Can aromatic food can make you feel depressed?

I am feeling really homesick today. Usually when I feel homesick, it’s primarily either I am missing home or home-cooked food. And today it is home-cooked food that I am really craving for. Whether it is summer or winters, I am perpetually hungry and worst part is I do not like my own cooking even a bit! It is not that I am bad at cooking! Honestly my food is no match mum’s magic or Kaipunyam as we would say in Malayalam.

Image: corbis.com

To make matters worse, just this morning I was feeling miserable thinking how far I am from home, have been away from home for over a decade and just then I smell something really fragrant being cooked in my neighbour’s house. It looks like they have invited friends over and I am suspecting they are up to cooking and eating something scrumptious. My living room and kitchen is filled with aroma over-flowing from their kitchen into ours. I am sure you can imagine how it must be adding on to my grief.

All that aroma is making super-nostalgic and hungry simultaneously. I know I am sounding really absurd but that's how emotional I have got all thanks to my neighbour. Food makes me feel real good because it reminds me of my childhood. But when I am deprived of mum’s food it feels more like being tranquilised with misery, which have a powerful, mood-altering influence on me.

Such misery can stoop me to unbelievably low levels of irrationality, for instance I am currently wondering if I could just call the police and ask them to arrest my neighbours for enticing me. That’s a far-fetched idea and I know the law wouldn't even have a provision for such a thing. However I am sure of one thing, the constitution would have been much different if I were entrusted with the law making responsibilities. 

Silly Saturdays: Daddy's beautician at work.

We always talk about the busy and industrious moms, who work day in and out. 365 days a year. However the daddies of the world are equally incredible! No one talks of their hard work. Call them breadwinners, head of the family or finance minister (as I do) they too are equally integral part of the family.

I have been instilling the virtue of hard work on to my little one, by holding up her daddy as an example. Thus this weekend when we were all home, Smera decided to take matters in her hands, I mean on daddy’s foot. Drawing inspiration from mummy’s visit to the beautician’s her artistic skills were woken up. Without wasting anytime out came the nail polish in ElePhantastic Pink. With an amazing dexterity to match an accomplished painter, she covered both the toes in no time.

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But there was a catch, the daddy was asleep when all this was happening, so he was in for a real shock when got up see the color pop pink on his toes. And to his bad luck there was no nail polish remover at home. I somehow managed to convince him forget it and anyway no one was going to know as he always wear shoes and socks.

Life wouldn't have been so interesting if all his problems were to end there. Shortly after this incident was forgotten about, few friends dropped for tea. After a few minutes in the discussing the day’s match suddenly everyone’s gaze shifted on to hubby’s shiny toes. The rest of the evening was spent laughing at daddy’s new pedicured toe nails and Smera accepting accepting booking from her aunts for their next pedicure appointments. 

A week that went by !!

Being a Stay-At-Home-Mom or SAHM as the new lingo is, is one the most difficult part of job that any mother has do. Now don’t get me wrong, with all due respect it’s a very important job and somebody’s got to do it but the problem is at the end of the it’s a thankless job. I wonder how mums all the over world and over hundreds of years have managed to stay at home all the time and have been happy about it. I have never met a SAHM who has ever complained!

I was brought by an extremely hard working mum, who would be away almost 5 days a week but she made up for that I missed in just two days. Yes of course she missed my report card days (that was mostly on purpose), or school functions etc. But she was always around still and the one thing that I really learnt from her is to be independent! Be it monetarily or emotionally, every woman needs to be self sufficient!

I am currently at a situation where I am absolutely frustrated as I do a little bit of work from home, content writing, blogging etc. but it is just not satisfying my soul. I want to get back to the corporate routine and which is quite impossible right now with no one to look after my little Smera. It feels like living in a jail especially on school days as I have to be on mercy for the hubby to come in early and answer some of the her questions. Since we moved to Muscat we don’t have a baby-sitter so far and the question of having some Me-time is zero.

To help myself feel a little liberated I have started going to my hubby’s office, working on the website content. So my usual routine starts at 4:30 am, and that’s all thanks to my body clock and if knew where it was located I would have long thrown it out of body. Going after sending Smera away to school I get ready and rush to work, work on the content bit till 12:30 come back for houseboy to clean, cook lunch and pick up Smera.

Once Smera is back I am already feeling sleepyishly liberated and that’s when I take her down to play for an hour that is roughly around 5-6 pm. This is the time when I am really doing a security guard’s duty keeping both my eye on her, while she plays. In between other kids from the compound ask the lovely lady aka me the time, to make sure they don’t get in trouble with their mums. Once back from the play I give her a bath followed by then dinner and then I tuck her away by 7 pm.

