Not Titanic....

'Weekend Box office records broken', 'Avatar grossed $1 billion worldwide' was the news delivered by Yahoo today. For a film, whose budget far exceeded anyone's imagination (including, I'm sure, the director's), and which opened on a snow-storm weekend in the United States, it has done rather well. Another contributing factor could be attributed to my dragging my entire family of six, at 9, on a foggy (visibility 20 meters) Sunday morning to watch this movie. I have to admit, although my contribution of $ 5.50 total (for 6 people), was a drop in the ocean, the fact that I was party to a group of people earning disgusting amounts of money makes me want to cry.


The movie, as with all James Cameron's movies, is a story of love, hate, greed, creed, fight for survival and ultimately winning. The story is based in the future, as opposed to his best known film; Titanic, on a distant planet named Pandora. Seriously, who would name their planet Pandora? It sure as hell weren't the natives! Only humans are capable of coming up with completely unimaginative names for things they think they can explain. Every element of the story, the action, the emotion, the picturization are all human, which is weird, since the movie deals with 'aliens'. 


The aliens of Pandora are depicted as unsophisticated, backward, nature-loving tribes, very similar to those of sub-Saharan Africa, Native American or Australian Aboriginal tribes. Which begs the question: does all life evolve the same on all planets, considering the aliens looked nearly the same as humans? This could have been easily explained by the 'Panspermia Theory', which suggests that all life on Earth was seeded from distant planets, thus life on Earth would be relatively similar to that on 'alien' planets. But the two and half hour story was too busy explaining other things. 


Overall, the movie was brilliant. The story was the same-old, same-old, with a twist. Humans were the bad guys, which seems very plausible. But the fact that the alien clans needed a human-turned-alien (aka Avatar) to lead them into battle and eventually win was a little to self-righteous. I personally liked the way Cameron managed to make nearly all aspects of the alien world look human, yet give it a 'je ne sais quoi' feel to it. The movie has plenty of messages for those paying attention, and many of them were not subtle, like humans are total gun-totting, egotistical, unrelenting morons. And those of us who aren't gun-totting are in an infinitesimal way capable of emotion and achievement for the greater good. But the one thing that really hit home was the connect between nature and being, human or alien. The green message was very well delivered, which will make environmental activists all around our world very happy. Shame, acting on it will cost us many times more than the income of this movie.


Avatar is not Titanic, in that, it is not of the same epic movie proportion. But what it is, is an idea of epic proportions, which if even a handful of people get, would make us more....human.

When Pigs Fly

It's the season to get warm, feed well and proliferate. I'm definetly one for the feed well and proliferate, but it seems I've got enemies. I thought it was going to be easier, as the temperatures dropped, to spread my wonderful warmth and humor, but it doesn't seem like everyone's inviting. It's hard being a virus, especially me ... H1N1.

It's wierd. I've been called a lot of things, and none of them too nice. I suppose that shouldn't surprise anyone since I've been known to jump from pigs to the human, like there's a difference. But seriously, why does everyone treat me like I'm a murderer? Some of my friends, like the seasonal flu guy, are 10 times more potent than I am. But no, let's all just blame the Swine flu! Come on people, there is a big differnce between him and me. I just last a few days longer and may just give you a lung infection, but who wouldn't.

Let's also discuss the testing theory. Humans are a crazy lot. They think if they figure out what virus they have it will reduce their suffering. That's the dumbest thing I've heard! Yes, you'll know what you have, but it doesn't change the fact that you've already got it. But the best is, when they test positive for me, people assume it's the worst thing in the world to have. Haven't they heard of HIV? I'm no where near the same damn thing!! I'll give you a cold, cough, headache and fever for a few days. If you're dumb enough to have been sick or have an underlying medical condition, then I'll make it slightly worse. But hey, what's the worse that could happen? Oh yeah, death!
When it comes to death, let me tell you the statistics. The seasonal fellow ends up killing about 10-15 thousand every year, but everyone's fine with him being around. I've barely touched that number. It's because I'm new isn't it? I'm the newcomer and everyone treats me like shit! Not fair! I could even go as far as calling this racism! I'm not that bad...really!

The craziest thing is that people think they can get rid of me if they take vitamins or prophylactic treatment of antibiotics. Hello! I'm a virus not a bacteria! There is no way in hell you're going to avoid me. You may be more resistant to me, all those stupid WBCs  in your blood. But the fact is, the only way anyone can keep me at bay is by washing their hands as often as they can, and how many humans actually do that? I'm going to have a party!! Schools, malls, public transportation systems, anywhere there's more than one person is my playground. I can't believe humans are naive  enough to think they can get rid of me.
You'd need a world full of clean people, or atleast people with clean habits. Yeah, that'll happen, When Pigs Fly!!

The saga continues...

I've just climbed up a notch on the stupidity scale. I know, how is that possible when I'm already up there? I have to admit I have succumbed to hype. This is quite unlike me. But the tempation of knowing for myself was too much. What am talking about? The much publicized movie New Moon. I spent a good portion of my day and half price of the ticket to watch this movie, based on the book of the same name. Why didn't someone stop me?

