Caught red handed

My husband loves a challenge. It was only to be expected that he would come up with something remarkable when I teased him over his drawing skills. The hubby instead of reading the Cinderalla, drew an illustration of the story for little Smera to colour. The illustration was good, but the horse with the pumpkin coach looked more a dog. This comment did not go down well with him. As for me it was just a statement, I said it and moved on other things, while hubby continued to brood. So he decided to set the records straight. This morning he picked up one of the "how to draw anything" book and started drawing a horse. And this is what it eventually looked like at the end.

Quite a horse isn't it? 

Happy that the horse looked so beautiful, he asked little to Smera to show me the picture and then he asked Smera to use her imagination and colour the picture. But the little one had some other plans. So she went ahead and did some scribbling on the sheet instead of colouring it. Later during the day when my post lunch cleaning session was in progress, I chucked away all the loose sheets into the dustbin. Unfortunately I trashed the hubby’s horse sketch also, but then I didn’t think of it as a big deal.

As things are meant to be, trouble was staring into my face when hubby got back from work. He asked Smera to show the horse she was given to colour and little innocent child was running around the place searching for the sheet. I pretended as if I didn’t know anything and continued to look busy. After few minutes little Smera came in looking disappointed and asks, “Mamma have you seen the horse painting?” To which I quickly replied “No”, but the hubby caught the lying look on my face and went straight to the dustbin and after what he saw there, he looked very crossed with me. In fact was he so angry that he took the picture below to keep it as a record for future fights. 

I don’t think he will be forgiving anytime soon. However I am really glad for one thing, this time he got my birthday gift well in advance, hence the chances of him penalizing me on the gift part are ZERO J. 

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.

CorbisImages

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. 

Silly Saturdays: Fellow asking me to be Mellow

Been a while since I took a dig at myself and that made me wonder why? Answer is quite simple it’s just that the hubby has been quite busy these days and he is one who usually brings the best or the worst out of me. As a consequence of spending sometime with him, this is what happens.

On very silent Thursday morning, while I was gently urging little Smera to drink her milk and get on with getting ready to school. The half awake hubby walks in with his PBJ sandwich and sat down beside us. Munching on his sandwich he heard me yet again to Very Gently Urging her to finish her milk and just then he comments:

Hubby: “Are you not well?”

Me: “No, I am perfectly alright and why do you ask?”

Hubby: “I asked as I’ve never heard you ask Smera to do something so softly.”

Me: “What do you mean that I am always yelling at her?”

Hubby: “Err!! That’s not what I meant. I mean either you are too aggressive or as today extremely mellow.”

Me: “Extremely mellow?”

Hubby: “I mean you need to find the right spot in your voice! Ah I realise my sandwich is finished let me get ready quickly”, and he quickly vanished off from the scene, leaving me fuming.

Meanwhile while we were discussing the pitch of my tone little Smera was giggling and slurping up her chocolate milk and that meant it time to get her into her uniform.

This made me wonder when the better half will really understand to use better choice of words to explain his thoughts! 

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! 

Something Fishy !!

We Indians love to eat! Sweet, sour, savoury, spicy name we love it. To top it up we Malayalees along with our fellow Bengalis and Goans most certainly love our fish and rice. However I grew up in Delhi so my palate is a bit different, more towards the northern side of India. Rajma Chawal, parathe, dal-subzi-roti kind of palate, while I do like an occasional fish curry or grilled fish.

Hubby and me have very different likings when it comes too food, I love Rajma which he hates and he loves Unakka chemeen (dry prawns) which I just can’t stand. But we have a lot in common too. As a true Delhite I love chats and samosas and so does the hubby and we both hate tuna and salmons. But what really got me to right about this fishy post today is a humble paratha.

I decided to make parathas for the hubby, aloo gobhi parathas and just as I stepped into the kitchen, he followed me to set up his plate with obligatory accompaniments curd and pickle. Just as I was about to take off the first paratha, I asked him:

Me: You will have two na?

