Back to the Long Road

 My first blog post went up in 2003.

That feels almost prehistoric in a world where content appears, trends for a few hours, and disappears before the day is done. Sometimes I joke that I'm a digital dinosaur. Maybe I am. 

Over the years, life has changed in every possible way. My children have grown up. I crossed well into my forties with a few more grey hairs, a little more patience, and a much better sense of what truly matters. 

Every now and then I revisit my old posts. Some make me smile. Some make me cringe. I could edit them. I could quietly delete them. Technology certainly makes that easy.

But I won't.

Those posts are snapshots of who I was at that moment. They capture my excitement, my naivety, my certainty, my doubts. They remind me that growth isn't about rewriting the past. It's about acknowledging it.

These days, life is a different kind of busy. Building a startup, keeping a household running, being there for growing children who need you in new ways, and caring for aging parents... each brings its own joys and its own demands. Some days are overwhelming. Some days are unexpectedly beautiful. Most days are a little bit of both.

Social media has changed the way we tell our stories. X, Instagram, LinkedIn... they're all part of our daily lives now. I enjoy them too. But they often ask for quick thoughts, quick reactions, quick applause.

A blog asks for something else.

It asks you to slow down.

To sit with an idea for a while. To tell the whole story instead of the headline. To write without worrying too much about algorithms or engagement. Maybe nobody reads it. Maybe a handful of people do. Maybe years later, I'll be the one reading it again.

And somehow, that's enough.

So I'm returning to this little corner of the internet. Not because blogging is making a comeback. Not because I have all the answers. Simply because it still feels like home.

If you've wandered in, welcome back. Drop a hello and nudge me to keep this going on. 

There will be stories, observations, a little nostalgia, a little humour, and perhaps a few lessons gathered along the way.

Here's to writing again. 

The Illusion of Love

Every Tuesday, Trina brought flowers to work.

Not extravagant bouquets that announced themselves, but small bunches tucked into a clear glass vase. White lilies one week. Pink carnations the next. Once, cheerful yellow tulips that seemed determined to brighten an office lit by fluorescent panels and quarterly targets.

By ten in the morning, someone would invariably wander over to her desk. 

"Fresh flowers again?"
"They're beautiful."
"Where do you find these?"

Trina always looked up with the same warm smile. "They're from the little florist near my apartment."

She never sounded rehearsed, though she must have answered the question fifty times.  

From his desk across the aisle, Shreyas watched these tiny exchanges the way some people watched sunsets. They lasted barely a minute, but somehow managed to leave the office feeling a little lighter.

It wasn't the flowers. It was the ease with which she occupied every space she entered.

---

When Shreyas first joined Arctiq Solutions eighteen months earlier, Trina had been assigned to help him with onboarding.
"Your laptop will refuse to connect to the VPN at least three times this week," she'd said with a grin.

"It already has."

"There you go. You're officially one of us."

He had laughed harder than the joke deserved. Later, he wondered if she had noticed.

Over the next few weeks, he found himself discovering reasons to walk past her desk.

Sometimes he genuinely needed clarification on a project. Sometimes he already knew the answer. She never made anyone feel like they were interrupting her. She listened without glancing at her monitor.

She remembered details people had casually mentioned weeks earlier. 

She laughed easily. When she complimented someone's presentation, it never sounded obligatory.

If someone looked stressed before a client meeting, she'd lean over and whisper something that made them smile. 

There was nothing dramatic about her. No grand gestures. Just hundreds of tiny kindnesses that accumulated quietly.

Or so Shreyas believed.

---

His friends noticed long before he admitted it to himself.

"You're taking the long route to the cafeteria again," Sameer observed one afternoon.

"I'm stretching my legs."

"Your legs only stretch past Trina's desk."

Shreyas rolled his eyes. "You're imagining things."

Sameer took one look at him. "No. You are."

---

The teasing should have embarrassed him. Instead, it gave shape to something he'd been carefully avoiding.  He liked her. Not with the urgency of teenage infatuation. Something gentler.

Something that crept into ordinary days. He found himself noticing details that had nothing to do with work. The tiny silver earrings she wore almost every day. The way she tucked loose strands of hair behind one ear before presenting. The habit of doodling geometric patterns while listening during meetings.

She preferred black coffee. She always removed the lettuce from sandwiches. She never missed wishing people on their birthdays.

He knew all this. Yet he had no idea what books she read. Or whether she cried during sad films.

Or what frightened her. Or what made her angry. 

He mistook familiarity for knowing someone.

---

There were moments that kept the hope alive.

Once, she saved him the last blueberry muffin from the pantry.

"I know you usually come late."  He spent an unreasonable amount of time wondering how she knew his breakfast habits.

Another afternoon, while reviewing a presentation together, she leaned over his chair to point at a chart.

For three glorious seconds, he forgot every word she was saying.

That evening he replayed the moment while brushing his teeth. His reflection looked ridiculous. He laughed at himself.