I had previously written about Twilight, the first in the series of this saga, and of the sheer disappointment I'd felt upon watching the movie (read Guilty). Well, the disappointment hasn't changed. The story is that of Romeo and Juliet with a sanguine twist. The main character performers, I refuse to call them actors, are a year older and twice as boring. The protagonist, a young girl in love with a vampire, was just as unimpressive as she had been in the previous movie, except she had nice shiny hair. The person playing the vampire, whom the girl is in love with, looked just as lost as in the first movie, and had a body to go with the sickly face. No, he is not the hottest thing since sliced bread, as declared by many publications.

The highlight, however, was the wolf guy. This guy, can't get myself to call him boy though he is only 17, has developed in physique that would far exceed any teenage girl's fantasy. He also cuts off his long locks to look like the embodiment of one of the mythological Greek gods. I'm usually not swayed by superficial aspects of a person, but I got to tell you, it was really hard to ignore this guy's screen presence. The worst part is that there were five other semi-clad, bronzed, hard-muscled teenage boys in the wolf pack (you can't just have one wolf), that just seemed to bring the cougar out in me. His acting wasn't bad I suppose, not that I was paying much attention, but it was much better than the love-lorn pair for sure.

I have to be honest, the one thing I did like, apart from the hot teenage Native American guy, was the special effects. The sequences of the wolf transformations were superb. It actually managed to stay true to the story and believability factor. Some of the chase scenes too were well done, but after a while I started to get dizzy spells, I'm not much of a runner. The fight scene between the vampires near the end of the movie was very weird. I clearly saw the vampire boy start it, but by the end he was the one lying on the broken floor, being beaten to a hard pulp. What transpired in between, I am still clueless about. The movie also had an amazing assortment of contact lenses, colors ranging from jaundice yellow to blood rich red, which I suppose was to enhance the color coding of the vampires according to their varied diets.

The seasoned actors (the other vampire characters played in the movie) actually managed to pull off the depiction of human blood drinking vampires very well, especially the leader of the brotherhood. His portrayal of a vampire leader, trying very hard to resist drinking the lead character's blood made me down right thirsty. Alas, to be one kiss away.
The end of the movie is as terrible as the book, but hey, if I read the whole saga, I'm sure as hell going to watch the damn series of movies too, at least to satisfy my craving for a little more than blood.

Knock on Woods!!

There's no denying it, sex is one of the better pleasures in life. Especially consensual sex. Whether in a relationship or out, sex has been known to have a therapeutic effect for those indulging. But when this therapy gets out of hand, namely, in the form of under or over indulgence, the repercussions can be no less than devastating. Those who can't find the happy medium are often seen in a different light. Under indulgence is looked at as sad problem that needs medical attention. Over indulgence, on the other hand, is scorned regardless of the sex...I mean, gender of the person.

 Promiscuous behavior in the human race has been long documented. Ancient cultures like the Romans and some Island tribes encouraged it, and some still do. So, what is it about promiscuity that we, prudish, new age people take offence to? Is it the fact that sexual encounters, of the casual kind, make us realize what we are missing? Or is it a problem we associate with only the rich and famous, and since most of  us will neither be stinking rich or famous, we hold different moral standards for them verses us? Or is the premise in which most of the publicized promiscuity occurs?

I am, and most probably will always be, an ardent fan of Tiger Woods. He has epitomized the character of genius in a sport, I had long associated with old guys with nothing better to do. He was one of the reasons I learned how to play golf. And yes, he made the game cool! The first ever billionaire sports figure, he has carved his niche in the golf arena, business and endorsement worlds, by just being a formidable character on and off the field. Every one of his opponents measures his ability not with the golf course but with his ability to play and survive Woods. That was until now.

The recent weeks have been a topsy-turvy mesh of Tiger's performance on the golf course and in the bedroom. No fewer than 9 women have come out of the wood works to allege a sexual relationship with him. Now the point isn't that he, like most men (and some women), indulged, multiple times. The fact that he did it within the realms of a relationship like marriage, while his wife was pregnant, that has splinters flying in all directions. Tiger isn't the first man, famous or not, to go through the effects of his indulgence, nor will he be the  last. But like they say, the bigger they are, the harder they get stuck.

The questions about his ability as a professional, father, and a husband are enough to keep the Woods worms at work. But the practical question is, does his status, money and genius absolve him of his behavior? Don't we all have moral and ethical standards to live up to? According to psychologists, persons, particularly men, at a genius level actually tend to be more promiscuous than the average male, something to do with proliferation of genetic material to the next generation. But, that's just physiology. Does that mean, just because I'm a genius I can sleep around with anyone, anytime, with complete disregard to the social and moral fabric of a relationship like marriage? I think not. Let's say the tables were turned on Tiger, I personally don't think he would have taken this lying down. I think the blatant and obsessiveness of his actions/addictions have put him a place that any person with similar tendency finds themselves, regardless of their status, credentials, power or money. Being adulterous has repercussion, and being oblivious to that fact just makes a stupid person dumber.

Hopefully his new sabbatical from his infamous recent past won't affect the reason he is still undoubtedly numero uno in one of the greatest games ever played, because that would be like being lost in the Woods!
So the next time you want to get a hole in one at every turn, just make sure your woods are covered, and all your irons are in different bags, because once your tiger is on the prowl, there's not telling what it will maul before being put to sleep or castrated.

SURPRISED!!

Ever had the feeling you've done something worth remembering for the rest of your life? That everything you'd planned had gone exactly the way you wanted it...if not better? That's exactly the euphoric feeling I'm flying on right now. Remember, a few weeks ago I had been trying disparately to contain a secret, nay, a surprise I'd been planning for my children, in cohorts with my husband? Well, it finally came into fruition.

