Father, dear Father !

"24th 24th feb 2013 I had been to the NCPA today evening. with the daughter. To see a play - Blame it on Yashraj. The play is about the hangama that precedes the actual wedding. Ekdum Yash Chopra phillum Ishtyle. Hence the title Blame it on Yashraj ! There was a monologue by Anant Mahadevan - the father of the bride in the play. He was talking about daughters growing up. "They are this small and they grow up and start going with all the wrong kind of guys. The father is a worried man. Then it stops and they find the right kind of guy!." ....... "this is worse... their finding the right kind of guy. Coz now my position is now being usurped by that guy. He is now becoming the most important man in her life!" Fathers find it difficult to adjust to this one . In that auditorium , with about a 1000 people guffawing to this line, I went back in a flashback mode to 21 yrs ago. I was to get married in Udupi on the 19th of April. My sister had her TY Bsc exams, so she and my mom were to follow later. Dad and me were to leave for udupi 10 days before the wedding. He had bought 2 Safari suitcases to pack my stuff. He did all my packing and clicked them shut. Locked them and put the keys in his bag. Then he took out a sheet of alphabet stickers, the ones which were stuck near the locks on the suitcase and which denoted yr initials. He placed an A and a H on my bags. A for my name , the H for my surname. A little while later, I came in, saw my bags packed and labelled with those little stickers. I asked my father for the sheet of stickers, pulled out a K and reached out to replace the H. Dad asked why. With a happy expression on my face I said,the name is now going to be A... K..... My father's eyes welled up . There are 10 more days, he said. Can you please let the H remain for 10 days more ! Allow my name to remain with you for a while more ! I must remember to share this with my daughter. She better not hurt her father... ..ever !

 25th feb 2013

 

A gentleman visited us yesterday. He had had a go at celebrityhood and hadn't fared really well. A middle aged man,he claims he is the chosen one to spread the lore of his Lord and is doing so using the film and televison as a medium.

He came in, and with an extreme 'karunamay' expression, greeted me with a namastey. I am very bad at this - meeting people I do not know. And being used to socialising in the comfort zone alone, I find it difficult after the Hi and Hello . If the greeting is to be in Hindi i do not understand how to address the person. The marwari neighbourhood has now got me familiar with the "bhaisaab" and the "ji". but it still isn't as effortless as I would like it to be and the awkwardness persists.

Yesterday I was also trying to be the ideal spouse, what with my resoluton of thursday night.

Hmm. so the gentleman says his namastey and I say mine. He continues standing with his palms folded, eyes crimped , a beatific smile playing on the lips. I am uncomfortable. I try to hold on to my smile. I dont want the husband to see this confused state of mine, he will remember to comment later - " hide, hide at home.. how will the feeling of discomfort go away, if u refuse to interact."...... and more verbal lashing.

I am a bit wary of preachers. I had my defences up. But was willing to give the gentleman a chance .

He had brought us some books.

After a while we realised he was wanting to say something but he was thinking. He said, "aapke mandir mein mujhe kuch kaaala dikhai de raha hai. That has to be removed. It is not right. " I thought the husband had shown him our pooja room and I didn't like it at all. He kept staring at me pointedly, trying to emphasise on me the importance of that 'kala' object. I firmly told him there is nothing of that sort in my pooja room. He didnt seem convinced. He kept staring into a vacant spot , looking thoughtful. This was unsettling. It seemed like the typical "pick up" line.

And then he asked, "aapka mandir kahaan hai?". And I remembered my google search on him. He was also a self professed clairvoyant. I was relieved. This I could handle.

So he came to the pooja room. I was keeping an eye on him. I do not like people intruding in my space. Literally too.

He started concentrating. Trying to locate the "kala" object. I was feeling smug. - Aisa kuch bhi nahi milega. After about 10 painful minutes , he said, "woh raha'. He pointed put to a small dust ball in one corner. Now it was his turn to sport the smug expression. "maine kaha tha na, kuch kala hai. I could see it. That is the one which is blocking the positive energy from flowing into the house. Mujhe aatey hee mehsoos hua tha. "

I was amused that he found nothing and hence he pinned the blame on the poor dust ball. I felt sorry for him - A middle aged man, trying hard to play the usual card . I felt sorry for him having to resort to these tricks. I was angry with myself for not having cleaned the room better - not for the so called negative energy, but for the simple reason that the mandir is indeed sacred.

I was suddenly scared. I hoped and prayed that the otherwise very logical and practical husband hadn't succumbed.

