Chinty's Days

My First Connection With Money

2012-02-03T10:08:00.000Z

Now that we know we will be talking about money and finances and being frugal and such over here, let me tell you the first time I gave some it some thought, I mean the first time I felt that money meant something or could teach you something.

I was in fourth or fifth standard, studying in Indian School in Dubai (c’mon where else during that time!). When I was young, my parents never discussed money in front of us. My demands were pretty small, just an odd Dhm (Dirham is the currency in UAE) to buy something from the canteen. I never knew about the concept of pocket money and my parents always gave in to my very few requests.

One day, as soon as I reached my classroom, I realised that I had forgotten to bring something to eat for my snack break. No big deal, I would find something or so I thought.

In the classroom next to my desk sat a girl, right now I can’t recall the name of the girl but let us call her Anjana. Anjana was the quiet type; she would only talk when the teacher asked her a question. And me, I always talked. So the class teacher thought it would be a good idea to pair us up, just so that we could influence each other’s personalities – big fat chance I tell you...

OK so back to the day. It was the math class and we both were busy jotting down notes or maybe trying to solve a problem, I don’t know. All I remember is spotting a Dhm coin in Anjana’s open pencil box. I remember telling myself – I know where my lunch is coming from. You see during those days (early 80s) one Dirham could fetch you a sandwich, chips (crisps is what I call these now that I live in the UK) and a drink. It must have been during a break or something like that when I took this one Dhm from Anjana’s pencil box. Before you ask me – no I did not feel guilty at all. The plan was to quietly take it, use it and replace it the next day. And who would blame me for stealing just to have something to eat?

Snack break comes (we didn’t have lunch breaks then. Girls’ school shift was from 7:20 am to 1:00pm) and I go to the canteen, get my stuff and return to the classroom to eat. What do I see next? Our friend Anjana is sitting with a sad face with tears nearly spilling out. A recipe for disaster I know, but I had to ask Anjana what the matter was. “Chinty, I bought a Dhm to buy something from the canteen and now it is gone and I am feeling hungry.” Woww....where did this come from???

So like a nice girl, one that my parents would have been very proud of, I told Anjana that she could have my snack, the entire thing including the drink because I wasn’t hungry at all. And me, I sat there at my desk watching our friend Anjana gorge on the food that was entirely hers. I didn’t feel sad, bad or anything, just hungry, super hungry.

In the end my role was that of Anjana's personal maid - go to the canteen and buy her snack.

Moral of the story: Chinty, you are never ever going to enjoy someone else’s money – your pop’s perhaps, but no one else’s.

January Finance Update

2012-02-02T20:22:00.001Z

For the very first time in my adult life, I am using public transportation on an almost regular basis. Giving up my car was like a fall from grace and though it hurt my pride a bit, I am glad that I haven’t given in to the temptation of buying a flashy car. At this stage in life, I just want to save as much as possible without any worry about keeping up with the Joneses.

What thrills me these days is my money in the bank; not the things it can buy, but the financial security that it can give. For sure I have my weak moments and sometimes I give in too, like in December I bought DH a Mulberry messenger bag (i.e. during our pre-silent days) after buying myself a Prada bag. Only consolation is that both were bought from the outlet shops at Bicester Village and so did not pay retail price for them.

So now on to how my spending for January looks like:

I am a bit surprised that I saved 28% of my post-tax salary and that is just superb. But the grand idea is to save 50% and I know I can do it. Today I got the very depressing news – my annual salary increase is just £1,000, the lowest salary increase that I have ever got. Not sure how much that will turn out after tax; it won’t be more than £60/month I guess. Anyway that amount too shall go straight to my savings. The games category will be predominant for the next two months because of the launch of PS Vita in February and PlayStation is A’s only vice.

I was lucky that in January I did not have to pay any utility bills, which means that they will all be due in February.

Coming to think of it, sacrificing the car was not a big deal. That walk to the bus stop at 6:15 in the morning is my time, the ride in the bus and the nap in the train – I love it all. The feel of crisp, cold air on my face while the rest of the world is warm in their beds, is exhilarating. The train ride is also so quiet. Sometimes I wonder how train companies make money if they run this empty. In the afternoon, I leave work at 3:50pm and at this time too I don’t get to see any crowd. Where did I ever get the idea that public transportation would be terrible? I know a lot of people bitch about commuting time and such but I am just thankful to God that my experience till now has been great.

What about you, how was Jan for your pocket??

Aishwarya Rai & Me

2012-01-27T08:51:00.001Z

My previous posts have been a bit serious.......

At work we have this term called “manage expectations”. So first let me manage all your expectations:

- No I am not beautiful but I don’t think Aishwarya is beautiful either. During the Miss India days, I was in the camp of Sushmita Sen.

- No I am not a great fan of Abhishek (so this is not about jealousy) and when there were rumours going around of him getting married, I was hoping that it would be to Rani Mukherji.

- And finally, no I have not met Aishwarya Rai – ever.

Now let me get on with my story.

Ever since I landed in the UK, every Saturday or Sunday I have this ritual of dusting the stair carpet. This is the only place we have carpet. I hate to see dust and this carpet is I guess you could call bluish and shows dust really well. I clean each and every step, taking so much care to dig in to the corners, lest some dust escapes me. Who is in charge here? Me. It takes me 35 minutes to complete the job. There are 12 steps (guesstimate) in total – with a small landing in between. And every time I dust my stair I think of Aishwarya Rai. By the time I reach the sixth stair this is exactly what is going through my head:

“So you think you are a good house-wife? Yeah try dusting my stair. Bet you don’t even know what a broom is. You have a barrage of people just waiting to receive instructions from you. Hah, what do you know about house-work? How dare your father-in-law sings praises about your house work? What bull shit? I do so much of work at home and nobody sings praises of me. Why does DH not show that he is proud of my work? And by the way why isn’t DH helping me in house work? Why the hell is he with all his books? Oh my God, why the hell did I leave Dubai to come to this place to dust stairs? Why is it so cold in here? God why me, why me?....and then I cry.

The next thing you know – I have a grumpy looking face and don’t talk to DH. I tell you this -Aishwarya Rai is not good for me, not at all. She starts it all........and then I blame DH.

Can someone tell me why I think of Aishwarya Rai? Does anyone else think of any actresses while doing house work?

The “Why” for This Silence

2012-01-26T17:01:00.001Z

People who know me will tell you this – I am a Daddy’s girl, I have always been and will always remain one. He was my rock, pillar of support and whatever you could say of a good Dad, not that he was in any way perfect. But Daddy was always there for me – when I was good and even when I was bad; I would never ever want to have a daughter like me. Let me put it this way – I am nobody without my Daddy. All my arrogance, my snobbery was because of the type of person that he was. Any party that we would go to Daddy was the centre of attraction, any new fashion trend and I would have the first outfit, any new Kanjeevaram design and my mom would get it, any new Mallu association and my dad would be the first one to be voted to be the President. Ok some of it sounds materialistic, but my dad had a large heart and loved to talk non-stop. And now that he is no more I feel so utterly, completely and horribly lost!

Following my Dad’s passing away (that is such a horrible way of using the language, I bet it is grammatically wrong!) Mom came to the UK and stayed with me for six months. Being the quiet person that DH is he never really joined the usual family talk by the dining table or for any outing with my mother. Have I mentioned earlier that DH is awkward socially as well, OK well he is. So it was always me giving company to my mother and being the lonely soul that DH likes to be I spent all my time with Mummy.

One fine day – long after my Mom left UK, I noticed that DH was not wearing the gold chain that my dad had given to him. Let me rephrase that – DH was not wearing the beautiful gold chain (with a rudraksha pendant and diamond crusted arc) that my loving late Daddy had presented to his daughter’s husband. My Dad literally removed this chain that he was wearing and gave it to DH. So you the gist of how important that chain is to me – IT WAS WORN BY MY DAD and the emphasis here is MY DAD.

When I checked this with DH his first response was “Oh you are not wearing your thali anymore. So I removed the chain too.” Second response was “You spent all your free time with your mom, so I got angry and took off this chain”. Let me get this straight – I used to wear the thali on a black thread tied to my waist. When I got my ectopic surgery done in March, I had to remove it because they cut open the area under my lower tummy, then the healing took some time, then my Dad passed away, followed by my mom’s visit to the UK and I forgot about the damn thali in the midst of all this. Second – why is this self professed world citizen expressing so much of love towards a thali? I thought I was the traditional one. Third – My mother and I were grieving, there was no way in hell I would have spent that time with an insensitive guy like DH. Fourth - if DH wanted to get back at me and not use the things from me or my family, why the hell didn’t he stop using the netbook (that was a present from me), why not stop using the umpteen watches that I had given to him. No DH’s choice of ammunition was my Dad’s chain and rightly so because he knew that nothing else could inflict me a better hurt. He chose to hit me below the belt and I just hate people who do that.

But I didn’t blow up, I swear not, I got up as elegantly as I could from the side of the bed where I was sitting, looked him in the eyes and said that I did not want to talk to him anymore. This happened on 30th December.

Fact: By 1st Jan when I realised that we were not talking to each other I had forgotten the very reason why I had stopped talking to DH.

A Word About Our Arrangement

2012-01-25T14:49:00.003Z

Child Woman made a comment on my previous post and I thought I should give an update on my marriage situation.

First a bit of background – DH is a quiet person and I mean very very quiet. He also has a difficult time expressing his feelings (excluding anger of course and that is just the contouring of his face, nothing action orientated). Me, I am talkative, you know really useless talk. Sometimes even I wonder why I said whatever I had said. In a relationship I used to be quite expressive and vocal. But all that stopped during my first marriage. I had an a**hole for a husband who raised his hand on me for each and everything. Over the years that I was with him, I spoke lesser and lesser with my ex and the arrangement suited me just fine. In a relationship if I don’t see the other party open to a conversation, I don’t pursue it – people need their own time and space to talk about what hurts / upsets them.

Now back to the present – I am still not talking to DH. This is the longest we have gone silent – 25 full days. But something odd has happened. Every night we lay down in bed with our backs to each other of course, and somewhere in the middle of the night we end up in each other’s arms. We hug each other and I mean really hug each other tight while sleeping. During our talking period, intimacy was a thing of the past. So I for one am really enjoying this. Each morning we wake up as strangers and go about doing our own business. Coming to think of it we don’t even see each other’s face anymore. When DH is cooking, I am in my study and when I am moving around the house, he is in his study. Works pretty well for us.

This is why they say “Strange are the ways in a relationship.”

In no way am I saying that I will never ever talk to DH, it could happen. Last Tuesday I did wake up with a start and saw the clock showing 7:30 am. I shook DH and said that he would be late for work. Now that was talking – wasn’t it? OK nothing since then though!

Tell me - how do you deal with friction in a marriage?

A Good Day

2012-01-16T21:24:00.001Z

When you have nowhere to go, no one to talk to, no one to hug you and comfort you, you take solace in God. You get on your knees and beg that He gives you enough courage to get you through the day.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.

I cannot change certain things that are happening right now. At work, my boss needs to find out the direction that our department has to take. Without any real alignment with other teams, we cannot move forward and the solution to this is in my boss’s camp. I just need to take a deep breath till everything is sorted out.

DH, while there are so many things I would like to change about him, I do not want him to change just for me. For now, I am OK with this status quo and yes, I can live with the silence.

The things that I can change and have a control over are my health, my studies and my finances.

I woke up this morning at around 4:30 am with the firm decision that I would be happy and remain happy throughout the day. Did some stretching exercises, a bit of yoga and finished it off with meditation. Then I covered myself with purple light (I am an advanced Pranic Healer, it helps when I put my mind to it). Worked hard from 8:30 to 4:30pm – did not surf aimlessly and actually got some work done, not much, cleared around 180 emails. At 5 got on the elliptical and exercised for exactly 40 mins – burnt 270 calories, clocked 14kms – an all time high.

I worked from home today – so it was literally a no spend day. My wallet is happy. Dinner was just a mutton roll; hated every bite of it. Thought it was a good way of eating less, just eat what you don’t like.

A won all the badminton matches at school and has got selected to play at West London Level. Hope he does well. In Dubai he used to be a tennis player taking part in a lot of tournaments. Here I cannot afford to give him four hours of individual training daily. So it is a blessing that A has found another game just as interesting.

It has been a good day – thank you God.

I still miss Daddy though and I think I did not grieve enough back in July when he passed away. It‘s all coming back to me now. Why did it take so long for me to realise that I love him like crazy?

And it's just two weeks into New Year

2012-01-15T16:43:00.002Z

I don’t think I have ever been this down in life. Everything seems out of control and I just don’t know what to do anymore.

At work my job is to find gaps in work processes, source manpower from various departments, initiate a project and find solutions. Problem starts when one of the departments involved in the project tries to steer the decision to one they think is right. And to top it all, they would have the backing of some high level boss. Thing is I can’t stand office politics and don’t want to be a part of it either. Worse still, I am no longer sure who is in charge of the projects – is it me or the other department? To be clear – my boss is just as confused as I am.

DH and I aren’t still talking. But now I know the reason for his silence. Apparently sometime in Dec I had told him that I do not want to talk to him. (I think it was more like me saying I do not want to discuss something.) No I do not remember the incident, but I have let it be. May be DH needs his space and he will come back to me when he is ready. May be DH will never get over this silence and may be our marriage will fail. Right now, DH not talking to me does not affect me. I am pretty comfortable with just interactions with my son at home and various other things at home keep me more than busy. End of the day this is my policy – Don’t seek out for attention, affection and love; these have to come to you and not the other way round. I guess one has to work at relationships and I have been plain lazy and now it is too late.

Finances – I have had to give my car back to the company. They let me use it for two extra years while I changed from a sales job to the one in Supply Chain and people in Supply Chain do not get a car. I am OK with public transportation as long as it does not include grocery shopping. How do these people do it without a car? My purchase list becomes smaller and smaller every week; I can’t think of lugging the bags from the store to home. All fingers point to me buying a new car. Fact is I cannot afford a big car like the one I was used to and my pride does not allow me to buy a small car. Right now my pride is winning; but it’s my back that’s breaking with two hours of commute whenever I go to the office.

Daddy – I MISS him like crazy. I go to the living room to dust the place and every time I see his picture, I start crying. I was such a bad daughter; don’t think I ever gave him any happiness. Mom and he were always so worried about me – for being so headstrong, stubborn and independent. I wish I could rewind the clock and given in to some of his desires. I just wish to God that I could make up to him somehow, someway......

The only silver lining in all this is my son and I am thankful for his presence in my life.

Silent New Year

2012-01-03T15:28:00.000Z

It was only when I read and commented on 30in2005's post that I realised that my To Do List to 41 does not mention anything about my marriage. Fact is that I do not know where it is going. We both come from previous marriages which involved a lot of shouting / arguments and in my case a whole lost of violence. So in this relationship when one of us gets irritated with the other, we just close the other one out - no talking, no shouting, no nothing - civil disobedience as Gandhiji would call it. We have perfected this to such an art that we both can last, live under the same roof, without talking to each other - sometimes as long as 23 days (that has been the maximum and we have done it twice already) before we open up. And finally when do talk, the issue in concern seems so petty to even discuss.

The problem with this silence arrangement is that one party is always in the dark about what exactly prompted the withdrawal. And while keeping quiet seems much better than having an argument, after a point one gets used to doing things alone and the presence of the other person in the house does not matter. Like having house mates you do not get along with and want nothing to do with.

On New Year's eve my sister-in-law had visited us and we had gone out for dinner, all four of us (son included). As the meal was getting over it dawned on me that DH hadn't talked to me at all - not a single word! It was just SIL and me yapping away. When it struck 12, I did not get my customary hug and the New Year day was spent in utter silence. Mom says what we do on New Year will follow us the rest of the year. Ah well I guess it means that there will be more silence at home.

I am not really sure what I have done this time and right now I am not even bothered. I am beyond hurt now, just PISSED super PISSED. Hope everyone else had a better time.

One More To The List

2011-12-12T21:47:00.000Z

The time after 7pm is not exactly my favourite time of the day. It’s when I have finished my office work, my house work and have nothing much to do. With A in his room studying and DH in his room also studying I can pretty much do whatever I feel like doing. But no, I just sit and do nothing and I really mean nothing. I surf – that is again nothing in my books and then just let my thoughts go wild. Sometimes I wonder what the purpose of my life is – I wonder what exactly have I been born to do? I don’t know whether this is part of me growing up or growing old – but this nagging feeling is pretty much in the background even while I am doing some work and in the evening free time the thought tugs at my very core. With the limitation of having a family and the responsibilities that go with it, I cannot be as radical as I want to be. If I had a rewind button I would have never gotten married, forget a second time and would have been quite happy to lead a nomadic free life. Let’s not talk of how things could have, should have been...anyway..

The thought of minimalism has always appealed to me. I even had a shopping ban in Feb which I broke only in October and even then I did not splurge all that much. Minimalism appeals to me because I am materialistic to the core and being minimalistic makes me go against my nature and test my endurance level, very much like an obese person taking to exercise and wondering how long the body would stand extreme exercise.

So with the New Year I am back on the bandwagon of minimalism, but this time am planning to take things a bit more extreme. I am going to take one day at a time and be conscious of what I spend on. Let’s get this thing quite clear – food for me is sacred and I will not crimp on it, but with all the other things I will be bullish about, i.e. no more buying.

In other news – it was a good day in terms of to-do to 41. I managed to do some exercise (read that as stretching), limited myself to just two meals (max about 1500 calories) and had my daily tablets. With me working at home, it was a no-spend day.

To-Do List to 41

2011-12-10T19:08:00.000Z

I don’t like the words “New Year’s resolution”, like you cannot make a resolution any other time of the year and somehow have to wait till New Year to make one. So before anyone asks me, what you are about to read is not my New Year’s resolution but rather my To-Do list for the next six months till I hit forty one.

I intend to have:

1. Lost 10 kgs in body weight – should weigh 65 kgs

2. Completed submitting my research project – work on one chapter a week

3. Cleared back garden (long pending) – to complete by September 2012

4. Exercised everyday (except during travel)

5. Taken my medicines daily

6. Taught / helped A with his studies whenever he approached me

7. Saved a min. of GBP 1500 every month

8. Prayed to God daily

In order to keep myself accountable I intend to blog about these topics on a weekly basis if not daily. In the past I have never really talked about money and finances because I felt that people would judge me based on what I make, save and spend. In the same vein I do not talk much about God – not because I do not believe in a greater power than me, but because I like to come across as a neutral person. Fact is I am not a neutral person – I am biased, I am contradictory and I am your average Jane who makes more than her share of mistakes. I did forget for a while – this blog is all about my thoughts – uncensored. And it is just going to take a turn that way for good.

On To My Son

2011-12-05T21:21:00.000Z

“Chinty on the phone.” “Miss Chinty – there has been an incident at school and involves A. Could you please come to the school now?”

Once or twice in a month I get the urge to meet people and then I go to the office to spend the day working from there. Since I am a remote employee I have to hot desk if I ever go to the office. I am also on conf call all the time and end up disturbing people hot desking (is there a word like that?) next to me. All in all it does not make much of a difference whether I work from home or office.

OK so a few weeks back I was at office when I received this call from A’s school. A is my precious baby and I have had to fight real hard to get him here with me, so calls like these get me quite worked up. I ran out of the office building, jumped into the car and literally flew to the school.

Guess what? My poor baby had stolen a chicken wing from the canteen. One blooming chicken wing; the interrogation went something like this – A did you steal one chicken wing from the canteen? A – yes. Did you have the money to pay for it? A –yes. How much money did you have with you? A – twenty pounds. Did you forget to bring your lunch from home? A – no. Were you hungry? A – no. Then why did you steal the chicken wing? A – I wasn’t thinking straight. Would you do this again? A – no. Then I signed off some papers.

After school conversation between mom and son : Mom - “why exactly did you steal ONE chicken wing?” Son - “Because all kids in my school do that and I wanted to know whether I can get away with it.” Mom – “Stealing is an art and the art is not in stealing, but in not getting caught.” Mom – “Next time you want to be a hero in front of your friends go and steal a diamond necklace and not a stupid chicken wing. Do you feel you have the balls to steal a diamond necklace?” Son – “No”. Mom – “Good, because I don’t want a thief for a son.” Case closed, no more conversation ever about it.

Son thinks mom is pretty cool. But I know better – Mom has done worse stuff than just stealing.

