Any living creature would have expectations. A cat closes its eyes while lapping milk and expects the world not to notice. An ant expects to find a sugar trove and expects not to be stamped. Us, well we have the greatest and most distinguishable expectation which is why we created something called the Gods.
Now coming to the point why have I started this topic. Well because I am expecting and I’d like to know what to expect and furthermore is to resolve my bewilderment at what people’s expectations are.
To begin with, when I conceived I expected to look like the latest maternity fashion diva, minus all the baggage of morning sickness, the swollen hands and feet, the fatigue and most important not to be handled like a fragile doll. Needless to say none of these were fulfilled. Well, come to think of it I hadn’t exactly prayed to God for all this. I got the utmost attention and utmost care, which I did expect and did enjoy a lot, which came with the baggage of being treated like china doll with about 100 TB of advice thrown at you per day. Yes, I am a software professional else who do you think will have the time and space in this world to write crap on the World Wide Web?
In the last leg of my pregnancy, I just take a look back at a small percentage of the TBs and TBs of expectations that I’ve heard from numerous people, some irking, some funny, some outrageous, some sexist and some downright racist. Sad! Yet true. In my case, I said I wanted a girl. I agree I am a sexist, but then there is 0.5 probability all in all that this could happen. Now one kind lady asked me what kind of a girl. I was foxed! What does one mean by that? So she explained that a girl with my features and with my husband’s complexion. I thought about it a while, and said “Never thought about that.” Then someone asked me why a girl? I thought about it a while, and said “Girls are beautiful and a thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Someone said,” Gaze at beautiful pictures of babies all day and you’d have a winner.” I wanted to ask, “Does that mean if I look at pandas all day long, I’ll deliver some fur ball?” Then someone asked “What if you had a boy?” and I said, “Umm, that’s ok. I’ll still get his ears pierced”. The funniest was people predicting what the child would become in future. I wondered after all we too were kids and we would always complain about our parents having these expectations from us and there would be times innumerable that we would have disappointed them. But from our perspective we would defend by saying “Why do they have these great expectations?” Now there are these plans people make for kids. “I’m going to make my kid a cricketer”, another “I’m going to make her a singer” and I really wanted to ask “Are any of you planning on making your kid happy? “As if this was not enough, I have seen people comment, “Oh he doesn’t have my complexion”, Oh another one “I was way fairer and chubbier as a kid” the best one yet,” I never made such a fuss as a kid”. Wow! These modern day parents really amaze me.
Just for a minute let us assume that the baby inside could think and talk. What would be her/his expectations? Say, “Dear God, Please grant me a super rich dad who can gift me a Porsche on my 18th birthday. Grant me a no-nag mother who is the best cook and can sing the most beautiful lullabys in the whole world. Grant me luxurious holidays to the most exotic places in the world and may my parents be so open minded that they wouldn’t mind me taking a snort once a while.” Aghast at what kids may think? Then think again, it’s a round trip dodo what we are doing now. The poor little mite inside probably didn’t even ask to be there and yet here we are demanding everything in this world from the little one.
That and also the reverse could be true. See when you say “I’m expecting” it involves this plethora of expectations and planning and excitement about the future. Maybe it is normal that people start dreaming of little clothes, cute babies and then they dream far off into the future to see their offspring at the zenith of success. My dream extended to two babies playing chess and my father in law talking to an infant saying “I’m going to make you an IAS.” Neither I nor Guns were there anyway in the picture. The thing that I do expect for my kid is good health and a good attitude, which again makes me no different from any expectant parent in this world. Sigh! Where will these great expectations end?
December 8, 2009
November 6, 2009
Sabrina's Fingers
If anyone asked me which my favorite character from the Archies is, they’d presume my answer along the lines of Jughead/Betty. And I’ll agree I like Jugs a lot specially his dog. But one character which has always been my fantasy is ‘Sabrina, the teenage witch’. It isn’t just the magic in her fingers that enamors me, it’s her pixie like charm that endears her to me.