The gentleman said he is into spiritualism. Spirituality is different from Religion he said.

My father joined in the conversation at this stage. And I left.

When I joined in again, he once more went on to look at me and then stare at a spot on the wall. For several minutes. He said, "aapke bete ko legs mein kuch problem hai?" No , i said.

He shut his eyes, concentrating and then the same beatific smile played on his lips. He said " I can see a problem with his knees." He shut his eyes again, and after a while, in a serious voice said, "There is some fluid formation in his knees. AAp pls jald se jald uske knees kissi achhe Dr ko dikhaiye. Prevention is better than cure". I almost wanted to strangle the husband, for imposing this man on us.

Yesterday the maid had announced her chutti for Sunday. In order to ease the 'Bartan" ka pressure , I had planned to serve dinner on Banana leaves.

The man was impressed. At least he pretended to be. "main kele ke patte par 11 saal baaad khaana khaa raha hoon. Aap roz aise hee in patton par khaatey hain? " No said the father, Only on festive occasions" . "Or when u have guests over", added the gentleman ! I dared not look at the husband.

He went on... "aapko pata hai, Kele ka patta bada saatvik hota hai, issspar khaaya hua khaana pet ke liye achha hota hai. "

The conversation moved on to saints . Dad was talking about Sant Dnyaneshwar.. About how there was a point in the saint's life , after he composed the gnyaneshwari, where he realised that he didnt want to live anymreo as he found no more purpose for life. At this point our guest interrupted, "See the irony. I am at that point in my life now. I have no use for my life, money... I am ready to die . Move over to the other zone".

The evening was indeed a strange one.

He left after a while.

Nobody discussed him yesterday night.

Today I couldn;t hold myself and asked WHY?

Apparently the hsuband had happened to meet him on a flight, they got talking. He spoke of his celebrity status but was extremely modest about it. The husband who is not clued in into the Hindi TV or movie scene, was clueless. The man was honest about his failures and didn't have any airs. He wanted to meet up once again while he was in Mumbai . He was insistant about meeting at our home. The husband couldn't refuse.

My impression - He wasn't  really a  conman. Really felt sorry for him,  for the kind of tricks he tried to resort to, whatever his intention. He was a shrewd businessman .. was intelligent enough to use God , Vastu, sentiments to influence. Was  shrewd enough to try try and try . Gullible ones could succumb.. He came dressed well, suited n booted. He spoke impeccable English. He threw the right words and lines. Spoke about Moses , Mahabharata, philosophy.... Lines which were vague.. Not many would have got into a counter argument with him. People either wouldn't care or would have a complex that they didnt have the "knowledge" he had.

I know one thing for sure, the husband and I need to review the rules about who gets invited home . :-))

 4th march 2013


Ever since the childhood, i have been an avid reader. My father had a love for books. And he made sure that I had the best of books.

As I grew up, I borrowed from his collection. And I was a voracious reader. I would not put down a book till I completed reading it. I needed something to read even as i had my lunch or dinner.

Reading was my hobby . My only major interest. I read anything from a comic, a Mills and Boon, a detective story , a classic, plays, magazines, and when I couldn't find anything to read, i have even picked up the Wren and Martin and their essay or letter section to give me company over lunch.

There is an incident I remember vry vividly. It was the last day of our TYBA examination. A classmate who was also a dear friend was to get married that vacation. At the age of 20. She wasnt very happy about it, but she really did not have a say. Friends consoled her... and told her something which has stayed wth me ever since, "Never stop reading" they told her. "Read anything u can lay your hands on. Read a magazine, read the newspaper, read every inch of it. U will be finished if u stop reading." "Once you stop reading , you will never able to" they told her. i thought it was a funny piece of advice, how could anybody not read !! Not want to read !!!

Over the years, my reading habits have undergone a change too. For a long time I used to be scared to pick up a book , because I knew I would ignore my "grihini Kartavya" once i started on one. The house would be in a mess, the meals wouldn't be ready on time.... It has happened.

Somewhere along, I got busy with the family and responsibilities and i bid goodbye to books. Until Harry Potter happened. That series got me hooked. I was glad I was reading again.

And then it started ...... I could not concentrate while reaqding. I would read a paragraph or a page or a pages . I would find myself only reading the words. If I kept the book aside and came back to it later , i owuld not remember what i had read before and when i reread it, it seemd like i hadnt read it before. There was no grasping.

so i started concentrating a little harder. Read a few lines, keep the book away and try to recollect , process and analyse it. The mind had lost its conditioning. I was trying to re-train it.

