% of the roads down here are not wide enough for two way traffic. Forget all the bullshit like sign posts and road markings. 50% of the above said roads are filled with potholes almost as wide as the road. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Like the epic Bollywood masalas, if we add the N number of ricks and two-wheelers to the above scenario we have almost all the necessary ingredients to cook up an accident. Since there are no footpaths or parking areas, people walk on the roads, cars are often parked on the very same roads too. Now the concoction is complete.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I really don't get it. What's the point in making people spent half a day to listen to crap. Nothing that he said works on the roads we have here. So, I don't understand how this talk was going to be helpful in reducing accidents. Everybody who went there just wanted a seal on their papers that they have attended the talk and the price we pay is sitting around in rubbish listening to even more rubbish for half a day.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I had a hot water bath when I got home. Scrubbed myself for an hour. My body feels clean, but my mind is still reeling from the way things turned out today. One big melodrama. My inability to contribute positively, to make some difference even though in a small small way, only increases my restlessness.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow will be another day........</span></div>
</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-18546527013028658182011-11-14T10:09:00.001+05:302011-11-14T10:16:32.960+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I want to write like crazy. I have cartloads to write too, but I am on the mend from a very bad infection and don't have the energy for much creativity.<br />
<br />
Thought I'd share this article which I read recently.<br />
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<a href="http://zeenews.india.com/blog/65/blog648.html">Of Paper boats and Plastic dolls</a><br />
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So until next time, Ciao!!</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-49993135926534860952011-10-20T14:53:00.002+05:302011-10-27T20:40:37.553+05:30Do we belong to the same species?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I don't know if these points can be genralised for all men, but at least this is what's happening with my man and from what I've heard from friends I'm not the only one with a "Hard to Understand" partner. And I thought sharing these thoughts might help you and me relax a bit and accept them as they are.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Ok, let's go:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1. Men hate shopping - Never ever go shopping with your man. They tend to have this constipated look (I pray my hubby never happens to come across my blog), which ruins the kicks we females get out of shopping, even if its only to buy the groceries. And five minutes into the thing he'll get started with the, "Come on let's get going" line, eventually forcing you to give in. And the next time you mention shopping, he'll wail, "But we already did our shopping last weeeeeeeek".</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2. Do not let him handle that shopping cart!! - This is a corollary, to point 1. Now, if at all you have the bad fortune of shopping with your man, never entrust the shopping cart or basket to him, because, by the time you've decided on which cereal to buy for the kids, or contemplated which Hair conditioner will resolve your irrevocable hair-fall issue (there's always so many options and way too many brands), you will find no sign of your cart, or your man for that matter. You run around the aisles, playing hide and seek, your arms loaded, and finally you locate him, pushing that trolley towards the checkout counter as though he's on some mission.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">3. Men sleep over their arguments - If you have an argument with your spouse or BF the previous day, it ceases the moment he wakes up from his nap. If you sulk about it, you get this weird look which interprets as - Argument? We? When? You wonder whether they have a serious case of Amnesia. And since they have got over the issue, it means we get over it too. No Questions!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">4. They Forgive but NEVER Apologize - Now, if you have a misunderstanding and somewhere along your guy realizes that he's made a mistake, they'll say, "OK, I forgive you" (!!!!!????). You do a double take and leash out at them, for their audacity to say something so......(I'm at a loss for words) They'll never follow your disagreement, "I forgave you, now what's the problem?" is how they retort, which leads to yet another squabble. Trust me, the next time be wiser and save your breath. They really are very dense most of the time.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">5. Men are not equipped to multitask - This is nothing new now. Its an already proved scientific fact. You wake up in the morning, have breakfast prepared, get kids ready for school, pack their tiffins, drop them off at the bus stop, have lunch preparation in progress, bathe and get dressed, and yes without fail serve him a cup of tea as well, phew I'm simply exhausted listing it out and you hear him yelling out for his socks. If I was going around the house like Katrina or Irene before, I feel like turning into something more destructive now. Comeon, atleast they can learn to fend for themselves, even if they don't contribute to the N number of chores we already handle.