DH

2011-12-05T20:44:00.004Z

DH and I do not argue. We never do that; we just keep quiet, we keep quiet for something like three weeks – three weeks is the maximum we can do without talking to each other. The best part about this type of standoff is that by the end of three weeks one hardly remembers what the whole fuss was about. I was in a pretty violent relationship before and I prefer this silence – to ponder, to reflect, to forgive, to move on and to join back again. And I love my husband for giving me that time and space.

Lost

2011-11-25T19:22:00.000Z

Dad left us four months and eight days back. It is funny how when someone goes away (Mom says she cannot use “passed away” for Dad and we both agreed that for us he has just gone away), you spend the first few months thinking of them each and every second and there after you try not to think about them lest it makes you all teary eyed and sad. Just short of their memories, we try to erase everything about them. Two weeks after Dad went away, Mom gave away all his clothes and watches. After a few months Mom will transfer all joint properties to her name. The name of the very person who worked hard for it has to be erased. How I hate it.

But what I hate most and find damn unacceptable is that being a girl I couldn’t be part of his cremation ceremony. Which Hindu book says that? My Dad loved me the most – I know it and he has always said it. Then how come my brother and my son got the privilege of sending him away. I had secretly though of saving up a bone or something like that from the final ashes. But those Nair people surrounding us were like hawks – they did not leave anything behind. And now I know that Dad will never come back.

I feel lost these days. I could bitch about my work with Dad and he would always, always tell me – Throw everything away, pack your bags and just come home, I will take care of you. My mom is more practical, she would never say stuff like that even just to pacify someone.

Daddy, if you are somewhere seeing all this, I just want to say this – I miss you so much and just wish you would come back, I don’t want you to be gone away.

Life Goes On

2011-08-15T10:03:00.000+01:00

People talk about turning forty and doing something to remember that year. In one of the blogs I read about someone getting a tattoo. I too have often thought of getting one. After all one can’t let one’s 40th year on earth just go past. Well I need not have worried about this at all. My 40th year has been epic

- The whole family got together in March to celebrate my mom’s 60th birthday. It was one of those rare occasions when just about everyone in the family was present for the event.

- As soon as I got back from India, I had an emergency surgery for ectopic pregnancy. The doctors say I now have 50% chances of conceiving.

- Got the news that I would have to use legal means to get A to the UK. But twenty days before the appeal date, Border Agency decided to revoke their original decision. End result – a happy mother with a very sad wallet.

- This one is the mother of all incidents in my life – my father passed away. What can I say? I will always miss him and wish I had a few more years with him. Words are just not enough to convey my feelings. Let’s leave it at that.

- Got a blood test done for my hypothyroid condition and my TSH and T4 levels have gone through the roof. If I don’t get my levels normal – I could end up being really obese, constantly tired and lose all my hair.

With 4 more months to go before the calendar year ends, I am not sure what more God has in stock for me.

When one hits rock bottom there is only one way to go – up. And that is where I would like to see my life going. I tell myself that’s enough of unhappiness, self pity and ugliness; I need to count my blessings – my mom is coming to stay with me and with A already here my house will become a home, this home of mine will be full of laughter and joy and Daddy will always be in our hearts.

My Daddy Is No More - Part 1

2011-07-29T11:12:00.000+01:00

There is a fan buzzing in the back ground. It gives you the sort of buzz which one gets only from an Indian fan. Mom is lying on the diwan and trying to get some sleep. She has been crying non-stop for a few days, so I let it be. Its only 2:00pm. A is in the only bedroom downstairs. He is learning maths. And me...well I am sitting by the dining table trying to figure out what the hell hit us....hit us this past two weeks.

When God gives with one had he takes with the other. He gave me back my son in June and took my father away in July. Daddy (yes even at the age of 40 I still call him that – no short cuts – no dad or pop for me) left us on Sunday 17th of July at around 3:45pm – they said it was pancreatic haemorrhage. It was sudden they claimed, like it was lucky that he dropped down dead instead of being in a coma for the rest of his life. Death is no choice and one can’t select the way one goes. Yes, my dad was lucky – he was in ICU for only a day.

First I was angry – how could He go like this? Without letting me say goodbye? Without saying something to me? Then I was angry with God – why should a perfectly healthy man of 69 die so suddenly when there were five older siblings around?

I saw Him – his body was wrapped in a white cotton-like cloth, till his chest. They had tied the lower part of his face to the upper with another piece of cloth, so that his jaw doesn’t drop down. His spectacle was still on. He looked alive to me. No they said, he is in an ice box – can’t you see? Why is he in an ice box and why are these people all around him? They said within two hours it would be time for the last rites and they needed to thaw his body. They took his body out of the ice box and lay him on the floor. People went around his body like he was some sort of God there. No he isn’t your God, he is my father. You don’t have a right over him, only I do. But nothing seemed to be coming out of my mouth. There was snot all over my face and tears streaming down.

I didn’t ask for anyone’s permission. I sat down next to him. I touched his forehead. It was cold, like how my face would feel on a cold English night. I kissed his forehead, stroked the sides of his cheeks, he wasn’t getting up. Why Daddy, why don’t you wake up? When I was very very small, I remember touching your ear lobe and you slapped me hard. Mummy later told me that your ear lobes were your most sensitive parts and you hated anyone touching it. So I reached out and touched your right lobe with my hand. I was scared. I expected you to slap me again. I would have been happy. But you didn’t and I could feel hot streams of tears welling up yet again. I couldn’t breathe; the pain was just too much. I put my arms around you and hugged you. I called out to you. But you still lay there. Someone came to me and said – Chinty you have to be strong, if you cry like this what will happen to your Mummy.

Yes mummy, I had forgotten about her. What are you supposed to do in this situation – watch the dead or cater to the grieving? Mummy is still in her bed, cursing her luck, wondering what to do with her life without her companion of forty one years. I go to the bedroom and sit by the bed, close to her and I hug her too – really tight this time. We cry together knowing deep inside that our tears are not going to bring him back. I long to be with her and comfort her, but I can’t. I need to be with my daddy, I have just one more hour with him and then they will take him away; away from me forever.

I am back with my Daddy in the living room. These people are still around him. Why can’t they just leave me alone with my Daddy? I need to say my goodbyes.......

And My Son Walked Home

2011-07-08T09:37:00.001+01:00

Well not literally. A flew down to Heathrow on 30th June.

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This first week of July and the last week of June have been the best ever two weeks. We celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary, A came home, I celebrated my 40th birthday and DH turned fifty one.

One fine June morning, when the sun was in its full glory in the UK and the monsoon was making its presence felt in Kerala, my son received a call from the British Council in Chennai informing him that they were ready to issue the ILR to him. And just like that, without any appeal (or rather much before the appeal date) the universe showered its blessings on my family.

How do I feel right now? I am not sure I can put it into words. Do you know what complete is or the sense of being complete? Like each and everything that matters to you is right next to you, in front of you and you can touch it, feel it and even kiss it. For a 15 yr old boy, my son has been getting a lot of kisses and hugs lately from his shameless mother. I frankly couldn’t care less. To me he is my little baby who left when he was seven.

I wish I could just get so so drunk and shout out to the world – now look at me, look at me and see how happy I am. But I won’t do that, I just don’t want to tempt fate, not just yet.

MBA Alumni Event

2011-05-21T20:03:00.000+01:00

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Let’s talk about my looks. You see I don’t think I look particularly beautiful, no I really don’t. I don’t even think I look particularly attractive. I believe I have the sort of face that one forgets easily and combined with my dressing, I am one that can easily blend in the crowd. But I do know this – I have a hearty laugh, one that comes from the pit of my stomach and no put-on about that. I also have a sort of sexy vibe about me, I can easily detect if someone is attracted towards me and I know how to play with that feeling. Well that’s about it.

Now coming to the case in point – This week I was at my MBA alumni meet and we had a rapid fire networking hour. You are given five minutes to introduce yourself to your fellow alumnus and vice versa. At the end of five minutes the organiser rings a bell and you are to move on to the next person. While I was trying to put my best smile, behaviour and what not forward, I noticed that there was a professional photographer trying to take pictures of the event. All went fine till a lady approached me. This said lady wanted to know whether they could interview me about my MBA experience; sure why not I said. What I had not expected was that it was being recorded on camera. Now with my bare make-up face and really simple dressing, I wasn’t comfortable with it, but went along with the idea. The lady was quite thrilled that I had agreed to the Q&A session. I mean to be on the MBA DVD brochure of Imperial College would be wow. There was however a question that gave me a bit of heartache and if I had to rewind the day I would have given a different answer.

One of the questions was about my nationality. Believe I was really stuck at this – was I British or Indian? Not that in the greater scheme of things this makes any difference. I have a thing about lying, so I blurted out British. But the second I said it, I knew I had said the wrong thing. Remember I was being filmed and did not have any time to think over my answers. I know now, if I am ever asked this question again – unless I have to fill up some forms, I would always remain an Indian. Not sure why I have a thing about nationality, I am not particularly patriotic or something like that, but I just can’t accept the fact that I had to give up my Indian nationality to be British. And this is one of the reasons that I still retain my Indian passport – illegal, I know.

Anyway back to the event day. After the Q&A session, the photographer from the event approached me for some photographs. She made me pose against a white wall and while taking pictures mentioned that I was selected because I had a beautiful smile. Though deep in my heart I was bursting with pride, all I could muster as a reply was “Yeah Sure”, to which the photographer said “No really, I am the one who hand-picked you for the lady.”

You all can well imagine how my evening went – right? I returned home pretty late – about 10ish. But all the while in the tube from South Ken to Southall and after – I had a spring in my step and a smile on face.

Not Yet Again

2011-05-19T14:11:00.000+01:00

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It started with the Susan Harris show at Tate Britain. For the life of me I could not understand or grasp the artist’s concept. This happens to me a few times in the year when we go for shows which are of particular interest to DH. Once I have lost interest completely I need to keep myself occupied by talking to DH in an otherwise quiet surrounding. I just have to find out from DH how is it that he can find a particular artist interesting and I can’t.

This time though that discussion went a bit further than anticipated and we soon got talking about our displeasure with each other’s taste. It should come as no surprise to everyone that I am in one of those let’s-throw-out-everything moods at the moment. DH as usual has stuck to hoarding each and every item which I find should go straight to the bin.
Anyway that’s not the point here. The situation got rather out of hand when our discussion got a bit heated and we had to get out of Tate Modern in order to continue. Somewhere along the way to the Pimlico station, we decide that it was best that we both went home our separately. Like it would make some sort of a difference, after all we would have to see each other at home. In fact I am the one who made the suggestion – to go separate. I needed some cooling off period and get my thoughts in order.

Who would have thought that two people could argue and fight over mundane matters of OCD, tidiness and hoarding? It seems silly, right? NOT I tell you. It is a mental make-up. One that cannot be explained, but felt. DH likes to have his things around him, he even likes to have his things in each and every room of the house. That is how he make a house his home. I, on the other hand, can only have my possessions in my very own designated room and cannot bear to have my things strewn all over the house.

I remember during my college days I skipped the ragging part completely. I used to save my juniors from ragging, but when it came to the hostel accommodation it was a different matter altogether. I was a first rate bully. We were four girls sharing a two bedroom flat. I had timetables drawn up as to who would clean-up the common areas. Really like a school teacher I used to shout out my demands and they had to be met.

Alas, in a marriage one can’t resort to such tactics. In fact no tactic of mine really works – a request after a love-making session – no, a plea after a major crying session – zilch, a joking poke when amongst friends – nope, a lover’s request in a sweet email – never, a favour after making the heartiest of meals – no way. I have exhausted it all and now I have run out of ideas.

So tell me. Can you think of something I have not tried yet? All I need is to get my husband to throw out some things stored from 1971!!!!

That Happy Family

2011-05-13T18:08:00.000+01:00

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Do people have perfect lives or do they think that they have perfect lives? I believe it's all in the mind.

I also believe that all families are dysfunctional; scratch the surface and you will get a glimpse of the ugliness. But dysfunctional is good, it shows that people are individuals with varied tastes and circumstances. Being perfect is just our way of trying to harmonise with our particular set of circumstances.

At one point I was sad that I lost custody of A, then I was devastated when I came to know that my ex-husband hit A so bad that it broke A's hand. That day I prayed God to keep my son safe and sound. All I wanted was for A to be alive, in one piece and away from that horrible man. Then my happiness knew no bounds when I got back A's custody. But that high came crashing down when his request for a UK visa got rejected.

And now A has been in India for close to 10 months - staying with my parents who dot on him. He gets the very best of food, lives in a very sheltered and loving environment, goes to a fantastic school the likes of which I will never be to afford here and is enjoying life with friends who still have an innocence about them.

Tell me then, what right do I have to pay 3000 pounds to a lawyer to fight for my son's UK visa appeal? What is it that I believe I can offer him in Southall? Run down schools with kids who could possibly be carrying knives, where drugs could be available round the corner? How can I expect my son who, till last year, did not know the meaning of F**** to make friends in this counry? If he is anything like his mother A is never going to make any friends here.

So why exactly do I want A to be here with me? I have just one very feeble excuse - because I am his mother and a very selfish one at that. I want A here so that I can take care of him, make food for him, teach him, see him grow to adulthood and finally fly out on his own.

My Dad tells me that even if the UK visa came through A would anyway have to go back to India for his college. So the big serious advise from Dad is not to spend that money.

I, for one, can't believe my dad. How can one put a price on one's kid? How can I say what these years with my son are worth to me, even if it's just for another four years?

Heck, all I know is that not only should my son be safe and sound, he should be safe and sound WITH me.

I don't know if the appeal will be successful or not, but I can rest with this thought - I would have tried till the very end.

Despite trying so hard to become one happy family unit, my family might come across as being very dysfunctional to some. And that's OK with me.

The Plan

2011-05-10T17:58:00.001+01:00

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Today is not much of a fun day. It’s Tuesday and since Sunday DH and I have not been talking to each other. We usually do this sort of thing, once every two months (you know - not talk to each other) and now we both don’t find the silence so horrific anymore. Yet, for two people in a relationship this can be slightly irritating.

On Sunday I was cleaning up my room and kitchen and got totally engrossed in this. DH on the other hand was upstairs in one of his rooms studying and making notes. At about three in the after DH came downstairs and asked me whether he should buy some grocery. For a couple of months now I have been doing the cooking and the question is reasonable ‘cause it’s his job to get the provisions. But I was upset that he was asking me the question so late in the day. Had I know that DH wanted me to cook I would have stopped cleaning earlier in the day and started on with cooking. This way I would have finished all housework before late evening. Now his question meant that I had to do the cooking as well. It was as if my time had no value and he had taken it for granted that I would spend the whole day working. Then DH got upset with me for being upset with him. And just like that without uttering a word to each other, we declared non-cooperation.

Now there is no food at home, not even snacks. I managed to finish even the horrible rye bread which I had confirmed would go down the bin. When you are hungry, I tell you taste really doesn’t matter.

I am not really sure how this will pan out. Usually after a few days, in bed, in deep sleep one of us will hug the other. The next day it would be like we never had a problem at all, till the cycle repeats itself. The longest we have been at it is twenty two days – that’s right twenty two days in the same house and I never once saw DH’s face.

Hopefully this won’t be as bad as that. It’s just two days and I don’t think I can take another day without his warmth (and food).

Wish me luck; I need to hug my husband in bed tonight, unawares.

And I Cried

2011-05-09T21:28:00.000+01:00

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I am not into poetry, really not. If they are too literary I find it difficult to understand and if they are too simple, I tend to dismiss them. If they are too romantic, I get a headache and if they are too depressive I want to get as far away as possible from the thoughts they evoke.

No, poetry is not my cup of tea. The only poem I have enjoyed so far is this by Faith Wilding. Funny part is that I even cried because of it.

I hope you enjoy it too..

Waiting A Poem by Faith Wilding

Waiting . . .waiting . . . waiting . . .

Waiting for someone to come in
Waiting for someone to hold me
Waiting for someone to feed me
Waiting for someone to change my diaper
Waiting . . .

Waiting to scrawl, to walk, waiting to talk
Waiting to be cuddled
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to play with me
Waiting for someone to take me outside
Waiting for someone to read to me, dress me, tie my shoes
Waiting for Mommy to brush my hair
Waiting for her to curl my hair
Waiting to wear my frilly dress
Waiting to be a pretty girl
Waiting to grow up
Waiting . . .

Waiting for my breasts to develop
Waiting to wear a bra
Waiting to menstruate
Waiting to read forbidden books
Waiting to stop being clumsy
Waiting to have a good figure
Waiting for my first date
Waiting to have a boyfriend
Waiting to go to a party, to be asked to dance, to dance close
Waiting to be beautiful
Waiting for the secret
Waiting for life to begin
Waiting…

Waiting to be somebody
Waiting to wear makeup
Waiting for my pimples to go away
Waiting to wear lipstick, to wear high heels and stockings
Waiting to get dressed up, to shave my legs
Waiting to be pretty
Waiting . . .

Waiting for him to notice me, to call me
Waiting for him to ask me out
Waiting for him to pay attention to me
Waiting for him to fall in love with me
Waiting for him to kiss me, touch me, touch my breasts
Waiting for him to pass my house
Waiting for him to tell me I’m beautiful
Waiting for him to ask me to go steady
Waiting to neck, to make out, waiting to go all the way
Waiting to smoke, to drink, to stay out late
Waiting to be a woman
Waiting . . .

Waiting for my great love
Waiting for the perfect man
Waiting for Mr. Right
Waiting . . .

Waiting to get married
Waiting for my wedding day
Waiting for my wedding night
Waiting for sex
Waiting for him to make the first move
Waiting for him to excite me
Waiting for him to give me pleasure
Waiting for him to give me an orgasm Waiting . . .
Waiting for him to come home, to fill my time…
Waiting . . .

Waiting for my baby to come
Waiting for my belly to swell
Waiting for my breasts to fill with milk
Waiting to feel my baby move
Waiting for my legs to stop swelling
Waiting for the first contractions
Waiting for the contractions to end
Waiting for the head to emerge
Waiting for the first scream, the afterbirth
Waiting to hold my baby
Waiting for my baby to suck my milk
Waiting for my baby to stop crying
Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night
Waiting for my breasts to dry up
Waiting to get my figure back, for the stretch marks to go away
Waiting for some time to myself
Waiting to be beautiful again
Waiting for my child to go to school
Waiting for life to begin again
Waiting . . .

Waiting for my children to come home from school
Waiting for them to grow up, to leave home
Waiting to be myself
Waiting for excitement
Waiting for him to tell me something interesting, to ask me how I feel…
Waiting for him to stop being crabby, reach for my hand, kiss me good morning
Waiting for fulfillment
Waiting for the children to marry
Waiting for something to happen Waiting . . .

Waiting to lose weight
Waiting for the first gray hair
Waiting for menopause
Waiting to grow wise
Waiting . . .

Waiting for my body to break down, to get ugly
Waiting for my flesh to sag
Waiting for my breasts to shrivel up
Waiting for a visit from my children, for letters
Waiting for my friends to die
Waiting for my husband to die
Waiting . . .

Waiting to get sick
Waiting for things to get better
Waiting for winter to end
Waiting for the mirror to tell me that I’m old
Waiting for a good bowel movement
Waiting for the pain to go away
Waiting for the struggle to end
Waiting for release
Waiting for morning
Waiting for the end of the day
Waiting for sleep
Waiting…

What I Have Been Upto

2011-05-08T20:56:00.001+01:00

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I have a small room for myself. With the exception of my books which are in DH’s study, all my possessions are kept in this small room. I have a thing for small cute rooms, tiny houses etc. I always thought that it was because small spaces were easier to clean.

Anyway the day I got admitted to the A&E, I was as usual in my room going about with office work when I got hit with the terrible pain. A call for ambulance did not work, they said that if I was well enough to talk then I was well enough to call for a taxi and get to the hospital. Once I got off the phone with the ambulance services, I had to take a moment or two to clear my head and assess my next course of action. I knew that my pain was no ordinary pain and in a moment or two I could end up with some serious damages.

DH works at the other end of London and as usual his mobile phone was switched off. We used to joke often about DH’s switched off phone and the reasons why he even carries it. But this day was no joke, I genuinely felt I was about to die. I kept trying to figure out what to do. In between trying to get my head around things, I remember looking up at the ceiling and calling out to God. It was more like begging for something or somebody to help me. As I looked up, I saw all the storage cupboards that lined the ceiling. They contained my “stock”, the stuff that I have hoarded since God knows when – all my make-up items, toiletries, bags, clothes, study materials; company stuff that I had been collecting from every charity sale and a thought crossed my mind, a profound one.

