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Carrying your Baby

I love carrying N around whereever I go. Small walks our house in the nice warm summer months, long hikes up the Cascade mountains near Seattle, shopping in the mall.

Recently N outgrew her Baby Bjorn - we now carry her around in a baby back-pack. I miss her warm comfort and nuzzling - its not really the same carrying her in the back-pack. N does not seem to mind though - she looks around with as much curiosity and snoozes as happily as she used to in the Bjorn.

Here are some interesting pictures of how women around the world carry their babies. The black and white one is an American Indian woman carrying her baby in a Papoose. Then the one with the Llama - you guessed it - from Peru. And the colorful one from China. And then there is me and N in her backpack, and Ma with a much smaller N in her Baby Bjorn.

Heck, if these women can climb up and down hills and go about daily chores with their babies on their backs, surely, I can lug N around!

Stories from Botswana

A while back, Appa pappa ( who else?) showed me a book with a strange title: "No.1 Ladies Detective Agency". Intrigued, I started reading it. I never imagined I would be hooked onto a story set in Botswana, about a lady detective - Mma Ramotswe - I dont even know how to say the Mma part, but i do know its the equivalent of Madam. Mma Ramotswe - the Botswana equivalent of Miss Marple - simple, with "Traditional" views - running the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, the only detective agency in whole of Botswana. And running it with all the commonsense and wordly wisdom one can imagine. What I loved about that book was the simplicity of the narrative and the storytelling, and the interweaving of Mma Ramotswe's personal and professional life.

So yesterday I picked up another of the series - called The Good Husband of Zebra Drive. Alexander McCall Smith has not let me down so far - his characters, the lead detective, her assistant, her husband Mr. JLB Maketoni - all these are so real and believable. I can substitute each of them with a person I know! He's really managed to bring Botswana to the readers, while keeping his characters so real that you can "see" them.

Keep it up, Mma Ramotswe!

Update to this post -thanks to lostonthestreet . Go here if you are interested in knowing how to say "Mma" or Madam in Setswana ( the language of Botswana).

Anoushka reads to N

N's cousin sister Anoushka is visiting her. In Anoushka's words: " I like to read to N, play with her in the park with her new ball, put on her clothes, select her clothes for the day".

They are having tons of fun together. Its great to have Anoushka here, we wish she could stay with us longer.

The tag of 55

“Lost on the street” tagged me on this where I have to continue the story that has been building up in not more than 55 words..

-------------------------

What happened so far.
“She wondered if she could ever count each of the twinkling stars in the night sky. The clock in the tower struck 9. She had to get back to reading her text book, ignoring the weird grumbling noises her stomach was making. The flickering orange street light looked like it would go put any minute.” [galadriel]
she considered her options. she cud complete reading before the light died on her. or she cud eat. or of course, she could attempt to count the stars. it was in the midst of this contemplation that her phone buzzed. books aside, hunger aside… she now focussed on the screen. should she answer… she wondered. [rayshma]
She decided to let it ring.. must be her mother calling to find out if she was alright. She was really tired of her mom checking on her four times every day! And then she heard it, a blood curdling scream filled the air. There were sounds of running feet ,followed by another shrill scream! [preethi]
She stood up to see where the sound had come from. It was a bratty toddler throwing a tantrum. The phone was still ringing shrilly. She picked it up. It was not her mother. “Hello”, said a voice from the other end. “Did you get my e-mail?” “Yes” she laughed. “I just finished reading it.” [DotThoughts]
“So?” her sister asked. “So what?” She replied giggling to herself. Her sister replied back annoyingly “You know what I’m talking about! So don’t pretend and be a tease.” “OK OK!” She laughed. “I think he’s nice. But you have met him personally so you will know better.” “Thank God!” her sister sighed with relief! [~nm]
Relieved that atleast she bothered to scan through the profile , instead of summarily dismissing them. It was a determined effort of the elder sister to see the younger one in bridal finery. She would airily dismiss the younger one’s concerns about the reality of marital bliss. Wasn’t her own perfect wedded life enough proof? [Lost on the street]
She thought back to their childhood days. Her sister had always tried to control her life, she sighed. Always thought she knew what was best for her kid sister. And things had not changed a bit, even though they were both now adults - her elder sister married with a little child, and she precipitously hanging onto the edge of bachelorhood.

I tag madmomma

Belated Bday post

Been meaning to post this - the little sis wrote a senti post on my Bday. For me, her "Ba" - (means elder sister in Assamese). Check out her post here.

The Lone Wolf's Song: Poem

White is the moon,
White is the snow,
White is the fur,
That glistens and glows.

White is the river,
White are the woods,
Whereupon, a lone wolf sings
A lone wolf song.