Hubby: Suddenly feeling all nervous, he asks “Tuna”?

Me: Yeah? And then suddenly realising, “Not Tuna, I meant two parathas”

Hubby: Feeling relieved said, “yes of course”. For a moment he had his heart in mouth thinking the wifey is going to serve Tuna parathas for dinner.

He was grateful that good sense prevailed and that I didn’t made him eat something exotic even for a fish lover. Now I know what to give him, in case I am feeling vindictive, ha ha !! 

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.

Silly Saturdays: Mr and Miss Zen and the yelling monster !

It’s been long since I wrote on of these and this time I have just the right one to brag Smera’s witticism.

While we were unpacking, the curious Smera would sneak up and find all those that she is specifically not suppose to touch. After numerous warnings from morning, I ultimately lost my cool and I started screaming. I know that’s not nice but I am human and humans make mistakes.

Unfortunately the hubby was home to bail out Smera.  In his composed voice he said, “Calm Down!” to me. That exasperated me even more and so I burst out on him for taking her side. Mr. Zen was in no mood to bow down to monstrous me and repeated once again in his even more tranquil voice, “Calm Down!”.

With that I decided to shut up completely refused to say another word.

To add the final touches little Smera says, “ Look Mamma daddy said, not once but two time calm down, calm down but you never listen. See now he has gone to office.”

I was left in such state of confusion whether to shout again or laugh out loud, eventually ended up with a poker straight face.

Moral of the story is – I can never win an argument with Smera, thanks to the dad on her side! 

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 

Out of focus

On a bright sunny morning, we decide to head out for breakfast under the shadows of world's tallest building. With warm sunny rays falling on my face, my heart yearned to get a click under the picturesque Burj Khalifa. I asked my hubby who was armed with his camera to click a nice picture, for my facebook profile and so he took a trial shot before getting me into the frame. This it looked!

Looking at the brilliant trial shot I swiftly went and stood right in front of it to get that all important perfect profile picture. This is what eventually came out courtesy my hubby’s creative and inquisitive eye for details.

Balancing Mr. George and my urge to purge

One of the biggest tasks in living in a rented place is the trouble of moving out. After three years of highs like having our daughter and lows like having our estate agent doing the vanishing act with our deposit, now its packing time. Our landlord sold this place to take advantage of booming property prices in Dubai and we have to move out of the place and make way for the new landlords who’ll call this their home shortly.

Now there is a huge task waiting for me at the end of this week. The last time I was subjected to this ordeal was three years ago (obviously) and I remember everything like yesterday. We had about 46 boxes, furniture and an assortment of bags and suitcases of different sizes. And back then we were moving out from a one bed room place and the size of the family was 2 – and this time around, each of these parameters as my hubby would like to put it has grown by 100 percent (that would be a 2 bed room house) and 50 percent (our little devil, Smera) respectively.

The packing bit is still easy (as we’ll have some help from the packers!) but it’s the unpacking (which I have to do on my own) that scares me the most. I hate it the very idea of putting things in the cupboards, making sure everything is set out right. I have to confess I have a bit of OCD, for me everything has to be in order or else I won’t let live anyone live in peace.

If hoarding is an obsessive trait, then mine is the exact opposite - that is purging. I am most certain, even this time around I will have much more to discard than to pack.  Initially I thought of asking the hubby to a day off to help me, identify things to keep and things to chuck. But then I realised we might end up at some counselling session to patch things up as he loves to hold on to certain stuff which is unlikely to be used ever again.

Having said that, my purging habit has occasionally caused me heartaches, I once donated my precious little black sweater by mistake and on many mornings have deposited hubby’s Financial Times into the waste bin even before he even got a chance to open the fold.

Please keep me in your prayers as I take on the battle to ensure that we do not go over-board, hoarding at the same time keeping my ‘urge to purge’ instincts at check.