Then replayed it again.

---

Winter brought annual planning.

Budgets.  Resource allocation. Travel schedules.

Their manager, Vivek, walked into the conference room carrying a printed sheet.

"The Ireland deployment is confirmed."

The room instantly came alive. Two weeks in Dublin to work with the European client. Every engineer secretly hoped for an overseas assignment.

Vivek continued calling out the team.

"Ananya."

"Raghav."

"Trina." Shreyas smiled despite himself.

One more name.

"Shreyas."

For a second he forgot where Ireland was.  He simply knew they'd be spending two weeks together.

---

That evening, Sameer found him reading travel blogs.

"You suddenly seem interested in Irish history?"

"I thought I'd explore."

Sameer peered over his shoulder.

"'Most Romantic Cafés in Dublin.'"

Shreyas quickly switched tabs. "It was...recommended."

"Of course it was." smirked Sameer as he walked away. 

---

The flight was nearly ten hours with a stop in Doha. Trina occupied the aisle seat across from him.

They spoke occasionally. About movies. About jet lag.  About how neither of them had packed enough warm clothes.

Nothing unusual. Nothing that justified the ridiculous optimism blooming inside him.

When the plane finally descended through thick grey clouds, Ireland looked exactly like every postcard he'd ever seen.

Green fields. Stone cottages. Rain.  Endless rain.

"It feels like someone forgot to switch the sky on," Trina said, looking out the window.

He laughed. He had always liked the way she described things.

---

The first crack appeared before they had even left the airport.

An elderly couple stood near the baggage carousel, struggling with two oversized suitcases that refused to come off the belt.

Without thinking, Shreyas walked over.

"Can I help?"

The old man smiled with visible relief.

"Oh, thank you."

Shreyas lifted both cases onto a trolley.

By the time he caught up with his team near immigration, Trina looked mildly impatient.

"There you are."

"Sorry."

"We almost thought you'd disappeared."

"The couple needed help."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh."  Then shrugged.

"We should hurry. Immigration queues get horrible."

It wasn't what she said. It was how quickly the moment disappeared from her mind.

Shreyas dismissed the feeling. People reacted differently. That was all.

Or so he told himself.

---

*To be continued...*

Why India Needs Dharmic Museums Now

Museums, for many in the Hindu worldview, have long been viewed with unease, particularly when it comes to housing sacred sculptures and idols. There is a valid concern: should deities, once venerated in temples, be confined behind glass walls as objects of study or admiration? Is it not a form of quiet desacralisation?

But perhaps there’s room for a parallel thought—one that is not in opposition to tradition but works alongside it. In an age where the rediscovery of India’s glorious past is finally gaining momentum, could thoughtfully curated dharmic museums become a bridge between reverence and relevance?

Across India, ancient sculptures, carved Stambhs & Stupas, ornamental pieces, statues of saints and temple remnants are being unearthed almost every week from excavation sites, abandoned shrines, or during civic works. Many are in fragments or disrepair. Many are alankara murtis (decorative idols) not intended as main deities, yet masterpieces of Indic art.   

According to Hindu traditions, once an idol is broken, defaced, or disfigured, it is no longer deemed fit for worship. However, that does not mean it is devoid of value. If anything, these remains are civilisational signatures and quiet reminders of a time when sculptural precision met spiritual depth.

Instead of leaving them to crumble in neglected corners or shipping them to anonymous storage, we can consider a new path. A network of Dharmic Museums that are not just art galleries, but immersive spaces that offer cultural context, scriptural references, architectural insights, and interactive experiences for today’s generation.

Dharmic Museums as Civilisational Anchors: Why We Need This Now

India is undergoing rapid infrastructural transformation. Entire cities are being rebuilt, roads expanded, and new corridors laid. In the process, countless archaeological finds from temple fragments, murtis, to ornamental panels are being unearthed. These aren’t just pieces of stone. They are remnants of a civilisational story waiting to be told. In the rush for modernisation, these precious discoveries risk being pushed into cold storage, forgotten archives, or worse, discarded. Instead, they deserve to be preserved, interpreted, and shared so they become anchors of identity for future generations.

1. Revival Without Replication: Not every town or city will see a temple revival, but they could house a museum that serves as a tribute to the local or regional heritage. These can display regional styles in sculpture, temple layouts, inscriptions, and more.
2. Employment & Revenue: These institutions can create skilled jobs, from conservation to curation, and foster local tourism in smaller towns and tier-2 cities. With India's growing middle class seeking meaningful travel experiences, such cultural centres can become new focal points.
3. Educational Impact: Imagine a schoolchild from Jharkhand or Kanchipuram walking through a gallery that shows the evolution of iconography or temple-building techniques from the 6th century to today, with regional scripts, stories and tools explained in simple terms. It’s not just a lesson in history; it’s a cultural grounding.
4. Spiritual Awareness Without Sectarianism: A dharmic museum honours our traditional past. It can introduce the young to India's civilisational ethos without the filter of Western anthropological frameworks. These can co-exist with temples, not replace them.
5. Preservation of Fragments: With many sculptures unearthed in incomplete or damaged form, creating spaces to restore and display them is both respectful and necessary. A museum allows them to be seen, studied, and appreciated without violating the traditions around worship.

