Biwi ka mood ...

I asked H (I have learnt this blog writting skills recently, not to use full names and to use only initials), so I asked this guy H

Me: Tiffin me kya rahata hai
H : Biwi ka mood rahata hai

And I stated thinking about Ra's tiffin...

wahaa tiffin me kya rahata hai?

kabhi biwi ka c# code rahata hai,

kabhi biwi ki late night movie rahati hai,

kabhi biwi ka tennis racket rahata hai,

kabhi biwi ki sql query rahati hai,

kabhi biwi ka monday blues rahata hai,

kabhi biwi ki TGIFridays rahati hai ...

aur bhi bahut kuch rahata hai

jo nahi rahata wo hai "Biwi ka mood"

And I started remembering my Papa's tiffin ...

ghee waali rotis in the ground floor,
a yum yum sabjee in the first floor,
some rayata or dal in the top floor,
and a small terrace of chatani's, salads or pickles...

And also packed inside was variety and flavor along with perception of health and a touch of tranquil affection.

is this what H was calling Biwi's mood? I am perilously missing this ecstasy of packing biwi's mood in your tiffin Ra, I solemnly wish I could pack my mood in you tiffin at least once in a while.

Oh I am gloomy today !

Mujhe mitti bulati hai !

If ooparwalla did not see anytyhing obnoxious in my innocent intentions of visiting my motherland, I am all set to fly in just eight days.

The ordeal of my last time overseas travel is still so green in my heart that I am trying to be ultra vigilant this time. I remember the horrifying scene of my big suitcases swelling with loads and stuffs lying unaided on the floor still to be packed, in the house of my little sis in Bangalore just a couple of hours before it was time to leave India almost permanently. There were calls from all over India and I did not know whether to answer my Chachas, Mamas or to answer the dismayed face of my beloved jeans which I had to leave there in the merciless hands of my sis conspiring to use it as a pooncha kapada. And Ra as usual was absconded to some place where neither my mobile not I myself could reach. I am not sure whether it my empty stomach or the huge mess I created all over that made me realize that The walls of my sisters house were actually whirling in front of my eyes. I wanted to cry both because of the headache of suitcases going out of control of my hands and because of the heartache of leaving my motherland but I had time for none. OHH MY GOSH I had never seen anything horrendous like that before trust me.

I counted the items that I have missed there in that pretty little house of my little sis at every single hour of my journey and the final one that I realized only after a few days of stepping my foot in this alien land were my H1 papers.

And do not ask me how I managed without the papers, only comment that I want to make is, it was a lesson learnt really hard. My suitcases are almost packed this time, yes Papa eight days in advance, sorry for realizing your theory little late. No more pending shopping, let my distant relatives small kids starve since I forgot there share of chocolates.

I will be flying next weekend to my motherland, to you Mom and to you Papa, to you Maa and to you Babi, to my land of authentic golgappe's and adarak waali chai's, to my land of colorful saaris and salwaar suits, to the festive seasons of Deepawali and Puja, to the smell of ghee waali rotis and to the aromas of gajjar waala pulavs, to my land where people look like me, to my land where people speak my languagge, to my land where I do not need a social security number, to my land where I do not need to carry my passport, yes I will be flying to my motherland next weekend ... zooomm

Mujhe mitti bulati hai

bada dil ko dukhati hai

kya karooooooooo, mai kya karoo?

Love - Aru !

My foolproof plan ...

Kaam se daro nahi, kaam ko karo nahi ...

Kaam karo na karo, kaam ki fikra zaroor karo ...

... aur fikra karo na karo, bhaiya zikra to zaroor karo ...

I didn't meant to start filling my blog space with the accustomed cries of my office work load, the lines were projected to only drag your kind attention h'ble readers. Allow me to take you through the other momentous issues of life, like lets take a look at my India trip plan ...

My India trip plan, mulled over every minute possible stumbling block and brood over all the alternatives, contemplated over each and every aspects ... financial, social, emotional, physical and almost every possible 'al' (didn't we? kill me if any of the 'al's we missed), considering everybody's conjectures (including the weatherman and the economists), geared up to satisfy everybody's expectations, wrought over a period of approximately two to three months (A record itself isn't it?) ... is about to collapse (sigh) !

Enauguration of this large scale demolition of my beloved plan will be done next week by Ra, his managers are not agreeing to his seven weeks of holiday, nobody's manager will, I already told him before planning, but he said he will make this eighth wonder of the world possible. And before Ra comes and declares this to me officially, I am declaring this cruel truth here in my blog space ...

next week the managers of my big hubby's dream land will negotiate his big dreams of seven weeks of extravagance to a three to four weeks of holiday endowment. Yes they will and then I will give Ra his share of surprise ... I will declare my cruel intention of going ahead with my plan alone, it is indeed a never before thing, but I have already made up my mind for this ... since the situation here is little critical (I will justify myself in my next blog, pls dont start thinking bad about me).

