It's the 31st of December... can hardly believe it's the last day of 2008 already. I haven't blogged at all this year, which is not good at all... but Ma has been keeping the blog alive for us, which is great... it is our blog, after all.
What a year this has been... like a roller coaster ride! it did not start off all that well... for me, anyway... there was the trip to India which was great in many ways... got to spend time with Ma, Baba and my Didu... and spent a lovely few days in Bombay with my cousin Y, her hubby V and their adorable little daughter, my niece. G, my other darling cuz joined us there too, and we had a ball. Christmas was spent with a lot of the family at Y and V's place, and we had fun watching 10-year-old home videos, playing Taboo, eating biryani and drinking Tequila and wine. But as always there are the unpleasant repercussions of spending time with family and friends, and this time it all got a bit too much. I also spent NYE being sick thanks to a meal of bad prawns, so that wasn't a good start to the year anyway :)
Then Ma had her accident in Beira, and that was a crazy time. Extremely worrying due to lack of good medical care and especially frustrating because there wasn't anything I could do to help. Much as they love each other, my parents tend to fight more than usual in moments of crisis, which is part of their relationship I suppose, but upsets me no end. I really want them to move back to India as soon as possible where help is more readily available, and family and friends are closer. But that will happen soon enough, when they are ready.
Anyway, so with all of this happening, and some events of late 2007, I went through a bit of a low phase early this year, and had to cut myself off from family and friends for a while to retreat into my shell. I also think that starting the blog, while definitely a good thing, had also brought memories of Dada and the associated guilt to the fore, and made me a little too vulnerable. (That is the reason why I decided to take a break from blogging, although it's been a longer one than I needed because I've been busy with work and other things lately.) Luckily, I realised that I was getting pretty close to depression, and seriously considered getting some help, and somehow, the very act of looking into counselling options did me a world of good, and soon enough I was back to my normal, mostly cheerful, sometimes-crabby self. Things were looking up.
And then a couple of months later, I re-connected with an old acquaintance, which has turned out to be the best thing ever. His name is Russell McInnes and has since become the most important person in my life; he is simply amazing and I've fallen head over heels in love, which, while not a new state of being for me, hasn't happened in a very long time, and nor has it ever been so delightfully uncomplicated; I find I am less cynical and more hopeful about the future, and it was the easiest decision to take what is a huge step for me; to marry him. Fortunately he is crazy enough (about me, and in general) to have agreed to put up with me for the rest of his life!
It was on the 16th of May, my Didu's birthday, that we first met up for dinner, and by the end of the night I felt quite nervous because I really liked him but was not ready to start a new relationship at the time. Thanks mostly to his easy-going nature though, we got past the initial complications on my part, luckily for me. We have been practically inseparable since July, but are able to pursue our own interests at the same time; have had a couple of awesome holidays in Queenstown and Tasmania and are in the process of moving in together; everything being so perfect, it seemed only natural that we officially commit to spending the rest of our lives together, just to mix things up a bit!
And so it is that 2008 ends on a very different note to what it started on... not only am I happier than I have ever been, I am also busy planning my WEDDING!!! We are in Traralgon at the moment, in country Victoria, where his parents live. We have come here with my friend Bhavna and her husband, Prashant; went on a road trip yesterday to swim in a gorge, and are going to spend New Year's Eve camping nearby. A good start to 2009 and hopefully lots of good things to look forward to.
Happy New Year, everyone, and especially to my dear Ma and Ba. Love you.
I shot a smile into the air, It came to earth I knew not where. Perhaps on someone else's face, In some forgotten, quiet place. - Michael Leunig
Showing posts with label Mini. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mini. Show all posts
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Sunday, 9 November 2008
Snapshot: Three Little Words
She's 3 and 5 months. Her first day at school dawns. She's all set and eager. Armed with brand new school-bag, brand new pencil-case, with brand new pencil, rubber and other implements, she goes forth to face the outside world. When we reach the school gates, she lets go my hand and runs off into the grounds. I watch with a twinge of regret. What? No crying and clinging to Mommy, as Bozo had done for days? Not even a hug and a 'Bye, Ma'? But that was ok. She'd been rearing to go to school ever since he'd started and it had been difficult sometimes to get her away when we'd gone together to drop him off! So I let her go. I watched as she joined up with Tania and Pum-Pum and said hi to Titli Didi. And then, Miss Rita scooped them up and took them into her playgroup.