Beyond Worship: Sacred, but Not Forgotten

The Chola bronzes now displayed in museums across the world continue to inspire awe for their craftsmanship. Closer home, the Government Museum in Chennai houses hundreds of temple fragments. Yet many lie in storage due to a lack of space or curation. Recent excavations in Telangana and Tamil Nadu have unearthed temple walls, inscriptions, and decorative pieces that are fragile and need proper conservation.

To Indians, the unearthed murti is not debris, but it is a fragment of lived history, once touched by our ancestors. Instead of dispersing them to general museums or letting them deteriorate, Dharmic Museums focus on regional heritage, can offer a tailored and respectful environment.

A Call to Policy Makers and Institutions

What is needed is not merely state funding but a model of collaboration between archaeological departments, private foundations, local historians, temple trusts, and design experts. These museums can be built using traditional architecture and even double up as learning centres for sculpture, Sanskrit, or temple arts.

There is no need to pit temple restoration against museum creation. The two can go hand in hand—where the temple is a living place of worship, and the museum a centre of remembrance, pride, and learning.

At a time when India is reclaiming its civilisational narrative, creating a network of Dharmic Museums is not just an act of preservation. It is an investment in the cultural capital of future generations.

First published in myind.net

The Chicken Challenge

My boys were invited to a friend's birthday party some time in June this year. The theme of the party was pets, and true to its theme, there was a petting zoo of rabbits, hamsters, cute pups, kittens, and colourful birds for the kids to enjoy. At the end of it, I was a little taken aback when I saw the boys had received two tiny little chickens as return gift. I politely refused to accept them, saying as a working mom I had no bandwidth in my life to take on this additional responsibility. The boys wouldn't hear any of it and were delighted to get a pet at last. The host said most of these chickens dyed in bright colours would hardly outlive a week and asked me to not stress too much about them. My cries of protest were drowned in the boy's squeals of joy, and we got back home with two live chickens in a tiny gift bag.

People close to me know how terrified I am of animals, no matter what size or cute package they come in. I sure love cute dogs and kittens, but only in videos or from a safe distance. And now we had two bright-colored, curious chickens who wanted to jump out of the bag and run amok in my house. I wasn't exactly thrilled, but the thought that these tiny furry chickens don't live all that long kept reverberating in my mind. Having brought them home, we were determined to give them the best chance to live.

To cut a long story short, we brought out the picnic basket, lining cloth, drinking water and appropriate feed. I had never interacted with any animal this up close and had to idea how to care for them. Thanks to Google, YouTube, and my househelp, we survived.
All animals are messy and keeping them clean is a task, especially when you have to do it without touching them.

Today it's over 6 months, and it gives me so much happiness to see those two awkward, gawky chickens grow into two sturdy roosters/hens (I don't yet know) and trot around in our private terrace, shooing away the pigeons with an entitlement that this place belonged to them and them alone. They have travelled with us on road trips, we have had them babysit during the few where they couldn't accompany us, and no qualms over giving up evening movie visits or dine-outs. 

As they grew my younger one (YO) used to wonder when they would start crowing. He decided they didn't know to crow because they did not have a mother hen to teach them. One Sunday he played rooster crowing videos on YouTube in an attempt to 'train' the chickens. It was a week later that we started hearing the small, squeaky voice of the rooster trying to crow, much to the delight of my sons.

I remember when we were returning from that birthday party and I told my sons that even loud noise could frighten the chicks to death. The pin-drop silence they maintained, asking us to turn off the music and not allowing us to even utter a word, is memorable. These past few months we have witnessed our chickens exhibiting happiness, fear, anger, and even mild disdain. I can write a book on them. This is not to virtue-signal compassion and kindness, but just to share our experience that all lives have a certain amount of intelligence and emotion that we, as humans, don't have the time to care about or understand.

This is an unexpected and amusing episode in the lives of an urban, apartment-dwelling family and wondering what lies in store during the coming year.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2020

#ChanguMangu #UnusualPets #Vegetarianism  #TryMeatSubstitute #AllLivesMatter

Will Sister Lucy Kalapura get the justice she deserves?

The jubilant celebrations of Dussehra have come to an end. The celebration is an annual reminder of how an evil demon king was killed by the powerful Goddess Durga. An important subliminal message the Mahishasura story sends out is about how men often underestimate women only to have a rude awakening. Mahishasura had asked for a boon that his death (if at all) should only be at the hands of a woman. The sexist asura king couldn't imagine that any woman could be a match to his immeasurable strength and this arrogance made him believe such a boon would ensure him immortality! When his atrocities reached a pinnacle, Goddess Parvathi took the avatar of Maa Durga who hunted him down, tiring him over a period of ten days before eventually killing him. Peace was restored and people rejoice it to this day. 