But oh Ra I will miss you a lot ... who will now carry your frail lady's big suitcases, who will fight with bangalore auto wallas now, who will carry your gals shopping bags, who will save chocolates and wines from customs (ok this one I will manage, Ra should be worrying about this, who will now save him from customs in Mumbai airport, I am good at it you see).

and Ra who will save my sofas from your bathing towels, who will devour that variety waala bread and jam breakfast with you everyday, who will save the eyes of your office collegues with the brightness of your bright red and white shirt with equally white pants, who will listen to Usha's and My's and Jhon's and Jubin's stories every evening, who in the world will serve as a doubles partner helping other side to win the game, who will share a laugh on kalvin's imaginations and who will shed a tear on freedom at midnight partition stories, who will stop you from browsing whole night ra and who will save you fmro the monsters hidding inside your bed ... don't you think it will be little difficult?

Ganapati Bappa Moriya !

Yeah ... life is seeing lots of ups and downs these days, my trip to India is only four weeks ahead and unfortunately things are taking unusual turns, I am looking forward towards you Ganesh Jee to calm down the things and to kick off a hale and hearty commencement.

Yes fifteenth of September gonna be a decisive day and that too in your favourite land of Mumbai (I guess so since you are seen in maximum numbers there only). Ganesh jee my dear Ganesh jee mumbai me to aapki chalati hai I know ... you can not ignore my appeal!

I know I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as a reminder that your friends Ram and Lakshmi bhagwans's Deepawali is near by,
yes I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as some small festival celeberating the start of season of festivals,
yes I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as a inauguration of those pink wintery afternoons,
yes Sir I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as a day to buy my first patakha of the season,
yes yes I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as a day to devour my first laddu of the season,
yes yes yesss I was wrong in bewildering your chaturthi as a day to get heavenly permissions for raising the wordly roofs for a couple of months ...

But if you give it a second thought (I mean if time permits you in your busy season), fortuitously I did took you as a start for everything good in the world ... didnt I bhagwaan jee? And thats what you are ... aren't you bhagwaan jee?

And ok I also understand that in fact I am a true paradigm of the "dukh me sumaran sab karein ... sukh me kare na koi" lines (mean me!). I realised the true sense of Ganesh chaturthi a little late (actually very late) but the point is I did ... kya boltoy hai Ganesh jee? Maafi milegi sarkaar is paapi ko?

OK just one more point to defend myself ... you know I am not remembering you for myself ... so in a way I am not that selfish but since I am asking for someone who I love more then myself ... so actually I am being selfish ... ooffo bada cofusion hai bhai ... kya selfish ki no selfish? You decide bhagwaan but please consider all of my points and then I understand whatever you do will be the best for us ... I trust you!

moriya re bappa moriya re ... ganapati bappa moriya re !!!

Tum Pukaar Lo ...

Pallu of her saari starts humming first by the touch of gentle gust and then goes Hemant Kumar sa ma ma ga … humm hm hm

There is something in this song that gives me goose bumps every time I hear it ... I wonder whether it is Hemant's velvettee voice or Gulzaars tranquil lyrics or Waheeda's eternal beauty or unseen Dharmendra's charm or the charisma of that pallu alone that creates all that magic; but one thing I am sure about is if intezaar thyself had any voice of its own it would have sung Tum Pukar lo ... tumhara intezaar hai !

My only complain with this whole song is why didnt they show me Dharmendra's face even once? Whenever I see the song I always want to go inside the screen and I want to turn Dharmendra towards the camera ... I wonder can any of todays khans create the same restlessness among gals without showing there faces even once?

Everytime I hear this song I fall into the state of some kind of silent intezaar and my ears expect to hear some distant pukaar yes everytime. I kept on maturing year by year ... boyfriends kept on changing ... but the link between this intezaar and Hemant Da's pukaar is like immortal ... for what I do not and neither do I wish to know.

Would like to put few lines of one of Hemant Da's bangla song ...

Amar gaaner swaralipi lekha rabey

Pantha pakhir kujano kakoli ghirey

Agami prithibi kaan petey tumi shuno

Ami jodi aar nai ashi hetha phirey

Tobu... Amar gaaner swaralipi lekha raabey

[The chords of my songs will be preserved in the tunes of the flying birds. The future world may listen to the tune of my melodies. Even if I do not return here ...The chords of my songs will be scored]

Hemant Da future world is indeed listening to your melodies and will forever be grateful to you for providing us such a splendid chords of songs!

The Steffi inside me !

I abhor Ra in the tennis court. I loathe him up to the verge of strangling him then and there on the green gleaming court. I really mean it, no jokes, its as grave as ... I dont know what, but I am sure Ra knows its gravity.

We havent started playing games yet, we just practice, he himself is no master of the game but somehow he has cultivated this fallacy that he is coping up with my bad game ... and to my shame he realizes me @ my every single shot that his game is deteriorating because of my game ... and the height is he really thinks he could have participated in this US Open if I were not his partner ... and I am sure he cracks jokes on my game in all his friends circle grrrr!!!

