Author: nourishncherish

There is a sure-shot method to get a grown person turn red with embarrassment almost instantly. It involves the process of meeting their parents, hoping they remember their child’s glorious childhood, and re-kindle their enthusiasm to share the minutest of details. One question you can ask is: Do you remember how baby goliath used to play hide-n-seek? To date, I have not heard this question back-fire. All parents who have spent hours on their mother’s knee learning the value of truth, will tell you, how daft their little one was at the game. In fact, I am quite sure Newton’s mother will tell you that her son tried to hide himself behind an apple as a child.

It is quite fascinating to see the game of peek-a-boo mature into hide-n-seek. Suddenly, closing one’s eyes in the middle of the room, means nobody can see you. When they do hide, you can be almost sure, it will be a choice between spot A and spot B. Spot C becomes too varied. Of all the things the things I like to see best is how they come up with hiding spots when in a hurry.

“Hurry up! Amma will be coming in any moment…hide!”

Keep the pressure on, and see the kind of spots they come up with to really enjoy hide-n-seek. For example, this is where I “found” my daughter hiding when I came home one day. I had to try to avoid tripping over her, given that the box was in the middle of the room. Nevertheless, I spent five whole minutes shouting out her name, and looking for her in every other room, before feigning surprise at find her here.

I started mentioning this to one of my friends, and guess what, her sister came up with? My friend’s hide-n-seek past! To protect the privacy of the friend, I shall refrain from mentioning the name, and other details. But, let’s say it was highly entertaining to imagine that a highly qualified person with a keen intellect also started out with a deplorable hide-n-seek history!

Another related story that I put up soon, is my brother’s hide-n-seek history. Boy, that would be a read!

I walked into the house, and surveyed the surroundings. I was out looking for a house that would satisfy my desires of a dream home. The living room was large, with a minor raised level constituting the family room where the family could have their meals. The kitchen needed some upgrades, but roomy and airy! I stepped into a pretty large room that was ridden with cobwebs.

The old lady, who now bore an uncanny resemblance to my grand-mother, looked at me like only a grandmother can look at a grand-child, and said she has around 10 sarees that she folds and keeps in her steel gray trunk. The first room was used to store the bags of rice after a harvest, and the smaller room was for storing maize. Why did she need such large rooms for clothes?!

At which point I burst out laughing, and got up from my sleep. I kept thinking about paati’s face and smiled to myself!

The day is not far-off when folks walk into village houses in Singaperumal Kovil (a tiny village near Chengalpet) with similar comparisons, since Chengalpet has now opened up to IT firms!

I am stuffed with food.
I am stuffed with good food.
I am stuffed with good Chinese food.
I am stuffed with good Chinese food that I did not order.

Every so often you find yourself in a place where it is not possible to form an opinion. The feeling where you rack your brains, and you get no vibe! It was into one such place that my friend and I peeked into for lunch. We were handed a menu that has seen better days in the past, and engaged in our banter, before being approached by the owner.

We asked him for vegetable soup. He nodded his head, and asked us whether we were both vegetarians. I affirmed with a nod of my coconut. He touched his hand to his heart, and said he would take care of our lunch for us, and disappeared without a squeak.

I was wondering what he would send for us, since he had not asked us about our preferences – spicy, sweet, mild. Do we like tofu, broccoli? Nothing – nope – not a whiff.

We idled a little more, before some heavenly soup came alongside an appetizer (I don’t know the names of the dishes I ate, because the owner sent us something that wasn’t even on the menu) Soon, an entree consisting of vegetables arrived too.

I must say, this was a very different kind of hospitality, and one lunch I enjoyed. The company was great, and so was the food!

While growing up, I remember thinking that my father was the know-all of all times. I now see my daughter going through life with the same fairy-eyed notion in her head. I asked her to come to me, so I can put on a pair of shoes, and she ran away at lightning speed to her father, claiming he knows best. I rolled my eyes and let it go.

He felt particularly heroic when she ran to him with her skort and shoes, proclaiming in her sweet baby language that her father only knows how to put them on (“appa-ku theeyum!”).

