TIES AND BONDS

Bring on the sentimental music - it's the festive season. Time to invite people over, visit some others in your turn and generally exchange food, wine and family goss. Recall family you'd forgotten even existed (and vice versa) and catch up on lost time. (Or when you meet, remember in a flash just why it was time intentionally lost, hehehhe!)

Not sure I subscribe to some of these so-called festivals and stuff myself, but hey, to each his own! Go on then, and look forward to renewing those ties and bonds.

FREEDOM

Of speech

Of thought

Of expression

Being able to walk the streets, held held high and sans fear.

Assured of safety, confident of no harm coming one's way. Being able to speak the truth, speak out against the wrong... and the certainity of backing. Being able to believe in oneself and trust without feeling compromised.

Celebrating independence.

RESCUE MISSION

It saddens the heart to know that as I'm typing this piece, there is a girl child somewhere out there, either being brutally mutilated or raped. Female foeticide/ infanticide is just as big a cause for concern, if not bigger.

In a nation like India, having a girl child is more of a curse than a blessing, or so a fair section of society still continues to believe. From the time a baby is conceived, the parents want to know the gender of the as yet unborn baby. No, not from the point of view of decorating the nursery just so, or buying the layette, but in the event that if it's 'unfortunately' a girl, suitable measures can be employed to 'take care of the situation'.

In certain sections of society, a girl child only means another mouth to feed, since she is apparently fit to look after only the home and hearth. While the menfolk go out and earn (read: squander most of their earnings in their dedication to the booze bottle, but that's another story), it's the female who has to take care of the house and family. In such a situation, sometimes created out of hopelessness and frustration, brutal atrocities are committed against the girl child, more often than not by a member of the family itself, a father, brother or husband even. This, sometimes, with the helpless mother watching on.

There are cities and small towns wherein during an ultrasound scan, the presence of a female foetus means that 'a Goddess is about to visit the family', which is a not so subtle cue for the parents-to-be to start thinking about an abortion. Or, 'congratulations, get the hospital staff 'pedas' (a type of sweetmeat), since burfee, another variety of sweet, denotes a male foetus. Depending on the sweet one draws, the fate of the unborn child is sealed right there and then. Multiple instances of aborted foetuses found in garbage bins, abandoned day-old baby girls, umbilical cord intact, are found in heaps of garbage, often not garbed even in rags, or floating along a river - these stories are as commonplace as they are horrifying.

On one hand, there are programmes talking about small families being happy families, while on the other, such gruesome horrors are conveniently shoved under the carpet, or in this case, the garbage heap.

Wonder if anyone's actually listening.

BOOKWORMS UNITE!

Nothing can substitute the feel of a new book, crisp to the touch, the heavenly smell of paper fresh off the press... Pages that take you into another world, drifting off in bliss...

Have always had an ongoing romance with books from the time I can remember, and the love continues even today. However busy a day may be, it's never complete without having read at least a few pages before nodding off to sleep. Have Mum and Dad to think for this, for it's they who have always encouraged the reading habit. My childhood memories have always involved books: the Ladybird series before I could even read, lovingly read out by Mum and Dad, followed by an excellence award in grade I at school that rewarded me with a gift voucher for a princely twenty rupees at a popular childrens' book store that saw me buy my first Enid Blyton, a beautiful hard bound edition of 'The Enchanted Wood'.

Haven't looked back since.

MESSY WEEKEND

Clothes strewn around, both ironed and otherwise. (What's the point of getting them ironed?!)
Dust on the glass topped coffee tables, sticky with rain.
A miniature shoe store mushrooming in virtually every room of the house.
Plants wilting, need to be watered. (These sure won't grow: there's no nourishment, let alone talking to them!)
Dishes slowly and steadily piling up in the sink.

As the weekend creeps to a close, I don't see much hope... *sigh*.

MOVIE MANIA

I love the movies. For someone who didn't get beyond kiddie films until about 15, think I'm doing a pretty good job.

Love the classics: Gone with the Wind, The Shop around the Corner, Come Live with Me, The Rear Window, Roman Holiday, Breakfast at Tiffany's, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, Casablanca, An Affair to Remember...

I'm now looking out for a DVD Club to enjoy Saturday nights. Bring in the popcorn!

NOSTALGIA

For My Parents - They're simply the best.