The surprise was an elaborately planned event that none of my three children had a clue about, and believe me when I tell you, it's near impossible, for me, to keep anything from them. The sequence I'm about to recite is as witnessed by me. I shall try not to exaggerate.

The day of the surprise was a flurry of activity, starting with a parent-teacher meeting followed by a last minute doctor's visit to make sure we had an "all systems go". The physician, unknowingly, blurted out the crux of the secret to my eldest...could have strangled the ******, but it just seemed to add to the child's already fever pitched excitement. So I'll let that one slide. The whole journey back home was a cascade of questions, the likes of which I'd never seen before (this coming from a child who I have to ask to shut-up to get a word in edge-wise, on a normal day). The other two joined in the interrogation as the day progressed.

Lunch was a hurried affair...we had a taxi waiting. The entire taxi ride could have passed for a scene from the movie "Are we there yet?" I must confess, by this time I was so excited, that I momentarily forgot that the worst was yet to come. We got to the airport in midst of shouts of jubilation. A plane ride! But to where? By this time my eldest couldn't keep the destination to herself, thank you doctor! Goa, here we come!
From take off to landing, the flight was filled with "we're going to Goa!" aimed at anyone who'd listen. And a lot of people listened. Why is it that flights to beach holiday destinations don't serve alcohol? I could have done with a couple of stiff drinks then.
Landed and armed with our one suitcase ( we travel light), I made arrangements to be picked up. Upon listening to my conversation with our ride, my eldest quizzed why I was talking to a taxi driver in Goa in Marathi (our mother tongue). Because Goa is right next to Mumbai...so everyone speaks Marathi here too. She looked totally unconvinced, but her hyper-stimulated brain let me have that point. Our ride pulled in a few minutes later, and out of the car stepped the grandparents. Each one of my children did a double take, unable to understand how granddad was the cab driver. My youngest was still unsure until my dad stood right in front of her, at which point she leaped at him as if he was the biggest teddy bear in the world (which he is).

Our ride to the resort seemed to take an eternity, especially with dad's navigation and mom's driving skills (my dad was driving and mom was in the back with us girls, so you can imagine). Finally with the destination underfoot, we (the adults) stood back, while the three children rand the bell to the condo we were in for the next seven days. Out of nowhere came the looming figures of my brother and his wife and that surprise hit the nail home.

In all there were 17 surprises that my children counted, most of which I've forgotten. But the seven days in the sun, sand, and water in Goa, surrounded by my family I will never forget. And the kids? They've told every single person at school and where we live, exactly what their surprises were, without forgetting a single detail. So I know, I've made a great memory for them too.

Buy one get one free!

It's the season to be jolly. The discount deals on items from pens to panties are amazing. If you like shopping that is. And the places to shop are infinite. From the glossy malls, to the sometimes not so pretty alley shops that specialize in a vast array of everything, are a spend-thrift's paradise. So, why do I feel like I'm in hell every time I have to shop, even for home essentials?

By now you should have guessed that I'm not a 'let's go shopping' kinda gal. I would have blamed my parents here too, but both of them actually enjoy walking around aimlessly and buying the oddest of things. This has to be an acquired trait, probably stemming from all the aimless walking around I've done with my parents...Oh!! I can blame them!! My husband too is the shopper of the family. When he gets the time to shop it can escalate into hours of torturous, completely uncalled for meandering, which many a times results in bad tempers, aching legs and insatiable hunger (from the exercise), besides the non-purchase of merchandise. Needless to say I'm very reluctant to go out with him on a shopping spree, even if he's paying.

I am a man's best friend and a girls' worst nightmare. I go in with set ideas of what I want, always knowing which store has the items I need. I spend less than 5 minutes to get exactly those things on my itemized list. I spend less time shopping than I do on this computer.So, when I can't find the things I'm shopping for, it truly unnerves me.  The last few weeks have been particularly stressful. I've had a few items on my list that I just haven't been able to cross off, leading up to the surprise I've planned (read The Surprise). How am I going to be able to fullfil my end of the surprise when every store that I go to doesn't carry the necessary equipment? All this wasted time and stress is giving me an ulcer. I'm at my wit's end and my last pair of good shoes. I would have just given up by now, since there is only 1 day left, but I realized that while I dilly-dallied around finding the perfect things, I've managed to acquire some fabulous paintings for the house and other sundry things, that I actually have use for and weren't on my list.

I'd like to say that this is a win-win situation, buying a fabulous find instead of my regimented merchandise. But I find I prefer the 'Buy one get one free deals better", even if I have to pay for them, as long as I get what I went shopping for.

The Surprise

Can you keep a secret? What I'm about to tell you must be guarded with the utmost of secrecy, until the time arrives to reveal it. Our relationship has now come to the point of no return, and I am about to entrust you with a plan that I have plotted. If revealed before its allotted time, the plot could have devistating effects on the parties concerned, namely me.

My co-conspirator (husband) has been tight lipped about the secret. But I find myself unable to maintain the same composure. Damn! I know I shouldn't be doing this, but I just can't seem to help myself. I'm honestly a very good secret keeper. Ask anyone who's shared their secrets with me. I just can't seem to contain myself when it's something conjured from the depths of my diabolical mind, especially when it's this good. No, wait. Back track. It's not the secret per se, I think it also has to do a lot with who I'm keeping the secret from. In this case, it's my three children. So you can imagine how hard this is for me. To date I haven't kept anything secret from them...never had to.