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">6. Ask Mummy - OK, this is the only positive trait which puts you in a better light. But it also means more work for you. Whenever, my kids approach him with doubts or school work, he's so lazy to pitch in (90% of the time), "Why don't you ask your Mumma?" is the usual reply they get. My youngest one recently had a doubt whether her father had actually attended school( ha ha ha ha, that reminds me, I need to post some of the great ingenious thoughts of my 6 year old)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">7. Override Mummy - This is in direct opposition to the point above. And this happens when the Kiddos need permission to do something, for which they have approached you and you have already denied them. And my Kids are soooooooooooo cunning!! They make a request to their father right after having heard my NO, coz they are certain that he'll agree with them and may be even join them in the escapade, making you look like the villain in the family. Includes stuff like watching TV, eating chocolates or ice cream, skipping their bath.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Oh! I could go on and on cribbing about my man, even though I love him to pieces. But you are welcome to contribute those very evident traits men have and we fail to digest.</span></div>
</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-51323830944177794592011-10-19T13:05:00.000+05:302012-10-27T15:49:34.968+05:30Salvation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had one of those very uneventful days, which took a turn for the better. Woke up late this morning, no power supply (Groan!!!!!), rush around getting kids ready for school, serve breakfast, clean up the mess scattered all over the house, make beds, broom,.....Its a never ending list, the compilation of which is arduous in itself.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And home makers all over the world probably go through the same motions every day of their life. And if on any given day you choose to be a bit lax, all hell breaks loose, making you wonder, why you thought you could get away with a bit of laziness. That's one thing I envy all those maidens out there for. You don't want to make your bed, fine, no one's going to raise hell, except probably your mother, whose tantrum you are used to.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ok, where was I? Ya, so the day passed without any dramatic events, except for the fact that there was still no power, but since we have an inverter, there was no excuse for keeping away from my office work. (I don't know if I've mentioned earlier, but I've recently quit my full time office work and now work from home. Unfortunately, other than the fact that I don't need to dress up for work, everything else seems unchanged.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Kids got home by 4 in the evening, and after the playback of their entire day at school, bath, tea,.......(You know the continuation of the previous never ending list) they settle down for their studies. The inverter has reached its limit by now and starts beeping non stop. So I shut it off and there being no lights, my trio wander off to play, lighting scented candles all around the house. Its drizzling outside and dark inside, I should be feeling gloomy, but for some reason, sitting alone on my balcony, in pitch darkness, listening to the sounds of nature, the rain, frogs, insects and somewhere in the background, I hear my daughter practicing for her Indian Patriotic song competition, a song with a Hindustani classical touch. I got out a straw mat and lay there on the floor, with my eyes closed. Alas! The tranquility was lost with the restoration of power. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess the word "Earth Hour" makes sense to me now. My energy levels already seem to have peaked and will see me through the week without feeling down. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And plan on doing this more often. An escape from reality and all the mundane routine, into a serene world, even if only for an hour. </span><br />
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Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-79025416665817200532011-10-16T19:23:00.000+05:302011-10-16T19:29:14.118+05:30Managers in the making<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I sometimes get the feel that I have 3 managers in training at my house. And it irks me big time. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr......<br />
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Ok, now what basically do managers do? "They control or direct an institution or operation", says the dictionary. And in my personal opinion, a manager is one, who not only ascertains that his subordinate is loaded to the max, but also never appreciates his/ her efforts. And off course blame them for all the failures in an operation.<br />
Now where do my managers come in? I'll explain. I have 3 angels, who are perfect (OK, not so flawless actually) until you ask them to do something. The moment I ask my eldest one to help me out with something, I hear her yelling out to her younger ones and breaking down the task, assigning them to do it. Three people being there on the job I hope something will come out of it.<br />
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Ha! And what do I see when I come in? Nothings accomplished. I call out my eldest who had been initially handed the job and there comes a plethora of excuses, explaining how she had very effectively and promptly appointed the second one to do this and the third one to do that and that its their incompetency that has left the task unaccomplished. This leads to a big drama with one pointing the finger at the other, a lot of screaming, wailing and a little bickering too. Which leaves me wondering why I called them in for help in the first place.<br />