She came home that day a tired but happy little girl. The crisp new uniform of white shirt and red gingham tunic was not so crisp or so new any more and the white socks and little black 'ballerina' shoes were well-soiled, but she fell asleep over her lunch and only awoke around 5.
That evening, we were all sitting in the lounge, generally chatting, Bozo and Mini happily playing with their Lego blocks. Suddenly, Mini began to shout something out, in a loud, strident voice. She kept shouting three little words as she got up and clambered onto the divan that stood under the switches. We watched in shock and horror as we realized what she was saying. "Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck!"
Obviously, we were stunned and didn't know what to say or do for a bit. Obviously it was something she'd picked up in school that day. She carried on her chant as she stood up on the divan and switched the fan off. And then, she stood there a few seconds, looking VERY pleased with herself, almost looking for approval. Then, she switched the fan back on and wordlessly returned to her brother on the floor.
We grown-ups sat there non-plussed, wondering what it was all about. Then I asked Mini. What was that you were saying? "Shuck-a-Fuck! Miss Rita bol-lo, Ingriji te fan off koro ke bole, Shuck-a-Fuck." (Miss Rita said, in English, 'Switch off the fan' is Shuck-a-Fuck.)
We grown-ups were even more mystified. Miss Rita? Chaste and a virgin, religious, 30-something Miss Rita? Did she even know the word, let alone teach it to her 3-year-olds?
It was Bozo who put our minds at rest. Apparently, instead of saying Switch off the fan, dear Miss Rita preferred to say Shut the fan.
Obviously with so much else having happened on that day, it got just a little bit twisted as little Mini remembered it!
She came home that day a tired but happy little girl. The crisp new uniform of white shirt and red gingham tunic was not so crisp or so new any more and the white socks and little black 'ballerina' shoes were well-soiled, but she fell asleep over her lunch and only awoke around 5.
That evening, we were all sitting in the lounge, generally chatting, Bozo and Mini happily playing with their Lego blocks. Suddenly, Mini began to shout something out, in a loud, strident voice. She kept shouting three little words as she got up and clambered onto the divan that stood under the switches. We watched in shock and horror as we realized what she was saying. "Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck! Shuck-a-Fuck!"
Obviously, we were stunned and didn't know what to say or do for a bit. Obviously it was something she'd picked up in school that day. She carried on her chant as she stood up on the divan and switched the fan off. And then, she stood there a few seconds, looking VERY pleased with herself, almost looking for approval. Then, she switched the fan back on and wordlessly returned to her brother on the floor.
We grown-ups sat there non-plussed, wondering what it was all about. Then I asked Mini. What was that you were saying? "Shuck-a-Fuck! Miss Rita bol-lo, Ingriji te fan off koro ke bole, Shuck-a-Fuck." (Miss Rita said, in English, 'Switch off the fan' is Shuck-a-Fuck.)
We grown-ups were even more mystified. Miss Rita? Chaste and a virgin, religious, 30-something Miss Rita? Did she even know the word, let alone teach it to her 3-year-olds?
It was Bozo who put our minds at rest. Apparently, instead of saying Switch off the fan, dear Miss Rita preferred to say Shut the fan.
Obviously with so much else having happened on that day, it got just a little bit twisted as little Mini remembered it!
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Kolkata, Thammar Badi
While on the Bandel to Calcutta trip, here's another one:
Mini just adored her Thakur-Ma, Thamma for short. (Paternal Grandmother for the uninitiated.) So whenever we made that trip, she knew it was to visit her grandmom.