Image courtesy: Corbis.com

Sigh!! I am feeling almost exhausted writing about it, imagine me dragging my self with that idiotic body clock. Then the laundry, tweeting, whatsapping, facebooking and thinking of the next blog post, while preparing for next day. Sounds extremely chaotic but I am loving it. I just wish if I could find a full-time help at home, which would make it more interesting then I guess.

For now I am happy, for having started working from office instead of my couch! 

Alarming insight

Yet another weekend is here and I felt like putting up my feet and watching a nice movie. I switch on the TV, I put on a romcom and start writing this post while watching a movie and I am thinking - What kind of man do you like? Is it the intellectual types or the guy who loves music or a man who loves to click pictures or someone who just smells enchanting! Well, my man is the kinds who is the intellectual types and also loves indulging in exquisite perfumes.

But hey I am not planning to write on how to find the right guy for yourself! Instead it’s going to be all about, how the right guy can get you into trouble with the building maintenance guys! My hubby loves his perfumes, he stashes them everywhere, in the car, in his laptop bag, the bathroom, doesn’t even spare the shoe-rack, name a place you can spot it there!

However I have taught myself to live his obsession, but of late it has been getting giving me a headache. Not because of the fragrance but because of the fire alarm ringing in my ears. The building maintenance guys have upgraded my flats alarm system just last month. Ever since the fire alarm has become ultra-sensitive to the slightest whiff of anything.

It mostly goes off just as the hubby as about step outside, the house, and the reason – before getting out of the house hubby like to douse himself in the Perfume! Now no matter where the location is of this act is the hypersensitive alarm sniffs it and shouts out loud. For the first few days I used to call the building maintenance guys to bail me out of the situation, but then even they got fed up! So with no choice I had to learn on how to disable the fire alarm and reset the gas connection which is all inter-linked in this building.

And just as I got one more thing to tease my hubby and feeling smug about my recently acquired DIY skills the alarm went off, again. But I figured that the usual suspect is not around. Quickly through the process of elimination I found the villain – the boiling sambar this time! 

Echoes of my Grandma

Long back I lost my grandparents and there is nothing in this world that could replace that special bond. I have missed them for years but of late I feel can feel their presence around me. This is post is not about a mind, body and spirit connection, it is just that Smera sometimes reminds me of my grandmothers in her daily discourse.

Problem is that we both are currently at the receiving end of our very own Smera the granny. Our problem probably stems from the daily dose of lecture that she gets from me.  Whatever sermon she receives particularly from me has been coming back to us in some form of the other. The simple explanation to all this is the fact that she is only child at home. Her thought is process is more or less like ours I guess!

I am sure the grandparents in the heavens above might having a ball of a time seeing me getting tortured with the miniature sized dictator at home.

Just recently I was combing her and she was complaining about the knots in her hair to which I responded saying, “Don’t worry mamma is working on it!”. To this she adds, “you know there is something else you should be working on your yelling and shouting!” I was a little taken aback by her ability to blabber and just as I was going to scold her, the father walks and adds fuel to fire, “very well said angel, you got it spot on!”

What the very supportive father does not know is that the he will not be served dinner till he makes up for the not so necessary comment.

This was just a starter! She uses a variety of tools to achieve her objectives - threatening, sweet-talk, emotional blackmailing and if nothing works, the she resorts to crying and get her things done. She can negotiate just like a full-grown adult would. Every now and then when I scold her, I get chided for being rude!

If the above weren't enough, I've got more for you. But before that it’s important to mention that Smera is not a fan aerated drink as we don’t encourage it. Even we don’t drink, barring very rare occasions like pizza nights. Smera has been made to understand the bad aspects of drinking aerated drinks, as they are high on sugar and not good for health in the long run.

Getting back to the story, a few days back we were having a pizza party and of course along with the pizzas there were some aerated drink to go with. Little Smera sees her parents, uncle, aunt and her cousin sisters sipping on the drink. She gives us a big nasty look and says “You all are going to die!”.  For a moment I really felt like as my granny back from the heavens above to stop me from committing a heinous crime!

Right or wrong, she has an opinion, which in a way makes me a proud. She isn't afraid to stand up to what is right. One can occasionally hear her Smera in either mine or hubby’s defense, “Now that’s not nice of you!” or “I think you should be saying sorry now”. Sigh!

Times like these, I wonder if I should stop her to talk like an adult. But then I am left to wonder what’s wrong if she can systematically channelise her thoughts and create an opinion about different situations? Right or wrong is far away from the debate but at least she is not following the herd and has a mind of her own.