Now,if had Sabrina’s fingers what would I do? Umm, let’s see where to begin. Ha! First and foremost I’d convert Sabrina’s broom to a flying bullet on which I could whisk off to any place. Whenever I’m hungry, I’d just snap my fingers and stuff from my favorite restaurants would be delivered at my doorstep. I’m sick of people telling me “Sorry madam, we do not deliver in that area.” Or “Sorry madam, you must order for atleast Rs400 for door delivery”. Imagine having “Pav-bhaaji” delivered at 99 Vasantha nagar directly from Mumbai and imagine if I could poof off whatever tasty stuff Dhir cooks… Ah! What a blissful thought. With those magic fingers I could get my clothes to expand to my size without having to buy new ones, or say if I like a tee and want it in a specific color I could do that too. Wow this is exciting! I could magic the book I read to loft in the air and get it to flick the pages when I’m done reading. Saves me a lot of neck and finger trouble. And oh, I could magic tickets for any concert, match or movie too… Umm I think I’m getting a little ambitious here. But what the hell, it is my imagination at work here.
A wishing well, alladin’s lamp ,cinderella’s slippers are all a part of the childhood fantasy where you dream of whipping up a lovely silk gown like that of snow-white or probably stack up all those frisbee collectibles from bournvita to beat your neighbor kid. The kid in me might have gone, but the adult still wishes for Sabrina’s fingers, if only I could have them!
Now,if had Sabrina’s fingers what would I do? Umm, let’s see where to begin. Ha! First and foremost I’d convert Sabrina’s broom to a flying bullet on which I could whisk off to any place. Whenever I’m hungry, I’d just snap my fingers and stuff from my favorite restaurants would be delivered at my doorstep. I’m sick of people telling me “Sorry madam, we do not deliver in that area.” Or “Sorry madam, you must order for atleast Rs400 for door delivery”. Imagine having “Pav-bhaaji” delivered at 99 Vasantha nagar directly from Mumbai and imagine if I could poof off whatever tasty stuff Dhir cooks… Ah! What a blissful thought. With those magic fingers I could get my clothes to expand to my size without having to buy new ones, or say if I like a tee and want it in a specific color I could do that too. Wow this is exciting! I could magic the book I read to loft in the air and get it to flick the pages when I’m done reading. Saves me a lot of neck and finger trouble. And oh, I could magic tickets for any concert, match or movie too… Umm I think I’m getting a little ambitious here. But what the hell, it is my imagination at work here.
A wishing well, alladin’s lamp ,cinderella’s slippers are all a part of the childhood fantasy where you dream of whipping up a lovely silk gown like that of snow-white or probably stack up all those frisbee collectibles from bournvita to beat your neighbor kid. The kid in me might have gone, but the adult still wishes for Sabrina’s fingers, if only I could have them!
May 6, 2009
What's cooking
Hey! This post is an offshoot of one of the many discussions that I have with Haritha. And as with all discussions this too ended with our notoriously annoying habit of saying ‘Same Pinch’. I wonder if we both had actually pinched each other every time we said that, we both surely would have landed in a hospital severly pinched!
Coming to the point here. This is my take on cooking and you are at your sole discretion to disagree. Cooking isn’t any great art or science. Tell me what art do you see in putting a teaspoon of salt in boiled pulses? Tell me what science do you see soaking chickpeas? Hogwash I say. Any birdbrain thrown in a kitchen with utensils and groceries can cook a meal fit for the kings. For that you do not need a doctorate or an IQ of over 200. I think even a sub-zero IQ will qualify, as cooking is to man what suckling is to babies. I can see connoisseurs of food wrinkling their brows and pursing their lips in disapproval, as I said before to disagree is your choice. I qualify for all the epithets used above because I can cook and I shall be very humble about it, I am EXEMPLARY! I could give this rat a run for his cheese... hmph.
See I have never been a foodie. My basic aim to eat was because it was time to eat and unless I do so Mom wouldn’t allow me to go out and play. So basically I was regardless of taste. How regardless I was is that when I cook dal I forget to put salt and when I eat I never realise that I missed it. Everyone in my mother’s family, her sisters and sister’s daughters are all highly adept at cooking. I, well, I cook when it is so mandatory that not me but people around may die of fatigue and need to be nourished. Innumerable times I wished science would invent a pill that could be swallowed and hunger be dissolved. Alas! I could as well have asked for world peace instead.