When I was a child, no bigger than my oldest, I had a way of knowing what my mom was thinking or going to do. My mom, on the other hand, learned a little late that she couldn't keep secrets from me (spilled the beans on her). Since then my mom and I made a pact never to hide secrets from each other, which, I've had no problems keeping my end of. What bothers me now though, is I have a sinking feeling that my oldest has the same ability to guess my secret. I've been avoiding all her questions concerning the surprise. I'm such a ditz, that I even told her that there was going to be a surprise, then had to physically clamp my mouth shut. How am I going to get through this without ruining it?

So, this is me getting the secret off my chest. I've planned a surprise for my children, to which they have an on going countdown. As per their last count there are 7 days left to the surprise. My youngest asked me if it was big or small and I replied Really Big! That seemed to please them a lot. Was it as big as their room. It was bigger than the building in which we live (that's big!!). So,exactly how big was this surprise? As big as your heart, was my reply. That really confused my middle child. What are you talking about? My heart is so small. True, but it's as big as the love you can hold in it. All I got for that was a collective roll of the eyes.
My oldest then proseeded to bluntly tell me: Ma, just tell us what the surprise is and spare your torture.
You want to know the secret too?
Wait!

Wax on, Wax off!

Today, after a long time, I've actually done something stupid. Yes, I'll be the first one to admit it, and to top it all, I'm in physical pain because of it. I'm convinced, after my escapade today, that men have it easy. They don't have to endure the kind of physical pain women have to endure in our daily lives. We bear their children, and as if that wasn't enough, we torture ourselves to look beautiful for their sakes. What is wrong with us?
I am, as many of you may know, very low maintenance. I'm really not into the long, expensive trips to the salon for anything, other than my biannual haircut. My self grooming and beautification routine lasts 15 minutes every month, which still feels long every time I get down to doing it. I had found many years ago(20) that it was a waste of time and money, not to mention excruciatingly painful to undergo the tormenting rituals of being pretty. Why would I want to improve on perfection right? I had vowed never to subject myself to the sadistic sequence of beauty care, which left many of my friends temporarily scared (physically), and me for life (mentally).

Haircuts need professionals to be performed. I would never trust myself with my own hair, although my kids have no alternatives. But the rest of my body is easily dealt with at home, pain free, in fraction of the time & money, and by me. So, why do so many women subject themselves to the callous hands of the 'beauty salon person' (or whatever the appropriate term may be)? Is it to feel pampered? I personally don't think having your eyebrows or other body hair being ripped out by someone I've never met, don't trust, and whose hygiene may be questionable, as being pampered. It should be punishable by law. But alas, I may be one of the very few women who thinks so.

That was until today. For someone who barely tweezes her eyebrows, has never waxed (completely) in her life, I talked myself into doing just that. What an idiot!! The fact that I was scantly clad in a stained gown, in a freezing room didn't affect me. It was when I realized that waxing requires wax, heated to a temperature enough to embalm you, that I let my fear take hold. I have delivered three children without the help of pain medications, but today I needed a full body anesthetic. As if the hot wax hadn't completely scared me out my wits, I let the girls performing the procedure apply the piping goo, cover it with some sort of strip and OH MY GOD!!

No. I've decided never to fall prey to my own curiosity again, as least not in someone else's hands. I prefer living on the razor's edge and being cut, than being plucked like a chicken, for the sake of beauty.

Work it Baby!!

Fitness to me is like glue, if you work it between your fingers long enough it becomes a small malleable elastic ball, that you can squeeze into any hole. Maybe not the most apt metaphor, but I am relatively new to the world of gyms, treadmills and weight machines. I have to admit, up until a year ago, you couldn't make me move out of a comfortable position if my life depended on it. So what changed? It was a challenge of sorts...and I'm a sucker for a dare. A good friend of mine had the audacity to tell me that I would end up like my mother, when she was my age. Now that's an insult anyway you look at it. Sorry ma, but you know what I mean. Since then I'm made it a point to work out, whether it's a swim during the summers or running on the dreaded treadmill, I try to get in at least 3 one hour sessions a week. Not bad for one of the laziest persons you'll ever know (this can be certified by my parents and my husband).

I'm lucky to have a fully equipped gym in the apartment complex I live in. I've taken it upon myself to work out during the week, to make up for the weekends of binge drinking and crashed diet. Yeah I'm usually in pain for most of the week. That's why the binge drinking, numbs everything! So, for the last 6 months I've diligently followed my exercise routine and seen some great results, except for one. The people around me don't seem to change. I'm always surrounded by the usual suspects.

