Diagonally parked in a parallel universe

Support a Cause - Hopenhagen

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 12:11:00 +0000

And this time dont ignore it and tell yourself that you are giving enough money for the orphans and girl children of the world.

This cause you will support for yourself, for your near and dear ones, for your progeny.

Go to http://www.hopenhagen.org/ for more information and to pledge your support to change
Tweet about it to your friends : http://twitter.com/Hopenhagen

Last but not the least, thank yourself for taking a step towards a better planet.

Fixed Price. No Bargain. No discount.

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 05:02:00 +0000

As a child, walking along beside my mother on our walks every evening, the thing that used to fascinate me a lot was stopping at various sellers and looking at their wares. I had ample time to look and touch because my mom would take her time to haggle for the best price. She, I think, is the world's best bargainer. At her peak she could bargain the cart off a push-cart vegetable seller! I never noticed then that my dad would never be around until the time came to whisk out some money for the purchase. Growing up brought it own woes and one of them was feeling uncool to be seen in public with one's parents in tow. I think every kid goes through this phase of wanting to look cool in front of peers which meant no chaperoning. I still accompanied my mum on those odd shopping trips to the market, but found it extremely embarrassing to be associated in any way with the haggling. I maintained a decent distance enough so that a casual observer would think I am waiting for someone instead of noticing that I am with someone and that someone was trying to go home with the cart and goodies.
I could never pick up the thread of bargaining from my genes and always prefer to pay without protesting. I wizened enough to move away without making a purchase if I thought the price was exorbitant but I couldn't get courage enough to demand an explanation. Super Markets was for me the best place to buy stuff because you dint need to get personal about your purchase. I knew very well that every person in that shop was paying the exact same amount as I was and there was no need to feel jealous or guilty.
Over the years, my mum's passion for bargaining has also decreased owing to the fact that she starts to feel sorry more often for the seller and his family. I think everyone reaches a stage in life where he/she feels philanthropic. They move away from the "i work hard so i need to get value out of every rupee" philosophy to "the other person works equally harder and if one rupee isn't going to pinch my pocket then i might as well give it to him". Now my mom sometimes buys stuff which she absolutely doesn't need only so that those few rupees would help the seller get a meal.
But lately, my bargaining genes have fought their way up. Every morning sees me haggling with auto drivers about the price to bring me to my office. There was a time BV (before V was born) when I abhorred taking an auto who wouldn't take the meter fare and would charge extra (Read). Necessity is the mother of all submission so I have succumbed to the habit and ease of taking an auto to work in the mornings so as to ease my morning rush.
Though Bangalore, by and large has not reached the Chennai limits of fixed fare, we are getting there very slowly with autos charging extra even to drive you to a destination outside the city limits (the auto drivers stick to Kempe Gowda's Bangalore map to determine the limits). So it is that I bargain for every 10 rupees (1 rupee is guffawed at these days) and I must say that I am building up my skills well. Look out vegetable sellers (if there is any in urban India who cares for bargainers)!

The li'l ad-guru in my house

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 07:23:00 +0000

Today, TV is reality and reality is in TV.
I really want to talk about the brands that V recognises on TV but for that I will have to tell you about the evolution of V-TV watching rt?
My baby got introduced to TV when she was 2 months old (dont judge me, but those swig taking sessions can get boring when your baby is concentrating). Very soon, V had started recognising when the TV was switched on and would stare at the screen. The bright colours attracted her. The sound was never too high and I am thankful to Zee Studio for bringing in subtitles! A few months later she had mastered the remote controls of all the TVs in ours as well my parents' house enough to know how to "Aan-Aap". She then swiftly moved on to changing channels and volume levels. By the time she knew how to walk she had become an adept watcher of all the serials that her grandmom watches mainly the introductory songs. Being on her feet gave her new found freedom to dance when the songs come on.
I have to tell you that she is also a chota bada cricket fan. Every time the commentator's voice sounds excited she jumps up and puts her hands into the air and shouts "Thikther". And she wont have her dad sprawled on the sofa when she does this. She goes upto him and says "Appa Thikther" and will keep repeating it till he also stands up, and exults :)
Continuing with the TV saga, V started to recognise the ad breaks between whatever comes on TV. This got started with the "Joojoo" ads. As soon as the ad used to start, she would leave whatever she was doing behind, to watch the big-heads. Great concept I must say if a 11 month old's attention could be captured for that long. Then came the Santoor ad when she turned 1 where she would go "Thantoo". I wonder what it is about the Santoor ad, V is not the first kid I know who started singing along with its jingle! The latest favourite is the "Doo doo" ad. The other day we were driving through a crowded road with intermittent stops. All of a sudden, V sat straight up in my lap and shouted "Doo doo". We were surprised because the ad was not playing on the radio. She then started pointing and shouting "Doo doo". Following her finger we looked up to see a giant hoarding of DoCoMo! Brand recall at its best. If a 15 month old kid can recognise it, imagine what it does to the target audience (which doesnt involve toddlers who say "haooo" on the mobile) it is trying to reach out to!