But there was a firmly fixed idea in her three-year-old little head - When we reached Howrah station, the main railway station for Cal, we'd all talk about having arrived. Getting off the train and all through the ride to Dover Road where they lived, we'd try to tell her that we were now in Calcutta.
But no. She was not to be kidded. "Kolkatta aekhono aashe ni." "Calcutta has not yet come." She was VERY FIRM in this knowledge and would watch the roads very intently.As the car or taxi turned into the drive-way of Number 10, Dover Road, she'd turn to us and announce smugly, "Eyi to Kolkatta, Thamma-ar Baadi!" "Here it is, Calcutta, Thamma's house!"
As if to say, "You guys! You know nothing!"
And guess who enjoyed it the most? Big, wise older brother, Bozo, of course! - he thought it was tho thweet...
Mini just adored her Thakur-Ma, Thamma for short. (Paternal Grandmother for the uninitiated.) So whenever we made that trip, she knew it was to visit her grandmom.
But there was a firmly fixed idea in her three-year-old little head - When we reached Howrah station, the main railway station for Cal, we'd all talk about having arrived. Getting off the train and all through the ride to Dover Road where they lived, we'd try to tell her that we were now in Calcutta.
But no. She was not to be kidded. "Kolkatta aekhono aashe ni." "Calcutta has not yet come." She was VERY FIRM in this knowledge and would watch the roads very intently.As the car or taxi turned into the drive-way of Number 10, Dover Road, she'd turn to us and announce smugly, "Eyi to Kolkatta, Thamma-ar Baadi!" "Here it is, Calcutta, Thamma's house!"
As if to say, "You guys! You know nothing!"
And guess who enjoyed it the most? Big, wise older brother, Bozo, of course! - he thought it was tho thweet...
Monday, 18 August 2008
Yaad-e-Daag
November, 1975:
Mini takes her very first flight on Indian Airlines. (There wasn't anyone else to fly with, those days!) For some reason, their Dad is already in Calcutta and I'm following him with two babies: 4-month-old babe-in-arms Mini and 2-year-old toddler Bozo. (Take note, Y, ....)
Bozo I knew would pose no problem. He was easy-going even as a baby and would be happy with me talking and pointing things out to him or even going off with the air-hostess for a while. Mini? From the last snippet you'll remember that this is one smart kid, who's not likely to keep very still during the 2 and a half hour flight, not to talk about the long wait at the airport. And she was VERY wary of strangers, very choosy, actually, for she'd hold her arms out to one stranger and cry murder with the next.
So I'd been wracking (racking? where does that expression come from, anyway?) my brain for ideas. Cough syrup? Even Phenalgan? Na-ah! Not on a flight, anyway... so, what?
I remembered the flight was an afternoon one, and had a brainwave - DON'T LET HER HAVE HER MID-MORNING NAP. That worked out fine. She was a bit cranky, but fell asleep in the cab on the way to the airport. She slept soundly through the ride and the wait at the airport. The three of us got onto the plane. Lots of compliments all round about how well I managed, how well-behaved my two were, etc., etc.
She slept through it all like a...like a...well, like a baby, what else!
Then they began serving the snacks. That's when my inexperience showed. "Tea, Madam?" Tired as I was, I couldn't resist the cuppa that was extended towards me. "Yes, please," I replied and carefully took it my free hand.
Well, I don't know if I got down to that. Taking it in my free hand, I mean. For all I remember is the cup of hot tea hovering in the air, with the saucer hovering below it. As if in slow motion, the two tilt and begin to tip and come down, perilously, pouring the tea onto me and the wriggling baby in my arms.
Had she been waiting for the right moment to kick? Had she had that gleam in her eyes, keeping them half shut so I'd think she was asleep? Whatever. Her aim was good and her tiny foot had soundly kicked that cup and saucer into the air.