While I was withering in pain – not one of these things could alleviate my condition - all I knew was that neither my loved ones nor my loved possessions could help me one bit. What was the use of being attached to these material things, when they could do no damn thing for me? Funnily though, I harbour no ill towards DH.

I let the thought go and went about that day, which you can read in detail over here and here.

When I got back from the hospital, I dived back into work. The news given to colleagues was that I had an appendics operation. I want no pity and with all the piling work, I wanted no holidays. Then came the exams in first week of May and they got over on Friday, 6th May. Guess what is the first thing I did on Friday evening? I sorted out my loved possessions, including my books. First to go were my clothes – I didn’t care whether they were designer brands or not. The general rule used for everything was – if I haven’t touched something for two years, I probably wouldn’t use it again. I was also not going to spare anything if what-if-I-lose-weight-and-can-squeeze-into-it-later-on. If and when I lose weight I will buy new stuff.

After clothes came jewellery, then shoes, make-up, books and finally bags. Along with two big boxes of books, I had eight big garbage bags full of stuff that I wanted to get rid of. DH advised me to e-bay some items, but you know what? For a pound or two, I wasn’t going to use up my storage or my efforts. My peace of mind at this point is most important to me.

Before marriage I had a two year break from DH and had stayed with my brother in Dubai. I remember at the time I was given a two door wardrobe – I had exactly five outfits, 3 shoes, and one bag. I never felt that I had missed out on anything and was rather happy with my ensemble.

That is what I want to get back to. While I still have a lot of stuff, I am OK with what I have and I know that I will pare down more. I also know that I will only be buying things that I need and not that I want.

This morning, I visited the skip and let it all go. Not an ounce of regret and a whole load of relief.

I have always been frugal and now I will work towards being a minimalist.

March Round-Up

2011-04-01T17:29:00.000+01:00

Letting March go without recapping it would not be fair to myself.

On to the highlights of the month:

Spent two gorgeous weeks in Kerala with my family. It was mom’s 60th birthday and when she said that she wanted to celebrate it, I didn’t have the heart to refuse. I did something illegal – travelled to India on my Indian passport, though I am now a British Citizen. My excuse, I did not have the time to surrender the Indian passport, then apply for the Indian visa. Why when I had the Indian passport already with me? Now pls don’t ask me why I still have my Indian passport instead of surrendering it sometime last year. Pure Laziness, nothing else. In Feb I had decided on a shopping ban. In India I ended up buying three kurtis and 2 salwars. But the thing that actually broke my bank account was the shopping for my family – son, parents, brother and my beautiful nieces. If I have to do it again, I would without a second thought. It was also the time that I got to write about eeprika’s request on a role that I played (here, here, here & here). Only downer to trip – it was so hot in Kerala that I literally sweat buckets!!

Two days after my return and on an almost sunny day (beginning of spring so to speak), I got a terrible stomach ache and had to get a minor operation done. I really don’t know why it happened to me at this stage. But nevertheless the very incident of having lost a baby made me think a lot. DH says that it’s an IT and I say it was a BABY. We have yet to talk about the incident and knowing DH we are never going to talk about it.

The irony of it all - in 15 years while I had 100% chance of conceiving I never conceived once, but now, the doctor says, with just one fallopian tube intact I have 50% chances of conceiving. Hello - Doctor do I look stupid to you??

In the meanwhile, however, my mind has been at work and I have reached at some decisions. My family, including DH might say that it was due to the above and some of it might be true, but I would say it that this incident made me see some things clearly. I am still pondering over it even now and hopefully in April (this month) I will have enough courage to put down my thoughts to a post.

A Baby

2011-03-27T13:55:00.000+01:00

I am trying to find the right words to begin this story or episode or phase or whatever you can call it.

You are about to touch 40.
You have a 15 yr old son.
You have been with your husband for a long time.
And you have never touched contraceptives in the past 15 years.

So what should you feel when the doctor at A&E tells you that you have terrible stomach and leg cramps because you are pregnant?

When the news is given to you, you have your sister-in-law sitting right beside you and you both squeal out “Oh my God!!!” She looks happy and you do not know how to react. The doctor asks you “Is this a planned pregnancy?” and you say “No” and then he adds “Is this a wanted pregnancy?” and then without a moment’s doubt you say “Hell yes.” For sure yes.....

You are sent for various scans and just when you get around to digesting the fact that this is indeed a good news, you are told that the scan reveals this to be an ectopic pregnancy and you need to have an emergency operation within 24 hrs to get your right side fallopian tube removed along with the 6 weeks (6mm) foetus.

I am not sure what to think of this. Why did this happen to me? What was the universe trying to tell me. As I sit here at home looking at the stitches on my tummy after the deed has been done, I wonder....

And for the first time in 15 years, I want to have a baby again.....

A Role That I Play - Concluding Part 4

2011-03-18T06:43:00.000Z

In her second last email to DH, G had asked DH to reconsider her proposal. G had suggested to DH that they should get back together. Now that the love story with the married tutor was going nowhere, G wanted DH back. DH replied to G saying that he was seriously considering marrying the person he had met on Kerala Matrimony.com (that's me) and that they should just remain friends.

G's last email to DH (which he did not reply to) was an enquiry about how far DH had gotten with his marriage plans (to me) and whether he would be interested in joining her for an exhibition at V&A. G's plan was to come down from Oxford and spend a whole day with DH. G closed the email with "Your one and only G". I found it funny that G would question about DH's marriage plans and yet close the email with your one and only.

We women are stupid - if a man has a roving eye, it is because the woman walking past is too good looking. When in love we do not find any faults with our men. But once out of love,, we do not have to do much before all the wrongs surface and we see things clearly.

I left for Dubai in April 2005 after having stayed with DH for almost 5 months since November 2004. Luckily for me my old company called me back at a higher pay and better position.

After the incident things were a bit sour between and DH and me. We had lost our spontaneity completely. I was always wondering whether I would discover something new about DH and DH was always trying to decipher my thoughts.

When hurt, I can be a really mean person. I make no bones of it. The fear of having my man taken, seduced perhaps (this DH says has never happened, but I am not sure) and my own jealousy of having to ghost-confront a really intelligent and educated woman meant that I had to provide DH with some hard evidence of what type of a person G really was. I had to be one step ahead in all my dealings.

You see DH thinks that all people are straight forward in life, have no shrewdness in them and would do no harm to others. But he forgot that Malayalis are a breed on their own. (You know I hate sounding this crude). There is a joke about Malayali crabs. Apparently once crabs are put into a bucket, you need to cover these buckets with a lid. But not so the buckets with Malayali crabs inside. This is because each Malayali crab would try to pull down the other Malayali crab trying to climb out of the bucket. I whole heartedly believe this.

Slowly from G's correspondence with her parents I found out that G and her family had selected DH's marriage proposal only because they felt this was an easier route for G to continue her studies abroad. G came from a poor family, though all her other relatives were stationed abroad and G had a big complex about this. Every time I got the evidence, I would forward the mail to DH. Then there was this mail that G had sent to her parents telling them that it would be OK to get back with DH now that his mother was no more. G had written various emails to friends and family saying that DH had hit her and that he was a violent person. That DH got himself made redundant and that he would not contribute to the household expenses. My poor DH he did two part time jobs at the time and never took a penny from G towards the household. How could he? G was staying in Oxford after all. G also went on and on about how she could not get over her love for her tutor.

Worst part of this story is that all this spying on G has me fall in my own eyes. Right now I am reading a novel called Shantaram. But reading about G's life as it unfolds in front of me has given me a power that she had tried to take away from me. Its like stalking, I know all about this person and this person does not even know that I exist. DH would tell me to stop reading G's emails. But then the more I read, the more evidence I get against her and I gain a small victory. (Yes anonymous, I am not perfect and have never claimed to be.)

I am ashamed, but this really is my secret, my own little secret that I share with DH and his sister. My sister-in-law is the sweetest person that one could ever meet. She is fun to be with and is so caring towards one and all. G would even write nasty things about my sis-in-law.

Its been seven years since I started with my so-called revenge and in all this time I have closely lived with G - her triumphs, her achievements, her pains, her trials and her life. Now it is no longer due to her stint with DH many many years back; today I no longer know why I stalk, its just a part of my life. Its like watching a TV drama that has no ending. I am not expecting anyone to understand this - no really.

G enrolled with so many matrimonial agencies and I see so many of her replies to prospective grooms. I feel like shaking her up and telling her so many things. Her introduction letter sounds like a job resume and as she has grown older she no longer needs to hide under the Malayali arranged set-up. G is more forthright about what she wants and no longer makes bones of the fact that she wants an equally accomplished, educated and rich man.

Today I feel pity for her (though jealousy on her education is still there!). I admire people who live in pursuit of only education, when nothing deters them from that dedication and often even when they sacrifice their own lives for it. I don't know what to call it. I pray for her well being and hopes she can get over DH (no, not her love for DH, but her hatred for him. When she didn't get DH, she went on a character assassination mission of DH).

DH and I got married in mid-2006. We have tried to be as honest as possible to each other since that fateful day. DH knows about this blog, though I do not know whether he follows it regularly. If there is one person that I can call the rock of my life - that is DH. He knows me inside out, he knows my deepest darkest secret and supports me in most cases (except my OCD). I am no longer insecure about my relationship with DH. Of course we have our marriage bumps every now and then. But this is my destination relationship. It has been built from tears and trials and the foundation is too solid. I am home with the person that I love and now it no longer matters how I got here.
My detective role, however continues.........

A Role That I Play - Part 3

2011-03-18T02:12:00.000Z

That day I became a lunatic woman as I waited for DH to return from work. In my mind I had already mapped out the sequence of events – I would harass the shit out of DH (yes when I am angry I become the perfect bully though I have mellowed down a lot since then!), then pack my bags and move out.

You know some people know how to behave and when. The timing is so crucial when things are going wrong. Utter a wrong word at the wrong time and a relationship can break. Remain silent and you can iron out a lot of problems. But for the life of me I can’t be like that – I have to blow out, be blunt, make a lot of drama and then cool down. I try so desperately to be cool under tough situations, but I can’t.

Anyway, DH comes home and as anticipated I pounce on him. Imagine my shock and surprise when he shouts back at me for not trusting him and going through his emails. Things weren’t going the way I had planned. He threw at me statements like how could I not understand the feelings of a broken women and that he just did not want to become enemies with his ex just because they were divorcing? DH is the most logical and calm person that I know of, so a lot of his arguments did make sense. And I was desperately losing ground.

A few questions burned in my mind and these I was quick to ask him. Not only did it silence DH, but he actually walked away. If things were so simple, then why the hell didn’t DH tell me about all these mails and meetings with his ex much before? Why did I have to find it out this way? And why did G actually want to divorce him in the first place? I knew why I was divorcing my ex but what were his reasons?

Another thing too hurt me, but this was not the time to discuss it. DH is the hoarder in our relationship. He keeps things from the 1970s when his family was staying in Singapore. DH has emails of his ex-wife dating from yr 1998. But he has not saved a single email of mine from our courtship days. Reason – well to make things more special, he had a hotmail ID that was exclusive for our correspondence. Once we moved on from the mail writing stage to telephone calls, DH soon forgot that hotmail has this system of erasing all emails in an account if one did not log in once in 30 days. It is a different matter that I had print outs of all his emails! (So nothing was actually lost)

After about two hours DH returns and first apologises (victory!! what mattered more than the survival of the relationship was me winning the argument!), second DH declared that he would stop all correspondence with this woman (second victory!!). DH said that he too would have found it difficult if the roles were reversed and he understood perfectly well how I felt.

Oh hang on, things were going too smooth and I was not willing to let the situation sort out that fast. No it wouldn’t have been fair on me. All plans of getting married soon were scrapped, I would return to Dubai, get a job and we would continue corresponding. If we still found that we could trust each other then we would continue with our relationship.

You know I was not expecting that recalling this experience would take this long. I guess there is a Part 4 to this now. In the next part you will read how I took revenge on G and still am.

PS: I want to conclude the story in Part 4, but to be truthful it is still continuing even after 7 years.

A Role That I Play - Part 2

2011-03-16T23:31:00.000Z

I am the least patient person around. So instead of waiting for a few more days, I am just getting ahead with part 2 (thanks for the push anonymous).

I got on to DH's yahoo id and what do I see? Lots and lots of emails from his ex-wife. For the sake of giving her some respect (though she deserves none), let me call her G. First of all there was G asking for DH's help to get over the pain of the divorce! For Christ's sake - it was G who wanted the divorce in the first place....and of all the things asking your almost ex-husband for emotional support is definitely way off off my books. To top it all, G had left DH two years prior to our relationship.

G is a doctor from highly accomplished universities in India (MBBS and MD), then had come to the UK after marriage. Soon after she started working towards an Oxford Phd while working at the same University. So forget DH being the common factor; even if I had met G under different circumstances I would have been highly jealous of her.

In my mind I had already conjured up a very mean image of G. Why would a highly qualified doctor get married to DH - who at the time had no decent job to speak of and was just a double MA? Why did she come to the UK and instead of getting a job in London, soon moved to Oxford to do her Phd? Why did G always fight with DH's mom all the time (info about fight from DH's sister)? etc etc.

And then the icing on the cake - I saw a picture of G in the study. No No she wasn't beautiful. She was terribly ugly in my eyes and when I say ugly believe me ugly. I literally started crying. Remember this was all happening on the same day and I had not a soul to talk to. The picture was so insulting because if this was DH's taste in women, then was I that ugly too?

This led me to to G's yahoo Id and her emails. Now guess what? While G was corresponding with DH, she had also confessed via email to a close friend that she was divorcing DH because G had fallen in love with her married tutor!!

You know I am a straight, straight, straight person. You give me logic and I can understand your situation very well. But give me a complex, screwed up emotional story and I will spit at you. We all have a choice in life - make things simple or make it as complex as we can and get our lives miserable. At that moment, my situation looked terrible. Here I was in a strange country, so far away from anyone I knew - with no job and in teh company of a guy I thought I knew but who was now turning out to be a complete stranger.

In her emails G was ranting about DH to this friend and raving about how kind and gentle this tutor was. She wanted her pie and eat it too. I believe, in a moment of guilt G had applied for the divorce and now wanted DH back and not only was she writing to DH regularly, they were meeting up in Galleries and such so that DH could comfort her!! Just to set records clear, all the meetings and outings happened before I had landed in the UK.

For me this is like opening the pandora's box and though my posts are not laced with emotions believe me the events were tough on me. I have to cut this post short because here the story takes an ugly turn and I need to come back with Part 3.

A Role That I Play

2011-03-16T14:51:00.000Z

Eeprikka had asked for my perspective on the roles that Indian women play. Believe me, I did rack my brains to find out if I have anything unique to say. But no, not really. I am all that – Woman, daughter, sister, mother and wife (in that order) and have done and seen it all. I am so ordinary in my thinking that as long as something is not within my sphere of influence, I really don’t bother about it and to an extent even stop thinking about it.

Take for instance the tsunami in Japan – other than putting in some money towards the relief fund what else can I do? Nothing, nada, zilch....so all I do is scan the news like crazy and then switch off my grey matter when I get to bed.

OK now back to the topic at hand. There is one role that Indian women rarely play – one of a detective and that my friends is THE role that I play regularly and without shame. This is a long tale and you have been warned.

Now before I begin, let me say this...for this could be the root problem of my itch. I am jealous, yes JEALOUS of people who have the drive to study and make a success of themselves from what they have studied. Money makes me envious and that I can look beyond. But show me a person who has done a Phd or a specialization in say Medicine or something like that and I get green with envy. (Partly because I am one of those snobs that went against the grain and got a degree in Hotel Management!)

So my story begins in 2004, I had known DH, my boyfriend then, for a whole year. We corresponded regularly – with DH in UK and me in Dubai. The unique thing about our relationship was that we both were not divorced from our respective spouses. At the time, I had been separated for four years from my ex and DH for about 2 years from his wife. Things snow-balled quite quickly between DH and me.

We both knew we wanted to get married (to each other); so while the divorce proceedings were going on, I decided to quit my job in Dubai, stay with DH for a while and then get married here in the UK if things worked out fine. Now before people raise their eyebrows. Yes I cared two hoots about what people thought. If I had to get married a second time, there was no way in the world that I would do that without living with the guy for a few months and making love to this person a few times. Yes you heard me right. Would you ever buy a car without test driving it and checking its performance? And pleassseee...spare me the oh-I-am-pure thoughts.

Let’s move on with the story. So while DH went to work daily, I was at home cleaning the place, putting my touches and generally snooping around – including checking stuff on DH’s computer. During one of my stints, I happened to find a document containing some email passwords. Like a normal born-inquisitive person I did what came naturally to me. I got on to yahoo and checked my DH’s emails and because DH was the one who made a yahoo account for his ex-wife, the document had her email password as well.
Ignorance is bliss....so true. I say it from experience.

To know more about what happened next, come back to read part 2.

Pls tell me...have you snooped on your husband’s past? Do you have any story to tell? Do share.

Shopping Ban

2011-02-19T21:04:00.000Z

I have too many things on my mind now. So I guess I will break down my thoughts into various posts.

I don't earn well - there I have said it. Sometimes it is difficult for me to say it aloud. I have been working in this fantastic company for over ten years now and hold a reasonably good position. But when I compare my salary to what my colleagues in different countries earn, I have to bend down my head in shame. Being a remote employee, the other five members of my team are spread across Germany, France & Switzerland and I have no choice but to compare my salary to what the other team members earn. I am a bit surprised and a whole lot upset that my company pays better salaries in these countries than in the UK. The salary scale in the company is based on the industry standards of each country and therefore my boss tells me that I can't complain much. It is true; I have checked various recruitment sites and to be quite frank, my boss is correct.
The point here is that money per se is not what motivates me. I love my work and I do not foresee leaving this job for a lucrative one in the near future. My dad once said "What matters is not what you earn but how much you save from it." And I whole heartedly believe this. What gets me is that I am not smart enough to save anything from what I earn. Every year I get a salary increase and every year I manage to spend that entire amount. With each salary hike, my need to purchase rises proportionately.

Take last week for example, I got a hair cut in Geneva. Under normal circumstances it should have cost me nothing more than say sixty pounds, OK lets go on a really higher side seventy five pounds. Remember I have short hair now and all that I wanted was a trim. To top it all I was going to Toni & Guy located in the office premises and had subsidised rates for employees of the company. Guess how much I paid - no please take a wild guess at least. I paid CHF 148. That is about 100 pounds, yes one hundred pounds. In order words I paid about 7000 Rupees or 700 Dhs (yes coming from Dubai I always convert to Dhms as well). Hell no hair cut, no hair product is worth that much I tell you.

It began with the hairdresser asking me whether I would like to have deep conditioning done, I said yes. Then she cut my hair and sprayed some damn good hair product (my company product which I can't name here) and asked me whether I would like to buy it, I said yes. When it came to forking the money out, I nearly fell off my chair when I heard the amount. Now before you ask me - no I did not find out beforehand how much they would charge for the hair cut, the conditioning or the fancy product. This is why I call myself stupid. Money comes and flows out of my hands.

Two weeks back I was at the Frankfurt airport and bought myself a Bobbi Brown moisturising balm for forty four pounds. You know, I travel a lot and before this assignment I used to work for Duty Free sales. So I know the duty free prices like the back of my hand and I also know that within Europe Heathrow airport shops have the lowest prices. But no, I still went ahead and bought a damn moisturising balm from Frankfurt airport; the price at Heathrow twenty seven pounds. Even while I was paying for the product I remember telling myself - Chinty you are one fool to do this. I am not really sure but when out for shopping I somehow keep my brains back at home.

So where am I getting at. I am in a self imposed shopping ban for the rest of 2011 - no clothes, no make-up no nothing. Of course that does not mean I will not buy essentials, I will.

Nothing New On This Front

2011-02-16T15:42:00.000Z

I haven't really thought of anything specific to jot down here - life is as usual taking its course and I am going along with it.

On the health front I feel quite tired and don't have my usual appetite. At times I have this warped notion that I might be dying of cancer or something like that. Then I see flashes of my dad and mom crying. Shh...not good thoughts at all.

I travel every week. I visit Geneva and Frankfurt more than I do Central London. These days I even get my hair cut at Toni & Guy in Geneva. Talk about going to a different country to get a blooming hair cut. Isn’t this what celebrities do?