Every indigestion has an equal and opposite reaction

Staying far away from home brings in a lot of challenges for young parents like us. We had just 2 months of grand-parental supervision when Smera arrived in this world. After that we were left to taking care of her ourselves. To ensure everything worked we divided our responsibilities in such a manner that none of us lost our sanity.

Most of the tasks were very easy to deal with when it comes to an infant, except two things – one when the child poops or when the child throws up. For better or worse, task one came under my KRA and second was assigned for the hubby.

In hindsight, with this arrangement, my hubby got really lucky, as little Smera so far has on hurled 3 or 4 times in almost 3 years of her life. While pooping is an everyday affair (thankfully) and it does not matter whether I am sleeping or ignoring her call, I am still have to make good my end of the bargain.

However, last night, Smera unfortunately ate a little too much and so everything had to come out. She just could not hold it in, good thing is that she got down from my lap to unload her discomfort. But that made me really sick in my stomach.

Thank god we didn't end up like this! 

With great difficulty I managed to help a teeny-weeny bit, by not puking on her, the rest was left for hubby to do. I have to admit that he did the clean up with considerable panache – using tissues to soak up the glutinous mix of chocolate milk, apple slices, dal, chawal and other unrecognisable good stuff. Later using baby wipes to carefully remove splatters from the ground zero and then I finished it off with a clean mop.

Back to what lead to the incident. My mother is always after me to make her eat. Every time she comes to visit us, she feels the grandchild has become weaker (patli ho gayi yeh!). Following her advice coupled with my motherly love, I have made running after her with the plate full of all things good as part of my daily exercise routine. I must have had a great work out during that fateful day!

The morning after the hurling incident she was really hungry, with an appetite of hungry lion. To be honest I was really skeptical, wondering if there would repeat of the same incident.  So for a change I was feeling really unenthusiastic about feeding her. Doubtful of her little tummy,I kept asking Smera to go easy on the food.

To this the hubby just could contain his laughter, ended up saying it aloud that,” I thought I would never see this day ever my life, you asking Smera to eat less.” 

It's really hard for me to digest...

Image: gettyimages.ae 

Behind every hero dad is a villain mom

I used to be a huge movie buff before Smera happened to me. Times have changed and so have my priority in life. I’d rather sleep for 2 hours than sit and watch a movie. Having said that, it does not mean the drama is out of my life too. My life feels like an on-going Bollywood movie. I usually end up playing the negative role and time and again my hubby turns out to be the hero.

Take for instance, when Smera does not eat properly, throws tantrum to brush and take bath or misbehaves, I end up scolding her. That’s normal bit, but then hubby would enter the scene out of no where like a hero in the script. He’d then ask me to let it go, in turn making me ever more furious. These are so well rehearsed by now I can even visualise fight sequences.  

Smera’s tantrums are proportional to the number of people around her - she is very easy to handle alone. This make it worse for me and I end up showcasing my monster self to the rest of the world. Usually these moments make feel like Gabbar from Sholay, Jahanpanah Akbar from Mughal-e-Azam or the Joker from Dark Knight.

I know I am little tough when it comes to disciplining the little one and I know I can go a little easy on her. But when someone praises her it feels like my own personal victory. For me the biggest challenges lies in this is department is finding the middle-path.

I guess, I am always on the extremes, be it when it comes to scolding her or being nice to her. Over the top just out of a blockbuster Farah Khan movie, almost verging on senselessness. Smera always ends up complaining to her dad about me. Just a few hours ago I heard her complain to the father, “Daddy, Mamma is kissing me”. Instantly the father instructs, “Mamma can you go easy on the kisses”.

Phew!! Such is life, getting in trouble for kissing your own daughter.

Totally Bollywoodish isn’t it?   

Image: gettyimages.ae

On shaky grounds

By now everyone would have known of the 8.0 magnitude earthquake rocking Iran. Sending little panic parcels to the nearby countries that includes us in here Dubai and back home in Delhi. Well that is really the factual description of what happened. And if you go by facebook or other news source you might start feeling a little dizzy.