Of course, there was a huge fuss. The baby's screams had heads turning, some annoyed at having their naps so rudely disturbed. The hostess ran for the BurnAll (they were caring still, back then) while I brushed the hot liquid off my now screaming baby. The hostess came back with two others and they grabbed Mini and rushed her to the loo. I followed. We poured cold water over the now angry, red patches on her stomach and then applied the Burnall. She quietened down only when I put her to feed, still making angry, protesting noises as she fed!
Fortunately, Mini does not have any scald marks. Baby skin and all. I have one still, very faded, very light, on my thigh, which I can see only because I know it's there.
Pyar ka daag...the mark of love.
Thanks, Mini.
;-(
And Bozo slept through it al...
Mini takes her very first flight on Indian Airlines. (There wasn't anyone else to fly with, those days!) For some reason, their Dad is already in Calcutta and I'm following him with two babies: 4-month-old babe-in-arms Mini and 2-year-old toddler Bozo. (Take note, Y, ....)
Bozo I knew would pose no problem. He was easy-going even as a baby and would be happy with me talking and pointing things out to him or even going off with the air-hostess for a while. Mini? From the last snippet you'll remember that this is one smart kid, who's not likely to keep very still during the 2 and a half hour flight, not to talk about the long wait at the airport. And she was VERY wary of strangers, very choosy, actually, for she'd hold her arms out to one stranger and cry murder with the next.
So I'd been wracking (racking? where does that expression come from, anyway?) my brain for ideas. Cough syrup? Even Phenalgan? Na-ah! Not on a flight, anyway... so, what?
I remembered the flight was an afternoon one, and had a brainwave - DON'T LET HER HAVE HER MID-MORNING NAP. That worked out fine. She was a bit cranky, but fell asleep in the cab on the way to the airport. She slept soundly through the ride and the wait at the airport. The three of us got onto the plane. Lots of compliments all round about how well I managed, how well-behaved my two were, etc., etc.
She slept through it all like a...like a...well, like a baby, what else!
Then they began serving the snacks. That's when my inexperience showed. "Tea, Madam?" Tired as I was, I couldn't resist the cuppa that was extended towards me. "Yes, please," I replied and carefully took it my free hand.
Well, I don't know if I got down to that. Taking it in my free hand, I mean. For all I remember is the cup of hot tea hovering in the air, with the saucer hovering below it. As if in slow motion, the two tilt and begin to tip and come down, perilously, pouring the tea onto me and the wriggling baby in my arms.
Had she been waiting for the right moment to kick? Had she had that gleam in her eyes, keeping them half shut so I'd think she was asleep? Whatever. Her aim was good and her tiny foot had soundly kicked that cup and saucer into the air.
Of course, there was a huge fuss. The baby's screams had heads turning, some annoyed at having their naps so rudely disturbed. The hostess ran for the BurnAll (they were caring still, back then) while I brushed the hot liquid off my now screaming baby. The hostess came back with two others and they grabbed Mini and rushed her to the loo. I followed. We poured cold water over the now angry, red patches on her stomach and then applied the Burnall. She quietened down only when I put her to feed, still making angry, protesting noises as she fed!
Fortunately, Mini does not have any scald marks. Baby skin and all. I have one still, very faded, very light, on my thigh, which I can see only because I know it's there.
Pyar ka daag...the mark of love.
Thanks, Mini.
;-(
And Bozo slept through it al...
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
Snippets
Now here's another "occasional" one... only the second this year, tch, tch ..... and this time it's Mini's birthday.
I've been racking my brain for ideas, but a certain lethargy seems to have come over me these past few months. I know I don't have to write anything at all, but I couldn't bring myself to just let the day go by without a mention of it here. So here I am...
And why would I talk about just Mini when this is a Bozo blog? Because, for me, they are inseparable. That's all I'll say to that question, for those who know the Deb family know what I mean.
I so wish I had more snaps of my daughter as a little girl! But, well, no point crying over spilt milk, is there? I do have scores of her as a girl and a young woman, though, and some videos as well. So, you see, I do seem to love her, after all! ;-)
I do also have lots of mental snaps, little snippets, so thought I'd "develop" them today and "print" them here for you.
