A small hiatus

Cloud nine is right now on a small hiatus, due to a surgery. Will sure be back with a bang in a few days. Till then, please support me by your prayers and comments on the blog. Would definitely miss you all...

A Get-together to remember!

After a short hiatus, i am BACK! I love reading travelogues. Now the time is ripe to write one, i hope. Back from a short vacation with my friends in God's Own Country, i am indeed blissfully happy. We were a five families, two spinsters( temporary) with an army of little children and two bachelors, all alumni from a Chennai school. The journey started with a bang for me. Two little children and a BIG BAG on tow, i embarked on my adventure. Though i wrote, rewrote and checked about a hundred times my checklist for the journey, i promptly forgot water bottles for the journey. The train started moving and my daughter cried- " Amma! I want water right away!" Then started a frantic search which turned futile. No sign on water anywhere in the train either. Tactically i lulled her to sleep with a story and slept peacefully my little angel, till the next station- Karur. Thankfully, my coach halted near a stall and i could sneak out of the coach for a bottle of water. I had to shake the sleeping angels to give a few gulps. Landed at Thrisur Railway station at 4 am, where my dear friend Prasoon was awaiting us. My daughter would have traded places with anyone on the train to travel straight to Ernakulam!

Prasoon's chaai...was so soothing in the gloomy rainy morning that i sipped two chaais straight away. After fresh up and head count, we proceeded to Allepey by train, where few more of our friends joined us. It was all fun till we entered the house boat. Trust me, travel by a house boat is by itself pure ecstasy- peace, tranquility and fun, as usual! Our houseboat was bigger- five bedrooms in all, a kitchen with staff, foyer, deck with large dining area. The kids running about, the waters lapping at your foot, the translucent blue waters beyond...and a few friends playing cards on the deck, reminiscing good old school days...what more could one ask?

A neighboring house boat on sail

Karimeen fry!!!

As the boat sailed by, we stopped at boat stops, akin to our bus stops, small shops selling trivias and docked for the evening. Still feeling gluttonous from the lunch of "karimeen" fry and rice, we had fun playing dumb charades, the little ones playing twister. As we retired for sleep in the air-conditioned bedrooms after dinner, we never felt we were in the waters...As the early morning rays filtered through the curtains and touched me, i lay in a lazy haze, glancing at the pinkish blue waters and the water birds smooth flight. Never in my life i had such a beautiful morning!

Early morning capture of Vembanad Lake

With almost heavy hearts we had to disembark...sigh* We landed at a resort in Allepey. A game of water polo ( was it the name? No idea!) and a hearty meal, we headed out to the beach. Little ones building sand castles, bigger ones playing football and frisbee- the fun was just unlimited! A surprise Birthday Party for our friend Triju's daughter Tanisha was thrown...The bash became HUGE success, due to the high kids turnout who had a field day blowing and breaking balloons. We enjoyed a superb dinner of Malabar Parottas, Kappa, Chicken pollichathu, pathiri and pots of hot kattan chaai- Heavenly!

Birthday Bash of Tanisha

My dearest friend Bhuvana who shared rooms with me was in for a rude shock as my alarm blared and woke her up at 6 am the next day. " We are on a holiday girl" she had said the day earlier. We lay awake talking of sweet old schooldays till 2.30 am and when my alarm woke her up at 6, she was sure looking for a cudgel to thrash me!!! Another motor boat ride in the waters of Vembanad and a look at the Nehru Pavilion from which thousands would watch the Annual Nehru Cup race on 13 August, we wound up the tour. 

The Nehru Pavilion, Vembanad

My hunger for little fun with long lost friends, craving for good Kerala food and eons of peace- all satiated, i am raring to go for the next trip! And hereby extending my special thanks to all those beautiful souls who made this all happen- meticulous planning, thoughtful execution and above all, the SPIRIT OF FRIENDSHIP all through. Lucky to be together with friends on Friendship Day!!!