Things gradually became worse. Because of limited social interaction, I found my vocabulary limited. The word would be stuck somewhere at the back of the mind and try as i would i would not be able to bring it back. I found myself at a loss of words literally. I woud find it hard to express what i felt.

And when I would attempt to read, I would sometimes be so amazed by the simplicity of expressions,. "This is exactly how i feel" "These are my thoughts too, but I wouldnt be able to think up these words, and yet they are so simple" That brought a fear for reading. The inferiority complex would set in.

I would get so carried away by the beauty of the words, that I would linger there. And then stop there. Sometimes at the first paragraph . The book would then remain unread.

This keeps happening from time to time. Of late , i have begun to fear this fear. There is a pile of books which i have bought which i know i would like to read, but haven't garnered enough strength to tackle them.

I tried reading a light ficiton. A chick lit actually. i managed to complete it. the Secret Wishlist. I had a wishlist of my own so i thought i would check out this book. The protagonist had a wishlist ranging from learning to dance to sleeping with another man who wasnt her husband. Ahem ! yes, i read it. I was not happy reading it, because it is not the kind of reading i prefer these days. But the book was easy to read. And it put me on a guilt trip. If I can read this, why can't i read the others. How could i complete reading this one, when the issues dealt here are ones that i don't identify with. and no, I wasn't being a prude ! was it the simplicity of words? or was it because i really didnt care abt the protagonist and had kept myself uninvolved and managed to complete reading at the least ?

i picked up a book from my pile once again. i start reading. I have told myself that there is no hurry to complete this one. But I am going to discipline myself. Read , ponder and read. I am condtioning myself to reach out for the book. I am conditioning the mind to block out other thoughts. I am conditioning the mind to be a part of the book. I am conditioning the mind not to be intimidated.

And as i write this some lyrics of the BOYZONE/ BeeGees song keep playing in the head..... "It's only words and words are all I have , To take your heart away !'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iy_bJelwa0c

she says, she works best under pressure.
he says, that is the only time she works at all !

The addicition

Addiciton is the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma. So says Dictionary . com

Then why.

The addiciton is not easy to combat. Not easy to let go. One has invested so much emotion.

The first steps were gingerly taken... testing the waters.

Playing blind, had let you be. be yr ownself. Or the one u want projected.

U laughed more, showed some of yr wicked side, found out things abt yrself, things u had forgotten , or didn’t know exisited.

It took a while to express honestly.

It took a while to appreciate that honesty.

That hollow empty space somewhere deep inside.. which made its presence felt once in a while,… To attach once more, to belong once more...

A sense of camaraderie makes its presence felt.

this addiction called FB , Opting out is not an option anymore.

"27th feb 2013 Lalita Iyer used to write a column Chick lit, in HT. I had been followng her columns fr a long time then. A couple of months ago, I found her on FB and read her again now. In one of her articles , she had written about her child beginning school. There was one sentence which remained with me long after I read it. "The thing about love is that too much of it can be claustrophobic. People need to go away so that they can come back." (I hve posted the link to that one below.) And it came back to me today, as everybody at home, me included, is readying to welcome the puttar who is coming home after about 2 months. am understanding, feeling and relating to the emotion in the oft heard Bollywood line, "woh aa rahaa hai. Mera beta ghar aa raha hai" The house is being spruced up. His wardrobe which we have now usurped is emptied out and his stuff has been neatly arranged for him. A list of his favourites in food has been made by my mother. And she is scheduling when to cook what. There is a smile on everybody's face. Each telephone conversation with the extended family and friends has this sentence - anant is coming na. Am loving the hustle and bustle . The link to the Lalita Iyer column http://www.indianexpress.com/news/love-letter-to-a-school/1071854/0 "