Appy Appy

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 10:56:00 +0000

Drifting away with the clouds

Living eternally in the vaccuum

Smiling without knowing

Breaking out of the glass walls

Somersaults in the mind

Happiness in the heart

Eager anticipation

Just like that

For once, for ever

Happy Anniversary to you T

Happy Happy to you V

Happy Diwali to us

I am down with the phone upgrade flu

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 06:49:00 +0000

I am in that phase of life again.

Where the quest for a new phone becomes endless.

Multimedia or Business phone?

Touch or No Touch?

Found a useful article in the multimedia phone category, you can view it here

The website itself is very informative and I like the precise reviews in common man language. Check it out http://mymindsays.co.cc

You know you are Mommy material when

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 05:09:00 +0000

You realise there must be a zillion kids in your neighbourhood.
You get more excited looking at the kids section in the mall rather than the ladies section
You start waving and talking to kids who spare you a glance
You time all your activity to last between two feeds
You expect your husband to be your personal assistant
You look forward to coming home early
You exchange kid stories with every parent you meet
You share best practice swig-taking guidelines unabashedly
You start socialising with the neighbourhood ladies only to get your kid acquainted with theirs
You become a speech and action policeman at home
You dont cringe when changing a poopy diaper while you are half way through your meal
You take washing poopy diapers as naturally as you would take bathing
You become a Schumy paced work doer at home
You become a bedroom singer instead of the bathroom variety
You start packing a baby bag as soon as you hear plans of a romantic dinner outing
You think you know more about raising kids than your mother
etc...

The movie 13B reviewed

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 06:37:00 +0000

and found to be a sadistic revenge wreaked on the non-suspecting, highly-critical, higherIQ-claiming mass of people who condone Indian TV soaps (anyone tell me why it is called this instead of the self-explanatory "serial" these days?) as stupid, no-brainer and fool-making medium in the garb of entertainment.

If one wants to see the positive side to it -
It is also an anticipation generating mechanism. It's the perfect example of "Hope". It instills in the audience a want to live and ofcourse wait for "what happens next" albeit in someone else's life. Maybe the TV soaps have been able to achieve what God and one's inner self couldnt achieve - hanging on to the thread of Hope?

I've grown up? Ja?

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 26 Feb 2009 07:04:00 +0000

All through my career I have been a firm believer that feedback from juniors, peers and managers should come voluntarily and not from asking. I can extrapolate it to my life as well and can claim with enough honesty that I have never tom-tom'ed my abilities and achievements ever. Getting back to career, my belief was so strong that my year end self-appraisal used to be the briefest. It took a lot of goading from my managers to put down all the achievements (to the last small thing) in a categorical manner. I did not realise the potential of it back then but most of the managers do not keep a list of all their direct reports' doings. He/she will only add on to what the employee writes as his/her achievement and rate the employee. So the employee is the loser if he/she doesn't jot down all the points explicitly since in a good enterprise all the past performance documents are available for view by current managers and potential recruiters within the company. Ofcourse it took me time to understand this nuance.
It still takes an emotional toll on me to fill the gaps and holes in the self-appraisal with a lot of positive adjective mortar. At the end of the exercise I am left feeling like a total narcissist which I absolutely abhor. There is no need for me to expound on the fracas in my mind when I have to repeat everything at the actual "meeting" which would decide my rating.
Getting back to work after maternity leave has not been an easy transition for me. There are lots of issues to be resolved and its easy to get depressed. I resolved not to wallow in self pity (I dont know why but I seem to use this phrase a lot) and instead turn to positivities. I decided to find out what people I have worked with think about me. And the easiest way to do that was to ask for recommendations on LinkedIn, a site which I have come to appreciate now. A virtual war was won with the repressive inner self and a new confidence has started taking birth. There is a chance of it dying at birth if nobody responds but what the h*** I tried. Positive. La la la.

I'll do my crying in the rain

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 10:06:00 +0000

Glum mood
Inner storm
Buckets of water waiting near eyes
Love this song : A-ha's Crying in the rain
(I wish there was a utility to post songs instead of links)

I'll never let u see the way my broken heart is hurting me
I've got my pride and I know how to hide all my sorrow and pain
I'll do my crying in the rain...