All this shit started a month back, I was gone for my driving class (yeah driving class, this is a big story itself... I will be writing a blog about it soon) and when I came back, to my surprise, Ra had this black color tennis racket in his hands ... a wao! This allured me so much that I soon found myself head over heels towards the nearest sports authority. There as usual we started with a great combat for the color of my tennis racket. He wanted me to buy a PINK color racket with a PINK racket bag and thank god there were no PINK balls else he would have made me play with the PINK balls too (I dont know where in the earth from he get these ideas). I won and we ended up buying a masculine blue color racket for his frail little lady who he always dream in baby PINKS ...

How to hold the racket training started much before our first historical entrance to the tennis court and then inside the court before hitting the first ball came his 'chaap' training (which I will never understand even if I will be given brains of Einstein to borrow). He has some kind of table tennis experience and till now he has never missed a single chance to apply his ping pong stunts on the lawn tennis.

Every day we came back with both of our moods switched off. I wanted him to be grateful to me since I was joining him in his tennis court after my office hours and after my everyday NJ to NY up n down trips and with the worries of what to cook in dinner bugs inside my already troubled brain cells ...

...and he wanted me to play tennis shots and not my irritating badminton and hockey and golf and everything else except tennis shots, he wanted the balls to hit in the middle of my racket but sixty percent of the times balls will hit my racket everywhere else except that wide middle spot of my racket and rest of the fourty percent of times I could not hit the balls. He kept analyzing that how do I manage to hit the ball incorrectly every single time.

We both could not understand each others sacrifices and passions ... he never felt grateful to me and I kept my badminton shots continued ... until yesterday ...

Yesterday alas for the first time after my continued struggle with the racket and balls ... I guess I played good yesterday, only yesterday! Miracle do happen sometimes! Rajib was finally sweating (I know how hard he always wanted to come back with a sweat wet shirt) and it was he who wanted to stop (for the first time) and not me, only yesterday! We both came back humming and dancing on a himesh reshmiya song after the game, only yesterday! He praised my food ... he praised my dress ... he even praised my driving, only yesterday! He hugged me and kissed me after the game, only yesterday! it was a great day, yesterday!

And before I end, le me confess few more things, you can ignore this section as this is one of those boring thanks giving speeches to be put in the end (I want to make every possible attempts to hide the greatness of Ra) Ra could have got a good companion and he could have learnt this game in a couple of weeks for sure (remember I told u .. he had his so called stupid TeeTee experience) but he choose to play with me and to learn the game togather ... he helped me in kitchen everyday, he understood very well where all I needed his support and his supporting self was there during this whole endeavor (ok ok its actually always there ... you guys are impossible!). He was hard on me but then he always wanted my best to come out of me ...

And I suddenly started compairing one of my (unfortunate !) antique ol boy friend who named me Steffi and this (fortunate enough to get me!) guy Ra who actually made me feel Steffi ... thanks Ra ... you are indeed my best boy friend ... I love u ummaaah !!!

love - Aru !

(Doesnt mean I have bacame good player now ... only means I have started hitting balls correctly ... and I understand theres much much more to learn ... wish me luck !)

e-Rakshabandhan

We again had hi-tech e-rakshabandhan ... I called my bhaiyas over phone and sent rakhis and sweets via emails across the seven seas and I also sent some rakhi scraps on orkut ... and after all these busy rakhi moments I took some time out to remember those good ol days when we used to make rakhis by our own hands (remember supw classes during rakhi gals .. those reshmi dhaga and tooth brush nautankis?) I remembered our babyish chitthis that we used to write to our distant brothers ... I still remember some of the contents of those chitthis... bhaiya pranaam, rakhi ke avasar par aapko rakhi bhej rahi hoo, aap apane KAR KAMALO par baandh lijiyega ya bandhwa lijiyega whatever ... We used to send these chitthis with almost same contents to all of our bhaiyas (but handwritten, those were not the days of ctrl C and ctrl V) ... sons of bua mami chachi mausi ... every possible bhai!

... and then on the actual Rakhi day ... we used to have face to face rakhi with our other very vital bhais ... would you like to know who all ... I know you are not interested but plz allow me to tell you ... to name some ... the mango tree on our backyard which used to save mangoes for us from all the scandalous boys of BALCO, our bicycles which showed us the kona kona of BALCO, Papa's scooter on which the ride was more pleasant then todays across the sea rides ... our TV which used to save our exam score by just being switched off, books which somehow saved our minds from diverting to more terrorist activities, doors which saved us from all the perilous creatures of the earth ... all the bhagwaan jees who were ... will be ... and are saving us from everything evil in this world and to every thing else existing in our home and saving us from something somehow ... literally everything ... we used to celeberate rakhi so seriously that my mom used to worry we may put some rakhi in her food too ...

I can see all my above mentioned bhais live here blessing us with smiles ... and I can see those three pairs of small hands tieing rakhis to all of these bhais ... with the equal zeal of any other sister with a real bhai ... we do not have any brother ... but thanks Mom ... for never letting us feel down on this day!

love - Aru !