So with a little pinch of salt, I have decided to let her be for now and get entertained for the time being, until it starts bordering on getting-on-my-nerves mode.

Changing a habit a bit !!

It’s very difficult to change a habit overnight, especially when a habit makes you the person you are. For the past 2 weeks I have been on the line of fire with my family and when I start to reason it out with them, I end up sounding silly!

I haven’t been keeping well for the past few months and even after good 5 doses of antibiotics the problem would refuse to go away! I could have long come back home to either Delhi or Kochi for a second opinion instead of suffering for so long. However being the self-reliant person I am I didn’t want to bother anyone else. Now I know just as I wrote that line it sounded really Foolish!

Nonetheless there are blocks that we tend build these in our heads. We shouldn’t trouble anyone, try to manage everything ourselves as we stay so far away from family. I have always preferred to do things on my own particularly with an extremely busy husband who has just jumped into a new line of work. Who wouldn’t like an self-reliant wifey and daughter? Right!

Wrong! I over did it! This self-sufficiency habit has landed me into trouble when I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was given a choice to decide over my preferred home. So Delhi it was, I decided came down to my parents place. After a little procedure and day at the hospital, I am finally feeling better and have finally got a fit certificate too. Yay!

My habit made my mother and husband most angry. This thought process of not troubling anyone, solving my own problems is somewhere is influenced by them over the years. These two people never stop! Especially my mum she can be unwell but not a soul would know in the house. Somewhere secretly I imbibed that from my mum. My husband has always lived out of home and is the most independent person and so even somewhere even I become just like them.

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But what I tend to forgot is, we need to shout out for help when in need. It is only in times like these that you can fall back on your family and friends for help. I love to be there for everyone, but I must ask them for help too. That’s why it’s called a support system.

I have understood that, while I must also admit it is not easy for me to change. I am still struggling to get over the guilt of troubling others. I will try my best to speak to mind more often, stop feeling guilty about opening up to them.

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In all of mind over matter conflict I got to celebrate at home after 8 years, didn’t get to meet any of my besties but I tried to calling most of them, pouring out my woes whilst taking a dig at myself. I am feeling loved thanks to my support system and I promise to work on overcoming my weakness. 

Sometimes even love hurts

Motherhood has it’s own ups and downs. Mostly will be ups, when you see your little one smiles in the morning. God blessed us with a little chatter-box, and I am sure she can give any President a run for their money.  We are best of friends, when daddy works long hours, we joke, play and fight also.

Yesterday we had a little fight, we went out for dinner, an excited Smera was a little too loud. So I kept telling her “be quite”, as I didn’t want her to disturb others enjoying their food, hearing a yelling child.  Just as soon as we reached home, I wanted to wash her legs, hands, face before going off to sleep. But the sleepy Smera was in no mood to wash up.

“I Hate you” came out of her innocent mouth. Even though I know she did not mean it, but the words really did hurt me. So after all the rituals were done, that she really didn’t want to do, I took her to bed. And I softly asked her, “don’t you love mamma?” and she said “No, because you kept telling to be quite, when we went out for dinner”. After that she added “I love daddy” turned to the other side to sleep.

I know none of this was said from her heart but she must felt insulted as I scolded her in front of everyone. That must have pricked the little one’s heart. So to hurt me she must have said “I hate you”. But I couldn't sleep at night, my heart felt so heavy.

However this morning there was a U-turn in the situation, she hugged me and I said sorry too and told her how I felt. After a hearty conversation with the three and half year old over breakfast all our problems were solved.

There will be more days likes these to come but I hope my Smera knows that her mamma LOVES her the most in life.  If ever mamma says something that hurts you, in advance I am saying SORRY! Nonetheless you will be duly compensated too.

When you become big you too shall understand our parenting style is just a hit and trial method. Sometimes even Google helps but not that too is not always right! Sometimes it works and sometimes errors happen, however thou too shall pass! 

Crazy May or Mee

I have been feeling de-motivated for the last few months. Blame on the weather, missing family, being unwell or having troublesome three year old toddler at home or even the fact this new place is yet to feel like home.  Every from 6am till 8pm feels like being on the the 9 o'clock newshour with Arnab Gosawmi adding a little diva twist getting bombarded with questions.  

Finally I have reached a stage, I feel desperate need for a break where there no sun, no extreme winters, beach, rain n NO FAMILY... does such place exist? Somebody suggested to go off to Utopia. Wonder where this place is?