Obviously, the first memory is of that night in the hospital in Madras. It was K. J. Hospital, on Poonamalee High Road. Very posh, not something we could really afford at that time, but the doctors knew us and had been taking care of my pregnancy, even though they were still building their maternity wing then and were not really ready to take on delivery cases. So ours was to be the first baby ever to be born in that hospital.
I went in just after midnight. It was one looooong labour, as this kid didn't want to come out. She had actually grabbed the cord and wound it firmly round her neck several times, so by the time Doc Vis (Jagannatha Vishveswaran, the 'J' of K J Hospital) pried her out, she was black and blue - - and - - very silent.
A few sharp slaps on her back-side, and she was protesting VERY loudly, I tell you!
But those were the first really bad moments of my (then) 24 years. I was so afraid I'd lost her. And then when I heard her, I was sobbing with relief and happiness. It's a girl, said Doc Vis.
Of course, my first question was the same as every mother's in the labour room: Is she alright?
And then, they put this tiny, squirming bundle into my arms. And it went still at once, snuggling after a moment, searching, ....
Of course, we hadn't known it was to be a girl. And of course it was what we had both secretly hoped for.
And here's my snap-shot of my first glimpse of my daughter's face (only another mother of a daughter can know what that word really means to me!):
She had a head of very black hair. She was wheatish-complexioned, still a bit bluish in patches from her earlier trauma. Her nose seemed tiny compared to her cheeks, which were round and plump and rosy - flushed! Her lips were a bright pink and perfectly shaped, a rose-bud! I looked deep into her eyes. They were large and very dark. To me, beautiful, even though rather sunken, as a new-born's tend to be!
Of course, she had lost no time nosing around and instinctively finding her source of nourishment, and sounds of her feeding filled the room. There are no words to express a woman's emotions when her baby suckles at her breast, so I shan't try....
Coming back to her eyes. She gazed up at me as she fed and suddenly, it struck me - Hey! A baby's eyes are supposed to stay shut for the first few hours. Bozo's had, all the books said so.....And here was this one, hardly 15 minutes old, and I had not seen her close her eyes! I thought then, she was special.
When she was through, satiated, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. I had to burp her, though, so put her to my shoulder. She woke up and - LIFTED HER HEAD TO LOOK AROUND THE ROOM!
Now Bozo had not neen able to lift his head on his own for a couple of weeks. And here she was, about 30 minutes old, .....I KNEW now she was special!
Well, it's late and I'm somehow inclined to sleep tonight with this first image of my own little girl in my mind. I know I'll sleep blissfully.
But I will be back with more snapshots from DE LIVES OF DE DEBS.
In the meantime, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Mini. WE love you to bits.
I've been racking my brain for ideas, but a certain lethargy seems to have come over me these past few months. I know I don't have to write anything at all, but I couldn't bring myself to just let the day go by without a mention of it here. So here I am...
And why would I talk about just Mini when this is a Bozo blog? Because, for me, they are inseparable. That's all I'll say to that question, for those who know the Deb family know what I mean.
I so wish I had more snaps of my daughter as a little girl! But, well, no point crying over spilt milk, is there? I do have scores of her as a girl and a young woman, though, and some videos as well. So, you see, I do seem to love her, after all! ;-)
I do also have lots of mental snaps, little snippets, so thought I'd "develop" them today and "print" them here for you.
Obviously, the first memory is of that night in the hospital in Madras. It was K. J. Hospital, on Poonamalee High Road. Very posh, not something we could really afford at that time, but the doctors knew us and had been taking care of my pregnancy, even though they were still building their maternity wing then and were not really ready to take on delivery cases. So ours was to be the first baby ever to be born in that hospital.
I went in just after midnight. It was one looooong labour, as this kid didn't want to come out. She had actually grabbed the cord and wound it firmly round her neck several times, so by the time Doc Vis (Jagannatha Vishveswaran, the 'J' of K J Hospital) pried her out, she was black and blue - - and - - very silent.