There's no one to blame too. Their excuses go something like the...Anybody was supposed to do it, but Everybody thought that Somebody would do it and then Nobody did it.<br />
I don't know about you, but I think I get some idea of what really happens in some of those big corporate offices or better still in our ever efficient government offices.<br />
So, with 3 people helping me around the house, I end up doing more than my fair share of the work. And add to that the mess that comes from their attempts at assistance. I prefer to make do with their moral support these days. You know the big broad smiles, hugs and affectionate kisses. Its a lot better deal to strike out, compared to the horrible hardship of being a manager.<br />
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</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-37975800551364723062011-10-15T13:37:00.000+05:302011-10-17T21:55:29.129+05:30Ignorance is Bliss<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">My sister in law recently gave birth, to a healthy young boy, which brought back memories of my first personal exposure to motherhood. Since I have 3 girls, aged 12 to 6, I come under the experienced and wiser category I presume. But thinking back to that first time I can't help laughing. Ignorance sure was bliss. Going through the daily ups and downs of taking care of the family, I often wonder if I would have willingly stepped into the role, not because I detest it, but due to the impending fear of failing miserably.<br />
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I got married during my first year of college. Falling pregnant was not on the agenda, but it somehow happened when I was in my final year. There were a host of emotions that coursed through my mind, regret, anxiety, joy. And though I had to put up, and also at times give up, I really treasure the memories of those wonderful days.<br />
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It left me pretty exhausted at the end of my tiring days at class. There were days of sickness, days when all I wanted to do was crawl back into bed. Rushing off to sites to work on my projects was arduous too.<br />
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Days went by, and there were times I wished I could just let go of everything and simply enjoy my very pregnant state. I had just completed my 7th Semester exams in the evening and planned on relaxing until classes started for the next Sem. Being 36 weeks pregnant only made the break all the more appealing.<br />
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But as the saying goes, Man proposes, God Disposes, I went into labour the following morning.<br />
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Though, physically I was feeling like a wrung out wash rag, mentally I was elated. My beautiful little daughter was sleeping away after her feed. She looked so peaceful and angelic. Come night time, I tell my mother, "Now that this whole pregnancy drama is behind me, I'm going to have a good night's sleep. With the baby kicking and boxing inside I could hardly sleep these past few months. (And my my, sleeping was actually a hobby of mine.)". My mother gave me a look of concern (now I realise that it was pity actually). She told me with a very grave expression, "Honey I think the days for sleeping are over!"<br />
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I just stare at her in stunned silence, which is broken by my wailing daughter. She was wet. We change her and settle for the night. I lie down still pondering over what my Mom had said. There goes my little one again, time for her feed. This kept happening all through the night.<br />
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In the weeks that followed I realised the implication of her words. And I finally had to accept the fact that the days of sleeping were really really over. And that's the most precious preoccupation I gave up I guess. OK, that was round one of stepping into the Mummy shoes.<br />
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Then one by one I had to give up on many of my personal luxuries. There used to be a time when I wondered how my mother had her bath in 5 minutes, because my bathing regimen took close to an hour. Now its my mother's turn to be astonished coz I dash in and out of my bath in less than 3 minutes. The last time she visited me, I couldn't help laughing at her shocked expression, when I got out of the bath. "I guess the days for bathing are over too!", I told her over merry tears of laughter.<br />
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There are several things I've learned over the years, and sure am the wiser for all that knowledge. There's going to be more surprises along the way, some pleasant others not. But I choose to remain, gladly unaware of the mysteries of motherhood that are yet to be unearthed. So I'm blissfully ignorant, until I'm hit by the next brick of motherly wisdom.<br />
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</div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-44183576688218579122011-08-04T10:55:00.000+05:302011-10-19T13:11:29.004+05:30Click Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Its always amazing how an old snap manages to open the flood gates of memory. You may have forgotten a few names, but the faces even after all these years stay put.<br />
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I happened to post an aged school photo on <b>fb </b>and the response it generated was so overwhelming. It gave me a chance to connect with so many long lost friends and classmates. The magic that photo spawned still lingers on the <b>fb</b> pages.<br />