I miss A, Mom and Dad and am always on the phone with them. Spend a fortune every month on that.

Valentine’s – I didn’t do much, though DH wanted us to go out. I was moody as usual, which is nothing new. Come important days like New Year, Valentine’s, Easter holidays and I find something or the other wrong with our relationship and don’t do anything much to celebrate the day.

Better shoot off now – travelling again tomorrow and not yet ready with the presentation that I have to make.

I Like - Lists

2011-01-28T20:35:00.000Z

The thing with me is that once I post one entry, I want to write one more and then another and then another....you get the drift?

Anyway, let me tell you about an obsession:

I like making lists and I like buying calendars, diaries, journals - you name it, I have it. Funnily though I don't like post-its. The strip where the glue is sometimes gets really dirty and I can't stand that ugly strip.

Coming back to my list-making, do you know that I have a

- diary for things to do at work
- diary for things to do at home
- a planner for things that I have already completed at home
- a small cute girly diary for things that I need to remember - flight details (I don't take print outs any more and I don't think a Blackberry is the answer to all things!), hotel details, money that spend while travelling etc
- a diary for the calories I have burnt and the time spent on exercising each day. This diary is also used for jotting down whether I have taken my daily tablets, which clothes I wore on a particular day etc.

And above all, I maintain a journal - a real personal one - a beautiful black moleskin one and in there goes my deepest darkest secrets.

I think I am doing pretty good with these posts about my pretty mundane life...

Round Up of Jan

2011-01-28T20:18:00.001Z

Thanks Childwoman. Once in a while I need a nudge to be reminded that I do have a blog and one that has to be updated.

OK let's get an entry into Jan before it gets over.

To tell you the truth this month has been pretty adventurous till now, not that's not the right word, it has been full of events. So where do I start.....

Work:

I did not get promoted. No I was not expecting it. But my colleague, with whom I am very close to, did. I had a major rant with my boss - no, not because I did not get a promotion, but because he is leaving the department before he could work on my promotion for next year. My boss assured me that I would get good salary increases for the next five years and that he has worked on my career graph pretty well. I am not complaining - if there is no promotion, a good salary increase would do good I guess. Still I am not completely satisfied.

Last week on a trip to Belgium, all my colleagues (4 of us) ended up in my hotel room because I had a massive room with two double beds. We opened a bottle of tequila bought especially by one of the colleagues from Mexico. The colleague who got promoted got so drunk that he ended up sleeping in my room. We were all dead drunk, but the others could make their way to their rooms. No, I wasn't scared or anything like that. I was more worried that in my drunken state I would pounce on my sleeping colleague. Yes, the colleague is a guy. Now go figure what I meant by that.

Marriage:

We went to meet a counsellor. It was DH's idea. Funny that DH finds it difficult to talk to me at home. Yet once we are in an office with a counsellor, he does not have any problems in communicating. My gripe is that do we really need to pay a hell lot of money to just talk to each other?

There was only one question that we both could not answer in the session. The lady said "I can hear you both talk about doing some things her way and some things his way. Do you ever do some things "our" way?" Huh....no never. What is "our" way? We both were so lovey dovey for the past three weeks. We had to go for the session because DH had already paid for it. As expected, since we have got back from that session on Tuesday we have not talked to each other. DH does not want me to dissect the session at home and I do not understand why we cannot.

Son:

A is a brilliant boy and one who does not believe in studying at home. Nah...he refuses to touch his books. I have no clue how he passes his exams, but he does with good marks. If only he were to put some effort into his studies, he would stand first in the class. Sorry I am a mother who wants her son to do his best and be the best in everything. I do not believe that children should be left to enjoy themselves all the time. No, I am not cool that way.

Exercise:

The cross trainer got assembled last week. And in my room, it sits right in between my futon and dressing table. It's this huge giant right in the middle of my small room (by now you should know that houses in UK are really TINY). I use it regularly because I want to lose some weight and generally challenge myself. Exercising one hour on this machine has got to do more with mind over matter than anything else.

The new year has started off pretty mediocre, but I am still thankful for all my blessings.

This Year Will Be Different

2011-01-18T11:40:00.000Z

Who made this rule that when you post something in your blog it has to be something - worth mentioning, humorous, out-of-the box, for posterity, a rant, a rave, a moan etc. Hell I want to write about my daily life – my pure mundane, monotonous life – which though others might not be so interested in, I face it and go through it daily. Didn’t someone say – anyone can be courageous in the face of adversity, but it’s the daily living that shows just how tough you are?

So welcome to my new set of posts from this month. I will be talking about cleaning, cooking (if at all), my daily work, how I track my finances, my exercise regime, moments with my husband, talks with my son, my taste in music and what not. Just the ordinary stuff....but all me.

This is exactly how I feel today

2010-12-30T17:20:00.000Z

Music by: Yoshida Brothers
Video Link: http://www.youtube.com/user/yoshidabrotherstv

2010 - You will be remembered

2010-12-30T17:06:00.001Z

How can I let 2010 go without recapping the major events of the year?

Let’s start with the bad ones first because I would like to finish off on a good note....

The Bad

- Seeing my son A with his arm in a cast – all thanks to his dad getting aggressive over some stupid tennis match and receiving the news on my b’day.

- A not getting his UK visa!!!

- Numerous arguments with DH over my OCD. (He the hoarder and me the purger.) I am also obsessive about keeping things neat and tidy. I kid you not, my marriage was literally on the edge. We spent 22 days in the same house not talking to each other and frankly during this period I did not see DH even once. I was cooped up in my clean little room.

- With the new job that I started on 1st Jan, I stopped going to the gym. Result – same weight but completely un-toned body shape.

- Lost all interest in dressing up nice – with a relationship full of constant arguments and working from home, I had no reason to dress up!

- Giving up my Indian citizenship. Every time I hear mile sur mera tumhara I literally have tears in my eyes. I love being an Indian and believe that in about 10 years time an Indian passport will be worth more than having any western passport. But alas these justifications do me no good today. With the amount of travelling that I do for work, I just cannot afford to waste any more time in consulates for an entry visa.

- Towards the end of the year, I became a bit of an expert at my new job. And that resulted in me being a bit too aggressive for my liking. I like being confident but not too over confident.

The Good

- After 7 years of staying away from my son and being fearful about my ex-husband, all it took was seeing my son’s broken arm - overnight I developed balls of steel. My parents and I knocked all doors – the Police, the Court and finally I got my son’s custody back. There’s no greater joy than knowing that your kid is safe and sound.

- So yes A didn’t get his visa to the UK and right now it is under appeal with the appeal date set for April 2011. A not being with me no longer bothers me. Currently he is studying in a very good school in India and frankly speaking I have a very low opinion of schooling in the UK, especially schools in Southall where I live.

- If A does not ultimately get the right to live in the UK, I am planning to relocate to some other Western European country. I have that sort of option with my company. And I know that DH does not have any problem in joining me if I were to shift due to A.

- Ah my husband. Well 22 days of not talking to each other was just about what we both could take in terms of separation. Later we had the hottest make out session and then got down to discussion our problems and how best to get over them. Net net result – we both will adjust. Now how come we didn’t remember that before?

- Alright so I rarely get out of the house during week days and something tells me that I should make exercise part of my daily routine just like how it was in 2009. So I have now invested in a Reebok bike and cross trainer. Will be taking delivery of it soon.

- Not so sure why I lost interest in dressing up. I was the best turned out one in college and also in my previous company and took pride in my beautiful clothes. I guess God gives everyone a quota and if you finish it up too soon, you have nothing left for later on. My policy is comfort over style and even at work and during my business trips I wear my black jeans. This had to change, c’mon I am not yet 40. First things first – chopped off my waist length hair and now it’s just to my neck. I cut it first to shoulder length and then mustered enough courage to chip it all off. I look hot, if I may say so. Next was cashing in on the Christmas sale – I went to all the shops, even the ones online and have now bought enough outfits to last me a year. Strangest thing – I bought only dresses, not a single pair of trousers.

But above all I want to thank the Universe for two things – for having given me the strength to withstand all that came my way and for such a wonderful husband who patiently stood by me all the time.

And now I look forward to what's in store for me in 2011.

Update

2010-11-11T21:21:00.001Z

Sometimes you ask yourself why does the Universe keep throwing these hurdles at you every now and then. Why is that despite being a parent I can’t be a real mother to my son? Why this and why that?

You cry, you curse and you tear yourself up trying to find answers and then in a split second an answer comes along, an answer you never, ever thought of before.

I have been taking rounds of lawyer’s offices ever since A’s visa got refused. In the meanwhile, my parents have been scouting the country side to find a school for my son. After all, in pursuit of a visa A should not lose one year of school, especially now that he is in grade 9.

And guess what? Not only did they find a school in India and a fantastic school at that; but my son fell in love with the place at first sight. Forget the fact that I will have to fork out £3,000 pounds a year in fees, it is the type of schooling that I could never afford in the UK. Many of you know that I live in Southall, which is not exactly the type of place for a kid to grow up. I was being selfish I guess, I want him to live with me. I want to baby my son for the next four years before he becomes an adult.

So I haven’t stopped being optimistic. I will file for the appeal and I will go ahead with plans of getting the settlement visa for A. But I am no longer scared, no longer worried, no longer do I have to choose between living with my husband in UK or living with my son in India. My son has found his place and I have found my peace.

Whatever life dishes out to me, my son and I will endure and we will fight it out and be the ultimate winners.

Like my introduction says – If life is all about will-power, I want to know how long I will last.

Amen to that.

PS: Thought I would share an emotional line out of my appeal letter:

“In support of my son’s application, no additional evidence was provided simply because I was stupid to believe that no force or law in this world could separate me from my son after all the ordeal we have been through. You will note that we did not take the service of a lawyer to file the application which is what normally happens. After all the application was of a young son wanting to join his mother.”

BOO to VFS Chennai - His Visa Application Got Rejected!!!

2010-11-01T13:34:00.002Z

So now they expect my son to live with his grandparents and that is OK? Who made this law? You know this is going to sound too filmy (because I am finished and done with crying after hearing the news), but you have rocked a mother's heart and if I have to move mountains I will. VFS or no VFS, UK or no UK, my son WILL stay with me.

Edit: Thanks U - its not VFS Chennai, but the border security agency. But VFS is not that great either. I have had bitter experinces with them in the UK for Shengen visas.

One Good Thing About My Day

2010-10-13T22:00:00.000+01:00

Surely there must be one good thing that I can write about at the end of my day....well here’s my effort at it.

Gym and me – we have a love-hate relationship. It has always been on for a year and then off for another, more like out of sight out of mind. If you get me to the gym, I will sweat it out like crazy. But getting me to the gym is the toughest part. I say the toughest part because I am one of those few people who have the luxury of working from home and fortunately or unfortunately my fantastic subsidised-fee gym is located in the office building. The one hour drive to the office is not something that I enjoy.

Anyway back to my story. DH and I have been having really healthy meals these days – lots of green (mind you not heavily cooked like the Indian dishes), a bit of meat and soup. Even DH is surprised at the way I gobble up all the vegetables in my plate. Why did this happen? I love everything Korean and Koreans eat a lot of greens, get the drift?

OK – so that’s a tick mark on food and the next tick has to come on exercise part (because Koreans are lean too). Now this is where I have to take a reality check. A hypothyroid apple shaped person like me will put on weight, no matter what, even if I just breathe. But the least I can do is try. So well I will try.

This morning I woke up at 5:30, quickly put on my gym gear (a torn t-shirt and track bottoms – who really looks at you at 6:30 in the morning!!!) and headed to the office. Do you know just how calm and serene it is to drive at that time of the day – a clear road ahead and listening to your favourite songs? Not to mention – you get your favourite parking spot and can actually take eon ages at getting your car bang equidistant from the two white lines. I am OCD that way too. (How do you use the word equidistant – is it equidistant to, equidistant from or is that equidistant between?)

As I walked into the gym it all came back to me...just how much I missed the place, how I was one of those 1500 odd employee who actually worked out every day of the week and had complete attendance, even the gym instructor knew me by name. Well, those were the good old days.

With DH’s words ringing in my ears – start slowly, don’t try to do too much in a day - I sat on the exercise bike. All I wanted to do was just work up a glow, forget a sweat. With the timer on 30mins I started the slow ride. You see, the office gym has blaring music and then it gets too difficult to listen to one’s own MP3 player (no, I don’t have an ipod, don’t intend to, ever. I am one of those anti-Mac people). So at some point you stop looking intensely at the readings on the machines and gaze at your image in the mirror and then on the television playing aimlessly. Because there is nothing else to do, your mind wanders, then asks questions, gives answers, talks to you, coaxes you and tells you to hang on in there. Exercise is all about mind over matter – just how many times you can repeat the same act in 30 mins without boring yourself. All of a sudden I had an aim – to reach that 30th minute no matter what and to reach that 30th minute drenched in sweat. And so it went.

Not only did I complete 30 mins on the exercise bike, I also spent a good 15 mins with weights and when I walked into the office at 9:00 after a hot shower, I was on top of the world. It didn't matter how the rest of the day went...just for one moment I believed I could achieve anything....

What A Means To Me....

2010-09-21T15:06:00.001+01:00

Yes I am very very very happy that my son is going to join me – after 7 long years. But I am also very very scared. Why? Because after a certain point I started to think of myself as a single person – not as someone who has actually given birth. Does that make sense to you? One does not become a parent merely by giving birth, nurturing is one that changes a person to a parent and I have become pretty rusty in that department.

It’s been so long for A and me. We met each other twice a year – sometimes for 2 days and sometimes for a longer period like 15 days. His father always made sure that I never got to spend long enough time with my son. Every time we met the first one day went in trying to get to know each other, there is a shyness and awkwardness that comes across. But we both knew that we belonged together and tried to get beyond that feeling. Of course by day two everything was hunky dory. Then the day we had to say goodbyes to each other – just thinking of it brings tears to my eyes. I would see the solemn look on my son and I felt that I was letting him go into the lion’s cage (which was pretty much true though I always tried to deny the thought even to myself).

The last time we were in India together, I was trying to cross a busy road and my son called me “mummy” from across. For a second I didn’t even know who he was addressing – was it me? Do I look or even feel like the mother of a teenage kid? I don’t know. Both my brother’s and son’s names start with A and I get confused all the time. I often say “you know, A my brother....” when I am actually talking about my son and then I have to correct myself. That’s right, I think of A, not as a son, but as a sibling. We discuss everything under the sun and A (my son) is so mature that it’s so easy to talk to him.

I tell you guys – for a person who has been a part time mother, I am truly blessed. My son has turned out pretty normal and alright. He is friendly and kind; knows how to cook and take care of children (his father has two kids from a second marriage), is brilliant in studies and is a wonderful human being.

And when he joins me in the next two months, I intend to put aside all my fears and just enjoy being with him. I had put aside having a second kid ‘cause I could not bear the thought of how that would make A feel, with him being so far away from me and me giving all my love to another kid. Now I am too old to have a baby and A is my last and only hope to enjoy a kid...and by God I WILL do just that...

A's Visa Update & Misc

2010-09-20T14:37:00.000+01:00

I thought I would give an update on my son’s visa, since I got two comments on it.

We just got around to applying for his visa last Wednesday; the major delay being getting a British passport for myself. You see, I want to make my son’s application water-tight, i.e. under no circumstance should it get refused by the Border Agency.

Anyway, what I was totally unprepared for was the massive amount of paper work involved in applying visa for a kid travelling unaccompanied. I have literally provided details about my entire life, DH’s life – in true and original copies. No, I don’t want to think negative – hopefully VFS won’t lose any of our original documents.

Apart from the wait DH and I are palpitating over how we would welcome a 14 yr old boy into the household. Till now we have been enjoying life like a newly married couple (well not exactly – like a second time married couple). If DH feels like it, he can walk around naked (not that he has ever done it, but the option was always there!). With a teenager around we both are not exactly sure how we should behave at home. DH and I are melancholic people, immersed in our own worries and thoughts, we both need our space and do not like being questioned. Our laptops are a part of our body and we rarely get out of our respective study rooms. I bet with A around all that will change or has to change.

To start with I have had to give up my study room – this is A’s new room and I have moved my study table to the guest bedroom which means that we no longer have a guest room. Things will heat up next year when my brother with his two kids and my parents come over for my graduation. In case you do not know – an MBA degree is my 40th birthday gift to myself. God – I need something to show in return for all that sweat and blood, slogging over things that were really OHT for me (OHT = over-head transmission!!)

Side news – I cut my waist long hair and have taken a fancy to high-heeled shoes. The only thing I could do with my waist length hair was to single plait like a school girl or leave it open; due to the weight I could not put it up in a do or even curl them (the tongs weren’t long enough!). Now my mane stays just below my shoulder and I feel freer. No longer do I have to use oodles of shampoo and conditioner and wait for my hair to get dry. Of course I was so disappointed seeing it all being cut – but it was for the best. I truly look younger now. As to the high heels – I have always been a “comfort over fashion” girl (no woman) and high heels and mini-skirts are something I tried my hand at on 20s. But that’s all coming back to me. DH says that I am going through a mid-life crisis and I do believe him. I am going with the flow....

Random Musing

2010-08-07T09:01:00.000+01:00

Do I have confidence in myself? I believe I do. But then I can’t say much when I am being compared with the rest from my class of ‘92. I believe that I work for a good company, hold a good position and earn just enough money to keep me happy. Firstly I do not like comparing myself to someone else, secondly I don’t believe position and money are exactly good reference points for comparison. We all take what life gives us and try to make the best of it. It’s not as if we can plan our lives or career or even family for that matter; like Forrest Gump’s mama says – life is a box of chocolates.

When I talk to my ex-classmates the first question that pops out is what is he / she doing? Then - which company is she / he working for? How come we never start with questions like – where is this person? Is he / she married and how many kids to they have? Etc etc. Maybe questions about marriage and kids seem more personal in context and asking about one’s work appears sort of safe. Whatever it is I am not liking the way conversations go and I am equally guilty of it.

If status / position is a sore thumb, so are the questions on the personal front. When did you get married – uh four years back. Do you have kids – yeah a 14 yr old son. How come you got married just 4 years back and already have a 14 year old son? Well if you are bright enough – you will realise that it is my second marriage. Where is your son now? – living with my parents. How come? – ‘cause we are waiting for his UK visa to be processed. Why isn’t he with you already? – because he was living with his father in Dubai before this. Why was he living with his father? – ok let’s not even get into this....

Ah well by this time I almost wish I had not met my ex-classmate. Sorry but could we talk about something else. – weather, movies, whatever. I already look disinterested. OK so I am anti-social and prefer to be that way. Sorry folks – I like to keep things about myself to myself.

Whats The Secret Here

2010-07-27T19:17:00.002+01:00

We must be doing something right.

We hold hands, eat together, sleep hugging each other, talk about the day’s happenings, smile at each other and make passionate love. Now for other people this can seem quite ordinary, but for two melancholic, quiet souls like us this is like being in heaven.

If you had said a month back that DH and I would end up like this, I would have laughed at the very thought. But its true – we have never been more in love. We are like a newly married couple – smiling, touching, feeling. Just writing this post brings a smile to my face.

I sure hope I could zero down to the cause of all this. I want to keep this feeling going on and on and on and on......

Happier Now

2010-07-26T19:01:00.000+01:00

I am going to start with a clean slate. But I do need to record my ordeals lest I forget the lessons that I have learnt from it all.

April 15th saw me get stuck in Geneva. They said it was the volcano and with all the hotels in Geneva being fully booked, the nearest hotel was in the French side of the town. Not that it mattered much to me. But how long was I supposed to wait? With no guarantees for a flight in the near future, I managed to hire a taxi that drove me right down to my door step. 12 hours it took and I had a ball of a time with the people who shared my taxi. The experience was much better than any flight journey I would have had.

Lesson learnt: I cannot plan my life all the time. It’s the detours that make it worthwhile.

June 29th was my birthday. As I was about to start my dinner, I got a call. My son had just returned from the hospital with his hand in a cast and two stitches on the elbow. My ex-husband decided to have a go at my son because my son was not concentrating on his tennis match.

Lesson learnt: A man who raises his hand on a woman will invariably raise his hand on the rest of the family. And oh...once an asshole, always an asshole.

July 16th I spent wondering why I had waited so long to save my son from the clutches of my ex-husband. I will never forget the day as long as I live. My family used all our political connection and police might to pressurise my ex-husband into giving up custody of our son. It was a literal cakewalk.