Sometimes it feels, I am not good enough as a mum, wife and the career has gone for a complete toss. Laziness is slowly gripping me like a warm blanket. And the lets not forget about our peculiar gender problems PMSing. Apart from the normal womanly abnormalities, I also came down with UTI. The problem is not a big issue apart from the pain. But what is most irritating is everyone asking me to drink water and cranberry juice. If I seriously took everyone’s advice we might run short of drinking water in Muscat.

Leaving all that aside my parents we here for 10 days. Felt like a bliss! I have been away from home for little over 10 years now and I crave for them to stay with us. Credit really goes to my mother for making me fat, thanks to all moong dal halwa, namak paare, not to forget the other scrumptious food that I had been gobbling down. 

But then I thought to myself - we all have are fat days ... and  days like these I think about eating only salads.... There's another perspective on salad..

Eventually the moral of the story as my husband would conclude – “There are no solutions to my problems.” Actually there is Ice-cream but it goes straight to the BUM and then fat days will be back all over again.  

Du-bye

Something is different as I write today. It’s not weather or the mood but it’s the backdrop, towering mountains have replaced the skyscrapers.

Change as they say is inevitable, and so it was time for us to move from Dubai to Muscat. We are all set for new challenges, goals, happiness, frustrations and learning’s here in Muscat.

Dubai has been really kind to us. We continue to be great fans of Dubai, of course every place has its own challenges but the city with each passing day tends to grow on you.  For many it might be the city with biggest and tallest, for me it has been the city of firsts!

It was almost 7 years ago I got married and came to Dubai join my hubby. To be honest, at first I didn’t like place very much but in a matter of few months I started calling it home. We set our first house together, done it up to call it our home, bought our first car, and mastered the art of DIY thanks to frequent trips to IKEA among many other things.  But nothing beats the pleasure of being first-time parents.

Little Smera was born here in Dubai and she filled our lives with immense joy. Staying away from family, it was difficult to raise an infant all by ourselves with no prior experience, but it got us closer to each other as partners.

We have been extremely fortunate on our career front and especially my husband who has been part of an outstanding company for the last 10 years. RSA has been extremely generous and supportive of him and his ambitions. In fact Smera is truly a RSA baby with pink and purple being favourite colours, true to the brand colours of the company.

Taking a sabbatical from work to enjoy motherhood, it was here I first tried my hands at blogging and I must admit I am addicted to it (thanks you for supporting my addiction !).

 There are numerous memories tied with this city and I am really going to miss it. The friends we made, our house (no, home), our favourite food joints and so many other things. However I am sure we are going to make many more new memories and I would love to share it with you all too here on Sangrywords!

To Muscat it is, here we come, with a little prayer in our heart, smile on our faces and hope in our minds to start a new chapter!

For my eternal love - Peraty !

Everyone has some or the other fond memories of growing up.  I also have many and still living up some of them even though I am an adult now. It’s these memories that keep the child in you alive. In my real life research I have also noticed that it helps me connect better with friends.

I used to love Amma feeding me lunch and dinner. Now that I am mum, there’s a role-reversal and I miss Amma. Last night as I went to sleep I was thinking of days when I would spend time at home and Amma making my favourite food. Of course there are many more memories but today I plan to write about my love for Peraty!

Peraty is what we call it, but which I am sure most of us would relate to eating from the bottom of the pan. Especially on days when would have Amma made my favourite like Aloo gobhi or chicken fry. Peraty – literally means coating. Coating little rice into the lovely masala stuck at the bottom of the pan, rolling it into a ball and eating it. Eating Peraty used to be a pure bliss moment.

When I was younger I used wonder why Amma always ate from the pan and not in a plate, until one I realised the about the joy of eating Peraty. Once you've tried it, I am sure you would be hooked on to it for life. This is something that also has a special relevance in my hubby’s life.

He grew up in a hostel and once a week there would be meat served to them. At the end of the meal there would be kitchen in-charge walking with the big pan and rice and she would roll Peraty for whosoever was interested. Of course they all were and so they would call out raising, “Miss please Peraty” and so the poor ended up with a ridiculously but cute name Miss Peraty.

We still enjoy eating Peraty and just the thought of it makes our hearts go all mushy and take back in time when life was so simple.

My girl turns 3 !!

Three years ago, this exact day I was blessed with a little baby girl. As she turns three today, the best part of being her parent is seeing her smile everyday in the morning. This year has been yet another spectacular roller-coaster ride for us and Smera and through the year many milestones were achieved this year too.

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She can talk, make full sentences, sometimes even scold us or publicly embarrass (more on that in my next post). She can now successfully somersault, strike a couple yoga poses and peddle tricycle without falling down and fracturing her hand. Breaking her wrist was the toughest part of the year, I think I must have cried more than her. Even through all that pain and irritation she showed us how brave she is. At least she was much more than me.

