I am deep in the middle of Malory Towers. I know. I am too old for that. But it is still fun. And answer me this. Four towers (houses). Special designated train from London. Carriages to take you to school from the station. Beautiful sight of school as you turn a corner. Camaraderie. House spirit. Lacrosse contests. Prep. Breakfast rooms. Common rooms. Dormys with eight beds. Sound familiar? All muggles, all girls though, thats the only difference.
Child managed to procure the entire Malory Towers courtesy indulgent aunt. She is in book bazillion. I am in book 1. The books past the 6th one are written by someone else. Not Enid Blyton. Thats fine with us, don't really mind. The cover is all jazzy and modern. "Is Malory Towers older or Harry Potter, Amma?" asks she, innocently. I swallow my indignation, and answer honestly and without malice.
I was quietly running along this morning. Vibrams are in really nasty, smelly shape. But WTH. A dog barked. I jumped a clear half foot into the air but continued on. As I often say, motherhood, and running, have almost cured me of my irrational fear of dogs. Almost. A security guard strolled out from his post and said "Don't run. Just walk" He might have meant it in the context of not irritating barking stray dogs. He might have meant it otherwise, in general, as well. I smiled and crossed the road.
We warmed our new house late last week. It still has a while to go to be habitable. I have a list of disappointments already. I like the front facade though. Its in my favourite colour next to black - grey. We reluctantly convinced a much-mustachioed pehelwan like dude to bring his cow over. With crumpled horns. Which I had to touch with turmeric. Not to mention its rump. It proceeded to pee all over our (unfinished) front porch. Its calf merrily ate a banana after I peeled it for it, meanwhile. "Its all super holy" said everyone as I wrinkled my nose.
We all sweated buckets. Especially the Mysore and Bangalore folk. "Madras ana chumma vaa?" I told them as they complained. It takes guts, fortitude, perseverance, grit, determination, and a certain streak of masochism to spend the summer in Madras. Chalk them down as my qualities, in my balance sheet, if you will. Especially in light of the dreaded load shedding!
"This has become a tourist destination madam" wails the swimming coach, who is gamely trying to get his platoon of kids ready for a tournament in June. The pool is overflowing with creatures of all shapes and sizes. Women in their full-body armour, protecting their skin from the sun. Every inch of it. Men, on the other hand, in boxer shorts, short shorts, torn shorts, undies, anything they happen to be wearing at that point of time. Unprotected, to say the least. The kids are bearable at least with the exception of those that wear that nasty thing called 'shimmies' which I hate.
"You should conduct a special running event" suggested my uncle. I raised eyebrows query-ingly. Apparently, for women to run in nine yards madisaaru saris. I could do it. Though I might die of heat exhaustion if I tried it in mine. Its my wedding sari. Has severe lines of zari coursing through the entire body. Is constructed of a kancheevaram silk yielded possibly by worms that were fed on steel. In the 15 years since I was awarded this prize, there has been no love lost between us.
Days follow nights follow days follow nights as we edge unerringly towards a distant day when the weather will be cooler and tempers less frayed. There is some good stuff that the household has been hit with in the midst of all else. The child came in second at the Landmark Spelling Bee thing on Sunday. She was lovely, if I may say so myself. And she enjoyed it, most important of all. I am planning a trip of 2-3 days (for work) to cooler climes, visa permitting. My little niece is at home and is super cute. So, I now head home, semi-productive day all wrapped up here in my sweaty office....
Child managed to procure the entire Malory Towers courtesy indulgent aunt. She is in book bazillion. I am in book 1. The books past the 6th one are written by someone else. Not Enid Blyton. Thats fine with us, don't really mind. The cover is all jazzy and modern. "Is Malory Towers older or Harry Potter, Amma?" asks she, innocently. I swallow my indignation, and answer honestly and without malice.
I was quietly running along this morning. Vibrams are in really nasty, smelly shape. But WTH. A dog barked. I jumped a clear half foot into the air but continued on. As I often say, motherhood, and running, have almost cured me of my irrational fear of dogs. Almost. A security guard strolled out from his post and said "Don't run. Just walk" He might have meant it in the context of not irritating barking stray dogs. He might have meant it otherwise, in general, as well. I smiled and crossed the road.
We warmed our new house late last week. It still has a while to go to be habitable. I have a list of disappointments already. I like the front facade though. Its in my favourite colour next to black - grey. We reluctantly convinced a much-mustachioed pehelwan like dude to bring his cow over. With crumpled horns. Which I had to touch with turmeric. Not to mention its rump. It proceeded to pee all over our (unfinished) front porch. Its calf merrily ate a banana after I peeled it for it, meanwhile. "Its all super holy" said everyone as I wrinkled my nose.
We all sweated buckets. Especially the Mysore and Bangalore folk. "Madras ana chumma vaa?" I told them as they complained. It takes guts, fortitude, perseverance, grit, determination, and a certain streak of masochism to spend the summer in Madras. Chalk them down as my qualities, in my balance sheet, if you will. Especially in light of the dreaded load shedding!
"This has become a tourist destination madam" wails the swimming coach, who is gamely trying to get his platoon of kids ready for a tournament in June. The pool is overflowing with creatures of all shapes and sizes. Women in their full-body armour, protecting their skin from the sun. Every inch of it. Men, on the other hand, in boxer shorts, short shorts, torn shorts, undies, anything they happen to be wearing at that point of time. Unprotected, to say the least. The kids are bearable at least with the exception of those that wear that nasty thing called 'shimmies' which I hate.
"You should conduct a special running event" suggested my uncle. I raised eyebrows query-ingly. Apparently, for women to run in nine yards madisaaru saris. I could do it. Though I might die of heat exhaustion if I tried it in mine. Its my wedding sari. Has severe lines of zari coursing through the entire body. Is constructed of a kancheevaram silk yielded possibly by worms that were fed on steel. In the 15 years since I was awarded this prize, there has been no love lost between us.
Days follow nights follow days follow nights as we edge unerringly towards a distant day when the weather will be cooler and tempers less frayed. There is some good stuff that the household has been hit with in the midst of all else. The child came in second at the Landmark Spelling Bee thing on Sunday. She was lovely, if I may say so myself. And she enjoyed it, most important of all. I am planning a trip of 2-3 days (for work) to cooler climes, visa permitting. My little niece is at home and is super cute. So, I now head home, semi-productive day all wrapped up here in my sweaty office....
1 comment:
congrats for many things incl. new house and spell queen bee :)
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