The old obese lady, probably in her late 60s, who's just realised that exercise may help her. She's the one who always occupies the stationery bike, and is on it for the longest time at the slowest speed. To avoid her, I'd started going to the gym half hour early. The problem is that she started coming earlier too...so we are at an impasse with the bike situation.
The Grunter. He's my personal favorite. This guy is a well built, muscular chap, who sole aim in the gym world is to attain climax with his weights. Every time he enters there's a collective groan from the women, which can't be a good sign. He starts off with a 2 minute warm up, that's relatively quiet. He then proceeds to grab the heaviest weights, his beautifully sculpted arms can carry, without toppling over. What ensues is an immediate cacophony of continuous, testosterone filled grunts, which quite frankly leave me breathless. His 25 minute work out has me, by the end of it, red in the face with embarrassment, yet a high, which doesn't belong in the gym. Now you know why he's my favorite.
The social butterfly (male and female). I have the misfortune of having a pair of completely unrelated gym buddies, who have taken it upon themselves to socialize with nearly everyone as they work out. There is no bigger put off than having to answer stupid and sometimes disarmingly personal questions while in the middle of a 30 minute run at high speed. These two seem to also be the stretchers of the group, as their entire routine consists of stretching their leg and mouth muscles.
The singer is the most irritating of the lot. Every gym has, to my limited knowledge, music of some sort blaring, while mere mortals like me endure the hour long slog in hopes of health and vitality. The singer, insists that the loud music isn't loud enough, and turns up the volume to supply it to other gyms in the area (closest one 4 miles away). To further humiliate himself, he proceeds to sing each of the songs in the most spine-chillingly shrill voice that could drive away the dead. I need to have a word with him!

There are plenty of disturbing elements at work in the gym, and lately I've noticed that their number is growing. I'd like to have them thrown out, but have come to realize that it's not what your doing during the workout that matters, most of the time, but the fact that these people are making a sincere effort to improve their health. So, no matter how much I want to punch the creepy guy staring at me through the mirrors from the opposite end of the room, I know I'm there to be as fit as I possibly can, not just for myself, but mostly for those who depend on me; my kids, family and community.

In Memorandum

Words are not enough to describe the loss I feel since you've been gone. I'd never once paid you the kind of attention you deserved, and for that I'm truly sorry. You were the very essence of my being. You kept me playful and silly, funny yet honest with myself, and above all beautiful. I'd always taken you for granted, knowing full well you'd leave me one day, but stubbornly pushing that fact out of my full mind. You incited thoughts and feelings that only you could conjure up. I was never for want of a friend as long as I had you to confide my craziest secrets to.

My strength endures today because of your irrepressible encouragement that I could do whatever I wanted, until it was no longer right. You made me fearless when faced with challenges, many of which I would never replicate again without you. I was the tomboy in my girlie world, yet feminine enough to warrant my father's sternest protection, only because of you. You pushed me to be vain, showing me the world as other saw it, but never letting me lose sight of who I really was or would become. Impermeable to others' opinions, you influenced me to be the same. Selflessness, charity, love, positivity, care-free attitude were some of the seeds mom sowed but you cultured and cultivated, giving your own twist to my sobriety.

I've mourned my losses before, but today for the first time I realize what it means to have loved and lost, without knowing. You were the greatest friend a girl could have had. I will miss you dearly but will go on to build on what you started, a better me. Goodbye youth.

Victoria Secret Model

Lingerie, in my opinion, is a waste of money. This is a billion dollar industry that plays on the sentiments of millions of women all over the world, who believe they will look better in their underwear when it's embellished with lace, lycra or a wire. Most men, at least in my knowledge, don't give a crap about a woman's underwear, as long as they can get what lies beneath. So why do women still indulge in this enticing piece of clothing? I think it makes us feel special and allows us the satisfaction of knowing that if we stripped down to our bare essentials, we'll still be desirable. Insecurity? Perhaps, but I think it has more to do with confidence and positive self image.

The fact that each and every one of the models who poses, semi-nude, in these ads are either less than eighteen and/or have an eating disorder, have the most unattainable bodies, and skin as flawless as a new born baby, should in of itself be a detterent. Think about it. How many women do you know in your life, who are near replicas of the beautiful teen goddesses we see in these lingerie ads? My count...none. Nearly every woman I know is either weight and height challenged, or has stretch marks, or is a combination of miss piggy and a dried prune. Yet, many of them indulge in the sensuous undergarments. Maybe I'm just a feminist at heart, but I would really like to see a Victoria Secret model look like a real woman.

So, it came as a shock when, standing in front of the mirror in my second skins, I declared to my husband that I was going to be a Victoria Secret model. Yes, he had the same reaction as you just did, he laughed, out loud. Why was this such a joke? I have a relatively fit body and could put any 22 ( alright 27) year old to shame. Of course having had 3 children has left my skin looking like a map of a Martian landscape, guaranteed to get you lost. Other than that, I don't see any difference in me and the skinny, stereotypical lingerie model. Maybe the legs aren't long and shapely as those chaddi clad tweenies, and the cellulite looks like a thin bag overfilled with marbles, but why was I, and women like me, being sidelined from mainstream industries like this. It just isn't fair! I have the attitude, the charisma, the face may need a little work but it can hold it's own when made up, I felt beautiful, had a great body image, and was as real as any woman you'd get. So why wasn't I the epitome of beauty, as seen on TV?

The disappointment at my husband's reaction, to my announcement, must have shown on my face. He stared at me for a good two minutes, and smiled. "Why would you want to be a Victoria Secret model, when you're already my Secret model?" That just put everything into perspective...I was going to one of the most beautiful women to this man and his children, no matter how many craters I accumulated or what my dress size was. And that's all I needed to double my physical confidence.

I swear....

