These charts...

A couple years ago we were at the printer store. We always argue about printers. I usually buy some dumb-ass one at work and use it to death printing assignments and stuff like that. A long time ago, I requested permission to use my spare work printer at home and we brought it and used it for a bit in Mumbai. The same one that I had killed to death earlier so it was like really not super useful.

In Chennai we decided to go ahead and make the purchase. The child was with us. She wanted us to get a colour printer. I hate colour printers, seriously. The damn ink and the colour and all that stuff that runs out every so often. I am OK with changing toners (since I seem to do that for a living at work), but the colour printer stuff is just such a pain.

We argued her down and got ourselves a super nice (non-colour) printer. It has been awesome. It can scan stuff as well, which is useful. It can photocopy, that means, which is not un-useful. It can fax, I believe, though we haven't tried that one out. I hate faxes too, while at it. Its been ages since I used a fax machine and I am just fine with that. Horrid krrrrr sound it makes.

Now, every week, the child has to churn out & turn in these 'projects'. After asking her a billion questions I figured out that this means that you take chart paper. Large size. You make a border. Stick some colourful pictures on it. Bung in some writing. A title. Child's name and class. Simple, right?

I print black and white things out and make her colour them in with crayons. The first few, I played around with the contrast and stuff so it looked decent. And in fact after her crayoning, pretty close to a colour print out. Now I am super bored and do whatever. But I am thinking, a colour printer would have been useful!

She is super upset that her chart never gets chosen to be put up on the classroom wall. She blames me. "I told you to buy a colour printer" she says. Oh well. In the meantime, we plod on. I feel bad too sometimes, looking around the classroom and never finding her charts. I would've chosen her Mars chart, for e.g., because it had a pie diagram about atmospheric composition in it...

I guess its okay. Maybe a bit left of the beaten path is okay... Last night we made a chart about Anita Desai. She used the opportunity to quickly read up The Village by the Sea. I want her to change the last line in her chart, which reads 'I am looking forward to reading The Village by the Sea during my summer vacation'.... 

Is it PMS?

(thank you dilbert.com)

I remember reading this strip back in 1994. I remember walking through an aisle filled with pain medication at the local CVS and thinking 'lets give this midol a chance.' That was not a good idea. It only made me feel more weird and crazy and sent my stomach into complete turmoil. 

Aside from colic and runner's high, PMS must rate as the biggest mystery/con in  the human world. No one understands it, really. All the offered explanations and solutions ring false, and sound stupid. And these three things are what I like to deny the most. Denial! Yes!

This morning as I was screaming like a lunatic and running up and down the stairs like a banshee, I looked at my husband and dared him to call it PMS. Of course, he is well-trained. He learnt years ago to shut out my voice completely. (Its another matter that I am a slow-learner. Dammit).

At any rate, day 2 of the new school year is off to a decent start (despite the, well, banshee-ness of yours truly). The new uniform has been worn and declared to be more 'tent-like' than the previous one. The new shoes size has been compared to mine and the words 'almost there' uttered with triumph. 

What pearls of wisdom did I impart to my child as I waved her off into standard IV? 

1. Clarify to your teacher that you are a girl, and not a boy. 

2. Tell her you need to sit in the first row because your doctor refuses to correct your sight fully.

3. Remember to eat lunch.

Yes, we are Keeping It Simple Stupid this year. 

Un-prepared

The school start date is upon us. The clock is ticking. My heart rate went up a notch at the mere thought of it. Seriously. Its the most stressful thing ever. On the one hand, I am happy that she will be out of our hair and involved in 'doing something useful' with her time. On the other hand, I am afraid of the whole process of schools, mornings, lunch dabbas, new class teacher, etc. 

Usually, I LOVE LOVE LOVE everything associated with the end of the summer. I love the smell of new books. I love wrapping them. I love reading them (yes, yes, even if they are of the child, and not mine. Mine, I used to start with the Math. She, she starts with the English. I read the Sanskrit one this year, at least, I tried to). I love new uniforms and stationary and bags and lunch dabbas and so forth.