Perfect strangers helped me and I am so humbled by their gesture.

Lesson learnt: When you put your mind to it, help comes from unexpected sources. Thank you God.

I am told that it would take three months for my son’s UK visa to process and in the meanwhile I can sleep in peace – my son is safe with my parents.

Current Korean Obsession

2010-04-12T09:04:00.002+01:00

Collector and Purger

2010-04-10T18:37:00.000+01:00

DH and I – I wish we argued, cribbed or fought. But we don’t. Fact is he is a clutter lover and I have obsessive-compulsive spartanism (OCS). I like to have the bare minimum of things and he loves to have all his life possession around him. We both accept the fact, it’s just that we can’t live with each other knowing that fact.

Why is that people think that once you have love, good food and a house – everything is OK between a husband and wife? Why do people think that love and understanding can conquer all – it can’t.

Why can some people turn a blind eye to their spouse’s shortcomings and other’s can’t? Why can some people say Ok that’s it, let’s carry on with life – it’s never going to be all that perfect.

You know what – I have just one bloody life, ONE blooming life. And I will touch 40 next year. So I am NOT willing to compromise, I will not compromise. I am not going to live the next 20 years being suffocated by all this clutter.
I am not sure what I am going to do about it. But till then I am going to whine in here.

Making Friends

2010-04-10T18:15:00.002+01:00

So what does a person who has trouble making friends do – get on a site called “Fishing for Friends”. Hell if I can dig out a husband from Bharatmatrimony.com, I can surely get a friend from another site. And so I did.
Last week I got two replies – one from a lady in Ealing and the other from Reading.

I have just come back after spending a Saturday lunch with the Ealing lady (EL). A black lady who is married to an Indian from Gibraltar – I tell you my world is getting smaller and smaller. I had such a good time chatting with EL. We shared work, family and kid stories. I even shared my newly found “Korean” obsession.

The Reading lady (RL) and I have been conversing a lot over the phone. We talk to each other at least thrice a week. So yeah it has been good so far. RL is single, Muslim and used to live with her mother till very recently. She seems to be like a person who needs a lot of emotional support.

Both these ladies are my age group – well slightly older. But I am having a ball of a time. And for the time I am going to keep all my prejudices locked up.

Oh How I have Changed

2010-04-10T17:40:00.000+01:00

There was a time when....

I believed that love was the be all and end all of everything....now I know that that love goes out of the window once you get married. And what really lasts is friendship – yes even with your partner.

I fell for older men....now as I grow older I eye younger men. (Hey just because I mentioned marriage above doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten that men exist!!)

I knew my son needed me....but now it’s me who needs my son.

I thought that looking, talking and seeming to be stronger was asserting my feminist nature...now I know that nobody cares a shit about it other than myself. I want to be girly, I want to wear dresses and be a coy person (now that’s a challenge)

I thought that if you didn’t become someone by 30 you were doomed for failure....now I know that it’s all in my head.

I could never find a connection with my parents....now I can’t go a week without talking to them at least three times.

I hoped that if I tried harder I could get along with my son’s father...now I know that he is a hopeless case. He is one person who I can never get to like and I need not feel guilty about it.

To Geneva - 23/03/10

2010-03-23T18:05:00.001Z

Travelling is a major part of my new job that I started on 1st January. And one of the things that I promised myself is that I would keep an uncensored journal of all my travels (not exactly of sightseeing, but of my thoughts). So here goes a few pages from my journal that I carry around with me.

Of all the places in the world, I believe, airport is one place that one feels the most lonely. I mean there is a sea of people around, the place is buzzing with activity – shoppers looking for a bargain, families searching for good restaurants and here I am all alone. Not that me writing all these, sitting all alone at this Est restaurant makes a damn difference to anyone, it doesn’t. Maybe I was looking at easing some of my loneliness at home by coming to the airport earlier – three hours earlier. But now I realise there was no need for that – I am still lonely.

I need a buddy – that is what I want, a young buddy. Isn’t it funny that all the while you wanted to be in the company of older people, people more mature than yourself and now that you are older you want to around younger people. OK so back to Est café – had something that resembled an omelette – a frittata she said. No didn’t like it much – too large a portion with potatoes and tomatoes. I rather like a plain omelette. By the way, why do they have such large portions these days. Do they want people to get fat? Or do people want to eat more. Anyway my dish had three fourth left over. I always feel a bit guilty when I throw away food. Bu I have just about managed to control my appetite and have reduced from 70kgs to 65kgs just by controlling my diet. No way – there is no way that I want to finish everything on my plate.

A nice looking guy just came and sat next to my table. We both looked at each other at the same time – shit why did I do that? I quickly averted my eyes. There’s no need to give any vibes when you know that nothing can possibly happen. Oh by the way – do I know how to give vibes?

I think the taxi driver who drove me to the airport was quite taken in by my personality – dare I say my looks. Hang on Chinty, are you by any chance giving yourself a cheap boost here? No, I mean really – either that or he was flirting with me. But flirt, I doubt very much. He was older and did even say that he has kids of my age. Is there really an age for flirting? Wouldn’t I flirt with a young 20 yr old guy? Of course I would – especially now when I am obsessed by “KB” a young Korean actor who is just 21 yrs old. (I don’t dare write “KB’s” name or else my blog will come on all searches!!) Just before leaving home I watched an episode of his Korean drama and that boy has done a good job. There was this scene where he kisses an older woman and I was thinking to myself – would a 21 yr old boy know how to kiss a woman. What a silly thought – I knew how to kiss a guy when I was 19.

Now I am sitting at the lounge waiting for the gate to open. Did the usual passenger thing – went to all the duty free shops, scanned and scrutinized items, contemplated whether I should buy a couple of Clarins lipstick and then decided against it. These airport visits are getting extremely expensive. I end up buying items that I really do not need or use. Usually they are make-up items. Today surprisingly I felt like buying a handbag. It was at the shop called Collections. Well there was this DKNY bag that I am palpitating over – beautiful bag I tell you – nice square shiny big thing calling out my name. I almost purchased it – but it sadly lacked a zipper on top and with the sort of travelling I do, it didn’t feel like it ticked all my boxes. Things could easily fall out of it on the scanner. As I was leaving the shop, saw the Radley bag – similar to DKNY but the same zing. Both were prices reasonably at £123 & 108 respectively, quite a good price for a working lady’s bag.

The gate opened five minutes earlier than the announced time of 18:40 and I was one of the first few passengers to make my way to gate #49. I could see the other passengers hurrying to their gates. Why are people always in a hurry at airports? I mean what else is there to do other than eat, shop and wait for your flight? But yet people hurry. I walked at the slowest pace possible. Didn’t want to sit and wait around an extra second.

So in the flight – I am sandwiched between two guys and I was quite hesitant to take out my journal. In the end it’s not like anyone cared – I took it out. Slept for some time, listened to my music, had a lousy dry sandwich they served. I wondered whether I would find the hotel coach outside the arrivals.

PS: I think (not sure) that the guy sitting next to me was trying to read what I was writing. Hope he appreciated my handwriting (I have to admit I do have one). With care I closed my journal. No snoopy eyes here.

A Time For Tears

2010-02-05T13:01:00.003Z

You know I don’t cry much. I can feel sad, depressed, lonely and be silent for a long time, but never cry. I don’t think myself as too strong it’s just that tears don’t come unless it’s a situation that involves my son.

Having said that I cried recently (twice!!) - I happened to watch the new release of Mile Sur Mera Tumhara and shed buckets of tears. I miss India, I miss not being part of India’s growth and most of all I miss home and the flavour of the country. What the hell am I doing in this cold, bleak, wintry place I have no clue.

The second time my eyes welled up when my new boss send me a chat message asking me whether I was happy? Oh my God, since when did bosses start asking this sort of question?

As to whether I am happy at work - for the first time I can say that I am truly content with what I am doing.

A Surprise Visit

2010-02-05T12:55:00.000Z

When you really call out to that higher being, he somehow answers your prayers. My son got the opportunity to visit me last weekend. My baby won a tennis tournament in Dubai and was selected to play the world finals here in London. Can you imagine my kid travelling all over the world! Who would have thought this?

Anyway, I was told that being part of the team from Dubai baby would have to stay with his team in a hotel at London. Shhh....my son comes to London for two days and I can’t even get him to stay with me!!

He was supposed to arrive at 2pm on 28th and on the same day that I had an appointment at the Belgian Consulate. DH suggested that I go to the consulate since it was with great difficulty that I had got the appointment. But then what does a man know about being a parent? There was no way in hell I would not surprise my son at the airport.

Luckily for me the tennis authorities in London allowed baby to stay with me, the only condition being that I would ensure that he gets to the courts at 9:30 am. Hey that was cool.

So for two whole days – Saturday and Sunday, my son was with me. Even while sleeping he was next to me. I don’t care if my son is 13 or 23, if he feels that he wants to sleep next to his mother, I will let him do so. And when those moments are so rare and far between, I can’t say no.

Helpless

2010-01-24T12:16:00.000Z

Dear God,

I usually don’t call out to you; I believe that I should do everything in my capability before I use that luxury. This time, however, I can do nothing but stand hundreds and hundreds of miles away while hoping for the best.

Why is it that some Malayali men think it is their birthright to hit women and kids? Why is it that one such men happened to be my son’s father and why is it that this horrible man has the right to hit my son? Even thought it is only once in a blue moon can you imagine how it is to be on one end of the telephone while your 13 yr old son cries on the other end? The sheer helplessness is indescribable. If I could get away with it, I would kill that man.

I know he takes care of my son in the best possible way that he knows. But should an adult hit a kid?

And why is it that I don’t have the balls to go and save my son from that monster?

God show me a way please.......

My ex-boss - P

2010-01-19T22:24:00.000Z

I finally got back at my ex-female boss P in my own sweet way. It might seem so, what shall I say – insignificant, but it marks a big leap of confidence for me. First let’s get over the “female” emphasis here. I believe there are good women bosses just as there are good men bosses. But when it comes to bad bosses women take the cake over men any day. They can get mean, vicious, ugly and conniving. One has to experience it to know it. Coming back to P, she was none of these. P is someone who can smile at you and stab you royally at the back. She would praise you for doing something and then make that praise sound so artificial – beats the purpose really if you ask me. She would say so and so person said this and that about you (UNPROFESSIONAL!!).

P is also the first person to tell me that in order to get a promotion I should know how to lick up to her bosses. Hmm...did I hear that right? C’mon we are not talking about a small grocery store here. We work in a global multi-national company which has more than say 200,000 employees across the globe. P desperately needs to go for a man-management training. Any way P has worked in the same dept for 20 years and has seen people go in and out of the department. P’s strategy worked, ‘cause in the end she ended up being the boss. Now all this is fine. Problem is P has a soft spot for men. She quickly rewards men and tortures the women in her dept.

I could not figure out why till P finally, after a few drinks at an office party, told my colleague that her mother had abandoned her when she was 15 and she lived with her Dad whom she adored. OK so now what am I supposed to do with the information? My colleague told me that I should understand where P was coming from and why she behaved the way she did. I am sorry, but when you enter the door to the office building, please keep your worries, complexes and insecurities outside. I am not the one to stroke your sorrows.

Let’s come back to P and me. P begrudgingly approved of me. I cared two hoots about what she thought about me and I was too damn good at my job. You know, after a certain age, you don’t need someone to tell you you are good if you are genuinely good. The people around you will gush enough about how they need to get in touch with you to get work done. But during the three years that I worked with P she gave me crap increments and no rewards at all. So it was but natural for me to look for another job in the company, which I did and got selected in a one week flat.

I am happy with my decision to leave P’s dept and go to a dept where the male boss is really nice. Hey if a woman boss is not good enough then you go for the other gender.

Today I was called for a quick chat with P. Apparently P is responsible for this year’s annual salary increase as I had spent the good part of the year working in her dept. So P made it sound as if I had to attend this chat as she wanted to reward me for my good work. And the reward guys – a piddly 5% increase. Feel the fire coming out of my eyes, ears and any orifice that I have when I heard this. I don’t care how the global economy is doing, all I am bothered about is that my company is doing fantastically well and I should get better than a 5% increase.

I waited for exactly two minutes before I blurted out – “P do you have anything more to tell me? If you don’t I would like to end this chat.” Having said this I just walked out of the huddle room with my head held high. P, I believe, had thought that I would smile, thank her for what she had done and probably even licked her feet for it. Sorry I have had enough of this woman. And if you can’t beat the woman, then walk away. Amen.

Never in her life has P had a subordinate cut her short mid-way. And this, my friends, is my small little glory.

On making friends

2010-01-15T20:00:00.002Z

I am not really sure whether it’s me or has this got to do with age? I used to be so good at making friends, real friends. Friends who do not judge me because of what I wear, where I work or the house I live in, friends with whom I can share my problems with, consult, laugh with. Where are these types of people now and why is it so difficult for me to find them in this country? Surely I haven’t changed that much in these past three years and just because you change countries that doesn’t mean you have to lose that ability to make friends.

I talk to my colleague and my husband – that’s about it. It gets me real sore that I don’t have a buddy to go to a spa with, to watch some chick flicks or go out for a drink. Hell this country is supposed to have a fantastic night life – so why I am feeling so left out?

Please don’t get me wrong here – I am not a terribly lonely person, I don’t have the time to be lonely. It’s not like my life here in the UK would be a great misery without company, just that it would have been a bit more fun.

I know what’s lacking. I need some focus in life, some inner strength to keep myself carrying on.....

Art & Books

2010-01-15T15:34:00.001Z

Last Saturday we weathered the snow to go to Tate Modern to watch John Baldessari. For once I have to say – I walked out of that place not really understanding what the hell John Baldessari was all about. Sorry arty guys not everything I see I like. DH says that art is sometimes educative and not entertaining or informative. Whatever! I just feel bad that we spent money to watch that work.

Finished reading Bitter Sweets by Roopa Farooki. Let me say this - it didn’t tickle my grey cells; yet another story of a generation of sub-continent family trying to find their footing in the UK. I am so over that genre. But what did grab my attention was The Professor and The Housekeeper by Yoko Ogawa – fantastic book about a housekeeper taking care of a professor who has loses his memory every 80 minutes and the profound influence of the professor on her son and her. Beautiful read I tell you and the chapters have such a great flow to it. Never a boring second.

Lost.....Again...

2010-01-14T21:37:00.000Z

I love reading other blogs especially blogs about people and their lives, not the ones that concentrate on any one particular topic like cooking or books or art or babies but the ones that talk about life – their ordinary day to day lives. But the more blogs I read blogs of this nature the more I don’t feel like writing mine. I feel that I talk absolute nonsense; my blog is one without passion, without substance. I am what you call a vain person; I talk about no one else but myself and am so superficial even about it.

This is because deep, deep inside I still am an insecure person. I can talk about my work, the people around me, the stuff I buy, the things that I see but by God I can’t talk about what I feel about them. That would be too much for me, to reveal my thoughts, deep deep hardcore uncensored thoughts to someone. It would strip me of being the person that I really am.

The very fact that my second marriage is surviving is because I have a fantastic husband; it has nothing to do with me. He takes care of me and gives me the space that I need. And that’s a whole lot. I am always lost deep in my thoughts and am no good in doing day to day family life, most of the time I am completely oblivious to what’s happening around me. World politics and the unhappiness of people do not interest me, neither am I strong enough to take responsibility of someone’s happiness. My own son lives with his father and as long as I know that he is having good food to eat, getting good grades in school and having a fun time living with his father, I am OK. When I talk to him daily I want to hear him happy. And that makes me happy.

Other than work, I am not into anything. Things interest me only for a short period of time. I can’t get myself to see through a project or concentrate on any one thing that takes time. So what’s the point of this post.....I am not really sure. What I do know that is that I am on the brink of getting lost....lost again..... and a new year has just about started.

My Mother is an Indonesian....and well I could be a Korean

2010-01-07T22:34:00.000Z

My mother always says that in her past birth she was an Indonesian. I have no clue why she says that ‘cause she has never visited the place nor read a single book on Indonesia. This is something that I have never understood about her. I have often asked her why she thought that way. And the standard reply has always been that in her dreams she is always an Indonesian.

My dreams have always been about being chased by small snakes – cobras really with small flared up heads. The other recurring nightmare is where I blow up like a balloon and finally burst.

Anyway recently I have developed a craze for all things Korean – Korean movies, food, music and even makeup. And oh I find Korean guys so hot and handsome. Maybe in my previous birth I must have been a Korean. Let’s see if one day I’ll tell my son about it and the reasons I give him for it.

For the time being I am content in pouring over You tube for Korean movies and reading through blogs upon blogs learning how Korean women wear their subtle make-up. Do you know that Korean women are more into skincare than make-up?

I just finished watching a Korean movie right now – Changing Partners (with Eng subtitles on You Tube) and am in a bit of a high ‘cause of it.

I want to look sophisticated too

2010-01-06T23:24:00.000Z

You know my mother never really taught me any girly stuff while I was growing up. It was dad who bought my clothes till I was old enough to select my own. But when it came to my mom, other than initiating me to the “women’s garment”, I don’t think she really did much. Everything I know is self taught by observing my classmates and later on in my life from reading magazines. Take waxing for instance – I came to know of this painful but wonderful procedure at the age of 18 when I joined college. Till that time my knowledge never extended beyond the usual razor. Nail polish – I remember in 12th std I saw my classmates using these. They sported long nails and colourful tips. Unfortunately for me, and due to my background, I still have close clipped nails. Then there are the high heel shoes – I love it, but I cannot for the life of me wear them. They give me terrible back pain and I have never worn high heels. I shot up to my current height of 5’6.5” (yes that 0.5 does make a difference) while still in secondary school and most of the time, I used to tower over my teachers and was assigned the back seat in the classroom. At that time I just wanted to blend in by becoming short, so there was no question of getting enamoured by high heels.

Then lipstick – I think I started wearing lipstick when I turned 20 or 21.

On a typical day, I go to the office gym in the morning. This means that I have to carry my office clothes to work; so it has to be something crumple-free and easily foldable. Hope you are getting the drift here – translate that to jeans and a casual shirt. Once gym is over, I take less than an hour to have my shower and dress up. Because I have waist length hair, I don’t have time to blow dry it (not that I would ever blow dry my hair – gives me a headache. Again once of those things which my mother forgot to teach me while I was younger). So here I am walking into the office building in my jeans with wet hair (no not dripping). (I must admit that my wet hair is something that brings me close to feeling like a typical mallu!!)

So what’s the point of this post? I wish the art of make-up and looking polished came naturally to me. It’s too late to crib about it now, but when I see all these women at work looking as if they just stepped out of the beauty parlour in the morning, I get jealous, very jealous...and I am old enough to understand that looks are very important when it comes to making that very first impression.

Talk to me and I can bowl you over, but look at me...and I would give you the impression of still being a tom-boy, albeit one with long-hair.....

Sophie Calle.......and Me

2010-01-06T11:58:00.001Z

On 2nd I went to Whitechapel to see Sophie Calle’s exhibition. I have to confess that before going to the venue I knew nothing, absolutely nothing about Sophie Calle. DH is usually the one making decisions on which exhibitions we should go to, it is his forte; I am the dumb one in this department.

Thing with me is that once I am in an exhibition I could spend hours and hours and hours there and Sophie Calle’s was no exception. We reached Whitechapel at 11 am and left the place at about 4 in the evening; we didn’t have lunch. Now I am no reviewer and this is just my personal take on her work. The piece that I liked a lot (well a lot of pieces) is called Take Care of Yourself. Sophie Calle was dumped by her boyfriend via an email message. This email, Sophie sends to 107 profession women and asks them to interpret the letter via their profession. There was a shooter, a DJ, a bharatnatyam dancer, a mimic, a ballet dancer, a lawyer, an actress etc etc. To say that I was enamoured would be an understatement. She turned something that gave her a lot of grief into a triumph. I mean I have broken off with ex-boyfriends in similar fashion, but nothing has ever prompted me to make these a public knowledge. My feelings and the way I handled them were so private, I internalised them. So to see someone shout out the message without being too mushy or tacky about it was eye opener. There were other pieces of equal interest too. One about finding an address book of a stranger and then contacting the friends from the address book to learn about the stranger.

For a non-arty person like me, this turned out to be quite an interesting trip.