What makes this story relevant to these times is that there are men who go mad with the power, influence and wealth they have amassed. They harass, intimidate and create trouble for people around until someone channelizes their inner shakti and stands up against this aggression. The #MeToo movement that took an international avatar is a great example of how the modern Mahishasuras have been called out. From Weinstein and Epstein to MJ Akbar, Nana Patekar, Sajid Khan in our backyard, several prominent names tumbled out. The ground shook and the mighty fell hard. 

  

However, the fight is far from over like how Sr. Lucy Kalapura’s continued resistance against the Church has shown. Sister Lucy Kalpura came into the spotlight when she publicly protested the rape accused Bishop Franco Mulakkal. It is another matter that Franco Mulakkal who was accused of raping a nun thirteen times between 2014 to 2016 managed to easily get bail over a year ago and subsequent bail extensions have been granted despite several nuns voicing their protest against him. One must remember the rape accused bishop received a hero’s welcome with garlands and rose petals. The brazen show of power only got more pronounced as within a few days a key witness in this case, Father Kuriakose Kattuthara was found dead under mysterious circumstances.

Recently a close aide of bishop Franco Mullakal was arrested by Punjab police after cash worth Rs 9.66 crore, allegedly hawala money, was recovered from him. Soon after, the Clarist congregation dismissed Sr. Lucy Kalapura on the flimsy grounds of living a life against the style and substance of the congregation. The serious lifestyle violations in the letter referred to the nun having obtained a legal driving license, acquiring a car for her travel on her personal earnings and wearing civilian clothes (churidhar) while joining a protest march. The letter claimed that the dismissal followed Sister Lucy’s failure to heed “canonical warnings”.  

Strangely apart from a few stray articles, the Indian mainstream media has not taken up the case of Sister Lucy at a national level nor has there been any outcry from the feminist organizations in the country for the systematic harassment meted out against the nun. From circulating vulgar, doctored videos, making defamatory commentary on the 55 year old nun, the church has made her life a living hell. And instead of calling out this institutionalized mistreatment of a woman, the church authorities, the state machinery and the media have been obnoxiously silent without a whimper of remonstration. It must be the divine mother Durga who has probably instilled this untold courage in Sister Lucy to put up continued resistance and an untiring fight for justice.

The case of Sister Lucy can hardly be termed an exception. Though there have been several high profile cases including the murder of Sister Abhaya or Sister Susan they have failed to make a dent against the patriarchal church and the stronghold of its male members on the institution. The government and state machinery turn a blind eye to the transgressions in a minority community, possibly afraid of being accused of religious persecution.  In this land of Shakti, Parvati and Durga, there are women like Sister Lucy who has been compelled to fight a lonely battle. It is a matter of deep remorse that in this digital age of accessible information and in a country that has pledged considerable space for freedom of expression, the self-censorship and reluctance of the media in taking up the case of selective victims, shows the crumbling levels of commitment to ethics and integrity.

Will this country that honors its women by acceding her the status of a Devi or a Goddess stand in solidarity with Sister Lucy Kulapura in her fight for justice?  Will the modern Mahishasuras get punished or go scot free?  

First published in myind.net 

Remembering ‘Gaana Visharade’ Papa Choodamani, A Voice That Was Lost Too Soon

Snapshot

• Papa Choodamani was called the ‘M S of Karnataka’.
• Such was the impact of her performance that Maharajah Jaya Chamaraja Wadiyar invited her to sing on all the nine days of the Navaratri celebrations. It was an honour that had never before been bestowed on any other female artist.

The year was 1965 and it was the start of the famed Mysuru Dasara annual celebrations. The Maharajah of Mysore, His Highness Dr Jaya Chamaraja Wadiyar, philanthropist and well-known Carnatic music aficionado along with his darbar were listening enthralled to a young Carnatic vocalist who was effortlessly taming complex ragas, the intricate patterns of her Swara Prastharam (permutations of notes) was reaching scales and variations previously thought unimaginable.

The lushness in her voice and the immaculate rendition of the songs made this performance an unforgettable experience. The aftermath of her kacheri (concert) was akin to the silence after a rainstorm.

Such was the impact of her performance that the Maharajah invited her to sing on all the nine days of the Navaratri celebrations. It was an honour that had never before been bestowed on any other artist.

The singer was none other than Papa Choodamani, a disciple of Shri Ambi Bhagavathar. Legend has it that she not only surpassed the expectations of each day’s performance but set new standards for the classical music establishment.

On the ninth day of the Dasara celebrations, the Maharajah of Mysore H H Dr Jaya Chamaraja Wadiyar produced a song, “Shri Lalitham Tripura Sundareem” that he had penned in praise of Shri Chamundeshwari, the reigning Goddess of Mysuru.