I'm not good with words. They just seem to come out all wrong. Ever been in an argument, when all you see is red and have spit foaming at the mouth, and every word that comes out of your cake hole is anything but coherent? That happens to me a lot, especially when I'm angry (No, not the red face and foaming spit). My problem is bigger...I swear! Not your run of the mill, cutesy slang. Full force profanity, sometimes with complete disregard to who's around me, is my area of expertise.

I have been known to verbally abuse (to the point of getting into a physical fight), people who have rubbed me the wrong way, especially on my off days. And have in many instances done this in front of my parents, husband, and on the rare (uncontrollable) occasion my kids. No, I'm not proud of myself, nor do I condone this kind of behavior. But I just don't know why I do it!! I blame it on my unconventional upbringing (YEAH YOU TWO...I"M BLAMING YOU!). I was never repremanded for cussing infront of my parents. One would think I would have been really scared of swearing in front of my dad (military guy), but no. I do remember him telling me once that it was rather unladylike to swear, but I told him I was as unladylike as they come. Never looked back since.

The last few years have become dramatically worse. I was under the deluded impression that as we grow older, we get more somber. In my case, the preservation of youth has taken an all new meaning. Now that I have kids of my own, I find myself trying to cut back the verbiage. Sometimes audibly talking myself out of swearing at some idiot for infraction on my sensibilities, as limited as they may be.

Road rage takes on a whole different persona. Ever been at a red light, being the first to stop and have everyone behind you honk, since they assume red means go? By the time I drive a short distance I've either resurrected someone's dead grandmother or nearly fractured my middle finger flipping people off. If I'm alone in the car, the sound of the radio is completely drowned out by a string of profane words aimed at, supposedly, educated people let loose on the road in a vehicle, with worse driving skills than mine (and that is no complement).

I've been doing some research on anger management and so far, have come up zilch. One school of thought is: if angry, let your feelings be shown. Another, touts the benefit of suppressing angry thoughts and channeling positive messages. Someone else suggests meditation to avoid the whole internal conflict issue altogether. BU*****T!!

Mark Twain put it best: 'When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear."
But why this realization now? Well, my dear husband is convinced that if I don't get a handle on my senses, I'm the next candidate for the Grim Reaper. I'd like to disagree, but I'm too much of a realist not to consider his advise. So I have taken it upon myself to find a solution to my possible untimely demise. I've started ignoring! As the old saying goes...Ignorance is Bliss, I'd rather be happy and ignorant for sixty seconds, than be angry and miserable for 1 minute.

Karwa Chauth

Yesterday was my first real Karwa Chauth, since I'm now in Delhi. You know the festival, where women, ususally married, starve themselves for their husband's long life, albeit for a day. Women in the apartment complex, where we live, came together to offer prayers and conduct the traditional rituals related to this occasion. Even at work, my female, married colleagues spent a good deal of time gawking at each other's mehndi'd hands, sarees and god knows what else.

I don't know if it's just me, actually it's also my eldest daughter, who just can't get the whole thing. She put it the best way: 'why would anyone want to starve for the whole day for someone else?' I tried my level best to explain to the child that it has to do with commitment and love, (supposedly), but she just counter questioned: if you love some one, why would you starve yourself? Wouldn't that hurt them too? Couldn't argue with that! The next question was a little more difficult to answer, in front of her father: why is it just women who do the starving? As diplomatically as possible, I told her that it was tradition. Women were stronger and better at keeping the family bonds intact. I also explained that it wasn't just women who did the fasting, men did it too, now a days, which seemed to placate her some. Didn't want to go into the topic of gays also fasting for their significant others on Karwa Chauth. That's just a whole another can of worms I didn't want to deal with then.

I would have let it drop at that, except my child then proceeded to ask if I was doing this 'fasting' thing. Honestly, the thought of fasting itself scares me to a near unconscious state, and to do it for something as monumental as showing my devotion to my husband, definitly doesn't call for fasting. So, I politely said no, the husband sitting in front of me, and finished with "I don't need to starve myself to show your father I love him". Now that really seemed to please her, but all I got from the spouse was a dramatic roll of the eyes. So much for heart felt emotion.

So, Karwa Chauth was like any other day for me. I worked, shopped, played with the kids, made dinner, worked out, stayed up with my husband, and all without the added stress of being food and water deprived. That would have made me unlovable.

Addicted!!

I was convinced I was made of sterner stuff. But that blew up in my face when a friend introduced me to something that not only gives me a high, but has me going back for more. Damn, I thought I was above all these petty things after I left college. Even in those days, of my long forgotten youth, I was strong enough to say no. Or maybe, I just wasn't curious enough.

I've been around the world and tried a few things here and there, which, frankly, couldn't hold my juvenile attention for too long. Now, as I grow older and, perhaps, more focused, I find myself drawn to things I would never have considered before. Although I must admit, the prospect of having an influence that grabs your attention and desire so compellingly, has always facinated me. Like I said, I thought I was above it all.

Oh my God, Ma!! It's definitely not what you think....it's worse! This overwhelming need to get a fix every single day is starting to get to me. I tried once to stop, stayed away for a whole 35 hour, 4 minutes and 23 seconds. Thought it was going to a piece of cake. Man! was I wrong!! I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, it felt like the anticipated fear of when you can see a huge lead weight dangling over your head, and you don't know if it's going to fall. The day was even worse. Every waking moment was spent in dreaming about how I felt when I had had a hit. It was excruciating!