Falling in love- again and again!

She waits at the airport's car park, seated restlessly in her car. The hand- held mirror works overtime, depicting flaws in eye shadow and powder coat missing in her nose. As she powders her nose, her thoughts go back to the last time she saw him, pushing the luggage trolley towards the exit gates. She has the grit to smile and wave till the last moment his perfectly chiseled face disappears as a distant blur. Then sting the tears that she successfully hides behind her sun shades that trail down her cheeks, crossing the barriers. She is nocturnal- her nights are always longer than her days. Not clubbing, but just reminiscing, weaving myriad dreams of future with him. 

Days are always busy with chores that extend beyond horizon to be finished. It is the nights that bring back memories, memories taken out of a few happiest chapters from her life. Her first walk holding hands with him in the rain drenched evening, the early morning coffees with her swinging in the bamboo swing and him sitting on the patio steps- all remain etched somewhere in her memory that boasts of volumes of sweet nothings through the past nine years. The rough stubble on his chin, the contours of his crafted face, the eyes that always twinkle with love...she does miss him, alright!

Her thoughts are broken by the announcement from the PA system. Its time. She smooths her frizzed hair and steps out in the scorching sun. Tens of anxious faces wait outside the entry and she joins the troupe. The roving eyes narrow down on that shock of dark hair and weather beaten face. Her face lights up like a lone lamp in the dark. Was he so tall? She tries to search her memory card for data and fails. He does look very drawn and thin, she thinks to herself. As he draws near, she can feel the magnetism drawing her to him, she wishes she were just a kid. The children dash towards him shouting- " Appa!" and she holds her back tightly holding on to the hand rails. She mentally snaps his smile, to be stacked away in the Memory folder for use later and slips her hand to hold his strong, work calloused palm. 


The car is booming with the kids' baubles and laughs. The duo exchange a few knowing glances and smile in silence. Her hand still holding his, they revel the silent togetherness. The thirty days granted as life rushes by in fast track, with numerous trips and travels. The day of packing arrives and the pickles and powders sit silently, watching the last few hours of muted packing. The stuffed suitcase is heavy like her heart, ready to explode any moment. She is hard as a rock, never breaking up in adversity. Calmly resigned to affliction, the last night ticks by. All she can hear is the peaceful snoring of him- her man and the slow piling of tears in the corner of her eyes. 

Eleven months of wooing, skyping and yahoo chats for hours together...she discovers and rediscovers love- once a year. She longs for that cup of coffee on the swing, that long walk holding hands, that gentle snoring on the other side of the bed, the strong shoulders that she loves to lean on, the slow heart breaking smile every morning on waking up and the occasional stolen kisses. All she now has in store for her are eleven more months of solitude- to fall in love again. Hopelessly falling in love again and again, she is now resigned to her fate. So are the tens of thousands of women who send off their husbands to deserts in the Gulf every year, after a month's leave. Cupid strikes every year, falling in love was never so painful, yet beautiful...

Puppy love!

I seriously don't understand why i chose to write on this! To a puritan soul who once thought Puppy Love synonymous to loving your pet puppy, reminiscing the little titbits of teen life brings a happy warm glow. Ahem! There, i am a puritan, i have declared already...This story happened long time ago, when i was in school, sporting two pig tiny pigtails and a loooooooooong pinafore. Thank God, I was not wearing braces and a funny thick rimmed spectacle. But for sure, I was a dull head when it came to puppy love or calf love. I had heartfelt interest in academics and i excelled in it. As for the other teen 'happenings', i remained totally oblivious to numerous puppy loves blossoming around me.

 Brought up in a typical South Tamil Nadu conservative household by a very disciplined teacher- mother ( how unlucky- I had to tolerate the duo in one!), I was prim and proper. So much that i had transformed into a Tom Boy. I took special antagonism against girlie girls who sat in the last benches, giggled a lot at nothing and bunked classes whenever they could. If there was something i loved the most, it was competing- fighting with the guys whenever i could get the tiniest of the opportunity. I pounced on every occasion to belittle the opposite sex and the Love was indeed mutual! Except for a few overtly mature boys, the others ridiculed and tried to provoke the tiny Tomboy who was like phosphorous out of water!