Mood Nostalgia

28 frb 2013 Mood Nostalgia hit as soon as i made plans to visit Cuffe Parade today afternoon. There was this eager sense of anticipation . Extra attention was given to the appearance. The kohl, the blusher, the lip colour .... I did it all. Just like I used to . I could even smell the perfume i favoured then. I have been there a couple of times after i quit the job. Today I was all by myself and had plenty of time at my disposal too. Lingered at the WTC for a long time. visited the old haunts - Chinar and Trimurti. Time spent at Trimurti had alwayws been fun. Browsing through handicrafts, looking for another Ganesha idol to add to the collection at home... i always looked forward to a trip to the store. Trimurti is now Marhati. A strange looking store, redesigned to half its size and less than quarter of its glory. Had non-descript stuff on display. Grrr ! Walked leisurely around the WTC. Maker Towers, the F Wing. the workplace was on the 14th floor. Have been fortunate to have a great set of people around me at all times. And I remember them and the time spent with them fondly. The bonds being newly formed... the initial edginess and then soon, slipping into the comfortable. The antiicpation of reaching the workplace , the joy in meeting the bunch each morning, huddling together over tea or lunch and sharing. Sharing our joys however silly. or sorrows, however trivial. Unburdening. Using a shoulder to cry on, sometimes offering a shoulder to cry on or lean on fr support... It all came back .. in a rush. so wanted to share it. Call up a friend and holler, "Hey, guess what, i am at MT! " None of them are on my telephone contact list anymore. I love my solitude. but felt a wee bit lonely there. i know i will be mailing them tonite. But the euphoria will have subsided by then. Memories.....they need to be swept away . Especially when they tend to overshadow the present. Hey you, Free me. Loosen your stranglehold on me. You let me live and relive my happiest moments. Over and over again. You helped me shed those unshed tears. Cleansed me. I clung on to you, a little too ferociously. It was so easy to revel in the past. To be wistful. Ungrateful, I am not. But, I have to give my today , its due. A fair chance. To work its spell on me Just as you have. Memories, Shooing you away as I am.. Do not turn your back on me Lurk I will want you by my side again, someday. With newer stories. The stories I am writing today . "

RAVIVARCHI GOSHTA

11th feb 2013

One phone call, One greeting and a wish come true! - RAVIVARCHI GOSHTA

Sunday . We were to have no power for 7 hrs. to 10 am to 5 pm. As per the action plan, I had rushed through the morning and finished all stuff which would remain "bijlee ke bina adhure"! This rush left me with a very bad headache. With the TV and computer not available, the others in the house sported morose lookst too.

The mobile rang . Rao kaku's number flashed. She is a very good friend of mine. She is an old neighbour. I say "old" coz she was my neighbour at the place where we stayed before we shifted to our current address. Otherwise she is jut 80 yrs young ! :-)

"Hello A...Agaa, tula Haappy Sundaaaaaaaay "she chirped. It was so unexpected, I burst out laughing. She joined in the laughter too. Such a simple greeting. Kuch aur occasion nahi hai celebrate karne ko, toh joh hai, ussiko celebrate karo !! It sure made the dull Sunday Happy!! And then the good times rolled in.

Last month I had seen a play at Prithvi along with the husband’s sister. The play was called THE DIARY OF A WORD OR HOW I PROPOSED TO MY SECOND HUSBAND ON THE 321ST FLOOR . It was written and directed by Ramu Ramanathan. He is a friend of a friend. I had been hearing of Ramu R from my friends for the past 8 -9 yrs atleast. About him being a playwright and a director. About how his plays were very compex and difficult to understand. About how the writing has a deeper meaning hidden and the challenge lay in decoding it. I remembered to keep myself alert all through the play so that I did not miss a single line and I remembered to dig for deeper meanings. The process was taxing. I forgot to enjoy the play. The fact that the S-I-L was snoring did not help. I got distracted. The play had a lot of conversation . Quips. And after a while I could not keep up with the flow.

I received an SMS from the friend who had arranged for our tickets at Prithvi. Complimentary tickets. He was a friend of Ramu’s. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I tried to bail myself out, using the time tested ruse, “acchha tha re, but thoda tough tha. Samajh mein nahi aaya poora. ” He was disappointed. The message got conveyed to Ramu , who replied, “Which parts did you not understand ? I will be happy to fill in the gaps. “

It was a perfect “chullu bhar paani mein doob maro “ moment for me.

I needed to redeem myself. I decided to see the play again. The next performance of the play was at the NCPA on the 24th of February. I decided to go and buy a ticket on the 10th of February after the booking opened. In the meantime, I was wanting to read some more of his works. To know the varied issues that interested him. Interested hi m enough to write on them. His thoughts on the same. I read several of his interviews on the net. Google Dev, helped me find a compliation of 8 plays by Ramu Ramanthan. 3 , Sakina Manzil and Other Plays. Got it from Flipkart . As I read the plays, I started liking his writings. Reading the interviews helped understand the person that he is . He did not seem so formidable now. And I developed a respect for him. Thus armed , I hoped to see the play and comprehend it and may be, communicate with him someday.