Within a matter of minutes the song was composed, set to the tune of Nagadhwani raga and Papa Choodamani sang it with aplomb. The royalty was thrilled and honoured her with the title of “Gaana Visharadhe” and awarded her the Ganda Berunda padhakam --- the iconic state symbol Ganda Berunda locket set in rubies and diamonds.

A musical icon had been born and there was no looking back.

Born in Nurani village of Palakkad in 1934 as Seethalakshmi to Choodamani Shastrigal and Subbalakshmi, she was affectionately called Papa. The fourth child to her parents, Papa was drawn to Carnatic music right from the start.

Her innate talent in trapezing effortlessly through the world of ragas and the timbre in her voice caught the attention of Guru Ambi Bhagavatar. He took her under his tutelage and this child prodigy made her kacheri debut at the tender age of nine in Bengaluru’s Puttana Chetty Town Hall.

The kacheri was a runaway success and the Guru had found an able shishya in Papa Choodamani. Her meteoric rise was dotted with several prominent concerts and performances all over the south of India.

Sri Ambi Bhagavatar, a Carnatic stalwart in his own right, was a direct disciple of Sri Ariyakudi Ramanuja Iyengar. He had the unique privilege of learning Carnatic music by living with his Guru, in the traditional gurukulam style and attain his title of a Bhagavatar.

He was a guru to several celebrities in Karnataka including yesteryear Kannada actress Pandaribai, Mynavathi, former AIR Director D R Saroja, among many others. He refused to accept offers to perform on the stage when he discovered the prodigy Papa Choodamani and dedicated his life to honing her talent.

Papa Choodamani

Papa Choodamani

Papa Chudamani followed in the same guru-shishya parampara tradition and mastered her art through rigorous hours of practice. Among her well-known signature songs were the Thyagaraja keerthanam ‘Saroja Dala Netri’ a composition by Shyama Sastrigal set to raga Shankarabharanam and Enthara Neethana in Hari Kamboji raga.

The heady combination of her powerful voice singing the Upacharamu in raga Bhairavi is a masterpiece that remains a favourite of many rasikas.

Her rendition of devaranamas and Thyagaraja kritis are still played by the All India Radio (AIR), Bangalore. The lanes of 10th cross Seshadripuram in Bengaluru, where she used to live, have reverberated with her deep voice practicing swaram and aalapanai’s all night.

There is this interesting incident of the famous violinist Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan refusing to play in accompaniment for Papa Choodmani since she was just a young performer.

After much persuasion and coaxing, he agreed to play for a short time. Young Papa’s raga delineation for the Thodi raga went on for about two hours with improvisations hitting a zenith and yet she showed no signs of slowing down.

The master violinist Kunnakudi Vaidyanathan, realising he had met his match, is said to have placed his violin down and profusely apologised for underestimating her talent.

Her kacheri’s became an instant sell-out with legendary artists vying to play the accompaniments for her. Musical greats such as L Bhimachar, who was famous for his morsing, T V Gopalakrishnan along with U Krishnamani Iyer are some of them who have played for Papa Choodamani.

While several memorable incidents surround the legend of Papa Chudamani, the one that puts a spotlight on her musical prowess took place at Badaganadu Sangha in Bangalore.

During a kacheri, as she sang the Punnagavarali raga, a snake is said to have appeared on the stage out of nowhere and seemed to listen in rapt attention. Without any show of fear or a break in her voice, the legend that she was, Papa Choodamani continued to sing and go on to complete the song after which the snake was driven away.

An unparalleled musical talent, her unique voice was an intoxicating combination of the fluidity of M S Subbalakshmi along with the deep richness of M L Vasantha Kumari.

Destiny played a cruel hand in snatching this ‘M S of Karnataka’ (as she was popularly called) at the young age of 44. The world of Carnatic music lost one of its gems and her memories got relegated to the corners of a few yesteryear rasika’s hearts.

A tyranny of those times, there is little or no video recording of this brilliant musical talent and only the memories of aesthetes stand witness to this musical giant who walked this very earth.

This was first published in Swarajyamag

Janmashtami Special – The Curious Case of a Fake Lord Krishna

It is the joyous occasion of Janmashtami, where Hindus world over celebrate the birth of Lord Krishna in their own inimitable ways.  People in the North of India conduct Dahi Handi contests, kite flying and observe night long jagrans (night vigils). The south of India calls it Gokulashtami and celebrates it with colourful rangolis, bhajans and classical dance performances. The common thread that binds them all is the love, reverence and happiness in celebrating the birth of one of the most iconic and charismatic avatars. However not everyone always loved Lord Krishna. This is one of the lesser known stories from Bhagvad Purana of a fake Krishna who tried to commit an identity theft.