Ironically my mood has nothing to do with my heart.

Dear Mr.Obama

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 10:22:00 +0000

On becoming the President of the USA, I congratulate you for giving the world visually tolerable images of the so called "world's most powerful man" which was hitherto a very depressing affair given the fact that the person who occupies your esteemed office takes up half the bandwidth of world television broadcast.
You have lent a mighty voice not only to the generally intelligent folks of the United States but also to some shy denizens of our great country India, in particular to some narcissistic individuals. You may not be aware of the various appellations in our great land but one would definitely interest you – Obamma. We, in our locality (details of which I don’t mention for fear of brickbats) are pleased to inform you that we have a lane bearing your name or nearly so. Last week we named one of the by-lanes in our locality as “Obamma Lane”. The bearer of the name “Obamma” was definitely shy about her name being painted in bold, font 400 and bright blue on the signboard since it is not one of the most fanciful names we have in modern India to the extent that one might hear a snicker or two. This was until you came along. You have increased the significance of her name . I don’t subscribe to the school of thought which creates biases on the basis of a name because I do believe “What’s in a name?” but it gives me great joy to gratify you by informing you that your name itself is becoming a kind of status symbol.

Yours’ Sincerely,
A Wellwisher

Happiness comes from Banana

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 05:03:00 +0000

There is many a thing that the poo-poo-pee-pee kid can teach an adult. One of the lessons I learnt yesterday was a reminder to me of all the simple things in life one forgets as one trudges along grumbling about everyday life.
Yesterday dotzy was subjected to the shock treatment of gunshot. I categorically deny us having anything to do with terrorists except when its meal time and I have to terrorise my dotzy with a bowl and spoon until she finishes every last drop. We decided that it was time to get dotzy a pair of earrings and set out to accomplish this yesterday morning. One small hitch though - she did not have holes in her ears yet. Nowadays the horrifying process of punching a hole through one's cartilage has been given a painless updation in the form of a gun. The "gun" is an ingenious contraption which punches a hole, inserts a stud from the front of the ear and clamps the stud from behind the ear all in a matter of one sec and one well-aimed shot. Well, that is if your kid is sitting still, not crying and more importantly not being jerky. As can be expected out of a wee 7 month old, a choked howl-cry started as soon as the first shot was felt and lasted for a full 3 minutes after the second shot ended. As soon as the studs were in place I whisked her outside onto the pavement, in order to get the villain hole-puncher out of her line of sight. But that dint deter her one bit and she continued to howl and look at me balefully and make my soul shrink with guilt. At that moment an angel swooped down on us in the form of a banana seller. All she had to do was cluck at dotzy and offer her a nice yellow banana. Dotzy (she seems to be well mannered beyond her age or as suspicious as a spy already) after a lot of encouragement from me accepted the gift through her tears. The very next instant the pain, the shock, the tears were all abandoned in the joyful vigorous swinging of the banana in her hand. The sun was back and shining on her sweet face and there were no words with which I could thank the banana lady. I would have walked away with overwhelming gratitude had T not nudged me to tell me that I could thank her better by buying bananas from her.
Happiness comes from a banana...

Gandhigiri and the cellphone

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 17:40:00 +0000

As the competition hots up I decided to blog about it to gain mileage among my sympathisers. T and me are into Gandhigiri these . So dotzy's attempts tp vandalise the cellphone is met with a smile and the offer of another. Want to know why? Here's my side of the story...

Background :
2007 - It was time for me to replace my aging Nokia. I had been waiting for more than a year for the perfect phone. Then came the Abhishek Bachchan Motorokr ad. I feel like a moron now but full credit to the advertisers for the campaign. It was uber cool. A groovy and humorous story line was all I needed to make up my mind (I dont want this post to be a confessional about how big a a fan of AB Baby I am) and I was hooked. I started dreaming of Rokr being the most appropriate successor to the sturdy (trust me, I have stress tested it to the max) 3310. I went ahead and bought the phone via a friend who works at Motorola (I am a sucker for discounts) and discovered with shock that the wireless stereo headset (the main reason for buying the phone, yeah yeah not AB Baby) was out of stock. I was thus stuck with a phone without its coolest feature. That is not the worst part though as I later bought one and found it to be inconvenient to use. I feel technologically challenged with the Rokr because I do not understand Linux which is the OS on that phone. I have never been able to install any application on it simply because I have not understood how. Looking through innumerable number of Motorokr forums is not helping my brain. I also discovered with time that the screen scratches easily in the hands of a not so delicate user like me. I am now at the end of the disillusionment tether. I want to buy a new phone and am waiting for the perfect successor!