One fine morning, i was confronted by a boy of my class, with a piece of paper crumpled into a tiny ball in his sweaty palms. He must have thought- Should I or Should i not? a thousand times before he promptly handed over the paper to me. I, all of fourteen years, mistook it to be a prank and got it. Only when i read through the three words scribbled hurriedly on the paper did it dawn on me that it was my first love letter! Dumb head! I deposited the letter promptly to my mentor in school. The puppy love stricken guy was beaten black and blue. Poor guy. I really feel so sorry for him now and would ask for his forgiveness if i ever met him again. The raging hormones in pre teens can do funny flip flops and can make you go insane with infatuation. Sad, these Tom boys arrive late at the puppy love station! By the time they arrive, the last train would have left with the X mark at the back...

Do all these puppy loves die a silent death? Definitely no. There are some who settle down with their puppy love partners. But how come you wake up every morning, dreaming of the same ol' face for decades, starting from your teen age, is something i can't comprehend. I read somewhere- Puppy love will lead you to a dog's life! Years later, when after innumerable match making attempts, i met L, strange things indeed happened, Yes! I was very much infatuated, to the man destined to waste(!) his life with me. Every furtive glance we stole, every word that was said, every tingling touch- ahhhhhhhh! Love came a bit late, but boy, it was not puppy love. It was something destined to last a life time, or so i believe.

What is your take on puppy love? I would love to have some feed back on some puppy love you came across or you heard of...

I hate homework...

It is eleven pm, the clock's silent ticking and my son's pencil scratching the paper is all i can hear. Back from a tiring shift in office, i droop and wake again, only to find the poor fellow writing ba+ee= beeeeeee....snore....wake up girl...Home work- how much do we hate it? My childhood days too were filled with thick rimmed spectacle wearing teachers and voluminous assignments. My trysts with homework started long back in my Kinder Garden ( what a funny name for a place where kindness is scarce!) I must have written B-A-T and A-N-T so many times, i had nightmares remembering the spellings of bat and ant. If i had started writing blogs then, i would have written 10000000000...posts by now! 


The education system has taught us to write home works in abundance and understand nothing! I could blindly recite any verse in Thirukkural ( Tamil literary work) without an inkling of what it meant. My memory was school-famous! I could memorize random numbers in any order and repeat without missing a single digit. That was how home works changed me- Mugging Queen. I thought the world had changed in twenty years since i left school and was in for a rude shock. My son is now slowly taking up my post...psttttt. Mother used to spend hours together with us, which made me wonder- why is she up all night pestering me to complete homework? Alas! History repeats now, as i half-sit and half-sleep on the couch as my son writes his homework. Poor chap! If he were lucky enough, he would have been my brother or classmate, enjoyed the little happiness left with veteran homework jugglers.

Fun went around everywhere with us, whether we played hide and seek or cooked rice with eeny wheeny little pots. L Junior doesn't know any game other than chess and scrabble or his silly video games. Children these days probably write more homework than PhD's research work! Every time i watch the nimble fingers holding the pencil struggling, i hate it. I hate it that we keep watching as our little ones lose every ounce of their happiness and childhood. After all, it is their childhood and we treat them as if they are Engineers and Doctors! We lecture them about responsibility, sincerity and obedience, trying to instill our long forgotten dreams as their own.The personal space they must have of their own- the scribblings of rockets and planes on little pieces of paper, the tables written on walls, the soap bubbles floating all around- all these....are they the property of an elder generation?