The King of Pundra

Lord Krishna was known by several names including Mukunda, Govinda, Madhusudana etc. He was also famously called Vasudeva. There was another king called Poundraka Vasudeva who was the king of the Pundra kingdom.  News reached King Paundraka about the charm, intelligence and popularity of Sri Krishna who was also known as Vasudeva. This news intrigued him, and he sent his soldiers to collect all information about Sri Krishna.  The more he learnt about him the more he got enamored by the personality of Sri Krishna. He got so besotted that he started to dress like Sri Krishna in yellow dhoti, along with the peacock feather on his crown and even got an imitation of the Kausthubham jewel. All this notwithstanding he acquired other embellishments of Sri Krishna like the white conch, the mace, Srichakra and also a bow that resembled much like the one Sri Krishna carried.


His courtiers and generals were all praises for him. While this pleased him initially, he soon grew dissatisfied that he was still being compared to Lord Krishna. He wanted to get all the adoration, adulation and love of the people for himself alone. He decided that the only way to get all that was by eliminating the Sri Krishna of Dwaraka. The false praise and constant fawning by his ministers made him heady with pride and gave him the courage to a notice to Sri Krishna to no longer impersonate him. He added that if Sri Krishna would refuse this order, he would be challenged for a battle!

Lord Krishna was surprised and amused to receive this message from this new lookalike who wanted to usurp his identity. Sri Krishna decided to end this game of deceit and accepted the challenge to combat. The battlelines were set and Paundraka Vasudeva arrived with his army. He was aided in this battle by the king of Kashi. Paundraka came riding a chariot that was a replica Krishna's with similar looking and colored horses. Sri Krishna addressed Paundraka and tried to tell him how futile this effort was. He gave Paundraka a chance to give up this false hope of replacing him and redeem himself. However, nothing could deter Paundraka Vasudeva. He had made up his mind that he was indeed the real God incarnate and he was right in his stance. The battle was neither fierce nor a prolonged one. Lord Krishna killed Paundraka with little effort. Balarama routed Paundraka’s army and captured them. And thus came to an end a foolish adventure of an unwise king.

The three important takeaways from this tale are –

1. The Vedas say, “Yadh Bhavam Tadh Bhavati”. Your inner thoughts and emotions will shape your character and your outlook of life. 
2. Pride goes before a fall. Do not always believe those who praise you all the while. 
3. It’s better to be original even if it means to be ordinary. 

With that wishing everyone a very happy Krishna Janamshtami 2019

Raising Modern Hindu Children Overseas – A perspective

 Nothing is more scrutinized, criticized, debated or written about as parenting today. The world appears to obsess around raising the perfect generation and that has given rise to an entire ecosystem of child welfare ministries to specialists, pediatric nutritionists, therapists, pedodontics, and psychiatrists. And yet 10-20% of children and adolescents worldwide are afflicted with mental disorders. The challenges and complexities of modern societies has only compounded the anxiety levels of parenting. At times of intense stress and confusion it is only prudent to fall back on the wisdom of our ancestors.

Followers of major world religions have clear guidelines with prescribed do’s and don’ts which at times also include the diet and attire. Hinduism, diverse as it is, is seen as a ‘way of life’ with no specific instructions nor any stringent process to follow. However, there are common parameters that cuts across caste, creed and even geography. Hindus despite worshipping several Gods understand they are but a manifestation of a single Brahman. Preference to a single deity (Ishta Devta) does not require a Hindu to disbelieve the rest. Along with a strong belief in the principles of Karma and reincarnation Hindus are set in the path of seeking self-liberation or moksha.

With people moving out of smaller towns into cities in India and those from cities moving to global destinations the traditional Indian family system is undergoing rapid changes. Toddlers and kids are being raised either in daycare or by maids. Growing children are spending more time online in social media and video games. While none of these generational changes can be reversed or wished away, Hindu parents can create a safety net for their children to remain connected to their civilizational roots while traversing the modern times with more confidence and ease.

So, where does one start?

Several learned Gurus and Swamiji’s of Hinduism, in their infinite wisdom, have suggested few basic tenets for Hindus to anchor their lives on. The three foundational tenets are Sloka, Sanskara and Seva. The good news is most Hindu families would be following one or more of these in their own unique way. The culture heritage and societal structure in India is designed in a way that children inevitably pick up these attributes either from school, peers or the community at large. These can be strengthened by consciously incorporating them within the family lifestyle. Celebrating festivals like Ganesha Chathurthi, Deepavali, Holi and nurturing traditional art forms like Bharatnatyam, classical music are innovative ways to impart Indic knowledge to the next generation.

Sloka: Sloka is the Sanskrit word for poetic verse, proverb, hymn uses a specific meter. Most of the famous Indian epics including the Ramayana, Bhagavad Gita are written in sloka format. Most Hindu families irrespective of caste and creed recite slokas as prayers. Many schools have slokas as a part of their morning prayer. The western world has recently woken up to the benefits of chanting, which apart from a number of other benefits reduces anxiety and depression.