Cut to 2009 :
My dotzy has made drumming her new hobby. She drums on and with anything. Give her a soft toy, a rubber book, her own hand or a cellphone! She goes on her "Atha atha atha" ("hit hit hit" in baby lingo") routine relentlessly and with more vigour with each hit. She has to just see a cellphone lying aroung and she will swiftly glide to it and grab it. Last week I realised that this could be a God-sent to get rid of my phone. How many hits on the floor does it take for a cellphone to stop working? I dont know, am still counting at 220. But to my dismay I found another competitor in the endeavour. T! He also has decided that he wants a new phone and is keen to expose dotzy to variety! So in an evil usage of Gandhigiri we voluntarily submit our phones to the rowdyism of dotzy.
If she hits one cell we calmly and gleefully show the other.
Will keep you posted about who wins.
Happy Valentine's Day T ;)
( I shall cherish these times when my dotzy couldnt tell anyone the truth)

A day for love - coloured with Pink this time

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 10:06:00 +0000

So Pink is the flavour of the season for this valentine's day. Especially if you are sending a gift to the Sri Ram Sene and the gift happens to be one's underpants.

You can find all the details at the Pink Chaddi Campaign Blog

Do it for the fun of it. Its the best way to dispose off all those overused innerwear you might have hoarded!

An update on the previous post [LIKELY JUNK]

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 06:36:00 +0000

After I wrote this post complaining about my mail server in a public forum, the mail server has mended its ways and now does not attach [LIKELY JUNK] to T's mails. If anyone else (who has my office id, which ofcourse I will not give out here) is interested in testing the temperment of the mail server, please send me a mail to my office id.
Thanking You,
Yours Sincerely,
I-Believe-All-Problems-Can-Be-Resolved-by-Communication-And-Proper-Escalation

"stop@nothing" says A-star

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 06:23:00 +0000

Seriously? Is that a punch line for a car? Stop at nothing? Did the punch-line-thinking people realise they are in a serious business called advertising? Or were they in a real hurry because they forgot the deadline to deliver the line? A-star, the new offering in the Maruti Suzuki stable has an advertising punch line which says "Stop at Nothing". Hmm...how about crossing pedestrians? Or the RED TRAFFIC LIGHT? Or for a cow which decided to cross the main road at Brahma's speed? Does A-star come with brakes which get spoilt from overuse? I tell you, its a dangerous line that. Especially for most people who drive in Bangalore who dont stop for anything anyway. Its a bad social message being sent out. I think the censor board should take objection to the fact that the A-star ad promotes violence. Whats that you say? Nobody takes ads seriously? Well there are people like me who take some at face value. Thats the story behind my Motorokr, more of which will be in my next post. I think the Maruti folks should take a leaf out of the book of Bajaj Advertising. Did you check out the latest XCD Ad? They have always had impressive commercials starting from their Hamara Bajaj pitch. If its only cars we talk about then Tata Motors has put up good commercials especially the zany Indica ones. Advertising shouldnt be about star value (I dont think Farhan Akhtar even does justice to the "star" value that the advertisers of A-star might have been obliquely referring to) but more about the sellability. Companies should stop assuming that a celebrity can sell products with a song and dance or a smug expression. There needs to be a storyline, a build up behind the ads. Motorola (my sob story aside) did not just depend on Abhishek Bachchan to sell their phones but made him part of their storyline. Thats the kind of interesting advertising people will always remember thus enhancing brand recall. Unless ofcourse one doesnt stop at anything ;)

[LIKELY JUNK]

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 11:17:00 +0000

That's what my mails are awarded with these days. No matter if they are from my best friend or from a viagra seller. The junk sorter at my work place is taking no chances. At a time when my self-esteem feels very much like the subject attached to my mails, it comes as no surprise to me that the mailbox is dolloping hints. A few people I reply to have registered their complaint at their mails being called junk by the inanimate mail server and have threatened to sever the communication thread if their respect is not restored. I dont really have the perseverance to change the mail subject just for their gratification. Unfortunately.

T has now reconciled to the fact that my mail server shouts atop the roof that he is adding to the already large amount of useless and unwanted bytes flowing through it. Thankfully it does not deter him to ignore me when am at office.

His latest mail epitomised it as : [LIKELY JUNK]chill

Hugs!