I basically learned how to peel, cut, boil and fry things because when Mom was hospitalized I had to take up the responsibility. My poor Mom tried to teach me all good things, she might as well be teaching a wall. Sigh! After marriage too things didn’t change. Rather they got worse. I married into a family of food connoisseur. They assumed my disinterest to be my inability to cook. Well I was fine by it. As long I didn’t have to do it, I was fine with people and their assumptions. My mother however was irked by it. She is a very straightforward lady, never too tactful. To explain to her the fact that I didn’t care what people thought as long as they still felt sorry rather than anti, I was more than happy to be the guilty party and not cook either. People tried to show me how simple it was to cook. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that I knew all of this. They used to happily cook showing me the processes and extolling the virtues of palatable food. To be honest, I knew all of it but I am not ‘put-my-bum-to-the-chair’ type, so I continued with feigned ignorance and a sappy look. People would feel sorry for Guns and him knowing all this thankfully accepted all the sympathy.
As my luck ran out, the cook came up with a real sob story one day. I took pity and asked her to take care of her family. My guess is that she isn’t coming back. Well atleast she is cooking for her family sighs! Well now comes the situation I was talking about. I thought about it for a while. What would I have done if Mom hadn’t cooked for us? What will happen if I do not cook for Guns and me? What may happen when we have kids, and I do not cook for them? It all boiled down to brass tacks now. One fine day I entered the kitchen and said to myself, ‘This is one decision, I will not regret.’ That day onwards I began cooking. But behold, I do not cook for everybody. I cook only for Guns.
Coming to the point here. This is my take on cooking and you are at your sole discretion to disagree. Cooking isn’t any great art or science. Tell me what art do you see in putting a teaspoon of salt in boiled pulses? Tell me what science do you see soaking chickpeas? Hogwash I say. Any birdbrain thrown in a kitchen with utensils and groceries can cook a meal fit for the kings. For that you do not need a doctorate or an IQ of over 200. I think even a sub-zero IQ will qualify, as cooking is to man what suckling is to babies. I can see connoisseurs of food wrinkling their brows and pursing their lips in disapproval, as I said before to disagree is your choice. I qualify for all the epithets used above because I can cook and I shall be very humble about it, I am EXEMPLARY! I could give this rat a run for his cheese... hmph.
See I have never been a foodie. My basic aim to eat was because it was time to eat and unless I do so Mom wouldn’t allow me to go out and play. So basically I was regardless of taste. How regardless I was is that when I cook dal I forget to put salt and when I eat I never realise that I missed it. Everyone in my mother’s family, her sisters and sister’s daughters are all highly adept at cooking. I, well, I cook when it is so mandatory that not me but people around may die of fatigue and need to be nourished. Innumerable times I wished science would invent a pill that could be swallowed and hunger be dissolved. Alas! I could as well have asked for world peace instead.
I basically learned how to peel, cut, boil and fry things because when Mom was hospitalized I had to take up the responsibility. My poor Mom tried to teach me all good things, she might as well be teaching a wall. Sigh! After marriage too things didn’t change. Rather they got worse. I married into a family of food connoisseur. They assumed my disinterest to be my inability to cook. Well I was fine by it. As long I didn’t have to do it, I was fine with people and their assumptions. My mother however was irked by it. She is a very straightforward lady, never too tactful. To explain to her the fact that I didn’t care what people thought as long as they still felt sorry rather than anti, I was more than happy to be the guilty party and not cook either. People tried to show me how simple it was to cook. I hadn’t the heart to tell them that I knew all of this. They used to happily cook showing me the processes and extolling the virtues of palatable food. To be honest, I knew all of it but I am not ‘put-my-bum-to-the-chair’ type, so I continued with feigned ignorance and a sappy look. People would feel sorry for Guns and him knowing all this thankfully accepted all the sympathy.
As my luck ran out, the cook came up with a real sob story one day. I took pity and asked her to take care of her family. My guess is that she isn’t coming back. Well atleast she is cooking for her family sighs! Well now comes the situation I was talking about. I thought about it for a while. What would I have done if Mom hadn’t cooked for us? What will happen if I do not cook for Guns and me? What may happen when we have kids, and I do not cook for them? It all boiled down to brass tacks now. One fine day I entered the kitchen and said to myself, ‘This is one decision, I will not regret.’ That day onwards I began cooking. But behold, I do not cook for everybody. I cook only for Guns.
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