A few sharp slaps on her back-side, and she was protesting VERY loudly, I tell you!
But those were the first really bad moments of my (then) 24 years. I was so afraid I'd lost her. And then when I heard her, I was sobbing with relief and happiness. It's a girl, said Doc Vis.
Of course, my first question was the same as every mother's in the labour room: Is she alright?
And then, they put this tiny, squirming bundle into my arms. And it went still at once, snuggling after a moment, searching, ....
Of course, we hadn't known it was to be a girl. And of course it was what we had both secretly hoped for.
And here's my snap-shot of my first glimpse of my daughter's face (only another mother of a daughter can know what that word really means to me!):
She had a head of very black hair. She was wheatish-complexioned, still a bit bluish in patches from her earlier trauma. Her nose seemed tiny compared to her cheeks, which were round and plump and rosy - flushed! Her lips were a bright pink and perfectly shaped, a rose-bud! I looked deep into her eyes. They were large and very dark. To me, beautiful, even though rather sunken, as a new-born's tend to be!
Of course, she had lost no time nosing around and instinctively finding her source of nourishment, and sounds of her feeding filled the room. There are no words to express a woman's emotions when her baby suckles at her breast, so I shan't try....
Coming back to her eyes. She gazed up at me as she fed and suddenly, it struck me - Hey! A baby's eyes are supposed to stay shut for the first few hours. Bozo's had, all the books said so.....And here was this one, hardly 15 minutes old, and I had not seen her close her eyes! I thought then, she was special.
When she was through, satiated, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. I had to burp her, though, so put her to my shoulder. She woke up and - LIFTED HER HEAD TO LOOK AROUND THE ROOM!
Now Bozo had not neen able to lift his head on his own for a couple of weeks. And here she was, about 30 minutes old, .....I KNEW now she was special!
Well, it's late and I'm somehow inclined to sleep tonight with this first image of my own little girl in my mind. I know I'll sleep blissfully.
But I will be back with more snapshots from DE LIVES OF DE DEBS.
In the meantime, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Mini. WE love you to bits.
Saturday, 1 September 2007
I carry your heart with me
It has been a while since my last post... and this time it wasn't just my innate laziness that kept me from writing. I recently came to a couple of realizations in quick succession, followed by decisions which, while ultimately sensible, left me feeling quite lost and questioning my sanity as well as my ability to be happy. This, for someone who for the most part is perfectly comfortable (without being complacent, or so one hopes!) with who she is and the way her life has turned out, was unsettling to say the least.
Yes, very cryptic and dramatic, I know. But therapy is too expensive and unreliable, so expressing myself on this blog is the preferable alternative, hence the drama. (Ma, you can relax, that was strictly tongue-in-cheek!) On the other hand, this is not the forum for discussing the details of my follies (hence the veiled remarks), so without going into boring detail, the upshot is that I am now single again after almost 2 years. In case I wasn't clear before, it was my decision to end it. The irony is that it was by far the best, most uncomplicated relationship that I have had (and I have had quite a few) and he is a genuinely good guy, one of the best, as well as my best friend (yes, lots of "best's" I know :) but they fit).
What does all/any of this have to do with my brother, you may well ask. Well nothing directly, I suppose, but as with any major event in my life, whether it is a happy or a sad one, I think of him and wonder what he would have made of all this. I know he would have liked Craig, of course, but I also like to believe he would have understood without my having to justify myself, why I did what I did. He was, after all, the most non-judgemental person I have ever known, at least as far I was concerned. I have tried, in turn, to be that person to the people I care about and hope I have succeeded to some extent.
Yes, very cryptic and dramatic, I know. But therapy is too expensive and unreliable, so expressing myself on this blog is the preferable alternative, hence the drama. (Ma, you can relax, that was strictly tongue-in-cheek!) On the other hand, this is not the forum for discussing the details of my follies (hence the veiled remarks), so without going into boring detail, the upshot is that I am now single again after almost 2 years. In case I wasn't clear before, it was my decision to end it. The irony is that it was by far the best, most uncomplicated relationship that I have had (and I have had quite a few) and he is a genuinely good guy, one of the best, as well as my best friend (yes, lots of "best's" I know :) but they fit).