 It is quite absurd to watch little ones role play as professionals- we are creating a phoney generation who have no imagination, no creativity and no pastime that can be fruitful. How sick! And those teachers who give tonnes of home works- if i were the Education Minister, i would have flogged them on their thick hides. Or better, we can publicly lash them for punishing the kids. Ahhhhh...it is getting better now...We can give them imposition, let them write the loooooooooooongest answer 100 times in a single evening!  And let us feed the home works to the dogs. Oh, they too wouldn't sniff it...

 L Junior keeps peeping at what i blog right now. When he read the title I could sense a wicked chuckle and a twinkle in the corner of his eye! Thank Heavens, there is little innocence and childhood left in him!!!

My experiments with beauty!

Do you like looking beautiful? Who wouldn't, right? I try to remember since when i have been visiting my beautician- ahem...it sounds time immemorial! I started the easiest and economical thing growing teens do- threading my eyebrows. The first time i finished threading, the poor beautician was sweating and swearing. She might have thought- Why such fuss for a simple threading? For those who have "enjoyed" the swivel chair, while threading, the positions how you place your fingers holding the eyebrows and the fast snip of thread can still mean "terror". Mark my words, the first time you thread is sure a nightmare, you end up with puffed eyelids and brows reminding you of the Caveman's better half.

Mother used to frighten me saying bleaching and facial treatment would leave my skin wrinkled and dry. To compensate the dryness ( my skin was absolutely ok, even oily!), i tried every trick i could read as beauty tips. Stuffs you could have never imagined- honey, multani mitti, papaya paste, ground custard apple, neem, sandal wood paste, saffron, milk cream, i tried everything under the sun before my first bleach experience. Again, it was a pre-planned disaster, planned and executed by my beautician. She suggested i try some herbal bleach as i was a first timer. I almost shrieked in horror looking at my caked face on the parlor's mirror! And the worst part came when the parlor assistant tried to steam my face. Whaaaaaaaaaat? I looked at the apparatus in dismay- fumes were rising like a miniature volcano from it. Should i put my face over there? I look incredulously at my friend who took me to the parlor. Oh, you are altready half way down to becoming Aishwarya Rai, i said to myself and continued my ordeal. The next step was scrapping the black heads from my nose using that odd-looking needle and there ended my patience. Who wanted a la Aishwarya? I just wanted to get up and run away from that swivel chair as fast as my legs would carry!

As years passed by, i loved the visit to my beautician, i got some quality time to myself, snoring away with the face pack on, with curious onlookers peering! Pampering oneself at the cost of a poor man's wallet ( the menfolk of the house, who else?) was doing great to boost my battered female ego. See, i was avenging the men of the house who never give me my personal space and time... My monthly visit to the parlor was the most heatedly debated issue at home, by hook or crook, i won all arguments FOR a parlor visit. I experimented a lot with my poor hair- perming, then straightening, again ironing, rebonding and finally when so little hair was left in the scalp, i gave up! Now i really don't know what hairstyle i sport and sincerely oil my hair everyday. I end up with so much oil on my face everyday, guys who manage to look at me must think- Does she pour all her monthly ration of oil in her hair, a single day? 

Then came the Mother of all Beauty Tricks- Slimming Clinics. I watched with my mouth wide open when the beautician explained how she could reduce 10 kgs of fat in 10 days by slimming. Diet and regular sittings- a kg loss cost a thousand bucks! Oh well, why not give a try, i thought. But worldly wise this time over, i decided to lie low and watch what happened to sister-in-law who enrolled in a slimming session. She lost 10 kgs in 10 sittings and i was awe-struck! I was thunder struck when sis in law gained 20 kgs immediately after the sessions were over. Thank you dear God, you saved my husband's hard earned 10000 bucks! Tired of all experimenting, all i do these days is to visit parlors for an eyebrow threading, bleach, facial and a good afternoon siesta once a month. It is the same herbal bleach and pack every time, how much ever that woman in the parlor tries to convince me...I am sick of all New looks! Does this mean I am getting old? Old or young, all i feel is I AM BEAUTIFUL!!! 