On ground the situation was entirely different. After a tiring workout session with the trainer, I was catching on some sleep. A few minutes past 2 in the afternoon, hubby calls in to make plans for a movie. Thankfully since it was for a movie, I eventually didn't mind taking the call at all.

Then shortly I receive another call for the hubby, “Sangi there is an earthquake, the building is shaking”. “I can’t feel anything here”, I said to him. “Well then maybe you are earthquake-proof”, says the darling hubby, slowing treading on dangerous grounds.

Image: gettyimages

Telling myself it was nothing I thought of getting back to sleep, just then I hear messages flooding on Whatsapp. Most the messages were coming in from neighbours in the community and some of these messages read as below

“I felt the earthquake now!”

“Yes, offices in festival city evacuated”

“My bed was moving”

“My sofa moved”

Another message read as, “my lights are swinging”. Ok this one really scared and made me got off my bed.

Then the message from my very thoughtful neighbour’s, “what if something happens to the nuclear plants?”.

With this thought, my sleep went away and slowly peaked out of the window. The office-goers in the complex bang opposite to my house was on the road. Then the next message on the phone was, “watch out for the after shocks, it would be wise to dress up and be ready should we need to run out”.  

Thinking to myself, maybe I really am earthquake-proof, I got ready to pick-up the hubby from the metro station. He turned up unusually early thanks to the earthquake I never felt. And then sipping a cup of tea and discussing the earthquake story, the hubby with a smirk on his face says, “Since you are shaking things up all the time, maybe the earthquake had a calming effect on you”. 

Go talk a walk!

Ok the truth is I am not a big fan Valentine’s Day, why should we express our love to our loved ones only once a year! I say it all the time, especially when I need his credit card or I need him to take the little one out.

However with all that said, Valentine’s Day is falling on a Thursday.  It gives me just another silly reason to go out on a date-night. So before I made any plans I thought of checking, if had he have any prior work commitments on Thursday.

Me: Honey, how is your Thursday evening looking like, will you be busy?

Hubby: I think not!

Me: Then let’s go out, what do you think?

Hubby: Sounds like a good plan, what about the baby-sitter?

Me: That is taken care of

Hubby: Then let’s go out for a walk on the beach road.

Me: Walk on the beach road? (Thinking in my head: Sounds romantic, but just a walk, may be a dinner too??)

Hubby: Yeah, I have been planning to do the half-marathon for sometime now, let’s do it this Thursday!

Image: gettyimages.ae

Then slowly I get back to work, pretending I didn’t hear that bit of the conservation. Knowing my hubby so well, it’s a given that was purely an innocent remark. He might not even have realised that it’s Valentines.

For rest of the men folk here is my piece of advice – A half-marathon on weekend night, double it up on a Valentines Day – A sure shot way of getting in wifey’s bad books for the rest of the year! 

Talaash: The search begins with a banana

Ever-since we became parents, going to the movies has become a rare affair. Call it added the responsibility or downright laziness but yes it’s true. However that definitely does not mean that we don’t watch movies at all now. We have our full-time home projector, even if we are a few months late we sure to catch up all of them minus the useless ones.

While a certain Mr. Choudhury might like to label us as boring people, for we don’t watch the first day, last show as he does. But it’s a big task to take the little one for the movies. At least that is our excuse, while for him even that is not a problem. Their little one is trained to sleep through the antics of the planet bollywood, right from her second month on planet earth.

Image courtesy: movies.zap2it.com

So on a recent movie marathon in our private theatre, we decided to put up Talaash featuring Aamir Khan. With great difficulty I managed to borrow the DVD from a friend, but just as it is meant, the DVD refused to work. Taking out the disc we realised that it was badly scratched, that meant my hopes of the finally watching the movie went down the drain.

However, my better half was not going to give up so easily. He pulled his phone asked Google for a remedy and unsurprisingly it did come up with an answer. This is the ridiculous part, Google recommends rubbing a ripe banana over the scratched surface, washing it under running water and towel drying it before using the disc.