I love it when people talk about art and then they drop names like they have known these artists all their lives. I, for one, have the memory of an elephant (which by the way means none) and for the life of me can't remember names (even if I have spent hours gawking at their work). If ever a conversation steers towards a known artist, I have always got to turn to DH and say ...oh you remember that exhibition we went to...whats his name? By that time it becomes apparent that my interest is relatively new and that I am a freshie in the field. Oh how I hate it when I come across like that.....

Edit: 30in2005 just reminded me that an Elephant's memory is good. Whats the opposite of an elephant's memory...thats what I have....

To work or not to work....from home

2010-01-04T15:47:00.000Z

I work in an environment that follows something called an agile office policy. This means that you do not have a desk assigned to you. When you come to the office, you need to get hold of the first desk that you see in your department and for that entire day that particular desk becomes your desk. But when its time to go home you have to clear the desk of all your items ‘cause the next day that very desk might be used by someone else. Companies adopt agile office policy in order to save on space and the cost that it incurs.

While the above is the actual policy of the company, most of the employees have their own desks. A select few work from home and a fewer than that hot desk. Hot desks are empty desks in each department and anyone from any department can use them. When you have a UK office that has 900 odd employees and an office that can accommodate only 600, you do have to slip between working from home and office.

Anyway the point in concern here is me. I am territorial by nature; I need to have a desk with pictures of my son, a calendar, my large flat computer screen, a flask of hot water and a small make-up pouch on my table to even call it my workspace. It should be devoid of any dust with no clutter what-so-ever caused from paper piles. Phew too many requirements really; but not so today - it’s my first day at the new job and guess what? I do not have a desk; in fact I do not have a department at all. My department is based in a Western European Country and I work from the UK office – technically called a location free employee. So it’s no wonder that without a boss here no one really cares whether I come to the office or not.

Alright so I should work from home. But hang on I like dressing up for work in the morning, having lunch with my ex-colleagues and taking part in a bit of general gossip. Apart from these reasons, the frugal in me uses the company-gym daily which costs just £18 a month and also shops at the staff shop every week (its very very cheap I tell you!!).

The obvious solution would be to work a few days from home and the rest from work. But you see I go to the gym 5 days a week and I just can't sacrifice that. Now I am in a fix really – what should I do? Hang on the desk (by working from home. Yes, I do have a nice clean desk) or make use of what the company building has to offer – an almost free gym and staff shop. Either way I lose...or a win perhaps?

Mean Me

2010-01-02T00:15:00.000Z

What do you do when you see your husband's ex-wife's current picture on facebook?

You look at the picture very very carefully for a few minutes and then break out into a big grin - 'cause you believe you look much much more beautiful than her.

Yes, I know I am very mean that way......

Another First - Couple Resolutions for New Year

2010-01-02T00:11:00.000Z

I tell you - even before it has started 2010 is turning out to be a year of resolutions. First it was me making a few and today DH and I sat together (which we quite rarely do) and made some couple resolutions. I am not getting into the details, but here are the key points:

- Weekly Cooking - who would do what and when.
- Eating Out - Stop eating out locally and limit these to only when we get out of Ealing area.
- Entertainment - Atleast once a month go to a gallery / museum, booking reading, theatre etc
- Finance -Save a fixed amount before we decide to drain out our salaries every month
- Intimacy - I quote DH here - mood cultivation, ambiance creation, kinky dressing, oil massages etc
- Home - clear clutter, clean up Garden, Shed and Study rooms.

And now back to my resolutions - today I forgot to take my tablets and managed to drink only two glasses of water. Hmmm....I guess I have the rest of the year to follow through.

A First - New Year Resolutions

2010-01-01T01:36:00.000Z

OK let’s get done with the New Year’s resolution. Haven’t been much into resolutions anyway and I don’t think I should make any life changing plans now. I am just a bit old to think that life takes an unexpected great turn by the 1st of a year. Baby steps, that’s what I am good at and I’ll stick to it thanks.....

I know the below sounds pretty petty, but for me it’s an effort to achieve even some of these.

- Drink eight glasses of water daily (I just can’t get myself to remember this and I can go on for days without remembering to drink water. And no I do not take fizzy drinks)

- Stop reading women’s magazines – just a waste of my time. I get so many from my work place and really c’mon how many times am I going to read how to get a great orgasm!!

- Accompany DH on all the grocery shopping trips. I feel so bad that while my hubby goes around shopping for food items, I sit cosy at home. (And just for info – he does the cooking while I do the cleaning. Yes, he is the one to get the cleaning supplies as well)

- Limit eating chocolates to once a week. Today I had four bars of Milky Way (my favourite); this should give you an idea about my addiction to sweets. Oh by the way I am not overweight, just worried about getting some sugar related problems in old age.

- Take medicines morning and evening. I am hypothyroid and have to be on medication all my life. Again, I tend to forget to take my tablets daily.

- Once a week pamper myself – manicure, pedicure, oil my hair, apply mask and steam my face. I am so terrible at doing girly stuff by myself. Used to go to the salon once a week in Dubai. All that stopped when I came to the UK three years back; more so because of the horribly expensive rates at a decently good salon here.

- Update finances once a fortnight. Here I am just lazy. I am the financier at home and am bullish about jotting down each and every penny that we have spent. I collect all the receipts and often update my “excel file” just once a month.

- Go on ebay only when required. OK I confess I am an ebay addict. I can’t live without Google and Wikipedia – and ebay too is going that way.

- No more make-up purchase. I am well on my way out but it had almost become a second hobby – buying make-up. (Not that I ever use make-up. I am a cream and powder kind of person)

- Write three blog entries per week. This is really a no-brainer if you have been reading my blog. I am one of those “once a blue moon” blogger and it pisses me no end. I have so many things going on in my life and why can’t I just find the time to write about it.

- Read at least twelve books this year - I used to read so much during my college days and in my 20s. All that just dwindled down as I grew older. Borders just closed down last week and we managed to buy quite a few stuff from there. Because I am the impatient sort, I have already finished reading Lovely Bones, Gregory Peck’s biography and After River. With the New Year I shall start on Bitter Sweets by Roopa Farooki.

- During Summer – clear out as much as clutter as possible. No, not mine – all part of husband’s history.

- This is the toughest of the lot – Complete studying two units a week. If I ever find myself not able to sleep, all I have to do is start reading one of my modules. I swear it’s not that the modules are boring, just that I lack concentration. Maybe that’s another area I need to work on.

Ah well...lets see how many I can accomplish.

A bit surprised now

2009-12-09T19:00:00.001Z

I have a 101 things on my mind, I am always lost in thoughts, I could spend hours on my own and yet when it come down to writing a post I am blank. But now I have this intense desire to post more just because I have some news in my life. I want to jot down each and every second for posterity. One day my son will get to read this and I want him to know that I was just a normal, ordinary woman who needed external things to keep herself happy.

Imagine my surprise now when I found out that I have exactly one follower. I mean God, how could this be? I don’t post for months and yet someone is interested in what I have to say even if it is once in a blue moon.

New Year New Beginnings

2009-12-07T18:48:00.000Z

I am at the second phase in my career now. I have always been in sales, marketing and finally demand planning. Now I will be in manufacturing and it scares the hell out of me. It is such a drastic and exciting shift that I can’t believe I had the balls to make this move. Even after applying for the new job, I had no clue what exactly the job was about. All I knew and wanted to know was that because I could understand a word about the job responsibility, it would be a major challenge for me and that I would learn a whole lot.

The to-be new boss has a completely different way of working – no micro management, no requirement to be put in cc of every mail and the best of all doesn’t really care whether I work from home or the office. While I do have to keep him informed of my travel schedule and major issues I do not have to get his permission to do everything. This alone makes the job so interesting. To be free from corporate chains.

2009-09-14T12:09:00.003+01:00

As expected he went to bed early last night and I joined about an hour late. When I got into the bed his back was turned towards me. Then after tossing for some time I put my arm around him and hugged him; because I love him a lot....

2009-09-13T22:48:00.002+01:00

It has been five years since I requested him to clear his study room. Every birthday of mine, I would ask him for only one present – to clear this room. And till date it has never happened.

Now I believe five years is enough time for some one to clear-out a 10ft x 6ft space. But no, not where it concerns him; he needs to hang on to old bus passes, books which he bought in his fifth grade, love letters that his first girlfriend gave him and magazines that he purchased as a college student. Alright so I am not exactly the type of person who hangs on to the past, no make that I NEVER hang on to my past – past is something that I erase conveniently especially if it is no longer required for my present.

If past were just memories, I can understand that, but when past becomes clutter and that too clutter in MY house, I just cannot stand it. In fact clutter of any kind makes me go crazy. Yeah go on call me an OCD of some sort and I won’t deny it. What do you want me to do? Go to some shrink and moan that I can’t phantom living with my husband because he doesn’t keep the study room clean? HIS study room clean?

Now let’s just broaden the situation a bit more – when there’s video tapes and more video tapes in the living room (yes he is in the process of converting it all into DVDs!!), there’s books and paper cuttings in the kitchen and the guest cupboard gets converted to yet another storage unit – I tell you my blood just gets boiling.

I am sorry, but compromise in a marriage is acceptable only when one can remain sane with what’s required to be done. Every weekend as I dust and clean the house, I kill a part of myself. There are just too many things to be done and I am not allowed to do as I please.

Why can’t he be like my father? He left everything concerning the house to my mom? That was her territory and she did as she pleased........

On Comments

2009-08-04T13:32:00.002+01:00

It took a comment from 45 mins for me to actually remember that I had a blog and one that I had wanted to update often.

Anyway back to the blog and why I went off it.

Not sure whether anyone read the comment on my previous post, but here it goes:
"What kind of mother leaves her son in another country for a man???? And at an age when he needs his mother? You disgust me. You are a pathetic excuse for a mother."

I can’t put into words my first reaction to those lines. I remember laughing for a few seconds. But it was a laugh that accompanies a certain redundant pain. Yeah sure I live away from my son and while it is not an ideal situation, it is something that hurts me just as much as it hurts my son. Hey no one says that life is fair. And to think that a stranger, living somewhere could pass a remark about my situation without having a damn clue about anything was beyond me.

That whole day I spent more time thinking of “anonymous” than even about my son. I felt sorry for this person really. DH and I debated for a while who could write something like this – a man or a woman. I said a man – a woman would be more sympathetic to my situation. DH said a woman – because a man would never be so spiteful in such a bitchy manner! In the end we both agreed that anonymous had a lot of unresolved issues, was someone who could have been abandoned / cheated by a loved person etc etc. And the only way they could possibly handle their frustration was to write mean comments on other’s blogs. He / she didn’t even have the balls to put a random name for the fear of being identified! It must be so awful being in the shoes of “anonymous”.

Coming back to comments in general – there are certain things that I feel so strongly about. Some times I too read certain blogs and I have comments coming out of my ears. But these have never been in a spiteful way, I might want to give some unsolicited advice, write about how I would handle a situation ... but that’s where I stop. Who am I to judge you? Who am I to tell you what’s right and what’s wrong? Who am I in the whole scheme of “your” world? I guess it take a bit of understanding and maturity when you are peeking into other’s lives and judging them.

Some of you may ask me why I didn’t just delete this comment instead of publishing it. Yeah I could have done that – but where’s the thrill of giving “anonymous” a piece of my mind. Where’s the thrill of getting this whole thing off my chest?

Phew.... now that felt good. And thanks 45 mins for waking me up.

Where's The Time?

2009-05-25T21:07:00.000+01:00

Last week I had, a friend from college-days, come over from Nigeria and it was like a mini reunion with another friend from Reading joining in for dinner at Weybridge. We shared the usual stories on who was doing what, got married when and had how many kids. Some where along the conversation it dawned on us that the last time we had met was seventeen years back. Almost makes you gasp, not at the passage of time, but that you are seventeen years older since then. The thought that went through my mind was more like you mean if a kid was born the day we left college he / she would be seventeen years old (nearly an adult) and its minor things like that which I find difficult to mentally digest.

Now that I will turn thirty eight this year, I feel somehow I should be mature, more responsible and all that stuff which one normally assumes one’s parents to be. But I feel none of that. When my mom was thirty eight I was nineteen. She seemed so grown –up and had mummy-looks. Does that mean, I have mummy / aunty type looks now? Have I aged just like my mom? Not that I care much about developing wrinkles and having grey hair, but I can’t seem to find any of these on me.

Some times I even get overwhelmed with a sense of restlessness. This bank holiday weekend I wanted to spring clean my entire home. Fact is that I just got the kitchen done, but there is a sense of helplessness that I have not done enough.

To me, it seems there is not much time in a day. I have so many things to do, so many things to accomplish..... and so less time to do it.

On The Work Front

2009-05-18T18:50:00.001+01:00

Once in a while you come up with the vaguest and most unrealistic career progression plan. It’s all about jumping that one step without really walking the whole way through. I handle so much of work and I mean responsible work that I can almost feel it in my bones – feel the need for a promotion. Now whether what I feel will translate into reality is a different matter all together.

Now about this vague idea – it too complicated to explain over here but anyone hearing it would definitely think that I was going cuckoo – it was just too ambitious and I don’t think people really picture me that way. I needed an objective opinion about it and called this guy in Geneva who I knew from my Dubai days. I just had to know what he thought about it. Well talking about dampening someone’s enthusiasm – that’s exactly what he did. But I am glad that someone brought me back to earth rather than me discussing this vague ambitious plan with my boss.

Tomorrow I am going to have a mini work-review with my boss. Hopefully she is going to tell me that my current role is scoped for the next level of promotion. If not I will have to look around. I have been with this company for so long (not that long just 9 years!!) that I really do not know how the world is outside for someone who is searching for a job. Sometimes it’s not enough to just do well working in multinational company where you know you have a stable job. I don’t know whether this is some sort of a mid-life crisis; but I jus feel like living some new experiences, go through some highs and thrills and feel good about myself.

Having One of Those Moments During My Exams

2009-05-17T18:12:00.000+01:00

I have had very few hold-on-to-that-moment sorts of experiences. Yes having my son is foremost and then successfully manoeuvring M25, on a cold snowy January night two days after I landed in the UK, with DH who doesn’t drive! For those who don’t know M25 is a busy mother-of-a-motorway in the UK.

But it happened again, a few days back; well during my exams to be precise. I have been procrastinating this for so long; in fact I had almost given up hope of ever completing my MBA. Can you believe it? I couldn’t get myself to sit for the exams and I spent four long years pondering over it. I guess it was fear that stopped me – the fear of failure when you know that your husband’s ex-wife is an MBBS, MD, MRCPath and a PhD from Oxford there is very little that you can do to even come close to appearing intellectual to your husband. Not that it mattered to DH in any way, but being the super competitive bitch that I am, I made those mental connections a bit too early in our relationship.

I didn’t want to do what she did. My purpose of getting married to DH was not to come to the UK and pursue my studies. That’s what she did and I didn’t want to take the similar route. If you go through my previous posts you’ll see that I had many other silly hang ups that prevented me from continuing with my studies.

So what happened during those exams?? I lost my FEAR....yes that’s right...fear of failure and for once I felt so liberated as if I had gained some age old wisdom. In the greater scheme of things nothing other than my wishes matter. Who cares what ex-wife has done, who cares how she treated DH...right? As long as DH knows that I am not taking advantage of him and as long as I am pursuing my dreams....who cares what happened in the past?

I started enjoying my lessons and with just 24 hour gaps between each exam I felt so disappointed that I hadn’t let myself enjoy the course to its fullest. Damn I had wasted so much of time worrying!! Now that’s all in the past. I know I did well in those three modules and I have another six more to complete before I graduate. And now, I just know that I will do it...that I will complete this course and not just complete, I will pass with flying colours..........

This is the last of my posts about my course. I guess I have moaned about it a bit too much!!

For anonymous

2009-04-29T20:20:00.001+01:00

Now this post is for anonymous who left two messages (this person must really like my blog. Perhaps my only follower??).

Yes I did get pressurised into writing four posts in a row. Have no mood to study at all and thought of keeping someone pleased. Enjoy and pass on your comments.

Facebook

2009-04-29T20:17:00.001+01:00

What’s most shocking to a mother? (well not really)

That while at work she checks her personal email address and sees that there is a mail from Facebook. Your son has just asked you to add him to your friend’s list.

Since when did your son become your friend? Facebook does change relationships!!

And what does the mother do?

Accepts the request and sends a link to her son asking him to add his uncle to his friend’s list.

Such is life......

Education - Asian vs Western

2009-04-29T20:12:00.002+01:00

What’s a third world Asian mentality?

Asking your husband why he is doing a short course in Psychology when it would do jack shit to his career (his job does not come five kilometres close to Psychology) and cost a whole lot of money.

And what’s the western thinking?

DH replying you are doing your MBA just so that you can stick the degree on your forehead and it has nothing to do with gaining knowledge!!!

I bow to you DH – You are God and I am just a mere mortal.

Have Pimples...Look Younger

2009-04-29T20:05:00.001+01:00

Colleague: C what are you doing so late at work?
C: Studying
Colleague: What are you studying?
C: Doing my masters.
Colleague: Why?
C: (Does it take a genius to figure out why one is interested in studying? Then quickly coming up with an idea...) Because this is my 40th birthday gift to myself. I want to graduate when I am 40.
Colleague: Oh then you have a lot of time to finish it.
C: Uh...How old do you think I am?
Colleague: 27..maybe just below 30.
C: With a big grin on my face...Do you know that I have a 13 yr old son?
Colleague: Oh really? I didn’t know that.
C: So you mean I look that young? (obviously want to squeeze more compliments out)
Colleague: Yeah you look quite young and you even have pimples to prove it.
C: #*/!!!!!! You know what....you just don’t know how to read brown skin! (better to show him that it's his inadequacy)

Shitting Bricks

2009-04-29T19:52:00.000+01:00

I have exactly six days before my exams begin and I have wasted four years in deciding whether to write this exam or not. Studying is not something that comes naturally to me; I have to discipline myself to do it. In school it was my competitive streak, in college it was because I wanted people to think I was intelligent and then I just stopped caring.

There’s only so much you can ask your parents to pay for. My entire Manipal education, which most people call a paid vacation, was completely sponsored by my “Gulfie” parents (not that I myself am not a Gulfie). (Hey I just noticed that I spelt that Gulfie instead of Gulfy. I must be getting posh!!). Anyway after the whole fiasco of Manipal, my parents wanted me to go to the US to do an MBA. After all, post-Manipal that was the next stop for most of the Gulf-based kids. Not that I objected to it. It’s just that I went all moral about it and wanted to spend my own money to do the course. When I think about it I tell myself – stupid C. Look how bad you are struggling to get back into studies.

Then I met DH and he has double MA. Again I am not the type to compare myself to my partner. But he sort of initiated the idea of me studying again. Now call me vain or whatever you want (yes I am all that you think and more) – I want an MBA ‘cause when I become the CEO of a company, I have to have a business degree to back me up. I also want a branded college ‘cause that gives extra weight to your effort. Oh come on – I want to be among the select few who got the opportunity to get in through the screening process...forget passing out. And lastly I didn’t care about the money I had to spend on it.

Have you heard about Lebanese people? (OK here I am generalising so sorry to all the people who get offended by my comments) They wear Calvin Klein underwear but have no money to buy food (Go figure that one out). So that was my mentality. Doesn’t matter how much that MBA cost me or whether I was doing it for the purpose of gaining some profound knowledge, I just HAD to do it. That was in 2005, when I was rich living in Dubai and earning a fat pay cheque.

Now fast forward (this I guess is my favourite word – maybe I still live in the past!!) and I have yet to sit for a single exam. People who got admitted along with me have long past donned that black graduation robes and made their mushy speeches. And I, I live in the UK now where I have to be careful about each and every penny that I spend. And it is now that I am beginning to understand the true reason of why undertook this mission. Yes C, its still the competitive streak in you. You care two hoots about whether you become the CEO or not. You just want to prove to yourself that you are just as good. That you can do at 38 what you had given up at 22. And that dear friend is the real challenge.

And I know exactly how it feels when I tell my son – Do your homework first, finish your lessons before you go out to play!

Just being vague

2009-04-16T16:08:00.001+01:00

To know that I am capable of writing just about two posts a month puts me to shame. Hell I am the dedicated, organised, cold bitch and nothing is impossible in my books. So how come the whole world can post every week if not daily and I can cough up just two in a whole month?