She has become more social and loves talking to the ladies. She would love to look at their dress, touch their earrings, if she is lucky might even get them put her some lipstick. While she is still a little vary of the men, actually to be honest she can give dirty looks to men and scare them off too. I kind of feel secure that way!

Another milestone she reached that now she is fully potty-trained and has been diaper-free for the last few months. Infact this was one of the milestones that got delayed a bit, as she was scared to sit on the pot. I had to bribe her with lipstick, to get her sitting on the potty throne initially.

Yes you heard it right, a potty throne that is what it is called – a separate miniature toilet, designed for kids to be trained. But thanks to her cousin sister Amy, she has finally been upgraded to big the pot. Thank god I don’t have carry her throne anymore now. Phew!

Above all this year we have become more of friends, we fight, we kiss and make up. Love to snuggle into each other and then when daddy comes home complain about each other. Now I enjoy when the husband is travelling and it’s just the two of us alone at home, doing all girlie things together, watching her favourite Cinderella or Peppa pig.

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Our relationship reminds me of mine with my mother when I was growing. She has got all my bad habits, keeps calling me Mamma all the time, whether there is a need or not. However the funniest bit was once, she says, “mamma you look like my sister!” It’s something I always tell about my mum that she looks like my sister and the little one must have picked up this somewhere from one of our conversations.

I am a very strict parent and maybe you might even find me scolding her all the time, but that is because I want her to be world’s best child. When you grow and read this one, I want you to know mamma loves you a lot. Thank you so much for making our lives so special. God bless you, may you grow up to be a wonderful girl and I am sure success would follow you.

Happy birthday Smera!

White-tile Syndrome

Did you know about RAK Ceramics, a UAE based company worth approximately an eye popping USD 1 billion? Even I did not know of this until a saw a feature on CNN Middle-east. What is more surprising is that Ras Al Khaimah a relatively modest emirate compared to Dubai or Abu Dhabi, supplies it’s produce to almost the entire world. If this information alone was not enough to make me dazed they are also into production of tableware, serving a huge hospitality industry worldwide. Here’s more they are officially the world’s largest supplier in ceramics.

Nevertheless what reminded me of that wonderful documentary is really about the tiles in my newly rented apartment. I am sure they too are from RAK ceramics, it would really silly if it was imported from China, with largest producer of ceramics just right next emirate. The tiles in the bathroom and in the kitchen are sparkling white. For most people that would be a very exquisite look, but for me it’s causing me severe OCD issues.

Now confession time – I have a fixation or let’s say a mania to maintain a clean house, which sometimes slightly borders over to the insanity side when it’s dirty. This obsession is only to do with MY house, Even my mum’s house or in-laws place, I really do not mind, in fact I encourage them to not bother cleaning and instead spend time with me, I like that bit more. So do not panic, you will not be judged if I were visiting your place. I would rather give you a helping hand if only you ask for, else I will be happy to be at your place, and even more with some lovely food to eat.

Coming back to my problem with white tiles is that I cannot comb my hair in the bathroom as it natural for it fall and makes not so amazing patterns. I secretly wish that my husband would cling wrap himself just before entering the house. Let’s not even go over to the kitchen, my family including myself, we love to eat cereals, how can it be ever possible that even a little crumbles won’t fall on the floor.

Image: gettyimages.ae

Once vacuumed and mopped it does look stunningly impressive and what’s more, I must thank the guys at RAK ceramics and Emaar for letting me know how difficult it is to manage the white tiled floors (note to my self when we plan our own home). However with a little help from the hubby can help go a long way and I am almost certain that he will be reading I am leaving him notes for improvement:

1. Take a cue from your daughter who removes her shoes once she enters the house.
2. Since you feel extremely cold in the house, then let the house slippers be or house ONLY purpose and not for venturing out. 
3. It would greatly help if you make use of this remarkable invention called the plate when you feel like eating you all time snack, the ever crumbling Wheatabix.
4. And lastly, give some serious thought to the cling wrap idea which I suggested earlier.

 I know I am being mean but hey, it is Saturday and this download helps me to cope with the White Tile Syndrome. Also for anyone at RAK ceramics reading this should seize upon this feedback and start creating a camouflage variant of white tiles at once – believe you me it would be a best seller.  On that note I will leave you with a very impressive feature on RAK Ceramics on CNN

A must watch for some real inspiration:  http://edition.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/business/2013/09/06/marketplace-middle-east-billion-dollar-tiles.cnn.html