Love finds a way...

Long time since i have talked about love...So, here is one to long distance love. World has shrunk today, we have advanced from desktops to i-phones. So, how are romantic relationships these days? My friend's sister said the other day- I follow Jesus Christ. Astonished she might end up a nun, i ask her Are you going to be a nun? She gives a Are you insane look and says- Nope, i forgive and forget- forgive myself for dumping him and forget him for the next better dude! Wow, that is some love.

Love birds these days jam skype and yahoo chat lines. Traffic jam online almost suffocates veteran long distance lovers like me! How strong are the bonds of love when love is long distance? STD love is better, you get to meet your partner often, sneak a secret outing, a dinner and a movie. What about ISD? Bad if your mate comes on vacation once in a few months and worse if the frequency is yearly. Your love will not be there when you are sick. A get well soon mail in the inbox which you can open after a week will taunt you. SMS frequencies of one an hour will trickle down to a Good morning darling and a Sweet dreams muuaaaah in a couple of months. You call him to say you have got a promotion and his voice inbox says for the thousandth time Hey! Am attending a meeting. Will get back to you shortly. The bespectacled dumbo of your office who always sits unmoving as a stone will now look a better choice to you!

I wonder how letters and mails can nurture a relationship. Love- long distance can work only if you communicate frequently, only if you are committed to the relationship, only if you put unwavering trust in your partner and only if you throw up ample surprises to stun your partner. There are so many Only-ies that baffle you. Youth these days seem to lack in all these departments and so, i hope long distance love usually fizzles out in a few months. You love to spend more quality time together and that is not possible when the skype cam says Internet connection lost! Smooching smileys never come anyway near the original stolen kisses... And for love these days, no love when there is no coochie coo...


Against all these odds, there are few people who keep the light shining, the fire burning. Distance means so little when someone means so much! I am glad there are some who live life long distance. There are families where fathers hear their babies' first cries over ISD calls. There are sons who narrate their day in school to Dads on yahoo chats. There are wives who spend hours together trying to decipher the nuances of making internet calls to their husbands. Strong commitment and trust peppered with little surprises make these relationships click and i hope Gen next learns to view relationships with renewed trust and commitment. Here is a toast to my long distance love L- Happy 9th Anniversary! I love you! May our love grow by leaps and bounds, courtesy- skype and yahoooooooooo!

Confessions of a Railway Reservation Clerk!

Scene1:

 A middle aged man glares at me across the counter and i show him the appreciation is indeed mutual! He asks the umpteenth number of time- "so you can't give me a ticket now?" I now nod my head sideways pursing my mouth, careful my girl, one word out of your mouth and he will seize your throat. His next question is just what i guessed- " I want to make a complaint. Where should i give a complaint against you?" I try to imagine i am talking to the Prime Minister and put up my best smile and say- " You can please contact the Station Master to lodge a complaint, sir". There, i said it. He looks at me bewildered, why is this lady unperturbed when i say i am going to complain against her? What dear Customer Inc. doesn't know is, i have piles of complaints on me and loads of punishments handed over to me. He did complain that day, the enquiry clerk in the counter did not give me a ticket at 2.30 pm on Sunday, asked me to do whatever i can and directed to write a complaint rudely. The Complaints Inspector kind of looks at me with disdain and hands over a memorandum asking my explanation two days later. Customer dear had directly faxed the complaint to GM's Office and i am taken up for behaving rude with him. Now, the concerned section wants to close the file as soon as possible and they compel me to apologize to the concerned complainant.