Well reality is finally opening its doors to me. Actually no; it has been trying to open its doors ever since I turned 35. But the stubborn me just keep turning a blind eye. I guess age does that to you. You wake up one day and you know exactly what your limitations and downfalls are. You know that you can give yourself 100 marks for trying but not as much for accomplishing. The intentions are always fantastic, but life somehow stops short of that final goal.

Hell I wake up every day at five in the morning – squeeze in an hour of gym and two hours of studies, cook food and even find time to dab on some make-up and all this without counting the 10 hours at work. So where exactly am I going wrong? When can I find that uninterrupted hour to write a post for my beloved blog? Am I expecting too much out of myself?

Just like everything in my life that gets jotted into a to-do list, I carry this cute little moleskin book in my handbag for those out-of-the-blue thoughts that just cry to get into my blog. And believe you me I do pen occasionally the odd thoughts. Whatever my life is, it is never boring. There’s always an argument with a parent, silence with DH or worry about my son; at the work front there are n number of bloopers, heated exchange of words with colleagues and attempts of diplomacy with the boss; sleepless nights over my exams in May etc etc. Ah well life is indeed colourful and interesting. And I am making grand memories just by living it all out

So what exactly am I complaining about? Ah yes....about not putting everything into words over here. In the greater scheme of things it seems so trivial that my idea of discipline rests in updating my blog daily. Pity indeed!!

On a side note: I WILL UPDATE MY BLOG REGULARLY.

Parking Space Robber

2009-03-04T18:04:00.001Z

My office has car- parking space for 200 odd cars. This is excluding the space available for visitors. I believe if you come in after 9:30 in the morning, it might be difficult for one to find a space to park.

Anyway I have no such problems because I arrive at 7:15 in the morning. I go to the office gym quite regularly these days and at that time of the day most of the people are still in bed. Every day I park my car at the nearest exit to my office building. And if anyone enters the car park, the first thing they will see is my car. Now you could call this my favourite car park space. It’s like an unwritten rule....that space is MINE and mine only.

For the past few weeks I have not always been successful in getting this favourite space. Occasionally someone else beats me to it and it’s usually the same car – a grey VW Passat. Last week I had the odd pleasure of arriving just in time to get into the parking lot first and I got my space. That day I had a good look at this person who was so desperate to get my space. Now you may ask me how did I decipher that the driver was desperate? Simple, if this car arrives before me, it is invariably parked in my space.

As expected, the driver of the Passat is a GUY and an older man at that – say maybe 48ish. Shouldn’t older men be beyond ego and petty behaviour? I know, I know...I am all that and more. After all I am cribbing about a petty parking space.

An incident happened today which definitely takes the cake. Now I don’t know the route that this guy takes and am not really interested about it. But today I saw this grey Passat on M25, right behind me. Even for a second I didn’t suspect that it could be this guy. I mean I still had another 15 miles to reach my office. Then as I took the exit for Junction 11, this car was right behind me. This is when I realised that the guy tailing me was definitely my space-robber.

For those who do not know the way to my office. Right after the exit at Junction 11 the double lanes stretch just for a few kms and then it becomes single traffic lane. And that means no over taking. This stupid guy he was so rash in his driving that he over took me at the round about. Sorry about this – but what an ASSHOLE. So obviously this stupid old man with the grey Passat reached the office car park before me. I on the other hand parked some where irrelevant, far away from his car.

For a few seconds I took it all in good humour. I tried telling myself many thing - first come first served, that I had bigger things in life to worry about and all that bullshit. But you know what? Its my ego, its this Jhansi Rani that he has provoked.
I can be a bitch when I want to. From tomorrow onwards I will leave home at least 15 mins earlier. So this guy wants my space...eh? If I have anything to do with it, he will never get it again. Or in the proper Bollywood style.... OVER MY DEAD BODY...

Me and Mean? Surely Not......

2009-03-02T17:19:00.001Z

Today the conversation at office was about the meanest thing that each of us has ever done. Now I could say stories, many many stories about my younger days; not about being mean, but about how hard I tried at being a mean and cunning person. To me being meanness somehow represents a street-smart person capable of conning anyone and getting his / her things done.

There is this one incident etched in my memory. At the age of 12, I stole the pocket money of a class mate of mine. I had forgotten to bring my lunch box and I was so hungry by lunch time that there seemed to be no other way but to steal that money. I remember returning to the classroom with a sandwich in hand and seeing this class-mate crying. When queried she said that she was feeling so hungry (just like me) and that somebody has stolen the money her mom had given her for lunch.

So what did I do? Turned to her and told her that I had a sandwich that I just didn’t feel like eating and whether she would like to have it? Her face lit up like the night sky with thousands of sparkling diamonds. Will I ever forget it that look and the relief I felt. Never and that was the end of my plans of trying to be a mean person. Sure I had been mean, but somehow the universe had other plans for me.

Alright now fast forward to four years back: I can be mean and I have been mean and I still have that small meanness in me. I don’t want to go too much into detail as this is something about me that I find difficult to accept. Through some crooked ways, I got the email password of DH’s ex-wife. So what do you do when you have someone’s email password – you go through their emails right? This is exactly what I did. Sure enough I got enough evidence to show DH that he was being royally used. You see very rarely do I call a person ugly – but DH’s ex-wife is ugly – both as a person and in looks.

To make a long story short, let’s say that I keep myself updated on what happens in “Her” life. These days snooping into her inbox and reading her mails is like reading a never ending novel, like one of those hindi serials. So many things have happened in her life and I am the silent bystander. Sometimes I feel her pain (at not getting a partner and having kids yet), some times I feel like shaking her and asking her what the hell she was doing. But who am I? Just some one who got to marry her ex-husband.

No, I am not proud of what I did and even what I am doing. And there are no excuses for it.

My lovely beautiful boy....

2009-02-04T20:29:00.002Z

I wish I could be as articulate as Mad Momma when I talk about my son. I don’t even know where to begin when I talk about him and my feelings for him. Most mothers who live with their children don’t really know how lucky they are to be with them, feed them, dress them up, comb their hair, wipe their snot, iron and wash their clothes, cook their food and see them grow.

My son will be a teenager this year and I have missed seven years of his life being away from him. Though I talk to him daily there is a part of me that wants to sleep next to him, feel his warm body next to mine and have his arm around me. I want to see him smile, be there with him when he cries, console him when he loses a game and teach him the subjects that he hates. I want to experience it all.

I want to kiss away all his fears. I want to tell him that no matter how he is and what he is he will always be the most important thing to me. If ever I have to give up my life for someone it would be him and only him.

When I got married the first time we had this ceremony when I have to touch elder’s feet and ask them for their blessings. I refused to do it and my dad and mom didn’t say a word.

But now.....

my son – he means the world to me and for once my selfish head bows to what people call motherhood!!

(PS: On reading the post again it sounds quite filmy but believe me those words came from the pits of my heart)

Its all falling into place...

2009-02-04T20:15:00.000Z

You see this is what I do – so many happy happy days and not a mention of it here. But come a small issue and I have to moan and moan about it.

So here goes to happy days – I had a wonderful time at Tate Modern watching Rothko’s works. It was great to spend time with DH in activities that he so enjoys. Then spent two wonderful days at home hiding away from the freezing snow outside. I have come to realise that snow is good as long as I am looking at it from my window. I don’t want to walk on it, play with it or even drive on it.

Work has been going great guns. For once there is a truce between my boss and me. Not sure whether it is because I have lowered my expectations of how I feel a perfect boss should be. Could be, don’t you think so?

DH and I have been going pretty smooth (oh pls touch wood!!). No temper tantrums, no loud talks and most of all no long silences. We have found our comfort zone I guess.

I am feeling a bit more organised than usual – in expenses, household matters and generally in life. Going to the gym has been another uplifting factor. I really have no time to think, worry and moan.

If there is one more thing I wish I could do to make this whole thing perfect it would be to start studying again. Exams are in May and I can’t get myself to open my books to study.
Oh one more thing – the most important in fact. I miss my son sooooo much!!

I love my look...

2009-01-30T22:45:00.001Z

I am one of those people who are always in their jeans and casual tops at work. For the life of me, I cannot squeeze my feet into a pair of heeled shoes. And make-up, well that’s something I discovered a few months back. Though I have waist length hair I have not yet blow dried my hair and used a hair-straightener for the first time in 2006 the day I got married.

I used to dress up well as a teenager and even during my college days. I believe that God gives you a quota for everything and once you have used up your quota you are left with nothing. When I first started working I used to be dressed to the Ts – mini skirts, matching jackets – the works. But even then I was never into too much of make-up.

With the piling pounds (due to being a hypothyroid) my dressing is often dictated by comfort over style. That’s how I like it. I like my pair of glasses over the contact lens – any day. The intelligent, nerdy look is how I visualise myself.

Anyway you should now have a fair idea of how I look. Last week I went to our annual departmental conference to Dublin. For every business trip the day before I leave DH and I spend a few hours deciding on which outfits I should take for my trip. There is a dress-rehearsal each and every time and DH tries his level best to make me wear dresses and skirts again. I do have all my old outfits. The frugal me just refuses to give away my beautiful old clothes. After all the dress rehearsals I end up packing my usuals – black, black and more black trousers, shirts and the most boring of jackets. I find fault with most parts of my body – thin ankles (my pet peeve), thick thighs, rhino hips and big tummy.

Funnily enough this time I decided to go along with DH’s suggestions. Ever since I started exercising I have a new-found love for my body. Not that it has changed even by an inch, but somehow I have developed an interest to make myself to look more beautiful.

So off I packed a plum mini-skirt suit and a black pin stripped dress with black jacket (yes, the black has to crop up somewhere) for day wear. For night time I had lavender coloured top with a chunky Butler and Wilson necklace. For the second evening I had this beautiful white top with black flowers on it. To hide my thin ankles I took just boots – sexy black ones with a hint of heel.

Now if I could sum up my look in one word it would be, no not would, it was WOW... and this too from others. Some of the comments were:

“She’s like Ugly Betty” (now I am not sure whether that was a compliment)

“Chinty looks like a lady now.”

And for the first time someone called me something what I have always wanted to hear – ELEGANT.
Forget the fact that all the pictures still showed my fat self, this conference has just made my whole year!!

Good So Far

2009-01-21T18:23:00.000Z

Life is going on pretty smooth:

Wake up very early, go straight to the gym, then work, return home, study for some time, have dinner and sleep. I have no time to think, brood or feel. In a way I am glad that I am completely occupied the entire day. There is a sense of accomplishment and absolutely no opportunity to crib and complain.

Good thing for the day:

- Applied for a job (need to post about this soon) in the cosmetics industry. I am sure that it will be good to move from luxury fragrances to cosmetics. Seems like a natural progression.
- Kept up with the gym schedule.
- I am finally getting a gym buddy. My friend T is joining the gym.
- There is a new friendship brewing and I can just feel that it’s going to be good.

The only thing that makes me anxious these days is my studies. I got my TMA marks for People and Organizations last week – an unforgettable 63%. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but not so bad either. The final exams are in May and I am palpitating about completing and revising all the units before then. I am the type who needs to write in order to study. I can fill pages on pages and only then will something substantial enter my head. Downside is that it takes time and with 4 modules and 10 units each I know that I have to hurry up. This also seems like a good sign to me – I am giving myself a chance to do well in the exams by preparing in advance.

Just Letting It Happen

2009-01-19T17:53:00.000Z

I had just wanted to write about one good thing of the day. But as things go and when you least expect it many, many good things happen to you. So here goes my today’s list:

- I don’t like driving when it pours heavily. But today I did in order to get to the gym on time. And I am glad that I didn’t let my fear get in the way of what I wanted to do.
- It was oh so nice and warm in bed this morning and I had to literally kick myself to get out go to the gym. I did and I feel great right now.
- A fellow blogger wrote to me and I am absolutely thrilled at the prospectus of making my first real friend in the UK.

So there you go. When you let the universe know that you are going to seek your happiness no matter where or how....it just happens.

Reviewing My Blog's Focus

2009-01-17T19:03:00.001Z

I have kept myself away from writing a new post for quite some time now. For starters, I was not so sure about the focus that my blog was taking – is it to crib, is it just a log of my daily life?

I definitely know that this is not a place where I crib all the time. Most of the pain I feel and frustration that I experience are due to the people that I love and care about. Some times it is about their inadequacies and most of the times it is due to my stubborn nature to accept them for who they are. While there are times when I talk about DH and how unhappy he makes me feel, I do believe that he truly loves me and people don’t always love us in a manner that we think we want to be loved.

Many thoughts pass through my mind while I have an argument with DH and often I make a mental note to post it here. But then I ask myself how I would feel if DH had to write about his feelings towards me in a blog and not talk about it face-to-face. DH knows about this blog and how personal it is to me. So rarely does he check my blog. Now if a guy can be nice to me 80% of the time, why should I bitch about him here? Surely I must be able to sort out my problems with a friendly chat with him. I guess the problem lies in me not having a friend in this country; someone with whom I can just discuss the mundane things in life, someone to go out shopping with, have a blast in a pub.

My other frustration is that I live so far far away from my son. He is 12 years old and right now I need him more than he needs me. We have such good chat over the phone – with me being friendless, my son is soon taking over the role of a confidante. I am not really sure about the pros and cons of having one’s son 12 year old son for one’s friend, but it is the only thing that feels right. And it is so easy to talk to him. Most importantly he understands. I just hope to God that I can be there for him whenever he needs me.

Thirdly about work – I love my job though I am not so sure that I feel the same with my boss. Over the past two years I have managed to get into her good books, but she is so difficult to please that I hate it when she talks down to the other people in my department. Yes, it’s not my problem. But I find it very difficult to turn a blind eye to her derogatory ways.

There I have talked about the three most important things that can affect my moods on a daily basis. But these are not things that I want to blog about – I don’t want to leave behind a blog that is just about frustrations. There’s more to me than anger and tears!!

Just like me, my blog needs a purpose. I want to look at the brighter side of life. I am blessed and I know it. It’s just that I am not conscious of it all the time. I guess I need to remind myself of it. One day when my son reads my blog, I want it to be about happiness, joy, trial and triumphs....

So here’s the verdict - I want to post daily about one good thing of my day. It can be anything – even if it is trivial I will log it. And if there are the occasional tears, then let it be...’cause some times some good come even out of that.

Just another day

2009-01-08T18:22:00.001Z

DH is back to his kiddish tantrums and I have decided to no longer get upset or hassled about it. Throwing tantrums is a part of who DH is. But when DH is so good to me in every other aspect, I think I should just turn a blind eye to it.

E.Tole says that when something bothers you there are only three things that you can possibly do – change it, get out of it or accept it. I choose to accept it ‘cause I really do love him a lot. Hopefully with time DH will realise that his mood swings are doing us no good and try to change himself.

OK, now back to the real world. Did I mention that I finished submitting three TMAs? I got my grades pretty soon after – 25/100 for Economics, 65 for Decision Making and 75 for Products & Processes. The day I got my Economics grade, I cried for a whole hour. C’mon I don’t fail in assignments, its the idiots who do that.

I guess that motivated me enough to do well for the other two assignments. While I can’t say 65 is all that great for marks, 75 definitely took the cake. One of the comments that the tutor made was “A very strong performance”. Little did he realise that he made my whole week.

One of the news that nearly blew me away was my credit card bill for the month of December. While the whole country decided to cut back on their spending during the festive season, DH and I splurged like there is no tomorrow - so much of expense and nothing to show for it.

Good Day

2009-01-04T21:29:00.000Z

DH prepared dosa for breakfast while I made the coconut chammandi for it. This was our second attempt at making dosa and we found out that it is best to use the ordinary non-stick pan instead of using the chappati pan that I usually see mom making dosa on.

In the afternoon DH ironed his shirts. After marriage, this was the first time that I was seeing DH iron his own shirts and not just that, he ironed ten in one go. DH is trying to be super organised for the week. I, on the other hand, being the financial controller of the house made new excel sheets for 2009. For a change I am planning to track our spend separately.

Afternoon saw DH made Chicken and Pumpkin Laksa (a Malaysian noodle soup). It was brilliant with a dash of Sambal Oelek. Because DH was born in Singapore, he is really into experimenting South-East asian cusine. Special affinity he says!! DH made so much of it that we had it for dinner as well.

I filed all the bills of December and am not busy checking to purchase an upright steamer and a filing cabinet.

Overall a perfect day at home.

New Year Resolutions

2009-01-03T19:34:00.000Z

I am not really into making New Year resolutions; it has never been my scene. It’s so clichéd. Everyone around you are making them and breaking them as soon as March that year. Worse still everyone has to go around announcing to all and sundry about the resolutions they are making. Why publicise something when it is too darn difficult for you and you are not even sure whether you will succeed at it?

Though I have pretty strong opinions about making NY resolutions, this year I have decided to join the bandwagon and make some myself. But hey, no publicity, not a soul other than my blog readers will know anything. The true reason is to have some purpose in life and have some goals that I can work towards and keep myself occupied with.

Each and everything in this list has been inspired from what I read in 2008 – it might have been from a book, a blog or even something from a magazine. Nothing on my list is all that drastic and I truly believe that I can do it.

Studies – complete four modules and start on three new ones
Diet - Eat less of red meat – Limit to sixty times in the whole year.
Exercise – get into a routine of exercising thrice a week
Spiritual - Practise Pranic Self Healing – at least twelve sessions in 2009.
Shopping – In ’09 spend no more than £500 for clothes, make-up and skincare.
Internet - Stop Surfing – on week days leave the laptop at office after work

Blood Donation

2009-01-02T20:00:00.001Z

Some people donate blood ‘cause they want to do a good deed, make a difference to some one’s life. I, on the other hand, donated blood today ‘cause my jatakam says that I have a lot of hurdles ahead of me and the only pariharam for this is to donate blood on a regular basis.

One down, plenty more to go.......

State of Things To Come

2009-01-01T20:12:00.001Z

Believe me I wanted to write a happy post. After all it is the New Year and who wants to start it with depressing words. I had a few words written in advance for this day. It was a dream post rounding up on 2008 and being hopeful about 2009. Can’t say I didn’t try.

I have never been much into NY celebrations. I guess the last time I went out on a NY’s eve party must have been in the year 2000. These days it is too much of an effort for me to get drunk and kiss strangers for a year that might not even end up all that great.

Coming back to my story, well this is my first New Year with DH. Last NY I was travelling and the year before last I was in Dubai. So this NY’s eve we called our sister in law home for dinner so that we would have some company for the count down. Now before you go any further, let me give you a glimpse into history. My husband, DH has this amazing ability to ruin all our special days. It is an inborn talent I tell you – to piss off your loved ones on their special days. Try hard as I might I just cannot change a damn thing about this “special” trait of his.

Now because I have this prior knowledge and so does the sister in law, on special occasions we try to be as nice as possible and say the right things so that DH remains in a good mood. But invariably we do end up saying or doing something or the other that upsets DH. Anyway, yesterday everything was going well and DH had cooked this fantastic dinner for us. He had even gone out in that freezing temperature to get stuff for his special recipe. This is how caring DH can get.

Over a good mallu movie DH served us our dinner and things were turning out to be picture perfect. DH cooked, so it was my job to wash the dishes. Of course I have not problem with this sort of division of labour at home. Anyway because the movie was going on in full swing, I told DH that I would wash up afterwards.

A few minutes later I realised that DH was no longer in the living room. Very quietly he had gone to the kitchen to wash up. So I went to the kitchen and when I asked him why he was doing it, he said he doesn’t want to get into the NY with dirty dishes in the kitchen. Huh? Did I miss a profound statement here? Since when did NY have anything to do with dirty dishes? And mind you I am the one with OCD here, so how come he is saying the words that technically I should have used?

Soon after we joined sis in law in the living room and by this time she had already changed the TV channel to BBC One for the countdown. Come 12 midnight we exchanged our wishes and hoped for a better year in 2009. But one thing struck me, while I wished my husband, DH completely ignore wishing me!!

OK I am going to be a mature adult and be diplomatic in the words that I use. You know some people act like kids, but when they are 47 and have gone through a whole lot in life it does not look or even seem all that cute when they try to sulk. On NY you kiss and wish even strangers and my dear husband could not even get himself to do that ‘cause I did not wash some pathetic dirty dishes on time.

At night I kept to my side of the bed. No hugging, no kissing, no nothing. Come morning, I went about my business (basically surfing) and doing what ever I felt like. But I did make it a point to keep out of DH’s way. I didn’t even want to see his face.

Thank God sis in law left early in the morning and didn’t get to see the situation between DH and me.