Anyway, all things considered, it turned out quite well... the break-up, that is; thanks to how close we are, and the fact that we still want to be in each others lives. It will take some getting used to, naturally, but it seems the worst is over, and the good thing is that we helped each other through it. So today, as I write this, I am still questioning my sanity, but not so much my ability to be happy. The point being, I have made my peace with my inner demons, for now anyway.
What does all/any of this have to do with my brother, you may well ask. Well nothing directly, I suppose, but as with any major event in my life, whether it is a happy or a sad one, I think of him and wonder what he would have made of all this. I know he would have liked Craig, of course, but I also like to believe he would have understood without my having to justify myself, why I did what I did. He was, after all, the most non-judgemental person I have ever known, at least as far I was concerned. I have tried, in turn, to be that person to the people I care about and hope I have succeeded to some extent.
My parents (who met him in December last year and needless to say, loved him) have also been a pillar of support through all this, by giving me my space while letting me know that they were there if I needed to talk. So Baba-Ma, here is a poem by E. E. Cummings that I came across in a movie called " In her shoes", which made me think of you, of Dada, and others I miss:
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Monday, 23 July 2007
It's a bird ... It's a plane ... It's Supergirl!
My Mom's been telling me about 'IT' these past few months. There's going to be a baby. Her tum'd been growing and had began to look as though it would burst.
Now do I care if it'd be a boy or a girl? I don' sink so. I'm too little to know the difference and / or have a preferance. I'm only about a year and eight months, you see. All I know is Ma and Baba are SO EXCITED. And that's so infectious. I ask Ma each day, well, not each day, really, every couple of weeks.
A couple of weeks later, my Chitra Mashi came to stay for the duration of some course she was taking in Madras. Now this is one cool gal, but more of her another time. Her arrival was a big relief, now that I had someone to share the Mom-watching duties with me. Sometimes, I doubted how grown-up she was - who takes a near-full-term pregnant woman on boat rides, for example? - but obviously, she'd be reliable enough in a crisis.
And, on July 23rd of that year, the crisis came at midnight, just like with Cinderalla. There was this hustle and bustle, excited voices, a few groans, I think. But I just sucked harder on my pacifier and went off, back to sleep. When I woke up again, Ma and Baba weren't there. I'm not sure what I did or said, if anything, but Mashi, can you fill in for me here?
Baba came back round 8. Very pleased with himself he looked, I can tell you. Nobody told me nothing, but from their talk, I could tell I had a baby sister.
Reminiscent of Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Throw down your hair! and Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo! And what more romantic than my very first glimpse of my Supergirl, my baby sister, the one I was to grow to love even more than I loved Ma and Baba, or even myself?
I suppose Ma thought Mini was too little to understand her, and that's why she spoke to me. But Mini and I have our own language. And how she gurgles and laughs, when we share our secrets! Little does Ma know the things we say and are up to! I happily gave her my teddy bear till she got her own and even welcomed her into my cot. When she's older, she can even get on my rocking horse. But hang on! She has been on it already, in Ma's tummy!There are other plus points too. The maid, Anjali Amma, can now stop tying my hair in ribbons, for starters!
I see you in the morning
And as I go to bed;
You’re always there beside me
It’s like you’re in my head!
Each night when I do kiss you
I’m sure you feel it too!
I say goodnight so softly -
And do you hear that too?
You know I love you, I always will
And when I am dead, I’ll love you still
There’s no beginning, there’ll be no end
‘Cause on my love you can depend!
Each time my cell phone rings
Your smile is sweet and gentle
It makes me want to sing.
Whenever I feel broken
I simply think of you -
And all I ask of heaven
Is that you keep being you…….
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