Cursing dear fate, i land up at his doorstep two days later with a condescending colleague. His wife supplies coffee to us and disappears. He argues what he did was right, he never knew he could not get a reservation ticket on Sunday afternoon after 2 pm but it was my callous behavior that insulted him. My foot! He books tickets every week and knows pretty well reservation offices don't function after 2 pm on Sundays. He remains stubborn and my colleague tries his level best to convince him to withdraw the complaint. Ignorant of timings of reservation office, this learned man has directly faxed complaint to GM's office, the address of which he knows as the back of his hand! After deliberations and pleading, he finally agrees to give a withdrawal letter if i say the inevitable word- I am sorry, sir! I don't remember having done anything wrong except the fact that i directed him to the SM's room. Forced by my colleague who had already deliberated with the learned man for more than two hours, i am now in a tight fix. I have to say a simple sorry, else my colleague who has come to help me, will feel put off. To avoid an unpleasant situation, i mumble- I am sorry, sir, and step out of the house. I see the lady of the house peering through the window grills of the house and i suddenly feel so sorry for her. Imagine how life would be for her with such a man! A disaster!

Scene 2:

It is a chilly morning in Reservation Office, raining cats and dogs outside. I try to get up from my seat for more than an hour to get to the restroom, without success. When i finally clear some rush, i see only one elderly man standing before me, writing a form. All other counters are free. I tell him earnestly- " Sir, please get the ticket in the next counter. I will be back in five minutes." He looks up at me, shrugs his shoulder and continues his writing. I lift myself up, rub my aching hands and start my walk to the restroom slowly, my pot belly pulling me back. Well into my third trimester, my delivery is due any moment and after using the restroom, i feel suddenly uneasy and sit back in the dining room. After five minutes there is commotion outside and i walk back to see what is wrong. 

Our elderly man is yelling at the counter clerk nearby- " why should i come to your counter? I am here and i want to get ticket only from this counter. Ask the counter clerk to issue the ticket. I will not move from here, until she herself gives the ticket. How dare she leaves the counter for ten minutes?" This happens when all the counters are free, devoid of any living being. Ignited beyond control, already in delivery blues, i start arguing with him. My blood pressure must have sure shot like hell. Supervisor dear comes running and picks up the application from Mr High and Mighty and gives him the ticket, trying to pacify him. Mr Mighty leaves huffing and puffing. Thankfully, he forgot the incident as he had more interesting quarrels on the way back home and i am saved. Amen!

Every now and then we meet people like these- those who think themselves High and Mighty and undervalue anyone under the sun. A counter clerk is just a chit of a person who has to act as per their own whims and fancies. If not, well, they know how to teach them a lesson, don't they? Wherever i see MK Gandhi's quote- “A customer is the most important visitor on our premises, he is not dependent on us. We are dependent on him. He is not an interruption in our work. He is the purpose of it. He is not an outsider in our business. He is part of it. We are not doing him a favor by serving him. He is doing us a favor by giving us an opportunity to do so.” I feel like laughing out aloud whenever i read this. And whenever i meet one such Customer(Kashtam-er!) all i can do is- sigh* urgh...sigh*

Interested in reading more? Check this confession of a fellow reservation clerk...

The forgotten ensemble

Tamil Pavadai- thavani

If there is a dress that can keep you innocent-looking even in your forties- it is this! I was crazy about our very own Tamil Pavadai- Thavani ( half saree), though i learnt to wear it properly after lots of help from my friends and a dozen safety pins. The most beautiful pavadai thavani has almost died, its very existence challenged by our North Indian counterparts- the lehenga and churidars. Dressing is one's own private choice, but seeing the present generation's aversion to the Tamil traditional costume, i am worried. Its not uncommon to see many colleges in rural areas make wearing sarees and haf-sarees compulsory. It is of course appropriate, lest we shall never see young girls in it.

Jimikki- jhumkas!

A few months back, i had a trip to my native in South Tamilnadu, a small quaint town in Western Ghats and was surprised by the quantum of churidars and jeans i saw. Not a single pavadai thavani! It was Heaven to simply open my cupboard and take out my magenta colored pattu pavadai and navy blue thavani! It was my favorite dress- the Best my Mother bought for me and i relished wearing it a decade back. Festooned with two braids carelessly waving in front ( rettai jadai!), a tiny jimikki tinkling in the ears, a long trail of jasmine flowers tucked behind the ears, a long pendant chain with white stones, anklets clinking with joy, glass bangles the same shade of thavani clinking, a red bindi on the forehead- it is just awesome remembering those days!