As a fervent partisan of lord Google, the husband follows the instructions and puts the movie back on. With a slight smirk, I was absolutely sure to see the hammered look on husband’s face. However that look appeared on my face instead as the movie started. I continued to pray during the course of the movies for something to go wrong, but luck as ever was on his side.

Moral of the story is never underestimating the husband (which I always do) especially if he has checked it with the almighty! 

Silly Saturdays: Yet another self-goal !

I speak three different languages – Hindi, English and Malayalam. It’s no secret that Malayalam is not my forte and Hindi is not my hubby’s favourite either! The trouble is, each time my mum (who is good at both, Hindi and Malayalam) is in town, there is a three-way verbal duel at home. Everything is jumbled up and some random sentences are formed with no logic.

I have one such instance for this week’s Silly Saturdays!

On a recent weekend, as we were driving back after picking mum, we instantly broke in to our monthly updates and catching up. Suddenly, the discussion took a different tangent, when I referred to the Hindi proverb “Ek anar sau bimar” when translated literately to English it reads “One pomegranate and 100 sick”. For the life of me, I can not remember the context now – anyway, to the best my knowledge; it meant one spoilt pomegranate seed and spoils the entire fruit.

Mum thought it meant one pomegranate is so priceless that it can cure 100 sick people. I was absolutely sure mum definitely wrong on this count.

However my Hubby, in his usual cerebral style, takes the discussion to a different level all together, telling us how the name originated. He further explained pomegranate derived its name from grenade. Just like when grenade blasts it breaks into small pieces, similar to the fruit once opened has many granules inside.

So I got really curious and asked Google what he thought of it. The proverb really meant “one woman and 100 suitors”.  I am however still not very happy with the explanation but I can live with it.

But what really overjoyed me is the fact the name pomegranate derives it’s origin from a Latin word 'pomum granatus' and not grenade as my husband thought! In really it is exactly the opposite. The grenade is indebted for it’s name to the fruit, because of its close resemblance to pomegranate.

Sporting a big grin on my face I went to declare victory and how he had missed the mark by a long mile. He calmly reminded the right version of events and the correct conversation syntax. It immediately hit me that I had recollected the events the wrong way around and to rub it in he asked if I needed my mum to testify as his witness.

In the hope of seeing that priceless defeated look his face, I successfully managed to fall flat on my face.

This is the edited version of the story, the original plot was to end in my favour. Just before this was to be published, as part of my victory march, I unfortunately showed the post to my hubby. He noticed the slight deviation from the actual storyline and suggested that I put the record straight. With Christmas gift at stake I didn’t want to be in his bad books! 

Rain, dear

I love rain! It’s one thing that I have always looked forward to every year, from the time my memory goes back.  I grew up in Delhi where temperatures in summer can soar up to an unbearable 48-49 degree Celsius. The rain comes as a saviour and also the perfect time to make paper boats walking and dancing in the rain. A true Delihite would welcome rain with chai and hot pakoras, while chai was never offered to us when we were growing up, we were compensated with a warm cup of bournvita.

Things remained same even as I grew up went to college, rain meant bunking class sitting at the canteen having coffee and hot samosas. Those were the best samosas I ever ate the, I am sure that’s in part clouded due to cherished memories from the college where I found great friends.

I have also seen the scarier side of the rains, the flash floods of 2005 in Mumbai. I was just a month old in the city, rain started to pour down heavily and I was stuck in the town with no chance of getting home to the suburbs. Life came to a standstill but even then the whole thing turned out to be a fun night with my favourite girl-friends by myside.

Divya a dear friend, who also happened to be my client working with the Tata group managed to get me and a friend a little place to sleep at Taj Palace that night. Most of the Tata group employees those got stuck were accommodated there, fun night with room of 10 or more girls chattering through the night.  After that, me and my bestie, Pinks were stuck at the company guest house for 2 nights and with no work!