But not this year.

I haven't wrapped the books yet. (No, the father is not going to contribute to this one, its not gender discrimination or anything, it just works better this way, believe me). I haven't bought a new bag. I have a bag, somewhere, I haven't found it yet. I haven't bought a lunch bag either. No new dabbas. Or water bottles (those are the worst, I swear. Smelly things). No juice bottle. Or snack box. I did get a few pencils, but my heart was not in it.

I don't know any mommies in the new section. Heck, I don't even know the new class teacher's name. I am having a hard time keeping in mind the new timings of the school. Its a full half hour earlier. My mind is not able to process what that implies in terms of leaving for school. Y'know. Considering traffic patterns.

Thanks to the metro activity, I am not even 100% sure I know the correct way to get to school. We went on Saturday to get the books but I was not paying much attention, I guess. I surely don't know how to get back, even if I manage to find my way over to the school. One ways everywhere, you see.

The uniform doesn't fit. Its tight. I have to bring it back to the tailor to get it altered. I don't even know when I will do that. The socks are all last year's and nasty. I have to clorox them (seriously). The white uniform skirt is loose. I can do some repairs with buttons etc. but it might be best to take it to the tailor again. We didn't even buy her new shoes. "Those must fit for sure" the husband insists. He is often wrong about these things. 

What is wrong with me? 

Girl Power!

I reached school a little early this afternoon. I was in the area having lunch with a girl-friend and as always I over-estimated traffic etc. and reached well in time. I have not been picking the monster back from school too often these days since her father is entrusted with that one now. It was my most hated task anyhow so was always happy to hand the reins over, albeit temporarily, to someone else. So today it came back to me.

The weather is not bad now so it was not as awful as usual. I sat down in the helpfully provided benches - just for us early birds I guess. The school phases out the release of the troops. Each higher class comes out 10 mins later. You know. Like that. So the kids I was looking at were in 1st, 2nd standard, I guess.

Two boys came out. Ennada Loosu type conversations ensued. They all looked like someone dragged them through a trash can, or mud or something. They were joined by a few other boys also with a thin film of dust about themselves. One took off a belt. The others promptly followed suit. They hit each other. Then screamed a bit. The security guy yelled at them. Then came and took the belts away. Next they (or it could have been some other boys, I am not sure) tried to lick, and then scrape, and then climb a tree that was there. Soon a small piece of chalk was released and they drew doodles on the school sign board in yellow. What man. What are you saying man. etc.

I moved to the side a bit, as it was finally time for my monster to emerge. There about ten boys were playing a game involving: running back and forth, tripping each other and any small adults in the vicinity, flailing arms and legs about with intention to hit and injure (children/small adults), kicking up dust, yelling, swinging lunch baskets, and stomping. I cowered in the corner till one of the class mommies found me and rescued me.

The monster emerged and then headed back into school. I had to run after her and catch her near the gate. She gave me a smile - she was also covered in dust- but at least she was not saying What Man. Or playing one of those games. She was looking at higher altitudes - searching for her other parent. But I tell you. I was glad when she took my hand in hers and guided me out through the crowd. "Just push them back Amma, that is the only way" she advised me when I complained about kids stepping on my toes, poking their elbows in my ribs, and generally being all in my face. 

Teacher Man

(i did like the book, but then again, i would sort of like anything - even a movie - which has a teacher as a protagonist).

My daughter, aka the monster, is against male teachers. She does not like them, she insists. I will not go, she will say, if the teacher is a man. Of course, she won't play with boys, she will say. The truth is though, she ADORES her (cousin) brothers, and would do anything to get some attention from them, hates when I say they are her cousins (which to her feels less close than brother), enjoys hanging out with and playing with all our male friends, and, this past weekend, went happily to the school for some sports classes they are having as extra spice (where the coach was a man). She does pretend to wince if a bunch of boys get up to boisterous playing, and watches from a distance, but if they will let her join them, she is really, happy. I often tell my sister that the monster's problem is that she knows too many words. And therefore thinks it necessary to use them in random expressions of opinion. Of course, mostly I know to ignore her or at least probe to figure out what she means, really. Or to watch her in action and figure out for myself. Gosh, this I must say, she does not make it easy for me, the monster.