Thutty is not a passing phase

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 06:40:00 +0000

I turned 30 and there is nothing in my reach to turn it back. Oh God, can I please get another chance to start from my school days? I now know that I should have shown immaturity as a kid and gradually increased the maturity hormones. I can see that I was totally wrong in being an adult at school. (Slap on forehead of self)
Ego
I turned 30 recently and announced to the whole world that now I have the fundamental right to not be accountable for anything. Pushing aside the snide remark from my mother that I got this right when I turned 18, I plunged into giving details about this new found right. I dont have to call home every once in a while if I dont want to. I dont have to consider anybody's opinion for doing what I would like to do. I dont have to care what people around me would think if I went jogging in shorts. I dont have to start driving. I dont have to work on work that I dont want to work for. I dont have to care if my parents are going to read my blog and hence I need to self-censor my posts. Am sure you get the drift of where I am going with the new found liberty loaded with a lot of "idonthaveto".
Alter Ego
I turned 30 recently and realised that my responsibilities have only increased if anything. I am more accountable than I have been my entire life. My dotzy looks up to me craning her neck even. I realised its high time I got some ideals and principles incorporated into my daily life fabric which has gotten so loose woven that anything and everything will fall through it without being seived. I have to shake up and wake up before I sleep through for the next ten years which would again provocate such a sad post of pretense.
Lately my only worry has been about how to position myself. No points for getting ideas about my obligingly spread base area or any other wicked thing. I have turned 30 without having any inkling about selling my ideas or skills which is a very important catalyst to ambition. And ambition is my claim to glory in my ego-"ed" dream world. Instead I have a skill to continuosly blabber my way through any time frame without alleviating any doubt the people I am meeting might have in their minds as to the purpose of the talk. I almost have the gift of the gab. Whether it is about convincing my mother-in-law to start dotzy on a lot of solids or about convincing my boss about my career intentions I can only better myself at being haphazard. I seem to have a strong power of "No" (unlike most people who have to be taught that via motivational books) and an almost scared acknowledgement of "Yes". I should have been a movie critic with the skills I have that I just discovered with this post. I think its high time I stopped whizzing past the self help books in the book store, with a look of indignation on my face for the people actually browsing through those.
What am I talking about in this post? See, I told you so.
Turning 30 means I should opine more!

James Band

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 15:36:00 +0000

Sleeping under the stars or sleeping under a starless sky? Which do you prefer? Well, your answer is not going to make any difference in my life. Why? Because I sleep under a roof with four walls a door and a window to the sky around me. Always. Am one of those who are scared to sleep outside in dangerous times as these. Big fat well fed hybrid Mosquitoes can kill...one's appetite to sleep. This confession has nothing to do with what I have to post about.
T needs a claustrophobic combination of pitch darkness and warm close-window-shutter-during-winter room to be able to sleep fitfully. When he got married to me, he (obviously) had to give up his luxury and he got used to the window curtain being thrown open to let the street light in. This, so that I can sleep fitfully. Well, I am also scared of sleeping in the dark. Yeah yeah am all grown up and have a kid of my own but that doesnt drive away all those monsters lurking in the dark corners of my mind. And some under the cot. Sigh, yes I am scared of looking under the bed in the nights. I totally believed in the movie Monsters Inc. and find it hard to sleep for days errr nights on end after watching a horror movie. But my fears can be effused upon in another post or autobiography...whatever. Our little dotzy commands now. We have been adviced by elders that babies shouldnt be allowed to sleep in the dark. (Obviously they did not get this advice from their ancestors who lived the dark ages hyuck hyuck. ) The fact is that I was more than willing to oblige this favour as it provided me with a brightly lit room to sleep in. For five months since the birth of our kid T vehemently refused to stay over at my parents' house (where I had camped). I tried everything including emotional blackmail but to no avail. It is only much later that I realised the reason behind this. We (me and dotzy) came back to T's home and T couldnt run away from sharing our room anymore. After a lot of fuss and arguement about bringing up kid in light or darkness, dotzy prevailed and wailed in the darkness pitched at her. So T (again obviously) had to give up the luxury of a dark room completely. We now proudly (ouch) sleep under a zero watt bulb. True to the Necessity-is-the-mother-of-all-invention cliche T struck upon a wonderful idea. Last year, between T and me, we had flown 16 times out of which half the time we were given eye masks in-flight. We are also the kinds who store such exquisite knick knacks in the fond hope of being able to use them someday. Thus eroding most of the storage space in our already cramped cabinets.

So it is that T wears the eye mask every night and goes to sleep....fitfully. Thus was born James Band. I need to get a trademark on that name!