Yesterday was the 10th of February.

I thought I would book my ticket and then check out the Kalaghoda Festival too. So I picked up the newspaper to check the schedule for the day . And Voila !! The Diary of a Word was to be performed at the Max Mueller Bhavan !!!

Called up Aneeta. Woke her up from her afternoon siesta. And we both made plans to meet at Churchgate station in the evening
I left home at around 5.00pm. Carried the book with me I wanted to continue reading in the train.

At 7.00 pm we were at KalaGhoda and at 7.20 we had taken our seats in the hall at the Max Mueller Bhavan. It was then I saw Ramu. He was at the controls. The audio and lights console. I was pleased to see THE MAN in person.

I could not help but steal glances at him to see his expressions change as he saw the performance. He was smiling at some points. It was interesting to watch him watch his play not knowing that he was being watched !

About the play. I knew a bit of him now. The play would be a well thought out one. The writing would be crisp. Quippy. The approach would not be the mundane. This time I did not have the fear that I would not understand the play. And there was a bonus….., I had Aneeta by my side this time. We would have a good time talking about the play later.

The play got over. We both had a smile on our faces. We both liked it.

And then it happened…. I wanted to go and speak to Ramu. I could not make up my mind whether I should . I was not sure whether I could. I wasn’t sure whether I would… I so wanted to speak to him. To tell him I liked the play. To tell him I liked his writing. To tell him that I knew him a little better now, though we had never met . I did not want to leave.

Asked Aneeta, “aise hee jaake baat kar loon? Shall I tell him about our common friends? May be I could get this copy autographed? “ “ would I make a sorry sight?” Aneeta was reassuring. She offered to come along with me.

So we went upto him. The heart was thumpppingggg.. almost had a mind to turn back. He was talking to another man. That guy was asking him whether any of his plays were available in the printed form. And I got my moment. Ramu started on telling him about this book called 3 Sakina Manzil and I butted in, flashing my copy,” This is the one” I said, smiling a biiiiiiiiiig smile.

The ice broke. And Ramu and me, we got talking. I told him about our common friend,. That this is the 2nd time I was seeing this play. “You are brave, usually they give up the 1st time, saying it is difficult to understand.” , he said. I admitted that the 1st time I did not follow it too, so I had been planning to catch it at the NCPA and found it playing here. He Smiled a sweeeeeeeeet smile. And asked whether I understood it this time. ‘I did ‘, I said. I also told him abt having bought the book and having read a couple of plays frm the book. Also requested him to sign my copy. He held the book, straightened a teeny dog ear on the first page. I loved that gesture. He smoothened that corner and dated it. Behind the cover page , he wrote ,

“Thank you A
Also we share a great guy (NMD) on this planet, who does not see a single play of mine. So you’re brave to see a tough play twice.
Lai Lai Abhaar !”

I am absolutely pleased. For having honoured the commitment I had made to myself . For having gone today. For having spoken to him. For having had my wish come true.

I usually fear making a conversation . And after being a homebody for so many years, making a conversation with somebody outside my immediate circle is terrifying for me. . I have this huge fear of being tongue tied. I fear stuttering. I fear making a fool of myself. I would have had a 1000 mental conversations with the person, but when I come face to face, it takes a great effort to get the tongue moving. Most times I make do with a stupid grin.

This stroke of luck…. AAAAAAHHHHHH. Can’t help gloating.
No I am not star struck . more of a hero worship. about appreciating and admiring another who is doing well, something which is close to your heart . for doing it passionately . I appreciate his ‘hatkey’ thinking on the topics he touches. His sensitivity. It all came through in the book, in his play and the conversation we had with him, as Aneeta too spoke to him.

I had a satisfied grin on my face and a contented feeling in my heart .

It turned out to be a HAPPPYY SUNDAY after all !

The husband is known for his sense of humour. He is known for the gift of the gab. He is also known for playing pranks and for pulling a fast one.. convincingly at that.

Ganesh Chaturthi at the K's is a huge affair. The clan gets together at our home in Udupi. Atleast 50 of us. The pooja is a long drawn one. Worse is having to wait for the priest to arrive. It can be a long wait of 3 or 4 hours. And at such times we get to attack the painstakingly prepared delicacies as late as 5.pm.