Hinduism has a near infinite repository of Slokas and mantras. It is replete with slokas that range from philosophical, esoteric, motivational, to ecology related or that even gives practical advice and direction to young questioning minds. Parents of young children can start the practice of reciting a few easy slokas and mantras every day. Over 60 percent of vocabulary of Indian languages are said to originate from Sanskrit so with time the meanings of the slokas will become clearer and Sanskrit words would become easier to recite. Many slokas are set to melodious tunes and can be sung making it easier for kids to learn.

Sanskara: This is a broad term with no exact definition of what all entails as Sanskara or culture for a Hindu. Lighting a lamp every evening to a deity is Sanskaram, so it is to touch the feet of elders and seek ashirvadam or blessings. Sanskara is when you teach your child to see the divine manifested in everything from the innate to the most respected. Sanskara cannot be taught but is only emulated and it needs to be inculcated before it is passed on. As with everything in Hinduism there are several meanings, explanations, and stories. It is prudent to always explain the reasoning behind each action, so the lesson becomes memorable. When my father explained the significance of applying the vibhuti or sacred ash on the forehead, I no longer resented sporting it. He gave a simple explanation of how the vibhuti is a constant reminder of the temporariness of life and how we need to make the best use of our time on earth. It instills a sense of purpose in our life and serves as a visual cue to not take anything for granted. If actions can be reasoned with logic, philosophy or rationale it would become easier to address the doubts of inquisitive children.


Seva – Seva or service is an important facet in Hinduism but now finds more prominence in Sikhism and Buddhism. Its time Hindu children are taught the art of selfless service. In this age of instant gratification coupled with a sense of entitlement children do not understand what it is to give without getting something in return. Along with birthday celebrations parents can revive the tradition of offering Annadanam in temples and orphanages. Children should be encouraged to take up community and temple administration services.

Grooming children into responsible individuals is an important parental responsibility towards the society and towards the country. Individuals with strong Indic values will create a harmonious society with an appreciation for creation, an inherent quest for higher life purpose, willingness to contribute to the greater good, and making a positive impact on the world around. The basic step towards this begins at home.

First published in Honkong-Desi

India, Choose Your Leader Wisely

It was that time of the year when the animals of a jungle had to choose their new king. After several rounds of discussions it came down to choosing between a wise old owl and a burly lion.

The hyenas, foxes, coyotes and the vultures were highly in favor of a tawny lion being crowned the new king. This particular lion came from a dynasty of rulers, and lived in a pride with his mother and sister.

Just look at him cooed the peacock, “He already has the looks of a king!” The wolf grinned and said encouragingly, “Yes. And he will look after us all very well.” The bear agreed saying he can't think of any other animal with a more casual, uninterested attitude towards power so he must be the right one to take the coveted king's role.

The deer, elephants, rhinos, rabbits and other animals were a worried lot. They

felt the wise old owl with his wit and wisdom was a better choice. The jackals laughed at them, “The owl is a bad choice. He is perched high up on a tree far away from rest of us. He is neither the strongest nor does he come from an illustrious family like our lion.” The fox agitatedly exclaimed, “He is no intellectual and we consider him a dolt”

The gentle giraffe was thoughtful for a while and said, “The wise old owl stays up all night, he isn’t impulsive, and can inform us against untimely attacks. Maybe you aren’t able to relate to him but he can strike the perfect balance between the powerful and the meek”

The senior jackal solemnly said, “Man, himself, certifies the lion as the king of the jungle. And so it shall be.” The fawns cried indignantly, “But the man is not even a stakeholder of the jungle!” Their cries went unheard as the coterie of the jackals had started hailing the half-grown lion as their hero.

Disclaimer: This post is unrelated to the ongoing Indian elections #Elections2019

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अप्रमत्तश्च यो राजा सर्वज्ञो विजितेन्द्रियः |
कृतज्ञो धर्मशीलश्च स राजा तिष्ठते चिरं ||
______________________________

A successful leader or a ruler will imbibe the qualities of being considerate, ever-vigilant, all-knowing, can exercise control over his sensory organs and reign over his passion, gratitude towards his subjects, pious and religious and only such a person can successfully rule. 

Reposting from MyIndMakers

Why boredom must be a necessary part of childhood

"I am bored....I AM BORED...." - And that is a sentence most often used by children and one that terrorizes almost all parents. Come summer and every parent, working or non-working, draw a big face, sighing how hard their lives are going to turn. I am not judging anyone for I find myself on the very same boat.

My son wakes by 7:00 a.m and by 9:30 he has done painting, played with his play-doh, blocks and lego set are scattered, the toy train-set has been assembled, played with and now thrown in disarray. He promptly comes to me saying, "I am bored!".
And I watch in dismay thinking my morning has just started! The maids are yet to come, breakfast has just been made, the kitchen counter has to be cleared, laundry is stacking and am yet to enjoy a peaceful cup of coffee. Add siblings into the picture and you can be assured of further chaos, screams and squabbles. Screaming - mostly yours.