So this is how New Year began for me. Let’s see how the rest of the year turns out.

Shopping Day

2008-12-21T00:54:00.002Z

This new found relief from thoughts is making my life much lighter. Take today for instance; DH and I managed to take advantage of the Christmas Sale and did some good shopping. I didn’t have a worry in the world!! Had it been any other time, I would have thought and thought about the pros and cons of spending so much of money. Not so this time. Now I realise that I have to let go of myself sometimes. If we have worked so hard to earn that money then surely it needs to be spent on things that give us happiness (or so called happiness!!) even though I perfectly know that happiness is quite temporary. I need to let myself go through the process instead of getting so high strung all the time.

I bought for myself two pair of boots, a dress and a top. Not to mention a whole load of eyes-shadows and lip glosses. Yes, I have started wearing make-up in a big way these days. DH bought for himself a pair of trousers and three jumpers. Coming to think of it, we didn’t splash all that much. And when we returned home we had one of those dress rehearsals and tried on our new purchases in all permutations with our old stuff. All in all a good day and a big sigh of relief for not feeling so guilty about it.

Right Now

2008-12-19T21:10:00.000Z

(Alert: Long, long post!!)

Let’s first get out of the way my reasons for a pause - Took a short trip to Dubai to be with my son and family, fell sick for a few days after my return and then got back into the grind of work.

A change has happened; a small change has happened in my life.

By now I guess the whole world has read the Power of Now (TPON) and I believe I am one of the last to get hold of this book. Because trying to be different and unique dominates my life in big way, I always stay away from trends, best sellers and in-things. Therefore “The Power of Now” was not really a book that I thought I would read in any case. A chance meeting with my ex-boss (who I adore by the way) in Dubai paved the way to this intention of at least buying the book. My ex-boss kept quoting from the book so many times during our brief two hour lunch that I just had to find out what it was all about.

On my way back from Dubai, with the flight delayed by more than two hours what else could I do but go to the book store and buy myself not only the Power of Now but a second book by its author “A New Earth”.

Now I have read too many self-help books this life time. Due to my interest in healing and such, I also read about light, water, crystals, tarot cards, angels, fairies and what not. And now at 37 the only thing that excites me about books is the font and the smell of the pages of a new book. Most of my decisions about buying a book depend on these two important criteria. Well for a change these two books ticketed my requirements.

Alright, now I must confess that I have just finished reading just 30 pages of TPON. If I ever take time to read a book, it means that I like what I read. It means that I read and reread each and every page much before I finish the entire book. And the small change that has come about in me is from reading these 30 pages. And before you start thinking, no this book is not a major revelation in life. It just says something that we have known all our lives. For the sake of keeping this post interesting I am not going to talk about this book. Google it and read more about it if you are interested. This post is about me and less about the review of this book.

So what happened? What happened is that I try and stop my mind from thinking. If you think it’s that easy, try not thinking anything for just one minute. I can guarantee you that just after a few seconds your mind will start talking to you and you will be either thinking of something that happened in the past or of something that you need to do in the future. Correct me and send me a comment if I am wrong. Anyway coming back to me, I am always lost in thoughts. I keep thinking of something or the other even if I am engaged in some work that requires intense concentration. I worry over anything and everything – family, son, work, money, house, job, status, studies, weight, clothes, looks etc. You name it and I will have something to moan about it. And frankly speaking I was getting fed up of it. Though this blog was meant to be a place where I could vent my feelings, it was all getting a bit too much. While I know that I give very less important to the little happiness in life and make a mountain of the silliest of matters, I had my mind working overtime on me. Every waking moment was made up of making plans for a future that may or may not happen!!

These days if I am engaged in some work and an unpleasant thought crosses my mind, I actually ask myself – “Do I need to think about it? Is this going to help me in any way? Will it change the way how things are right now?” If the answer is no to all the three, I shoo away my thoughts. I literally tell myself – OK Chinty stop thinking. Fact is that just by doing this I have somehow lifted myself out of my self inflicted depression. I have more energy left in me to do the things that matter to me. I definitely feel a lot happier. And because I think less, I tend to be less harsh on myself and enjoy more what I am doing at that point of time. In a way it is liberating to “not think” about my past or the future that I think I should work towards. I just go along with what I feel at that very second.

And the ultimate glory is the change that it has brought to my marriage. I feel so much better being with DH and I am ever so much in love with him. OK so I hate being all mushy and sentimental and making these filmy statements, but this how I feel right now!!

Toughening My Son

2008-11-27T08:16:00.002Z

DH tells me that kids of A’s age (12 years) are bad and mean. You can reason with an adult but not with kids, especially boys. This was in reply to my question whether I should get A’s father to talk to the boy who started this rumour in A’s school about A being called gay.

The reasons to him being called Gay are so silly and petty that I could slap the boys who made fun of him. When A had come to UK this June he did a lot of shopping at the duty free shop on his way back to Dubai. And because he didn’t have a hand baggage I bought him a small black bag to put in all his purchases. This bag is something like a smaller version of a school bag. But my folly was that it had a small tag with the name Roxy on it.

Now Roxy is such an unassuming name. I had a senior in college who was called Roxy and he was a guy. So I really didn’t think twice about the tag. But when A went to school with it, his class kids said that it was a girl’s bag. Next came the swimming incident. A is not a good swimmer and is a bit hesitant when he swims to the deep end of the pool. So when he was at the deep end of the pool and got scared, he held on the legs of the boy who was close to him. This is such an innocent act that anyone in A’s situation would do. From them on all his classmates started calling him gay.

Believe me I can put up with almost anything and not lose my temper over it. But this one takes the cake. This particular boy who taunts him said “Your dad f***** you mom.” My poor boy came back home and during one of the calls asked me what does f*** mean. What do I say? I just said that it is something that big people do and sometimes you make babies in the process. Who is their right minds would teach their kids these sorts of words?

While there is very less that I can do to help my son with him being so far away and not in touch with me on a day to day basis, this whole incident has made me realise that my son is pretty naïve, no VERY naïve and though he is 12 he is still a kid. Not that I expected him to be mature or anything of that sort. But being a tennis champion and pretty shrewd in his game, I had some how assumed that that shrewdness would permeate into real life. Can you imagine I had to actually tell him – If someone hits you A, you have to thulp the shit out of him. And if the school authorities pull you up, I will be there to talk to them. It is such bad advice but at least it is a step forward to toughen him up. Bad mother you might say!!

Touch My Son & I am a Lioness

2008-11-19T21:04:00.000Z

My son A has this thing against talking to me over the phone. Since I make this long distance call daily, he is at loss of topics to discuss. Usually it turns into just a 2 min call where I ask him how his class was that day, whether he had good food at home etc etc.

At this young age of 12 my son has gone through a lot in life. Not that he is necessarily aware that some of them have been due to his parents divorce! But A does know that it is not normal for his mother and father to be living in different countries and married to two different people. But yeah like normal boys of that age, he does not talk about it and generally brushes aside any conversation that I try to initiate.

Last week, quite unlike him he talked to me for almost half hour. Because A is not really a talker and of the impatient sort I knew something was brewing and finally when I couldn’t take it any longer I asked him straight whether he was facing any problems.

He started with saying Mummy they call me Gay at school. My first reaction was to tell him that it must be a joke. Since I don’t take really serious matter serious enough unless someone shakes me by the shoulder this news did not seem too bad. But when A stopped and said No mummy I really don’t like it, no one plays with me anymore and no one sits next to me in the class, that’s when it finally dawned – Yes my son is actually asking for my help. I was the first one he was talking about this to. It was not his father with whom he was staying, it was not his mama (my brother – A’s favourite person in this world!), it was me Chinty he was turning to. His mom, his only love in life apart from his PSP, PS2 and Nintendo DS (phew that was a mouthful).

I did what any mom in my situation would do – she turns into a Lioness. Schedule of things – called his teacher, then talked to his father, called my brother and finally got his father to meet the Principal. Mind you I was making all these calls from London and trying to get everything sorted out long distance.

After a wait of nearly two days A’s school Principal visited his class and gave the rest of the kids a good warning. Everyone is now under the watchful eyes of the Head Teacher. And my son he is happy.

But my story doesn’t end here. Since the day his problem got attended to, he talks to me – yes really really talks to me. And because we now talk for a good hour, it bleeds my heart that I have to make him wait till I get back home from work to have this chat. You see when I reach home at 6 pm it is already 10pm in Dubai. And what really makes me awww is that he actually waits for my call before hitting the bed.

I Cannot Describe This

2008-11-05T17:58:00.001Z

Now this is what I call blind devotion. Sleep early and time your radio to start at exactly 4:00am. Then early morning you hear the radio but don’t bother to wake up but the radio still plays in the background. At about 4:30 you wake up ‘cause you think you heard McCain speak and then you realise that he is indeed making a speech. You are half sleepy but push and kick your husband as if it is the end of the world. You slowly wake up to the reality that it is the talk of a loser. You see your husband jump out of the bed to switch on the TV. And lo there...you see Obama make his acceptance speech.

Can a morning start better than this? I was in office by 7:00am with a smile on my face......

The Big Talk

2008-11-04T16:02:00.000Z

The first thing that I did when I got to work yesterday was to send a short mail to my boss telling her that I needed to talk to her immediately. Since my boss is home based and travels extensively, it is very difficult to have a one-to-one with her. Within five minutes I got a reply asking me whether the talk would be about my leaving the company and if not whether I was OK with talking on the phone. My reply - no to both the questions, this issue was extremely important to me.

Luckily for me BB (big boss) was leaving for Geneva from Terminal 5 and she thought it best that we meet there. Hey, no problems with me. The day before I had already made a list of all the issues I wanted to discuss with her and about a paragraph each on what exactly I intended to tell her. If moaning about work was going to be a problem with DH, then it is definitely time for me to sort out my issues with BB.

- I had negotiated for an 8-4 working day before starting my new position. Why was there a subtle pressure being put on me to sit longer hours?
- When I sit at office and work late hours BB never asks me what exactly I am doing. So why is it that when I want to leave work early, I have to give my entire life history justifying why I am taking off earlier than usual?
- BB made some unprofessional comments during one of the meeting. Ask her why she made that remark.
- Talk to her about her trust issues

I did not want to be diplomatic but just say things as they really are. I was so fed up of all the internal politics and snooping around that was going on within the department and much of it instigated and encouraged by BB. My last boss is/was my role model and I thought this one would take her place effortlessly. But people can be so drastically different from each other. Current BB is a bit stuck up.

Anyway, it was very difficult for me to begin the conversation with her. Though I knew what to say, I was uncomfortable in how to dish it out to her. But once I started I got the flow and it went great. Right at the beginning I told her that I wanted to speak up first and once I was through, she could have her turn. Because she was willing to hear me out and really understand what I was talking about, I thought it was a win-win situation. Remember I was willing to resign if I was not going to get my way. But hey when I have people signing my praise at work all the time, I did sort of know that BB would be stupid if she asked me to leave. It’s funny, when you are prepared to quit, the fear goes away and you can get away with saying almost anything and believe me I did. It was such a frank talk that we both are glad that I made that first step to initiate it.

In the end I got my way. She agreed to all my conditions with me agreeing to just one of hers. I am so relieved.

Now I have just one bone of contention with BB - She supports McCaine!!

Amen To This Episode

2008-11-03T20:02:00.002Z

Scene on Friday evening in the living room:

DH: Shall we go out for dinner?
C: Sure. (Remember we have always been on talking terms but had just stopped talking for a few days)
C: But I don’t want to go out if we are going to sit like strangers over there.
DH: Lets have dinner and then we will talk.

Dinner went fine. We bought dessert from the nearby supermarket and returned home.

It so happens that I can remember each and every word that goes through my mind in times of tears and unhappiness. But come something that brings me joy and I can’t recall even a moment of it....

DH: Babes, you moan too much of work and I get fed up of it. You moan about your boss because you don’t have any guts to talk to her and you back home and ruin my peace of my
C: So with whom should I discuss my troubles?
DH: Yes discuss your trouble, but then do something to sort the mess, not keep talking about it over and over again.
C: Ok, what else?
DH: You make it sound like you sacrificed a lot to be with me. It was a choice that you made without any compulsion, so why do you always keep harping about it all the time?
C: ‘Cause I took that decision thinking I would get something in return. And sometimes I feel I am not.
DH: You see you need to stop holding that against me.
C: No guarantees, but I’ll try to.
DH: You are treating this relationship like your first marriage. If you don’t get what you want, then you close up.
C: I can’t help it when I keep knocking and knocking to get some sense into you and you just don’t listen. You too are treating this relationship like how you did your first marriage.
(First marriages are touchy topic for both of us. We both have suffered a lot at the hands of our respective spouses, me mentally and DH emotionally)
DH: But why did you stop sleeping in our bed?
C: Our bed? This is your home and THAT is YOUR bed.
DH: It is OUR bed and whatever happens we HAVE to sleep together every night.
C: I just need you to give me some time everyday. Is that too much to ask for?
DH: No it is not and I think we both have been insensitive to each other’s needs. So why did you shift to the guest bedroom?
C: ‘Cause I do not want to expect anything from you. To just get away from the hurt.....
By this time DH slowly moved to my side of the sofa and put his arms around me. And I hugged him back. (For those who are wondering – no, I didn’t shed a single tear)

Yes, this talk did go well.

I think as you grow older and because you have gone through broken marriages, you somehow know exactly what you want and what you do not want. I am too old to be playing games in a relationship and this is not about who wins in an argument. I was sad, down and out and I did what I thought was best. It may not have been good from DH’s point of view but it gave me some peace for a few days. I do not intend to shift out of our bedroom ever again.

What Do I Want?

2008-10-31T13:22:00.000Z

Anonymous says the difficulty is in really finding what it is that *you* think you want. What have you been searching for?

I guess this is a general question and can be answered in many different ways. Here I attempt to address my version of what I was looking for in a perfect partner.

- Love, in my books, flies out of the window after the honeymoon years. Then your partner becomes a habit. He is your favourite teddy bear – one that you can’t sleep without. So if I am to spend the rest of my life with this person, it is very important that my partner is also my bestest friend.
- I am the queen of melodrama. This means that my partner should put up with my endless talks, array of emotional outbursts and crazy laughter.
- Sex – if I may discuss that - I am insatiable. Ever ready and always willing to experiment and enjoy. So dear partner just has to be participative, thanks I’ll do the rest.
- A Pillar of silent strength and support – By nature I am a melancholic and needy person. I keep a strong front only for the rest of the world and my partner should be one that can deal with these dual faces of mine.

OK so that’s talking about emotions, now on to the hard fact of life that often become the bone of contention:

- He should know how to live within his means
- Discuss his day with me
- Be ready to share his home, finance and friends with me.
- Never talk loud or even harsh to me.
- Understand that I have an OCD about keeping the house and wardrobe in order.

I think I have exhausted all my requirements and I really don’t think they are too much to ask from a man. Since I am a pretty easy going person and with the exception of my OCD I am pretty much flexible about everything, technically no one should have a problem in living with me.

Communication & Sacrifices

2008-10-31T08:34:00.002Z

Broom says "talk" to him

I too believe in good old communication, an open heart-to-heart talk paves the way to a fantastic relationship be it at work or at home. I am all for it and I do try my level best to practise it all the time. So what stops me every now and then? Well even though I am willing to talk (communicate) the moment I see that the person opposite me is not so willing or has clearly told me that he/she is not interested in talking about “it”, I let go.

Case in point:

DH and I are having a good dinner, which by the way I have prepared and I turn to him and say “Babes I think we should talk. We don’t talk anymore.” DH: “C’mon let’s enjoy the dinner.” All those talks about getting to a man’s heart though his stomach is all bullshit, now I know it.

We are in bed and DH has his arm around me. So again I try my luck: “Do you think we could talk now?” DH: “Later. Let me sleep now. Have to get up early for work tomorrow. By the way what is there to talk about, it’s all in your head?” Now what do I say to that? So you do the only thing you can possible think of doing – turn to the farthest side of the bed and shed silent tears.

Now this is what I don’t want to do again – try to talk to DH. If he wants to talk I believe he should come to me. Has this got anything to do with my ego? No definitely not. It is all about losing one’s hope, the hope of ever getting an opportunity to talk. Hope was that DH would one day see the light and talk to me and now I leave that to the universe.

There is bitterness though in this whole thing and that is where my ego comes into picture. I, Chinty, a successful, independent single mother decided to leave everything and I literally mean everything to be with this man who offered me love and at tough times like these, I find it difficult to reconcile with what I have done.

I miss having my son with me, I miss the fantastic job I left behind in Dubai, I miss my fat bank balance, I miss the hot warm weather and the proximity to my family. All this sacrifice for what? To be in a cold country with a man just as cold and no friends to talk to.

And as I am finishing this post, I tell myself – put an end to this line of thinking. It is not going to get me anywhere!!

My Day and My Space

2008-10-30T16:38:00.001Z

As I grow older, my time is becoming more and more precious to me. Each and every second counts and I have this intense desire to do as much as possible before I say goodbye to this world.

To get the maximum out of my day I have even reduced my surfing time considerably. I no longer take my laptop home and it is safely locked in my drawer before I leave work. And to be quite honest, I do not miss it. Didn’t think I could live without Google, but yes I have survived.

A good day, to me, apart from being productive at office should include an hour of studies, an hour of gym and an hour for cooking. These are the small things that make me feel happy and accomplished. This is not asking for much, is it?

But in my pursuit to achieve the perfect day I have slowly started alienating DH. Believe me, I have tried. But when two people are evolving and becoming as different as chalk and cheese, one wonders what exactly brought them together in the first place. We no longer have anything to talk about. I come back late from work and DH returns from the gym at nine pm. A quick dinner and we both hop into bed.

When one hasn’t communicated through out the day, it gets extremely difficult to hug the person lying next to you even if he happens to be your husband. DH complains that I nag and cry all the time and I say that he is just too closed up to care anything about me. At times we are like perfect strangers – living in the same house yet not a word to exchange.

Last night, I decided to shift in to the guest bedroom. No we did not have a fight or argument or anything of that manner. It just didn’t feel right to share his bed anymore. I didn’t want to have any expectations of us returning back to our normal selves. Usually I would cry myself to sleep, expecting that he would turn around and start talking, discussing matters. But after being disappointed for too many days, it just seemed right to move out.

Funnily though, I feel at peace. I had a good night’s rest and do not feel that I am missing out on anything. You could say numb perhaps.

What I hate to admit to myself is maybe...just maybe this second marriage too is not working.

To MBA or Not

2008-10-27T16:09:00.002Z

This is a deep look within myself to find out whether I want to do this course or not, to find that ray of determination.

Why I Do I Want To Do This MBA?

- I have already paid up £6,250 towards the fees, so might as well complete the course. That’s the frugal me talking.
- The modules looked tough initially, but the odd month that I did concentrate on my lessons, I found it to be do-able. This is me trying to be intellectual.
- This is my last chance at being a post-graduate. Yes, I have this thing about being a post-graduate person. Graduation is the new kindergarten!! This is the Mallu in me that’s talking
- Once I have an MBA degree from Imperial and get a British passport next year, I could easily go back to Dubai and make pots of money there!! (No please, I do not see myself as a white person trapped in a brown body and faking the Brit accent!!)
- I would be the first person from both my father’s and mother’s side to have done a professional course abroad.
- I can have the satisfaction of having dreamed of studying well beyond my 30s and actually achieving that goal. This will give me a much needed sense of accomplishment.

Why Do I Not Want To Do This Course?

- I don’t want to fail in any of my exams. I have always been a class topper, a merit holder to be precise. And because I am finding the Economics and Statistics modules quite difficult I am nervous about sitting for an exam without being very well prepared.
- OK so I have paid up for four modules; but I still have to pay for the rest five by next year. Do I really want to spend more money when I do not know whether I have the balls to complete the entire course?
- Other than DH, no one really gives a damn whether I do this course or not.
- I am lazy and a procrastinator. I do not have the dedication to be serious about this course and complete it.
- There is a voice that asks me whether I am doing this for myself or whether I am doing it to show off to others (not that anyone actually gets impressed with a person who has done an MBA, but it definitely paves the way when it is from Imperial!!)
- I have been working for thirteen years now and have an impressive CV due to my tenure at two large multinational companies. Do I really need an MBA at this stage to perk up my CV?

Bottom Line: Some times you do things not because they sound logical or even right. You do it just because you want to. And I am going to do it only because I believe those three alphabets will give me some sort of self worth.