I've finally come to the realization that I'm better composed and prepared to face this big bad world only after I've had a hit. Yes, I'm rendered inaccessible for a good half hour once I'm in my zone. But this is me. I feel better every time I attain a new level. I don't think I'm going to give this up too soon, I like it too much. I just wanted to let the world know, that things like this can happen to anyone. I'm not special or above it all and this has just been a wake up call, to see myself as human (not talking in extra-terrestrial terms). I'd tell you not to get involved or try it but I'd be doing a disservice to society in general. But if you should try it, don't ever say I didn't warn you!

Who knows, maybe you're stronger than I am. But if not, come be my neighbor on Farmville.

Silver Streak

I am not given to vanity. I'd like to think I don't have to try too hard to look good. You know, it's all in the attitude! Besides, what you see is what you get. So, there I was, bleary eyed, in front of my mirror this morning, when my head seemed to shine. I rubbed my eyes, twice. It was probably the fluorescence of the light playing tricks on my eyes...or my head. But no! The glow now intermittent still appeared to come from my head.

Oh my GOd!! I was dead and had come down from heaven as an angel to save some poor bastard from a life of crime and misery! Except, my path to hell has already been prepped with rose petals and surgical knives. So, no angel! Then what was this physical aura that I was resonating? I grabbed my glasses (I keep them handy for just these occasions) and slammed them on my face. The view cleared. The shine seemed more acute, more concentrated on some parts than others. I peered at myself, moving closer to the mirror, to the other me. And there I saw it, the source of my light....white hair!! Not just one or two but a whole army of them facing me as if on the verge of an attack.

No this can't be true, it can't be that bad. I drew in a breath to steady myself and got down immediately to the task of assessing the damage. Aaahhh!! I was starring in a bad 80's Indian movie! Not as the heroine but as the evil MIL or stepmother whose most distinguishing facet happened to be a thick streak of white hair from temple to tip. This can't be happening!

 It's not like I didn't know I had a few white hair, but today I seemed to have changed, albeit physically. What was I to do? Do I color it and hope the results are flattering? But a lifetime of servitude to hair coloring makes me list off all the things I could do with the time and the money. No! I could take this take this one of two ways: I could cry and lament over my misfortunes of having 'premature' grey hair ( I hate you ma!) or I could embrace my new asset and look mature, for the first time in my life.

Silver streaks it is!

Guilty!!

Ok, I have to confess....I've been reading! I know, what better sin could there be than a book that actually manages to captivate MY attention?....I'll answer that question later.

The truth is, I've been engrossed in the Twilight series. Yeah Bro, I can hear you snigger! I am, as many of you know, pragmatic and hardlined as they come. I haven't used my imagination in over 15 years. WHAT?? No, it's not like I don't read or have day-dreams. Its just that I haven't clearly been able picturize what I've read in a long time and honestly it scared me when I did, with this book. Now let me make it clear, I am NOT a romantic!! And this book or series is exactly that ... chick lit.... so, imagine my horror now!

I cannot stand books that have the Heroine as a mousy, unable to defend herself, geeky type, who invariably falls for the hottest guy around with a do-good conscience.... it makes me want to puke! This book delivers in that catagory exceptionally well, where I found myself hating (strong word) the main female charecter beyond civilized words and wanting a one night stand with the alternate male lead (the wolf guy). The male lead is a 'vegetarian' vampire who's the epitome of goodness and love...oh please!! Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with a healthy romance, but this stretched my patience to a limit I didn't think possible. And I have a house full of kids!!

Before you think me an opinionated oaf, which I will not deny, let me say that I read the whole series of 4, 800 page books in less than a week, not bad for a busy professional mom with 2 other jobs. I couldn't get myself to put these books down! I have to admit the writer's imagination for the absurd and and the humanly challenged is out of this world...literally, which only heightened my curiosity to a 'blood thirsty' pitch. At the end of the saga...which it painfully was, I realized that I was terribly disappointed. The story ended as if a fairy tale and the sheer pleasure of my imagination running amock was brought to a crashing end. No one dies. No fight for love. No unresolved misunderstandings. No nothing! Just a quick happy ending! As if the author had run out of options or had no motivation to make this story a possible epic (which it could have been).

So, there I am completely disowning the vamparic system, when I chanced upon the movie Twilight, based on the first book. WOW!! what a piece of crap!! The highlight of the movie was the end credits. As if the bad acting wasn't enough, the movie shredded the book and used completely irrelevant fragments.... although I do believe they were trying to stay as true to the story as possible. The girl playing the lead charecter fitted the role perfectly. However, the male lead was another story. This, possible, drop-dead gorgeous kid looked scared stiff of the vampire he was playing and instead of arousing my feelings of love (he did manage lust for a bit) I found myself cringing and hoping he gets saved from himself. It was a thoroughly anti-climactic finish.

So did I enjoy the story? HELL YEAH!! This, most unlikely, book managed to awaken a buried side of me that I thought I had lost. My once dormant mind was suddenly thrust into a frenzy of possibilities that seemed even to astonish me... which is very rare. I have come to realize that my life is about to change. How? I have no idea...but you'll be the first to know. Oh yeah, and you can bet I'm waiting for the next movie in the series.... I hear it gives 'red eye' a whole new meaning.

Eyes Wide Open!!