Nevertheless, I was thankful that her class teacher is female. Less things for me to discuss, I figured. It was hardly up to me, so I was just sort of crossing my fingers and hoping it would be a reasonable lady, not a floozy-sort. I am glad to say, after the first Parent-Teacher Meeting in school, that she is cool. I thought she handled the mommies who were arguing regarding biscuits in snack-boxes (and other absurdities) very well. I know I would have lost it and yelled or something. She is dealing sternly with the nonsense the kids throw at her, though when she talks one on one with any child I have noticed she is gentle.

The monster had not learnt cursive writing in Mumbai. She only knew printing. Now, suddenly it felt like she was throw into the deep end as this thing showed up. I myself don't know the proper cursive writing, the traditional one. I just sort of join my letters all together willy-nilly. Of course Tamizh is another thing that is brand new to her (and me, to a large extent). So we have great fun everyday with this. Learning Tamizh is leading to some hilarious things as the pronunciation is almost as strange as English. Like the 'Cha' is sometimes 'Cha' but at other times it is - Sa or Ja or Jha even.

So I checked with the teacher if she thought everything was going okay, considering we are new to the place and so on. And of course, I had to hear that the eating lunch was not okay. Meaning she is too slow and distracted while eating. I nodded sagely and resolved to do something about it (that is, something not involving popping veins in forehead). But of course I feel quite defeated (even as my mom watches from afar and smirks) by the whole thing. I know its something related to some parenting choice early on, and that I should count what is good or whatever, but its just exhausting.

Anyway, all told, as the calendar rolls out a month in I standard, I give us all - monster, husband person, me, female class teacher, the school, a 'Good Going Guys' sign.

Edited to add: Forgot to add that someone said, when I told them which school she goes to, sort of in surprise - "Is that not a school only for brahmins?" It was a young person so I was not offended by all the varied insinuations there.

I do struggle to wake up sometimes

I am off today to Chennai. I am yet to pack the bags. The child and I are, of course travelling by ourselves - which is kind of fun; simply because we reach so much in advance (and go to the bookstore and coffee shop in turn) and sometimes there are incidents involving (a)spilling of her lunch on airport floor or (b)having to go potty soon after the boarding announcement is made, and so on.

I tried and tried to wake up early so I could do the packing and clean up the house a bit but to no avail. The thing is I suppose I am a bit of a freak that way and if it involves exercise I am happy to spring up. But for other things I am not so fond of waking up early, it appears.

The foot it still hurts. I can feel myself gaining weight. Ugh. Trying to not think about how close to Jan 18th we are right now. And definitely not telling my mum about this as she will start messing with me about how 21 kms is too much considering the other components of my life (and no slur on your abilities, she will add). Just to clarify I am not bothered about the weight gain except that the bigger you are the more difficult it is to run. Goddamit. I feel like cutting my foot off. Quite irritated about the whole set-back. My shoulder is still painful in certain angles. Recovery times are becoming very long of late. Age!

I am still not rested, despite having woken up recently today. The brain is buzzing. At least I indulged myself in a nice new desktop at work so my laptop vows should reduce. And the VAIO is really super light so when I carry it I will be glad its not my old Toshiba (which weighed a lot). At any rate I have about two hours of work I can do in the office today and then it is time to move on. The child has its Christmas party in school.

I went through my mound of ironing last night (mostly). I had to put my knees up on a chair and stand like that and iron. Sort of sad and pathetic I felt about it. But the girl co-operated at least by finishing the LARGE amount of home work they have assigned her (mostly). You know sometimes you get a report card and everything is sort of opposite of what you expect? Well it was like that with my UKG report card (it really feels as if it is MINE!). My mum says congratulations, let no one accuse you of neglecting your child for the sake of your career or other things, because you really really do NOT do that. It does occasionally feel like a pain, this school business, but overall it has been good. While I disliked the Hindi homework initially, now I feel it was good as it has helped her learn the new alphabet pretty well. I am trying to get her to read Hindi now, you know signs on the autos and stuff, but she resists it immensely (its a matter of perseverence, she always resists my suggestions initially, I know, I know).