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It took us all back to those care free days where the only thing that mattered was us, the only responsibility our books. Gone is the freedom, gone too is the innocence and trust. But it makes you feel young and vibrant and like a fantasy lets you escape into that world where you were just you and all that mattered was just you.<br />
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Makes a refreshing change from the inexcusable duties bound to you. Studying could always be done tomorrow, right?. Sitting in a row and doing last minute eecha(fly) copying assignments from the guy or gal next to you, who in turn might be doing the same. Night outs, black coffee and cramming for exams on the last possible day. The wonderful practice of procrastinating. Really miss those days.<br />
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But unfortunately, lax is not tolerated very well in adult life.<br />
Wanna bet! Try keeping that report submission for the last day of your deadline and you'll experience the unbelievable load of work that needs to get done on that very same day or better still your kid chooses to fall ill that morning and you have a splitting headache to add to that list.<br />
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Oh! Talking of kids don't ask what a little laziness could cost you on the home front. Urgggggghhhhh!<br />
I postpone the laundry for a day and guess what, whatever it is in that laundry basket is the essential item for the following day. You put off doing the dishes in your sink or making the bed or clearing up washed laundry or all of it one day and Presto! Ding dong goes your door bell. And whose there at the door? Who other than your Mother in law or that wonderful overzealous neighbour you wanted to impress. Only if the floor would gape open and just swallow me up. Adult life truly is pathetic and embarrassing.<br />
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And I thought I was embarrassed when I was caught bunking classes or jumping school compound walls. Thinking back, that was really hip and something to be proud of. A feather in my cap!!!<br />
There may be no photos, but the images are sure imprinted into our minds. A snap to pull out from your memory, to muse over and store back. To be retrieved again when you need a much wanted break.<br />
A strange smile playing on your lips.<br />
<br /></div>Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8192412953214119628.post-40630901412810374482011-07-02T20:26:00.000+05:302012-11-05T06:31:08.920+05:30Nacl = Mother<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Father, I love you like meat loves salt!" The first time I read that, I really thought the girl was crazy. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">No wonder she had </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">to face the wrath of her father. (King Lear and his youngest daughter Cordelia from Shakespeare). </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now that I've started cooking (and making guinea pigs out of my unsuspecting hubby and kids) I perceive the true power of salt. The all so important, common Salt or NaCl in the chemist's language is truly a power to reckon with. (I wonder who coined the term, it should have been Emperor Salt or Royal Salt). </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My Chicken Biriyani is a pinch short of salt and </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">all for want of a pinch of salt, my whole days effort goes down the drain. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oh and don't ask what happens, if it was the other way round, then its just plain ruined. No chance of even salvaging the dish. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Salt the almighty ingredient.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But, come to think of it, no one exclaims, "The salt is just perfect!" Its always the chicken or the bhindi or something that takes credit. Poor s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">alt, only works backstage.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some people in life are like salt. And what comes to mind, is </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">my mother</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. And I miss her proximity and regret having complained about the smothering indulgence. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Neatly folded stacks of laundry, polished shoes and all matching pairs of socks in the draws, a sparkling house, yummy dishes served not only to you but friends you bring along (unannounced). A warm glass of milk on nights you have to sit up late and study, ..... </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I could go on and on, its a never ending list. Now that I'm on the other side of the stage, I realise what it must have been like to keep things going that wonderfully. (Not that I can hold a candle to her).</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We never realize how much they put up with to keep things really smooth and oiled for us. We complain about the food, about the clothes she bought, about why she has to worry her head if I was five minutes late from school, why she insists on making me eat breakfast before dashing out of the house EVERY single morning.... They never give up!</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And now a decade later I perceive what she was doing, by always being there for me. She was being the salt in my life. Thoughtful, caring, loving,..... </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">adding taste to my life</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Mom! I love you like salt!</span></div>
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Maximshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410167583869746374noreply@blogger.com0