Wow!! It's been ages, for which I sincerely apologise. Life has had me on my toes. Dealing with accidents, work and possibly a personality disorder. Yeah, I'm talking about me. The last....2 months have had me running the gammet of things not thought possible. But hey, I'm here aren't I?

The realization that this therapy, of my own device, is actually working, makes me proud that I've been able to achieve the goal I set out to conquer. Hold on!! before every one starts cussing me out for not finishing stories I've started, let me add that with events that have transpired and my own effort to change, I've made a conscious decision to bite my tongue and swallow blood! What the hell am I going on about?? The last couple of months have given me a horrific realization that I've been wasting my time dredging up my colorful past, and in the end, it's been more traumatic to go through each event again.

In addition, the slap in the face I got when my eldest had an accident, and had to undergo emergency surgery, woke me up to the fact that I've been wallowing in heaps of egotistical, often cynical and nearly always caustic crap from which I wanted freedom. I've never been so scared as I was when my child bled all over me and the only comfort I got was from knowing that it could happen to anyone....yeah right!! Ma, I'm truly sorry for all the horrendous acts of unintentional self-destruction and near fatal cardiac infarctions I've caused you. Yeah I finally got mine and knew instantaneously what you went through. But it was then, during the long wait outside the OT that I realized my focus had been on me....what an idiot!! I could have spent all that time with the few things that really mattered to me. It's a shame one needs a near death experience to realize what one's life is truly worth.

So, to all you readers, I apologize profusely for stopping the act before the climax, but this blog will hopefully take on a different outlook on my life....Oh I ain't stopping it, just changing the body to fit the new soul. Hope you stick with me.

OMG I'm old!!!

Happy birthday to me. Yes, I'm another year older and hopefully wiser. (Shut up Bro!) I know there's been a lot of cribbing and bitching on this blog, so today I'm going to take a (short) break and do something different. A good friend of mine tagged me the other day. I must confess, I have absolutely no idea what that means. Is it the same as playground tag we used to play when we were young? Or is this some form of cyber fun, that I, obviously am oblivious to? I'm assuming it's the first, in Internet form. Now, before I start spilling, let me tell you the tag is about motherhood. Again I assume, it's about the things we enjoy about motherhood. So here goes!

Having three kids is a piece of cake! Yeah you heard me right. Its unbelievable how many times, from as many different people, I've heard complaints that they find it hard to deal with just one child and can't imagine how I cope with 3. It's easy! My children have taught me how to keep that inner (and possibly outer) child alive. I am a strict mom, when it comes to getting things done. But any other time, when it's with my children, I'm just as playful as them. We play together. Watch movies. Sing loud boisterous songs. Scream. Have tickling matches. Or play practical jokes on eachother. I feel and often behave like a child and honestly...I love it!

 Ever seen a house lizard high on bug spray? I'm not one for animal cruelty but I just can't stand house lizards and my dear children came up with the innovative idea of dealing with them. Since I've had children, I realize that I learn something new everyday. Not just about myself but about the world around me too. Did you know that if you call the cops they are actually very nice people....only if the caller is your 1 year old child? Strawberry jam makes a great adhesive ... for anything. Crayons aren't just meant for paper and walls, they work just as well on teeth, if you rub them hard enough. Oh, the color blue goes really well with silver paint, especially when slathered on the body and face as a thick pack. I've also learned to be a little more patient with everyone around me. I'm also an emotional wreck when it comes to watching sad movies (I cry like a baby). I'm vicious when someone says anything unpleasant about my family, to the point of beating people up. It's a learning process I know my kids will continue to teach me, well into my years of senile dementia, and for that I am truly grateful.

Every mother and most fathers think their children are the most beautiful and special. Over the past 7 years I've come to see and believe that they are. Every child born is so unique, that it would be absurd not to love them all. It's a uniquely beautiful feeling to hold your baby in your arms, and since I've become a mother I experience that feeling of unconditional love every single time I look at my children. And the crazy thing is, they feel the same way about me, no matter how much I scream, rave and rant. It's the most wonderful emotion in the world, and that coming from an unromantic me, is a very big deal. 

 My kids are all very well and motherhood is great, but the one person I'm grateful to and for, is my husband. Many a times he's convinced that I don't care about him and his opinion, and he's right a few of those times. He makes my life miserable sometimes, making me do long laundry lists of introspective work, from which, more often than not, the only conclusion I come to is ... I'm a bitch. He always pushes me to get off my (fat) ass, to do things to improve my life. Now, I know he's being selfish with all this because in the end he gets what he wants, a peaceful, pleasing life. But all said and done, he's given me a great life, taken me to see far off lands. Been my pillar when I needed support. Been my strength when I was weak. Been the reason why I love being a mother (and been the cause of it). It's easy to be happy being a mother because of your children, but I don't think I would have been one if it hadn't been for my husband. Watching him with the girls is an eye opener, in the sense, although he seems detached from the daily household rituals and raising of the next generation, he is a phenomenal father. So, darling if you do read this, know that you mean the world to me. But you still have to give me a shiny birthday gift!

So, that's my brief version of the motherhood tag. I'm sure I have to tag some else, but seriously don't know how. I'd suggest those of you who are parents, make your own list of things that make having children special. And those of you who haven't any children, make a list of things you'd change, about yourself, if and when you do. It's funny, my mom once told me that I'd have a daughter just like me, I think she meant it in a negative connotation. But ma, I have three mini- mes and wouldn't change them for anything.