Got hold of some old children's' songs, those that Mum and Dad would sing to me when I was in the single-digit age group, or have me listen to on tape (Yes, there was a world before DVDs and whatever else!).

I can only pray that someday I do as good a job as they did.

CHEERS!

Met one of my oldest friends today. We go a long way back: kindergarten and playing in the sandpit at the neighbourhood park, followed by graduating high school together.

No party night here, but a fun filled, relaxed evening at home, watching television and chatting late into the night (read: 5 in the a.m. the next morning)! Caught up on life, love and sundry other happenings, mundane day-to-day ones even. Rolled our eyes in our heads remembering old school crushes, doing a where-are-they-now reconnoiter, discussing work, common interests... Picked up right where we'd left off, a phone conversation a couple of months ago.

We always plan to meet up, and somehow wind up blaming our schedules for not doing so, but this one evening put a few things into perspective - friends are for life, and you need to take the time out of your otherwise busy schedule to work on and maintain that friendship.

Here's to old friends and to making new ones!

WEDDING BELLS!

Thrilled.
Excited.
Ecstatic.
Full of plans.
Can't stop smilin'.

That's what I am right now. There's (a) wedding bell(e) in the family!

IT'S A SALE!

The word 'Sale' manages to put a spark back in my eyes anytime, however depressed I may be. Contrary to the partner's belief, I am of the firm opinion that shopping is a recreational activity. This is how it contributes:
a. Makes me (very) happy.
b. That means I'm relaxed and de-stressed. Translated that means a happy, healthy body.
c. It's fun. More so when you lug home a satisfying bagful (or more).

As for the economy:
a. Contributing to the nation's income levels.
b. Encouraging growth in a budding sector. (Read somewhere that organized retail in India accounts for a mere 5% of the industry.)
c. Creates employment.

The above puts salve on my conscience. Not that by the above good deeds I need to worry about it anyway.

On the more serious side (whaaaat, wasn't all the above in all seriousness?) - ever wondered why sales work? Is it because to save 50 bucks on say, a pair of oven mitts and potholders, you wind up buying a couple, when maybe you have scant need for even the one? Rough back-of-the-envelope calculation would reveal an estimated spend of 300 bucks to save 100... on something that wasn't really required to begin with. So you save 100, but what about the 200 you needn't've parted with in the first place?

Shopping stress. Contrary to my belief that retail therapy rocks and is totally de-stressing, it's also true that people across the globe spend more than their shopping money on therapy to rid them of shopping stress. I'm still shaking my head in disbelief. Guess this is a classic case of two sides of the same coin and all that jazz, but I'll still go with shopping as one of my favourite recreational activities. Sometimes think the others on my list come in a fairly distant second.

Hmm, maybe it's time to touch base with the best friend and hit the mall. It's the weekend anyways. Where's that credit card now?

MEN!

Had men been intelligent, they'd've been women. I'm all for men bashing right now, such is my frame of mind.
Always wonder why men have to have things their way, why they're such mamma's boys, why they can't think for themselves, and why they can't understand that TLC is a good thing - and to love and respect somebody means to given them your support when it's required.
Why can't they see right from wrong, differentiate between facts and exaggerated tales that do nothing but make someone (read: the significant other's) life miserable?
Why any attempt to talk things out after a tiff is always met by a cold response, ears shut out to any reason, logic, sense or good old listening while the other person speaks?
Why when it comes to the crunch, the woman has to spend half her waking hours (the other half are spent at work) in the kitchen, making endless rounds of tea/ coffee and whipping up a meal and supervising the house help and cleaning up after the man and organizing the home and smiling prettily at the world when her back's killing her and she can't wait to put her feet up...
...Maybe someday I might see the pros. Some distant day...

IT'S ALWAYS YOU!

SHE: "I'm talking to you."
HE (randomly flipping TV channels): "No, that's more like arguing."
SHE (patiently): "Trying to get my point across here."
HE (displaying a total lack of interest): "Yeah, it's always about you, and your viewpoint."
SHE: "Will you ever listen to me! Just this once?"
HE (looking up): "See? Now you dominate too!"
SHE (exasperated, frustrated): "Can I say something???"
HE (dripping sarcasm): "Don't you always?"

Whatever you say or do, it can never be right.

SOUTH INDIA ON A PLATTER...