I looked on, and decided to let the results speak for themselves. My daughter was tripping and losing her balance every third step, because of two notable reasons:
(1) Her left shoe was on the right leg and vice-versa
(2) Both legs were in one leg’s opening in the skort

Appa-ku theeyum – ny foot and big toe! I watched on with amusement before I took off her skort and shoes and put them properly again!

My Hero!

I looked in the mirror, and spotted two strands of white hair this morning. I know I have always had one strand that grows out of the same spot in my scalp with bull-headed determination, no matter how hard I try to uproot it, but the second one was new.

Now wait a minute…..wait a minute!

I was supposed to be wise by the time the gray hairs came! I have always wondered how the hair would know when I became wise enough for the colour change to start. Now, I see that the hairs just give you some time, and hope Lady Prudence has taken her turn and shone her brilliant rays on you. If you were goofing around while it happened, well…sad luck!
Assuming Lady Prudence follows a round robin style to make fellas wise, I would have to wait around with graying hair to get wise. All this while folks around me can look at my graying coconut, and assume I am wise.

Hmm….now, that’s sounds enticing. I could offer a ton of advice that sounds more convincing than it really is, thanks to my “wise look”. There is one problem – I need to get friendly with some younger dudes/dudettes who are willing to take my advice. Teenagers are out, since they don’t listen to advice. I am quite young myself, so I would have to target my advice at audience aged > 19 and younger than me.

For those of you who have read this post probably know, that even if Lady Prudence scorches me with her rays, there is no way I am getting any the wiser. So, I shall live in harmony with self, few white hairs and a song on my lips!

Related links: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gray_hair#Effects_of_aging_on_hair_color

I have to start this post out by stating that eating is not one of my daughter’s preferred activities. We expend considerable ingenuity in getting her to eat her meals without making it seem like a drag for her. I sometimes wonder whether she has read the studies warning people against junk food, because she prefers to eat none of that either. I see children in her day-care center munching and snacking with relish, while my little one sticks to roaming around with a juice cup, whose level seldom diminishes.

For Pongal, I had made vadas and payasam. As is customary, I set it in front of God as an offering. Just before performing the minor ritual before the offering can be eaten by us, I noticed a tiny hand sampling each of the vadas with a nibble, and placing them back on the plate in an orderly fashion! Never had I seen her sample some food like that. To offer the cutely bitten vadas to God was at once satisfying and rewarding!

There is a reason we call children Gods!

Happy Pongal!

Freedom of Speech & Worship
Freedom from Want & Fear
Where liberty’s torch is gleaming
And our way of life is dear

These were the lines in one of our school songs, the song affects me in more ways than I had imagined. I am witnessing a demonstration against the Bush regime imploring the US to stop sending more troops to Iraq.

This is what I love about freedom of speech. There is a small band of protestors gathered in San Francisco, replete with drums and bugles.

I love the sight of these determined people out in the cold, standing up for what they believe in.

The only thing that baffles me, is the fact that the Iraq war has been compared to Vietnam war so much, it should have sent unsettling signals when the first set of comparisons started. To sustain it to ensure that the Iraq war is the costliest mistake in really difficult to comprehend.

A mistake once is just that: a mistake
Same mistake twice : A stake too dear to miss

Last week, my 10-year old nephew, Siddu, got a Casio G-Shock watch worth $100. I heard all about it from his mother, who also sent me this mail justifying the purchase. This was no mean purchase and there is a history that goes with it.

The following is the list of justifications offered by Siddu regarding why it was absolutely mandatory that he owned one!

Our comments are in blue.

1) Adarsh and Prabhman had G-Shock watches. Atleast Adarsh studies well and tops the class, I guess he deserves it, BUT Prabhman always gets marks that are lower than mine…even he has one.

2) When we went for the Scout camp, the guys with alarm clocks on their watches used to get up on time and they were so mean that they did not wake me up….I got up only when Sir came and called. So I need a watch with an alarm clock! (Psst: He still needs to be shaken up at home to get to school on time, though the alarm clock has arrived)

3) I lost watches before ( he lost 2 worth Dhs 10 or 20 each!!) because I had to remove them for PE class or cricket practice! I would leave it somewhere and not find it. With a G-Shock, it is for ‘Sportsman’ so I don’t have to remove it each time. Even if a cricket bat ‘got it’ or I did a ‘dive for a catch’, it won’t break.