Sad with yearning,
The song mourns,
A million years
Of lonely white moons.

Deep are the desires
Strange is the night
While white moons haunt
Yet how lovely is the white.

White is the fur,
That glistens and glows,
White is the moon,
And white is the snow.

A day with Appa away & visa angsts

Appapappa left for Vancouver to get his visa this morning - at the unearthly hour of 5. I was hoping the guy would miss me - instead he was busy eating the "best indian food" at the "best downtown location". Ok, ok - I should just let the poor guy have some fun. I do hope he comes back tomorrow, there seems to be a chance he may have to hang around there for 4-5 days to get his visa.

This entire visa process feels so derogatory sometimes - like begging somebody to let you into their door.

Me: "Please, please. Your house is so pretty and clean. Please let me in. I would like to be a slave here."
They: "Go away. Our house is only for nice pretty people. Who are you anyway"?
Me: "I live in the next block - err... ya, the slightly dirtly one with lots of people in it. Thats why I want to come into your neat and clean house and slave away."
They: " Umm.. okay. But what if you refuse to leave when you have finished slaving."
Me secretly thinking: I'll never finish slaving. But here's what I will say: "Of course i will leave. I will miss my mother and father and brother and sister and uncle and aunt .. and will leave. Now will you please let me in."
They: "Okay, but promise you will work all the time, you will say skedule when you mean schedule and you talk to me only by appointment".
Me: "Promise. Yippeee.. I get to be a slave in the clean big house"

And so on. You get the drift.

Video of N walking with her blanket

N is walking - stumbling around from the fridge to the dining table to the TV - everywhere. And following her Ma and Deuta all around the house, including up the stairs. Here's a cute video of her carrying her favorite blanket around.

Air Travel with N - nice people exist

Air travel has to rate as one of the most traumatic experiences for parents ( and baby too). It is a surefire recipe for disaster - enclosed space, no distractions, same scenery = wild cranky baby! At such times, it is so nice to actually meet co-passengers who are not shooting you arrows of disgust.

Today it was this youngish man, travelling to Seattle for work - N was howling her head off, but the guy was actually smiling at her - wow! I said to myself, either this guy has kids, or he is a really really nice guy. Then there was the good looking chap who was sitting next to us on our flight to Phoenix - this guy even played with N while she was sitting on my lap! Last, but not the least, the elderly Korean lady ( grandmom really) who came over and hummed lullabies to N on the flight back from India. She kept calling N "Harmoniga" - I can only assume it means something ( baby?) in Korean. But I was so touched by her kindness - walking over to talk and soothe somebody else's cranky baby? Not everybody will do it - but Hey! Nice people do exist.

Offroading in the Canyons

What a nice trip this has been so far. Friends, food, drinks.. sigh...

So we are all at S's place in Phoenix, AZ. N is being pampered and there's somebody to play with her all the time. She seems to be enjoying the trip as much as any of us.

We all went on trip to Sedona, Canyon Country. Amazing scenery - and awesome place for the adrenalin seekers.

Went on a Jeep trip - would not have believed that a Jeep could go over rocks so easily. A pic to capture the happy moment.

N is a fighter

I discovered this the other day at the day care. I went to pick up N one day evening- from the Toddler class (yes,she has graduated from Infant class to Toddler). As I was collecting N's jacket and bag, her teacher casually remarks "N beat a kid in class today". I was not quite sure how to react. My first reaction was to laugh out loud - I was imagining the scene,and could not help but find it funny for a one year old to try to whack another kid. Now there are folks who will chastise me for this - I should be teaching her manners etc etc. I have only one defense - I would have found it equally funny if another kid was hitting N. Anyway, I had enough sense to ask the teacher why? Apparently the other kid was taking N's food - so she had to whack her! What else could she do-I think there is nothing my little baby hates more than having food taken away from her.

Now I can rest assured that she will survive in thisdog eat dog world. I am not sure about her manners though!

Its HOT in Seattle

And I am hotter! So says N - so what if the sunglasses are a few sizes too big - they still look hep, dont they?

The last 3 days were HOT - temperatures went upto 90F ( thats about 32 C I think, I had to open up calc and think of conversion formulae even after 3 years of being in the US). Thats an interesting thought - why do I still think in Celcius, Kgs and Kms? When somebody tells me the temperature is 90 deg, I am like -ya, thats hot! But do I have any inkling what that really means? You bet I don't - so somewhere in the background my mind is racing to do the calculations so that I can make the right social response.

Anyway, back to the heat in Seattle. It is so hot that we are all wearing shorts - and there is a crowd near every water body available. Since SEattle has no dearth of water bodies, no fear of not finding a spot. One of the things Ilove about this city - parks and waterbodies abound. Once the sun comes out, no place likethis.