India's National attire;)

I shuffled the thavani for hours- wearing, changing and again shuffling till there was a perfect V at the back and spent another half hour in clamping safety pins to cover up- a dozen at least! Thank God, i promoted soon from half-sarees to sarees, else my Dad would have become bankrupt buying safety pins for his chellaponnu's thavani! Pattu ( silk) pavadai and georgette thavani was equally appealing to me as the faded denim and casual tees. We get to see denim clad girls hanging jasmine flowers up to their hips from their hair in local festivals and village belles fetching water from street taps adorned in nighties these days. Excuse me ladies! Nighties are night wear strictly meant to be worn at home. One can see women in nighties dropping kids at school, buying grocery in Annachi ( local grocer shops manned by South Tamil men) shops and funny enough i found a lady attending mass at a Church covered head to toe in a pillow case @ nightie! No wonder, sooner or later, nightie might become our National Dress!

I am sad i have overgrown my pavadai thavani days, but i am definitely happy to be wearing its long time cousin- the saree. Be it kanjeevaram or venkatagiri cotton, Italian crepe or zardosi worked designer piece, i simply cannot resist the temptation to feel it, to touch it and savor wearing it! Luckily for me, my little angel L is an ardent lover of sarees at age 5! We have already decided which sarees she inherits from me- she seems to be craving for the high- end kanjeevarams more- her Dad says " Like Mother, like daughter!" This is one happy legacy i am damn glad to be passing on to L- all my sarees and that magenta pattupavadai and blue thavani!

A family lesson

The effect of Rajkumar and Sooraj Barjatyas and their large family gatherings always had a great impact on me, right from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun days. Families have shrunk from being joint to disjointed and nuclear. The big large family is a rarity these days, with grandparents, aunts, uncles, nephews, nieces, sisters, brothers, sister-in-laws, brother-in-laws:- the list is ever-growing. Our families these days are so compact- parents and two kids at the most. Gone are those days when we had entire mansions as houses- our lives these days are cramped in 800 sq ft apartments where we seldom know the neighbor.The cookers at home looked like cauldrons, vegetables had to be cut by a group of women, in some houses the stoves were ever-burning!

Living in one small "inter"national family where the inmates visit home once a year for a month, i was in for a pleasant surprise when i visited one of my husband's friend today. Razack is a Superintendent working with my husband who visits home once a year. All these poor "Gelf" employed men visit home once a year, picked up from airport by a battalion of uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters. Zack is no different. Every time he comes home, a tempo traveller picks him from the airport. We visited Zack's newly built home today. His is a joint family of three siblings and their families, living in a two bedroom house along with their aged mother. The shrill laughter of the children- four of them playing greeted us from outside. All the four women of the house were busy cooking and the menfolk were taking care of the outdoor construction work. Remember, this is a normal day in their house.

I always have deep respect for Muslim families who live together, having seen many such loving families whose men are employed abroad. This particular family has completely withstood the test of time, held together by the guidance of the widowed mother and the siblings' commitment to live together. There may be some hiccups like in every family, but so overpowering is the sense of belonging among the little ones who call each other and hold hands, play together. May be i learnt a lesson from the little ones. The chit chat of the women cooking and the men talking lingers in my mind as i write this. Being a 'solitary reaper', i left their family with a heavy heart. A stoic silence envelops my living room as i enter my home and i say to myself my own slogan for the umpteenth time- "There is nothing that money can't buy, for everything else, there is Mastercard!"