Anyway I am off now, and looking forward to meeting choxbox and ludwig and hopefully sloch as well. When I return to these climes, I will be again gearing up for another trip to the Northern parts of the country. But more on that later. My aim in this trip is to get the foot back in fighting shape, and, not gain any more weight.

Of Birthdays and Beads

What do you gift a guy who has everything? And, on top of it, is picky as hell about his clothes and cuff-links? Clothes - office-wear readymade-s don't work too well. His shoulders are too big, his arms are too long. Unsuspecting guys in stores think they can make a killing and tell him, "Sir we have new suits, very nice, all the way from Italy" (yeah! right!). He says "Okay I will buy them RIGHT AWAY if they fit me." They run to the racks and pull them out. Slurping a bit. The cuffs of the coat stop a little below his elbows. They give up with a morose expression.

I could buy him clothes for the gym. He would like that. But then again, I cannot really tell his size too well, and, we still use the shorts we bought in the US several years ago. The ones he has bought in recent times have all proved small and I get to wear them at home (of course they are huge for me but the waist is snug around my belly so I don't care. They are damn comfy in any case!). He has needs of those gloves and what not for his weights but I have always paid little attention to them so don't know what they are, what brand he prefers, pros and cons, so that is out.

Books are equally difficult since we have such contrasting tastes. I rarely touch books that he picks up. Though per force I have read Freakonomics and a few others of that genre, it is not with any particular fondness. I can never predict which ones he will like and appreciate. It all feels a bit impersonal too since they have some species of book-club at work and he gets a few popular titles from there (and seems mighty happy with it!). CDs of movies are bound to be a hit but I remember the last time I bought him the James Bond one and he got thoroughly pissed off because I refused to see the movie with him when the monster was awake, and somehow she was ALWAYS awake when I was...

I have never spent more than $10 on a gift for him. The $10 was a travel coffee mug from Starbucks. It was not even on sale! Imagine buying a coffee mug in Starbucks when there is no sale! Okay its not a big deal now, but then I was a graduate student so it was pretty much unheard of to buy anything other than an occasional cup of coffee there, except if there was a sale and you picked up one or two small things. At any rate he did not use the mug for several years, I stole it back one time and used it for a bit and found it really useful and tried to tell him that. It sunk in years later and he then used it till things peeled all over. I think I overheard him mutter that it was a real nice mug. (Kachink!)

So this past Wednesday when the birthday rolled around, I was in a fix. I know I should not spend too much money on anything, you know, since he is so picky about things, and will just refuse to use it. Tuesday night after homework and dinner I asked the monster to make a card. She drew a long girl with long arms covered with spiky bangles. Not to mention dangly earrings. Presumably, herself. She wrote the Happy Birthday and Love Monster and all that. I tried to get her to put down the date but she started it as 2/3/7/ which got real confusing so I wrote it on the back. She made two flowers, one pink one red around the girl. Then I put it away in the middle of a bunch of toys that were strewn around, in case he came back early. You know, so it would be a surprise. This would have been a good thing to NOT tell the monster girl. The minute he walked in, she goes, Appa, we have a surprise for you. I tried to gloss over this thing, and say, Oh no its nothing, come on monster girl lets brush our teeth. But no, they barged in and took out the card and she showed it to him, told him its a surprise for his birthday the next day, and that he should put it back in its hiding place! So that, was that.