Another night that same monsoon season me and Pinks walked 5 kms in the rain with no rain-gear on us to eat at a rustic restaurant Crystals in search of delicious  rajma and baigan bharta.  Drenched in rain and both of us shivering we ate like as if we had not seen food for  days, somehow the food that night made us feel as if we were home.

Cut to life post-marriage, l find myself in this desert land where thinking about rain is just being harebrained! It is not that it does not rain but maybe day or two in year. Last time we had big rains here in Dubai was maybe 4 years back!

There is another problem apart from this I am married to a guy who works for the insurance industry and the moments it starts raining his first thought would be, “there goes my bonus!”.

It’s been raining here in Dubai today and is predicted to rain over the next days too and I am secretly feeling happy. I wouldn't want to be seen hurting my husband’s feelings and so I have quietly stepped out to the nearest café to write this post and enjoy some scrumptious food courtesy his credit card. 

Silly Saturdays: Earworm the home-wrecker !

It must have happened to you many times, you listen to a song and it keeps playing in your head throughout the day or if you are like me even for days. Being a mum now the song that usually runs in my head these days is “I love you, you love me, and we’re a happy family”.  This is currently my favourite, I sing this even when I am working out at the gym.  During my initial motherhood days “Wheels of the bus goes round and round” was so deeply wired that I think I could have even mumbled the song my sleep.

This is called earworm as described by the urban dictionary “A song that sticks in your mind, and will not leave no matter how much you try”.

And just as I got dressed today to head out with my hubby here is the conversation we had:

Me: How do I look?

Hubby: He looks at me then goes back to doing what he was busy with and says “Auntyji Auntyji get up and dance!”

Me: Stare at him with a big questions mark look on my face.

Hubby: Oh you look lovely, love the salwar-kameez! Sorry I heard that song this morning and it’s been running non-stop in my head.

Now the big question is which part of the answer should I believe in first or the second one! 

P.S. – To be fair to him, it me who made him listen this song on MTV’s unplugged featuring Ash King!

Image courtesy: Getty Images 

ComforTable and ProfiTable

You may remember from one of my earlier post, in which I expressed my secret desire for a home makeover – first on the list being my microwave. I managed to convince my husband to go for a new one but I could not make up my mind after getting lost in the myriad of options at the store. So it looks like until I make up my mind, I am going to be stuck with it for some more time.

To force my hand, I took upon the Cash Converters Idea. First get rid of the stuff and then I’ll will have to buy something.

Cash Converters buys anything that you want but the goods have to be in mint condition.  So, that’s explains why the microwave didn't go, but I went ahead and sold my 6-seater dinner table and a reclining armchair.

One fine evening the cash converters guys arrived, with a truck and without the cash (that comes later, I am told), to take it all away. My little one was a wee upset but she let them once she heard mamma was going to get a new one, a smaller 4-seater dining table.

In comes the husband in the evening, after a tiring day from, I open the door with a big smile, “you look really happy today, what happened?” he asked as walked in. “Where’s our dining table ?”, “I sold it, just as we discussed”. My husband looked really shocked and then we went back to the day I formally had taken his permission to do so, but there was problem - he didn't remember any of that, very convenient!  

My next question was “should I ask them to bring it back?” and thankfully his answer was “No”. Even he found the prospect of asking back the table from a thrift shop, tad embarrassing.

The way it works at cash converters is that every week they try their best to sell the wares. If they are successful, we split the spoils 65-35. If they are not able to sell in a week, they would slash the price by 10% and repeat it until they find a buyer.  The list price is currently Dirham 1500 – or according to my in-house financial analyst, if you are really patient and wait for a year you’ll able get it under Dirham 10!

The new dining table has arrived today. Still no word from Cash Convertors – my guess is someone has already spotted the table and is eyeing that as a Christmas present.  I hope they are not thinking of the next Christmas waiting for that elusive under-10 Dirham deal!