... Or maybe a banana leaf.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

So I met the significant other four years ago today. In another lifetime (read: up until a couple of years ago), I'd've even remembered the date. Today, I had to be reminded. (Of course, I did pretend that I had so remembered, how can you think I'd even forget? Hee hee.) How times change. Or waitaminute, is it people that do?

Flashback to college, when some batch mates would celebrate the anniversary of the first time they smiled (coyly) at their partners, the anniversary of their first date, the anniversary of when they first held hands, the anniversary of when they first kissed… and let's not get any more graphic here at the peril of sounding risqué!

Well, so ultimately is it about an occasion, a reason to remember an event (then so significant and now pale in comparison to others more so), or to simply celebrate being together? I'd like to believe the latter, and justify not having swiped my card at the nearest Hallmark store!

TIME TRAVEL

Speaking of a time machine back there, there's another era I'd like to stroll through and see for myself - the time when you had Rhett Butler romance Scarlett O'Hara and raise the estrogen levels of all women around and make them wonder, what's she got that I haven't? (Maybe the 17-inch waist had something to do with it. Knew I shouldn't've polished off that last slice of pizza!)

And for me, the forever-in-the-making-paleontologist, gimme dino(saur) time anytime!

DINO - C'MERE, BOY!

Dinosaurs have fascinated me for as long as I can remember. There was a time back in middle school when I contemplated becoming a paleontologist some day in the future (never mind that I could barely pronounce the word, let alone spell it). Okay, so that didn't happen, but the fascination (and maybe a teeny bit of awe) has still not gone away. This began with my reading 'The Lost World', by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - yes, the same brain behind the Sherlock Holmes series - and subsequently devouring any- and everything I could read up on the 'saurs.

Encyclopedias were my best friends. So the interest has now resurfaced, upon reading about the finding of a mammoth skeleton. No, not the wooly mammoth (ancestor to our elephants today), but the gigantic skeleton of a man, supposedly human and dating back to some number of years that you and I can't even fathom. Of course, we drag mythology / folklore (I always maintain that there is a fine line between these) into the picture here as well; guess it only adds that extra bit of zing to the tale.

Anyway, the point here is that we now have the remains of what was once a humongous man who walked the Earth, as it were. We're now gonna dissect every bit of him, analyze his DNA, examine his bones, his teeth and figure out who he was (I wonder if people had names back then?), what he did for a living (so hunting is an inborn survival instinct), how he lived (without FM radio, wonder how thrilling it really was), and finally, just how and why he died. I would personally be interested to know whether he had a pet dinosaur a la the Flintstones, or whether he preferred to while away his time making patterns in the sand.

Oh, this is when I'd like a time machine.

MORNINGZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzz...

Lazy. Bummed out. Couldn't care less. Boooorring. Yawn. Try the next millennium, maybe. Don't call us, we'll call you. These, and variations of these (some more wildly imaginative than the others, for example: I have a meeting in the afternoon at work today that I need to stay awake for) are just some of the excuses I come up with for not waking up early mornings. And by early, we accommodate even 7 a.m. As a thumb rule, anytime before that is the middle of the night.

There are times I'll go to bed with this firm resolution of waking up early the next morning, and play around with versions of my soap opera-perfect morning starring my illustrious (and industrious) self in my head. I'd've woken up early, done some stretching exercises and having laced on my favourite pair of trainers, smiled at the wonderful morning it is, and taken off for a jog. On getting home healthier, I'd carry that further by pouring myself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and munching my way through an equally healthy bowl of muesli, hold the sugar, please. Of course, after all this I'm Super Girl, and the household chores are a mere flick of the wrist (how I wish, a wand!), followed by an upbeat work day (naturally).

Back to reality and here I am, running late, rushing to get done with early morning tasks (I've hit snooze for the nth time on my alarm) and making it to work on time.

Darn, forgot to put the cap back onto the toothpaste tube again.

GUILT TRIPPIN'

Got the PC finally. Yippie.
Spending less together time... Ulp.

Will there ever be the perfect balance?

HOGGER'S PARK

Don't get PC time these days. *grumble grumble*

Wonder how long it'll be before we all see double: two TV sets, two cars, two laptops (or the like)... and I mean ALL, sans an exception.
Viva les DINKs!

WHAT GOES HERE?