4) For athletics, you can set the timer for races….I depend on someone else to do it for me ( to check if Sir is timing me right). I can try and beat my time each time!
My sister claims I could have become a far better athlete had I been given a G-SHOCK by my father. I was the more athletically inclined one in the family, and hence this comment.

5) It has a back light that is so smart…it works like a torch. In case I get stuck alone in some dark mountain also, I can use it to see. He needs company even to go to the next room at night!!!

6) If I want to know the time in California or London, I can use this watch. Remember last time you were checking the time for a phone call for your office, you checked on the Internet…next time you can just ask me.
My sister wanted to know the time in Vienna for a conference call. Yeah next time she can JUST ask Siddu to plan her international conference calls!

In the light of all these justifications, he got it for the following reason : He was given Dhs 100 as pocket money for his scout camp. He brought Dhs 92 back ( he bought a packet of Lays Chips, a juice and Bourbon biscuits with Dhs 8 , he explained ) and said

” Amma, I saved up for my G-Shock. If Maama gives me pocket money ( he gives him Dhs 5 a week), I will save that also and pay for it. It costs Dhs 146 ( Adarsh said so – the penultimate source!) …so how many weeks of pocket money should I save?”

My sister’s heart melted for keeping track of his expenses, for thinking of saving for something he wants and for being honest. As a reward, he got his G-SHOCK. As it happened , his dad selected a better model in the range and paid Dhs 375 instead of Dhs 146…….this model has a cool blue dial and a better shock absorber!!!

I wait with bated breath for the First Person of Indian Origin to bag the Olympic gold in Athletics, and if he happens to be from my family – what more can I ask for?!

I am not a huge fan of movies. Every once in a while, a movie comes along, that brings about the following conversation in our household:

Man of the house: Saumya…..I’ve played the movie. Could you come and watch it?
Self: I can see it from the kitchen, while I am loading the dishwasher.
The titles start, and the man of the house glimpses in my direction, and he cannot even see me, so, how could I be watching a movie?: Can you come here now?
Unfazed, I reply that I can hear the conversation while wiping the floor.
Man of the house: GRRRRRRRRRR….No, this time you are coming here and watching it properly.
Self: What’s the BIG Deal??? I don’t enjoy movies as much as you do – so you go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment.
10 minutes later, the tone hints on exasperation: For heaven’s sake, come here, and watch the movie.
Self: Okay, okay…am almost done. I just have to <insert 6 totally unrelated, mundane task list here>


It is at this point in the proceedings when you can see a grown man pull a grown woman from the kitchen, and switch off the kitchen light. The grown man then follows aforementioned grown woman closely to ensure no u-turns are taken, and plays the movie. Usually, I sulk for the first few minutes before getting immersed in the movie. Invariably, I end the movie by thanking him for making me watch the movie. You see, my husband undertakes great pains to select movies I like and am sure to enjoy. I really appreciate that – I really do! He not only knows my taste, he actually makes me enjoy my life.

After scene above was enacted successfully on Friday night, we sat down to watch Al Gore’s documentary: An Inconvenient Truth.

Let me just say this: my thought process has been altered. I don’t think I see the world with the same eyes anymore. To those of you who have not yet seen this movie, please do so as soon as possible.

We owe it to ourselves, and our children.

The headline screamed in the fertile districts of Trichy and Thanjavur as a wedding took place between the Beautiful Girl & the Naughty Boy. In what has been termed a Made-for-each-other match, the beautiful girl and the naughty boy have remain wedded to each other for over 36 years. The Naughty boy still retains his boyish charm while playing peekaboo with the beautiful girl who stole his heart eons ago.

To those wondering about the context of the post: here is some light.

My father, being the fun-loving guy, was given the title of “Naughty Boy” this morning. At about the same time that he was gloating about his new title, my daughter proclaimed that my mother is a “Beautiful Girl“. And that is the story of love between the Naughty boy & the Beautiful girl. My daughter loves playing peekaboo with her grand-parents. So, now I envision them youngsters (chinnan jirusugal) playing Peekaboo at home. It is the beautiful girl’s job responsibility to tag the little minx along, while looking for the naughty boy in hiding.

After all these years – a headline that resounds true!