We got up early today, played tennis at greenLake - followed by Ultimate Frisbee. That was fun. As usual, my cheeks are red and sunburnt. N enjoyed playing in the grass. Sujeet (hep hep Sujeet) had new sunglasses - and N stole them from him. She's rocking in them.

What a great day! If every day waslike this, well, life would have been justperfect.

My Mother's Day Blog - a Day Late

I am not a person given to thinking about "Days" - it seems too much like selling out - to commercialization . But when Mother's day arrived - what did I do? I kept telling AppaPappa Noyonika wants to get me a mother's day gift, she really does.. until he actually went and got me a lovely pair of earrings and beautiful bangles. What I will do for gifts!!

Noyonika made me a card wishing me for Mother's day.

I remembered the cake I baked for my Ma last mother's day when I was in Guwahati. I posted about this on that day.

Sigh.. she's so far away this time. I was jealous of my neighbours - they'd come to wish me and got me a lovely potted plant, and had to leave in a hurry as they were visiting their Mom. Why do we have to stay so from our parents - is it worth being so far away from family? Appa pappa and I are having such existential questions these days.

Oh no, this is quickly turning into a blog about something other than Mother's Day. Or maybe not. If Mother's Day is to celebrate Ma's and Moms and Mother's and Maters and Mommys then can I be blamed if my thinking goes to my own Ma and how far we are from her?

Jet lag is not good - vacation at home is good!

We're back from our trip to India - and what a trip it has been. With all my aunts trying to out-do each other taking care of N, Appa and I just vegetated in Guwahati. Ate huge quantities of food, and did not even have the decency to do some walking around for digestion. The heat daze also helped keep us lying flat on our beds for most of the day - venturing in the evenings to CCD ( we used to call it Cafe Coffee Day, but thats not cool I heard :-) .

The little sis was happy - she got plenty of time to spend with N. She organized the loudest Bday celebration ever for N in Ghy. My Dad of all people made the biggest commotion with the foam gun ( or whatever that thing that you shoot that lets out foam at parties is called). Ma worked so hard getting the party together. As Appa often says : "I dont know how your Mom gave birth to two lazee donkies like you and your sis" the contrast in our ability to work hard so apparent.

Goa was great too - nice resort vacation with the in-laws. FIL has turned 70 ( our splurging on a 5- star resort due to this occasion), and he looks fit and good. God keep him that way for a long time.

Bombay was hot - but worth it due to the good food. Unlimited skewers of barbecue after a 2hr drive and a 45 min wait - but still worth it. Great vada pavs - fantastic Indian food atKhyber. Awesome Gujju thalis, the best ofwhich we had in, of all places, Goa!

All in all, could not have asked for a better vacation. The jet lag is not too hot though, neither is the travel ( yucks! ). More on the travel some other time.

Memories of a time-sibling

A good blogger (like any artist) tries to capture life truthfully. In this effort, the bloggers honest memory usually serves as a poor servant:

"Memories are milestones
But the magic of life is made
In the mundane moments
'Tween the markers in our mind."

So when Notunma asked me to write about the time leading up to Noyonika being born exactly a year ago (wow, is it 1 year already?!), I was in a fix. It was too hard a task for me to perform.

I could write about my most vivid memory - sometime in Dec '06, when we did the ultrasound and my heart stuck in my throat when I saw the picture of that little baby curled up and sucking her thumb (just the way she does even today).

I could write about K leaving the US for India on Feb 17th last year, and my restlessness and melancholy afterward, till my getting to Guwahati on Apr 7th and being ridiculed for being "beefy" - I had taken to weights to beat blues; I guess I had been a bit too restless!

I could write about the morning of the 8th, when we ate poori & chhole at K's aunt's house, and K telling me that her stomach was hurting, she'd eaten too much.

I could write about the tension of having to switch Doctor's on the morning of the 8th and the 4 hours that crawled by till we heard a wail from inside the O.T.

I could write about my looking around, dull-headed and dim-witted, when the nurse stepped out with a bundle in her arms and said "Father kaun hai?" (& of dearest Shahana, being right there next to me to push me forward!)

However, none of these events seen individually communicate how I (or K) felt before Noyonika was born. Nor do they, when strung together like beads, capture accurately time leading up to Noyonika's birth.

The reason that it's so hard writing about the time leading up to Noyonika's birth is that while I may document each event as honestly as I can, my memories of before Noyonika are a falsehood - they are the memories that belong to a different person, who just happens to have the same writing style as me.

"Time-siblings
Created at birth
Of another."

There are a few events in ones life that are truly life-changing, that add a new dimension to life that you couldn't have understood before the event and can't explain with words after.