He left early in the morning for Delhi so I just wished him and went back to sleep. At lunch-time I had a brainwave and went to the photo-shop with a picture from my camera on the memory-stick. The guy printed it out with a background thingy and wrote Happy Birthday on it. I picked a frame from the same store. The photo is one of monster and me. He loves to keep such things on his office desk. Then to the Monginis run by the brother of the photo-shop owner. The smallest cake they could find. The one with fruits on it. Some chips, since he likes Monginis chips so much. We are, of course, on a diet and not eating junk generally, but then, its a birthday, and its a weekday and I am not in a position to cook, really. Then I ran back to my office & meetings.

At home in the evening we got through homework quickly (the OO in Hindi), and as I ran around eating rotis and getting ready, I gave up and let the monster watch some TV that she was on my case about (which it turned out was a bad idea cause now she is constantly after me about TV so much that I have decided to unplug the cable). We were invited to someone's house for dinner, a someone that we could not refuse. I was quite cool about it. It is rare that we get to eat dinner together. So what if its at someone else's house? I half thought that as befits my status as wife, I should throw a fit about this. "What? Eat Dinner At Their House Instead Of A Romantic Dinner At Home?" But then, I was supposed to go to Ahmedabad for work that day (which I canceled finally citing various reasons such as (a) Monster has a cold (b) Its my husband's birthday (c) He is out of town till 7 pm which is past the creche closing time and (d) My brain aches thinking of the flight at 11 pm. So after this and that, and the other, I managed to behave and not throw tantrums. Got us ready by the time he returned from the airport. We cut the cake (minus candles) and ate a teeny-weeny little bit of it. I packed the monster's dinner in a box and off we went on a LONG ride in the car. At least we were together in the car! And we had a drink and dinner together! So what if there were other work-people around? It was our little secret! How cool!

The dinner was great. The single malt was superlative. The monster had some company though they all managed to use the shrewd techniques kids use these days to watch TV. "Mamma, she wants to watch TV" said the boy to his mum. "Oh no! She just watched at home" I said, desperately. "Amma, Bhaiyya NEEDS to watch TV" said mine. "Oh no! They have been watching TV this entire summer vacation. I have banned them" said his mum. I suspect the oldest of them, an innocent looking girl sitting quietly in the bedroom, engineered the whole thing. I did not want to act up too much. The other mum, likewise. The host, who is secure in the knowledge that his girls are all grown up (and married) and he never has to feel guilty about them watching the idiot box, was goading them on, and asking us to relax and drink some more of his single malt. So, that was that, but at least, they were completely out of our hair, the view was great, the dinner fantastic (my tires have grown of course, I had already eaten my dinner at 6:30 at home, but how to tell them that? plus it all looked lovely so I dug in. It was 11 pm at any rate).

We returned home, catching a nap in the car. And the birthday ended. Miraculously, we were on time for school the next day, and I retained my sanity somewhat despite the less sleep.

And in other events, the school conducted a bead-threading competition. My words of advice were concentrate, enjoy yourself, if you get a prize, great, if not, no big deal as long as you enjoyed your time there. She came back and insisted that she neither won nor enjoyed herself. Then I gave her several anecdotes from my school years and somehow at the end she declared that it was fun. Which I am sure it was. Especially since we bought ourselves a beading kit and made two bracelets and a necklace, thanks to the competition. She threads beautifully and skillfully (if not faster than Eena Meena and Deeka!) and loves the dolphin necklace. Her perception of prizes, competitions, and so on are not entirely clear, for example, she thinks she won a running race with a friend of hers although she was slower, because, Slow And Steady Wins The Race! The school was good last year in that they gave prizes to EVERYBODY in the school. Whether they won anything or not. Which is kind of nice because the children genuinely feel sad otherwise, and it is not easy to explain to them that such material things are not important. At least not at that point, during the function.