The Hope Fairy

I stood stupefied in shock when Daddy called up and said Mother is in coma. Lots of hush hush going on around the house and i knew nothing of it, probably because of Lionel who was 3 months old then, wailing incessantly all the time. All i knew was Mummy was ill and she needed immediate medical treatment. I was told by my Dad and Uncles that Mother had a tumour in her stomach because of the long standing ulcer she had and so she would be operated. Just the day before Dad had called from Chennai to say she was doing well after the surgery and he had talked to her, convalescing. This call came as a bolt from the blue. The train journey from Trichy to Chennai never seemed so long. Crouching in the Unreserved compartment all alone with a wailing infant, all i could feel was numbness. Prabhu Uncle was the first person who met me at the hospital gate. I still remember what he told me- " Please don't cry seeing her, your Father is waiting to see you. We all have given him loads of hope, please don't shatter it by crying in front of him". That second, something in my life changed forever- hope...that was what i had to offer to anyone. Apollo's ICU is a maze where life and death play hide and seek. The moment i set my eyes on her, i felt tears rolling from my eyes silently. She had two plaits, hair combed neatly, green hospital grubs, tubes all over her body, eyes closed with small strips of plaster. I had never seen her sleep so peacefully, like an Angel- that was her name.

Holding her hands silently i talked whispered softly to her- " You will be alright Mummy. I cannot live without you". No response. There came a duty doctor and after long silence, he said the dreaded words- " she is like vegetable now, totally brain dead." He continued offering hope, saying almost all medical terminologies that meant she will probably be alive till her last only through a ventilator. Nothing registered except the dull beep of the ventilator. I walked out in stoic silence with my baby, Daddy looked up at me. There was a blank look on his face, he was probably looking somewhere beyond me. I brought a compulsive smile and said- " she will be alright Dad, don't worry". All my Uncles and Aunts and my siblings stood together now, praying, waiting for doctors to simply say 'a miracle has happened'. 

Apollo Hospital Chennai, Mother was here in coma for 45 days

Daddy refused to come home, praying for hours together in the tiny chapel adjoining the waiting hall of the hospital. He spent 45 days in Apollo and another 9 days in Soorya Hospital, till Mummy breathed her last. Mummy was diagnosed with Cancer Stage 4 and we were hoping against all odds that she would be alright soon, seeing the patients who were indeed recovering after surgery. Dr Surendran did a splendid job, the surgery was a success, but why she fell into a coma is still an unanswered question for all of us. He had shown Dad the patients who had recovered, trying to instill hope in him. He had succeeded in that too, Dad believed Mother would wake up one day and talk to him. I have not met him so far, all details about him have been hearsay and i wish some day i would thank him for offering something to Dad- "Hope". The hope that his wife would be better soon made Dad tick on.

We still don't know what her last thoughts were, i would have been happy if i had the chance to hear her last words. But God has surprises galore for us. I never knew what she felt, how she wanted us to move on and how to take care of her husband of 25 years. Hope was something i was clinging onto, even after her demise. It was not an easy task to settle down two young siblings and take care of a grieving Dad, along with my two bundles of joy- Lionel and Leina. Mother was always chirpy and cheerful, there would be always laughter surrounding her and i envied her for all the happiness she radiated with. She was a super computer, remembering everyone's birthdays and wedding anniversaries. She even wished the ENT surgeon who did Dad's ear surgery years back, every month on 1st over phone. She gave me the most wonderful gift of my life- " Hope". Pulling on the family along with my Hope Fairy, we managed to get through the hard times. The elder is now married and well settled, the younger an Australian citizen now and Dad retired from his service just yesterday. I know Mother would be smiling from Above at me, i believe she guides our family, she is our Leading Kindly Light in the Darkness.

Dad gives a few cash awards for best students every year from the school where Mother taught. It is to motivate the children to aim high, to give them hope to perform well. Hope is the legacy that Mother left behind for me, which i will take forward and distribute to everyone in need of it. In all my troubled times, i remember what she had wrote on my bedroom walls, quoting Robert Frost-

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But i have promises to keep,

And miles to go before i sleep.

And miles to go before i sleep."

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