Now, whenever K runs up the stairs at 90 miles an hour at an imagined sound from a fast-asleep Noyonika, I grin to myself - this isn't the woman I married, but no worries, life's good.

Vada pav deprived

We are in Mumbai after a 26 hour journey. And was it tiring!
Anyway, I am glad to be among family.

My only crib - I have not been allowed to eat at the roadside stalls.. and I am so vada-pav deprived. Those tastee pieces of bread dripping in butter with a big fat bonda nestling inside. And a green chilly for the punch!! Oooohhh... will wait another day for the stomach to settle, and then..

Okay, actually, I have another crib. I lost my voice - yes, thats right, my voice. So am talking in whispers. People are making fun of me - but i'm not taking any chances here. Got to get my own voice back ( that was literal, not metaphorical)!

Meanwhile,we are preparing for N's first Bday party. Its exciting!!

Nice photo of the family

We went to see the cherry blossoms at Univ of Washington. Friend of mine clicked some candid pics of us.

I Love Spring

The spectacular change of season inspired me to go on many walks through my neighbourhood. Photos of spring in my neighbourhood in Kirkland, Washington.

Same time last year: St. Mary's English High School

This is the second of the series of posts I plan - leading upto N's birthday.

This time last year I am at my parent's house in Kharghuli, Guwahati. In the state of Assam in the North East corner of India. At the house my father named "Rupajali". I grew up in this house - leaving finally at the age of 18 for my college education. Since then, I have come back sporadically, once or twice a year, staying for a few weeks at most. So this time was different - I was not a visitor, I was actually living in Guwahati.

It is a very strange feeling to go back as an adult to the place where you had mostly lived as a child/teenager. In many different ways.

As I drive from my house to my school (St. Mary's English High School) , Ismile at the thought that once that distance had seemed so enormous. (It is only a mile). I remember walking home from school with my Best Friend Shelley when I missed the school bus - chatting happily, glaring at the boys who dared to tease us, stealing gooseberries from people's houses.

And my school? Dear old St Mary's English High School! The school is same as ever, with the statue of Mother Mary dominating the front. The same old green gates- jealously guarded by the Salesian sisters in their white habits. How could it have stayed so still in time, I wonder?

The school has no room to grow - surrounded as it is by a busy road and buildings on all sides, but they have managed to add a new wing I notice. We had a basketball court in our school - for some strange reason it was called "Boys Playground" - I think it was from thetime when the school was co-ed. Anyway, I always thought of the boys playground as our (mine and my close group of friends) territory. We were the active kinds in school, playing basketball, and Kho-Kho in all our free time, and boys playground was our hang-out. Oh, how I loved that place. For Gods sake, I used to sweep the entire court after a downpour so we could have a good game.

On my way into theschool, I met a few of my teachers. Of course no one recognised me, and when I introduced myself there were many exclamations of surprise. None of the teachers had changed, they hadgrown older and hadgrayhair, but apart fromthat, frozen in time it seemed. As was "Deka Sir". Deka means "Young" in Assamese - he was ( maybe still is) one of the two male teachers in theschool. He was our favorite, and we were his. To this day, when I meet him, he remembers Kanchuki and Shelley.

The school is full of memories I have about my best friend Shelley Brahma. The sporty, tough Bodo girl who I somehow befriended in Nursery and who was my best friend till I left school. Shelley, who would do anything for me - she used to tie my shoelaces even, because "Kancha" (thats what she called me) did not know how to! She and I had the time of our lives in school I thought. We were never the rules breaking rebel kind - somehow we were very happy and content with our innumerable games, and with talking happily for hours. I still remember some of the songs she taught me - in Bodo language. Bagorumba - for one. I am sometimes amazed at how or why I still remember most of it.

I enter into the classrooms. It is the school annual exhibition today. Earnest students in immaculate uniforms explainingtheir projects to whoever passes by. I feel like I amthrown back in time to the year 1993 - my final year in school. I am the girl in the uniform, explaining to every person willing to hear how the "Observatory" works. I can see Shelley making the large dome for the observatory, heck, I can even smell the fevicol as she and I work to glue the silver aluminium foil onto thewire frame she has just made.

I go to the "Boys Playground" - disappointment - the basketball court is gone. ButI am cheered up - I can see Deka Sir there. I quietly observe him - the Girl Guildes have made a rope bridge and he is helping them demonstrate it. I get a sudden vision of all my friends hanging out under the tree - Smita, Babita, Palla Bora, Palla Bhatta, Shyla Varghese,Gurdeep Kaur. They are all there, in a circle, chatting. I cannot hear what they are talking about though.

I come back home. Longing for those simple days in school - when whether the basketball court would be dry or not was the biggest thought in my mind!