And now its pouring cats and dogs, and I am concerned for the 12 km race next Sunday. But at least, I am through with the first 'competition' in school, emerged unscathed and still enthu about it, and he really liked his gifts, especially since I made the monster wear a T-shirt that said 'My Daddy Rocks' when we cut the cake!!

glad this one is almost done

the week i mean. oh yes, i have dispensed with capital letters for a bit now. just bored of them. the purist in me is getting a bit annoyed and i am thinking of the hundred times i have written 'subscripts' on people's reports and angrily returned it to them, but hey, its friday, its july (yes, truly, these are my excuses).

again this morning an advertisement in the magazine to 'loose weight the natural way' how annoying is that. will that make my pants lose?

yesterday was a good day. i felt a great sense of achievement, although it was partly vicarious, at a successful culmination of four years of efforts. a long time ago friend was here too, as part of the same work event, and i had a great time remembering old days and plotting to take over the world together.

the upper k.g. thing is so far so good. there are a lot of books. hindi. english conversation. rhymes. scrap book. colouring. pencils and erasers. a slate. four-lined book. total cost thus far is Rs. 1382 (school fees + books and other materials). i have had some misgivings, very occasionally, when i see other children wearing smart new uniforms and going off to schools orders of magnitude better (they must be no? they cost two orders of magnitude more money). am i denying my child something?

i have to wake her up in the mornings, something i have never done, except when we have flights to catch. but she is ok. she springs up. the school year is still new enough for her to be super enthusiastic about. this morning i told her about how i used to totally lurrrve going to school (which is true) and she smiled, maybe thinking me real silly, or perhaps in agreement of the feeling.

its rainy off and on out here, nothing too unmanageable thus far. hope it stays like this. i want the reservoirs to get filled and the bloody bmc to be made to realise how wayward they are in their road repairs (which seem to have been done using cardboard, or toilet paper even), but i dont want it to flood and have to make a gazillion phone calls and worry and worry.

anyway i don't worry for too long about the school thing. i figure i am there to supplement school. last night we read all about light and sound and stuff. having bought a nice looking encyclopedia sometime ago. do you guys remember that the reflected image is ulta on one side and seedha on the other side in a curved spoon. because of the convex-concave thing. that was fun though i thought fleetingly that i need some new shiny spoons.

the hindi school book has this strange letter that i never met. for rishi. the husband thinks its hr. as in hrithik. comes up after the aha.

domestic goddess-ing has been very tough this week though. clothes, bags, kiddie books, its chaos. i was out of town the past weekend. that screws things up a fair bit. we leave early in the mornings so i literally have to oust the maid from the house so i can lock up. she, of course, insists she is too sleepy to come earlier. blast her. the milk fellow, lazy bum that he is, waltzes in usually by 9 am so we have not caught him a few days. had to rush out last night at nine to the supermarket and pick up a nestle milk thing. fuck. it costs nearly twice as much as the packet milk.

four to five meetings later will be the weekend. hope no one calls me to remind me of things i have not done, like read the billion things they have given me. have to have to have to go shopping, this is real bad, made out my list three weeks ago but kochi and blore and what not took priority. have to make a crisp plan for it though, accommodating all possibilities including rain.

Rainy Day

alcohol units (so far): 2 calories (so far): gazillion (pakoras in the rain) rain: n mm number of dear family members at home: 2 (yeah!)

6 am last nights downpour is still going strong. it is just not worth getting my feet wet just to go to the gym and work out my tummy.
6:30 am anyway its not as if my haphazard gym sessions are really that useful. will go to the kick boxing tomorrow for sure.
7:00 am oh ho the doorbell, can the cook have come so early. damn. thought i would do some work.
7:40 am ok now i really need to wake these two up. first day of school is so much fun.
she woke up with a jump. what happened amma she said. nothing sweetheart, school today. hmm.
8:00 am eat the oatmeal, eat it now, we are leaving, hey husband, i am leaving, i am going out the door, right now, stop it you monster, get in, get in the bath now, right now
(dont know who was more excited about school, me or her).
9:00 am aaaah successfully dropped her off in school despite wading. bliss to come to office at 9. all quiet and peaceful here.
11:00 am okay you guys i am running away now to get my child from school. we need to wrap this one up. they closed the creche. well, you know how they are... there is bound to be flooding near the creche. no, i am not worried, its old hat now. people freak too easily in mumbai of late. yeah yeah i know what happened that year. but still...
now so the day just got better and better because i willed it to be so. the husband stayed home and obsessively checked his blackberry. i attended my afternoon meeting & found that i actually agreed with what they said despite going in with such a bad feeling about it. discovered that one of the girls was from my school, back in the good old home town. she did not know me or about me, which was rather surprising, but that was fine, the ego was not too too bruised as she was really eight years younger and so obviously a nerd.
the wonderful thing about the husband being home is that, he took over the story session for dinner and, nursing my beer, i can blog and facebook and email and, if and when the mood strikes, work away to glory with no pestering little voice going amma amma (outside) or dude quality time time with the daughter (inside the head).