On one such occasion the husband saw the "thakela " public, and walked in with a paper and pencil. "Chalo, chalo, I am taking an order for cold drinks. Preferences batao fataafat" . The room suddenly started buzzing. The boredom vanished and the motley gang of uncles , aunts, cousins were calling out, "a pepsi fr me, a Mirinda.... a fresh lime soda, ... goti soda... etc etc etc. The husband patiently took down everything and went away.

After abt an hr the husband was spotted attending to something else in the house. The khandaan pounced on him, " where are the soft drinks, u were to get." He replied, "I didnt tell u i am getthing them fr u, i just said i am taking down yr order" And stood there with a blissful smile on his face.

At family weddings, he helps to serve food. As the desserts are being served, he announces, " This kheer is divine, but the jalebis are better. Save some place in yr tummy and on yr plate for them. And the people wait !

Of course ther are no jalebis !

The husband stands in a corner, a blissful smile playing on his face

He was cornered ar my cousins weding. The first lot of guests were targetted such. The second lot got wind of this and plotted amongst themselves that they wouldn't get up till the jalebis were served. The husband got to know of this and quietly and quickly got the driver to buy some from a halwai in dadar. The cousins and guests were dumbstruck and sheepish when the jalebi made its way to their plates. The husband - yeah , you guessed right a blissful :-) ...........

Last month he had been to Bangalore, for a function in the family. One of our nieces is married to a Tamilian. And the grand niece - all of 3 is a smart young lady. She is comfortable speaking both the languages Tamil and Konkani. Better still , she converses in Tamil with the father and relatives on his side and in Konkani with my niece and all of us. That day, there was a pooja and the kid was hungry and cranky. They couldnt serve food till the naivedya was done. To distract her the husband said " dont cry, wait a while. I have ordered Pongal, Avial and vetta kozambu, it will all come here in a sort time. All these dishes , they take a while to make and send over you know. The little girl agrees and the other folks were relieved and yet gave him knowing glances - yeh nahi sudhrega! The husband too thought that the kid would forget. She did too. And after a while enjoyed the lunch that was served. The sambar, avial and pongal weren't on the menu of course.

The next morning I got a call fr my niece. " where is V maama . Last night the daughter woke up crying at 12 in the midnught and wanted me to take her to the pooja venue. To eat the avial and pongal. I told her i wil make it for her tomorrow,But she wasnt pacified. " " why do you have to make it,, it has all been ordered and it wil have arrived by now " wailed the 3 yr old. The husband got disapproving looks frm all of us.

On Thursday , the husband flew to Kolkatta. They served him Vada and avial and a pongal in-flight. He immediately called up the niece in Bangalore. "Where's yr daughter. I just had Pongal and avial. " The niece wasn't amused. "Dont u dare tell her ", she pleaded, "the next hangaama will be for a flight to anywhere."

Yesterday the husband was in Bangalore. While he was going for his site visit, he saw a food chain outlet. Pongal and avial was on the menu. Also some vada and kesari bhaat. The husband immeidaltely ordered a take - away of 2 plates of each and called up the niece at her workplace. "Is yr daughter at home or at play school" she was at playshcool . The husband noted down the address and sent the driver with the food parcel addressed to Tanvi , at her playschool.

Once they received it, the playskool called up the niece -" Iss ka kya karein". She asked them to give some of it to her daughter during lunch break and leave the rest in the refrigerator for her to collect later. She also instructed them to tell the little one that the snack was sent by her Vittal ajja.

It was a cheerful litte kid that the niece collected from playskool last everning. She was thrilled to bits as she told her mom, " see i told u hee had ordered it at the restaurant. V ajja had said it will take a while".

In the everning when they went to the park , little Tanvi asKed the mother, "will more vadais be coming tomorrow too?". "NO!" said the niece.

Last night for dinner, they had the remaining pongal, avial vada and kesari bhaat. It was a welcome change frm the usual. And Tanvi wanted to have her portion in the yellow tiffin box just as she had had in shcool. Her mom had a hard tome convincing her that the yellow box belonged to teh school . Finally T said.... OKKKK , next time Vittal ajja will send me the yellow tiffin box too

The husband has been informed and I have been instructed to look fr a cheerful yellow tiffin box fr the grand niece.

The khaandaan has been updated abt this and is now singing .. Nehle ko dehla milaa. badaa mazaa aayaa!

When my daughter heard of this incident , she moaned, "WHHY, dont i have a kewl ajja or a maaama ?

Which got me thinking.... I dont have one either !

Boooo HOOOOOOOOO!