Dr Asha Benakappa, doctor par excellence

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 13:18:00 +0000

Dr Asha Benakappa. This name sends the shivers down my spine even now. What a woman!
I went to this lactation consultant for guidance because my li'l tweety's swig taking sessions were unbearably painful for me. Thats besides the point in this post.
It was a rainy night and I was waiting in the car with dotzy for what seemed to be a promise of painless existence. Thats when I got a glimpse of a fiery woman (mehendi'd hair) striding purposefully into the clinic shouting out to her maid for a snack. I dint want to believe that was the doctor. For who had heard of a child specialist/lactation specialist (jobs which require a soft personality, or so I thought) being anything else but soft and demure? Still I dint let my confidence waver as I waited for my turn. In the process I heard her lambasting a small kid albeit for a correct reason. Now I was scared. The first thing I heard when I stepped in was a loud "Have you come about feeding problem?". From then on it only got worse. She scolded me for everything that I did and even chided me for having a baby when I stated a small problem. Ten minutes later I was waiting to run away but my dotzy was hungry so had to endure some more bellows. Another five minutes later my mom was fuming because the doctor kept calling her fat when she herself was twice her size! I had to calm my mum down and restrain her from giving her a wallop. I was due for another visit to her "to answer all my questions", a week later and I swore then and there that that would never come to be. I was a raging mama by the time I came home, enough to feed my baby without a fuss. Lol. By the third day thence I realised that I was not being fussy at all and had actually entered a painless existence. The shock at this discovery left me numb. The visit to the scary doctor had helped me!! From then on I have only been singing praises of the doctor to anyone who cares to listen. Under all the temper, scary personality and loudness lies a good doctor who treats patience without patience. Hats off.
All you new mothers in Bangalore, please visit her clinic in Banashankari if you any problems about swig taking.
The address is :
601 , 1st Cross, 30th Main, Banagirinagar Banashankari 3rd Stage, Bangalore

The swig-taker guide

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 12:56:00 +0000

Disclaimer : This post is not for gentlemen and ladies who snigger or feel eimbarassed about the most important thing in motherehood.
My little tweety bird who is 3 weeks old is into taking swigs from nature's own bottle. The long idle hours spent in aiding this has pushed my brain to 2nd gear and I thought I should come up with a set of pointers or must-remembers for dummies like me getting into motherhood. My hubby dear beat me to it and posted the following on his restricted access blog which I reproduce here:

Future parents need to keep this in mind :
1) During the course of pregnancy people (could be random people who you really don't know) will ask how many weeks pregnant one is. Be ready with the exact date and the number of weeks. I always had a problem with this and with great difficulty I could manage to remember the due date.
2) Once the kid is born everyone wants the baby pics. No, there is no need to wait in the fond hope that the baby pictures will be bought for some million dollars. That ain't happening you can as well send the pictures right away.
3) After the kid is born stop calling it a IT. Its either a he or she. In India you cannot determine the gender till the kid is born (government regulations). So we call it, sorry the kid, 'it' so often that it becomes a habit (aargh).
4) The name of the kid is a big thing. The kid is going to be stuck with the name for the rest of its life. So you better be careful. In India we are not required to name the kid immediately after delivery hence there is some breathing space so you can take your time and be judicious. A friend of mine told me about his uncle naming his kid Freeshow for no apparent reason. He wanted to call him Frisho but he spelt it all wrong.
5) Remember your kid's name. This is the most important one of all. You cant go around confusing your kid calling it all kinds of names. Hello, if you have to spread the name you have to remember it. (Not sure if anyone apart from me and my wife have this problem).
Other parents can add to the list to help the people who do not really know what they are getting into.n