bridget jones, honey, if you would only give up on it all and accept it when you fall in love, get married and, as we say in India, 'settle down', the advantage is that even if it does rain like there is no tomorrow and you are forced to eat pakoras, you do it with a smidgen of less guilt. oh hell, who am i to hey bridget jones, honey, you? you, after all, are my demi-goddess even when you have a bad hair day...

Weekend Victory!

The summer is really and truly ending today for me since the monster's school finally reopens tomorrow (well, it has opened, a nice rainy day typical of Mumbai in July). I called the school and asked them for detailed feedback on what to pack in her bag. They very nearly laughed at me and mutterred something like, Its your child, you decide. So, I have mentally allotted biscuits and water (did a banana, some orange cream biscuits, and water). The bag is powerpuffgirls courtesy grandparents (Managed to change back to old bag thanks to rain). Stingy me had decided to just wash last year's ladybug bag but they did not like the idea. Clothes, aah, thats the big challenge since our school does not do uniform (the standard issue pink skirt and blouse were picked finally, I did not resist).

Anyway all of last week I had a nagging nasty cold to contend with. The newspapers had ominously remarked "Don't ignore any fever" in the wake of Dengue and Malaria and what not around the city. Did not have a fever thankfully! I used the excuse to pop sundry crocin vicksaction500 and, for the single reason that they were there in the box, multivitamin tablets. I was sleeping in a blissful vapour cloud consisting of vicks (for the cold), bengay (for the blasted neck ache), vaseline (for extra moisturising), and general mumbai monsoon mugginess. I was really worried about the cold since I did not want to miss the opportunity of carrying the newest little baby of the family over the weekend in Bengaluru.

In the past year, when I have fallen prey to these seasonal ailments, and god knows I have fallen prey enough number of times, I have wallowed in the mire of self-pity. Of course for the most part I have not managed to rest my colds and chills and what not at all, with office and monster-related stuff and vegetables carrying on full steam (or at least three-quarters steam). The only thing I have done is avoided my early morning exercise sessions, which only serves to make me more miserable if anything. Self-pity is such a bloody dangerous thing that I am convinced that my recovery was really rendered impossible thanks to my mental state.

This time around, I willed myself to get better. I did gargle, and I did take some vicks type things (nothing sustained, just popped tablets when the mood struck). But I did not get into the whole 'Oh look at me so sick and filling so many hankies with snot and still having to do all this hard work (meaning boiling milk)' Instead I convinced myself it was just a routine cold and there was not even any fever to speak of, and since I had a fairly busy sched at work, I think I actually managed to psyche myself into getting better. And yes, carried the baby to my heart's content, she actually slept in my lap for about half an hour. It was real nice, such a cute cuddly baby with big eyes and tons of hair.

Next thing to do is to get rid of this neck ache thing by fighting it with the mind. I have a cousin who insists on curing his fevers using just rasam and the power of the mind (and water, he drinks gallons of water). Usually, I laugh at the idea, but now I am coming around to his point of view. And meanwhile, the heavens have opened up, you can hardly see beyond the sheet of rain, the sides of the roads have started flowing, and, although the cook could not make it home this morning, we have all gotten ready in time, the lunch boxes are packed, breakfast made & eaten, child dropped off in her new class (but same old room, same young teacher), I have switched on the tube lights in my office for the first time in many months (its too dark today obviously)...