Now I will add on to this my pearls of wisdom that have been beaded from my experience so far :
1) Pregnancy is nothing. When compared to the entire lifetime of mothering, pregnancy is a cake walk. Dont give over importance to the fact that you are carrying a child, give more importance to the fact that you need to take care of a child your whole life.
2) Mothering may not be instinctive. While you might feel the pain of a crying child instinctively many of the feelings may develop with conscious effort. Getting up in the middle of the night from a deep sleep to attend to an inconsolably crying baby may not be the most instinctive feeling for a new mother.
3) Get a strong arm. Make sure you lift weights for atleast 6 months to strengthen your biceps and triceps before getting pregnant. You will need all the strength to hold your little one in the right position while she takes a swig. And you cant do weights while you are pregnant.
4) Learn to sit straight always. A swig can last anywhere between 15 minutes to an hour depending on your little one's mood. If one is not sitting right (assuming one is not into lying down) then it can result in pai ns in the neck and back. You dont want more pains than you already have at the moment. Voveran gel helps though.
5) Dont panic at every sniff. The little one can make a lot of sounds as it grows. Can be deep breathing while taking a swig, relax she is not choking. Can be passing gas from top or down which is very relieving for her. She can also throw up a little, this could be stuff she never swallowed. Or she might just be responding to your talk (the occasional "kak" or "keek").
6) Is what she is taking in enough? If she is peeing atleast 6 times in 24 hours then the answer is yes. If she takes a swig once every two hours then a session lasting 15 mins is also normal. If she is taking a long one for 45 minutes before letting up, that is also normal. Be happy coz there might be a long sleeping spell for your baby and you around the corner, if you are lucky it could last for 4 hours.
7) Dont underfeed. Your little one might take a break or sleep off while taking swigs. Do not assume the baby has had enough. Wake her up and she might want more. Put her down and she might bawl.
8) Swig on demand. Scheduling doesnt work with teeny weenies. They have a mind of their own and dont care about dictators.
9) Its ok to admit the pains. You are not a martyr for the baby cause. Find out ways and means to relieve yourself of the swig-taking pains. Posture and latching position is the number one culprit, trust me. See a lactation consultant(will be a separate post) if pains persist for more than 2 weeks. You know what, see one immediately so that you dont have to suffer. What would also be a good idea is to have such a consultant on board in every hospital. It would be such a big relief from all the inferiority complex, pinching, pulling and pumping that one is subjected to if one is not "naturally well formed". The doctors leave this business to the nurses who treat a piece of you with total disrespect. Lanolin or ghee does not help to cure the big picture problem.
10) Dont be a kid yourself. Do not take your frustration out on the little one. Mother's hormonal build is tuned to feel very bad when the kid is dissatisfied or disturbed. So scolding her will only increase your guilt.
11) Comfort swig or hunger? Doesnt matter, your little one needs you.
12) Talk to the baby. She will learn the sound of your voice sooner than you believe.
13) Midnight could be good morning. Your kid might start the day as soon as 1 AM. So what? You are anyway awake to give her a swig, you might as well enjoy a half hour of fun with her when she is in a totally good mood
14) You might get some pee and yellow spray all over your hand and clothes. Big deal, you got to clean her anyway, clean yourself too.
15) There are different cries they say. But it could also be that the kid employs the cry that is most immediately attended to, for all her wants. Smart one that she is. Most times your little one cries for hunger. Sometimes for obvious things like wet diaper and sometimes for being unable to sleep. But do check for stomach pain and discomfort with clothing. Some little ones hate sweaters and throw a tantrum which could drive you nuts and you dont know why!
16) They say it will all settle down. Lets wait and watch :)

Is Cirque de Soleil the best Circus?

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 08:20:00 +0000

Nah! Motherhood is!

My angel arrived with a loud piercing wail 16 days back. So loud was she that she woke me up from the post delivery stupor enough to plant a kiss on her white cheek! And now my circus has officially started. I have no idea how to handle the kid. Every minute brings forth a shout of "Amma" from me instead of the kid. She is a bundle of joy but I did not learn to wrap her correctly. I am the center of her universe was what I believed the kid would think but thanks to my ineptitude that title goes to my mother. My kid only comes to me as a car would go to a petrol pump. She has even discovered that my mother magically appears near the blackish hole in the wall (the door) and keeps looking at it and shrieking, inspite of me being next to her consoling her! Something very funny has happened - despite the umpteen number of articles I read about pregnancy during it, I dont seem to have read a single one about the "afterwards". I wonder why I got so complacent about the most difficult stage in motherhood! I am getting less and less time for any activity apart from the aforesaid "petrol pump" thingy. I should have used my pregnancy more effectively than to take a pregnant pause from writing. But as we all know, after thoughts are always more ideal than reality. I will try to post here albeit a little less frequently. (Who am I kidding? Am not among the 5000 most popular bloggers in the world).

Poetry in Motion

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 14:53:00 +0000

Walking into a cool breeze
Senses soothed to perfect ease
Marching to the tune of Kishore Kumar
Drunk on energy and enthusiasm
Singing loudly in the dark night
Feeling on top of the world
Bewildering the tail wagging stray dogs
Which befriend faster than humans
Staring right into the eyes of strangers
Who want to remain strangers
Defiantly
Smiling
Dreaming about the goodness of life
Loving the low light cast romantically
Across the road
Hiding my most comfortable tracks
Torn at the ankles
Not a care in the world
But for the Indicabs turning suddenly
At top speed
Leisure at its best
My 30 minutes evening walk

Tryst with Love

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 09:40:00 +0000

At a time when our love is about to be consummated by a kid, I am compelled to sit back and take a look at my tryst with love.
8 years back if someone had talked to me about ‘love’, I would have dismissed them as fudge-brained, infected-by-dirty-movie-bug indecent folks. I and another smitten-by-love-later-on-in-life friend of mine R would guffaw at all the drama love brought in its wake instead of all the time the morons were losing in their lives whilst they had to study and become important people.
6 years back I still thought of it as waste of time while R went ahead with her new found take on the phenomenon. I 'tch-tch'ed her impetuosity to succumb to the dramatically flawed pastime of the non achiever.
Flashback to 5 years ago and my opinion had changed. As is the manner with me always, it was my head which took command and told the rest of me that indeed I was in the besotted stage of life. And as is the manner with me, I resisted this change vehemently. My heart was relegated to a corner to lub-dub away while I debated about what to do with the realization. The resounding thump did reverberate in my head as a reminder. The heart knows what the heart knows.
Cut to 4 years back and my whole self and body parts were in sync as I waited for life’s next turn leading me to happiness and culmination of my love. Why does love have to lead to marriage? I don’t really have an answer for this except to say that most of us live under the looming-like-a-shadow influence of our society. One is free to do whatever one wants within the boundaries of social correctness. I am not one to complain about this necessity though since it has been more fun to be married and “out of the closet” than not be and rot in agony.
2 and half years earlier he tied the knot and we became man and wife. T does tend to argue that the phrase woman and husband is more relevant for us but I do bully him to not give out family secrets. Nevertheless the man has not ceased to amaze me over the years. He has graduated from being angry-with-me-for-small-things young man to Buddha-like. I have imbibed tolerance from him but only in single digit percentages still. I started loving him for making me feel like the best in the world no matter all my flaws and it has transitioned to loving him more for all the calm, care and intelligence his persona exudes. Its not that we don’t argue, we do. I am one half of the relationship remember? Many of our friends wondered if we would stop bickering once we got married but we dint. But at the end of the day, we have been able to look each other in the eye and call ourselves morons. I am going to have my cute bundle of joy very soon with this wonderful guy and I thank God for small mercies.
Now if someone were to ask me what love is all I can is “If you feel for anyone what I feel towards T then that’s love”. Simple aint it?

Rainy Kaleidoscope

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 11:50:00 +0000

Yesterday was a "Weird Cloud Day" in Bangalore. While it was raining in Cambridge Layout, it was not raining in Indiranagar. While it was raining near Command Hospital, it was not raining near LifeStyle. While it was not raining near Richmond Circle, it was raining at Basavanagudi. Anyone who knows the map of Bangalore can understand how crazy this sounds.

Holes in the sky!

I saw hailstones for the first time around 3 months back! In all of my life (most of which was spent in Bangalore) I had never seen, leave alone hold ice flakes falling from the sky. Now I will know what I am talking about when I talk about "Anekal Male" with my kid, thanks to T who indulged the kid in me (am talking about me own self) and stopped in the middle of a downpour so I could "feel" the hail.

What I like to do most when its raining is drench in it ofcourse. But given all the restrictions imposed on me right now, I can settle for the next best thing - a good (anything that I dont make?) cuppa tea, a great conversation or cracking up on Friends' episodes. Refreshments are welcome from the kitchen sphere ofcourse. Though these days its more of getting cozy with a bottle of water on the couch (have lost most of my teapetite) and having to ask for help to get off it for an "empty" and a refill once in a while. All the while having a good laugh and conversation. This is also fun :)

Inter(esting)views

noreply@blogger.com (Siri) — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 08:23:00 +0000

Whatever happened to humility? And whatever happened to humility when one has to face an interview? Do people not bother about it anymore? Am I in the dinosaur age where humility is considered a character strength during recruitment?

Two incidents provoked me to write this small piece.

One was yesterday where one interviewee would not accept the fact that he could be incorrect. He was pretty sure that he was correct according to "his" java and wanted to ascertain what I thought according to "my" java! James Gosling might as well feel happy that even as he parented java, his followers are parenting their own personal versions. The point is, this interviewee was so angry with me that I couldnt help but picturise smoke coming out of his ears.

Today there was a strange case of an interview candidate walking out on me! No time to react. A thank you and bang-shut of the door and there I was sitting in the gathering dust. And all I had asked the interviewee was a basic question for which the person got all tangled in giving the answer.

In my defence I can fairly say that I am not a fastidious interviewer. But does it matter what kind of interviewer one is? Should one vent their frustrations in front of total strangers who have the capacity to give one a job?

All of us are keen to hire people who are geniuses at a particular skill. But is genius enough to get you through all situations?

Ah, chuck it, we'll all go this way (see image)