Most parents find a quick and easy solution to this - Summer Camps. Pack them off to summer camps where there's singing, dancing, and a lot of other stuff to do. Children come by noon, their energy expended ready for quick meal and a nap, giving the moms some much needed respite. There are friends of my 6 year old who have already enrolled in summer camps, art classes, karate classes twice a week, music lessons on Fridays and swim lessons during the weekend. And I kid you not.
To each their own - specially parenting style - but I have been pondering if this is the right way to deal with children and their summer holidays.

I don't remember going to any camps, but summer holidays meant chatting endlessly with friends, cycling around the neighbourhood, playing hop-scotch, hunting for some multi-colored weird looking insects, pleading mom for ice-creams and flavoured bottled milkshake treats and an occasional movie outing. All this not a day's event but dispersed over two months.

Summer holidays also meant getting bored. Yes, we got bored out of one's wits as we were not allowed to slouch before the television, we did not have iPADs and Temple Run's. So we had to devise our own ways to deal with spending the time on hand. I remember making up stories of our own, playing Name-Place-Animal-Thing game without using a paper and pen, creatively making toys of beads, leaves, sticks, ribbons, and what-not. We did not have an art teacher hovering over us and yet we made some wonderful pen stands out of old boxes, photo frames, scrap books filled with drawings etc. I remember writing my first Enid Blyton inspired short mystery novel during my 5th standard holidays.

In this age of instant gratification and sense of entitlement, most children are losing the virtue of patience, being creative without being told how to, and learning to think for themselves. Parents are also in a hurry to fulfill the smallest whims and fancies of their children in the fear of creating any unpleasant childhood memories. All this over eagerness is making life more complicated for both of us.

Penning all this down has made my resolve more clear. I am not going to take the easy route and send my children to any summer camp. Yes, they might be bored but out of boredom they will learn patience, to think for themselves and learn to creatively use their time. One day at a time. It's going to be hard on them and on me, especially with so many temptations in the form of TV and technology but I am going to try.

Wish me luck. :)

Wayanad - A Dreamy Paradise

Wayanad needs no fancy introduction. It is one of the popular holiday destinations of South India. A paradise of lush green tea plantations, old-styled cottages, winding roads, smiling locals, and a Malabar cuisine that shouldn't be missed. Also it makes for a great place to vacation around Bangalore for young parents with infants or toddlers in tow.

Travelling with children, especially toddlers, is a little tedious and needs some planning. However, a little research will throw open a lot of ideas and options. While we wanted something exotic (read rustic living) for our older son to experience, we didn't want to compromise on simple comforts for the sake of our younger one. After a little search we settled for the tree house model at Coffee County Resorts, Wayanad and we returned quite glad with the choice made.

Route we took from Bangalore -

Bangalore > Mysore > Nanjangud > Gundulupet > Sulthan Bathery > Kalpetta > Meppadi

It took us close to 7-8 hours including a few stops we made for the 310 kms. Roads are good and very scenic.

Attractions

The main attraction for our kid was the tree house itself. While it is not an actual tree house, the resort cottages are situated pretty much high above a mountain amidst a grove of trees below. Thus giving it a very real feel of being in a tree house. Small consolation that we managed to keep up our word with a very-hard-to-convince 5 year old!

Secondly there is a very inviting plunge pool, just outside the cottage. The kids and hubby went straight and plonked themselves in the pool and hours later had to be dragged out of it. The pool is a great idea but is also a major distraction for stubborn toddlers who can't be left unattended. Moreover the water is at times icy cold with no provision of hot water. However, fun it is. :)

If the kids are slightly older or if you are upto it, you can take walks around the tea plantations, or go for the wild safari (7-9:00 a.m. or the 3-4:00 p.m.), visit the Edakkal caves, local temples etc.

Do We Have Gender Diversity Among Teachers in Schools?

I had been to a science fair recently at my son's preschool. Yes, they have science fairs for 4-5 year old's these days with exhibits/charts and the tots also explain concepts like rain-water harvesting or the water movement in plants with elan.

A group of parents got around discussing the dedication of teachers that was apparent and their commitment in educating our little ones. And we observed how there were no male teachers except for the Physical Fitness Trainer. A small impromptu questioning also made us realize that this was true to smaller niche playschools and day care centers. Am not sure if this stands true in a wider cross-section of the Indian society but I am also unable to recollect seeing any male teacher in any of the preschool chains I visited.

Interestingly there were a set of parents who expressed that it would not be possible for men to display this level of patience in managing preschoolers, while yet some parents outright said they would not be comfortable with a male teacher for their toddlers. Few also opined on how a male teacher in a preschool will be a risk or a big liability to the management.

Has the present climate of harassment's, sexual incidents, and rape cases created more distrust among the two genders and creating a wider gulf? Why are there so few men who come out to teach pre-schoolers, while there are many math & science teachers and lecturers for higher classes? 

Has it been accepted as a fact that teaching young ones has to be the prerogative of a woman alone? Or could it simply be a case of such professional roles not being lucrative enough monetarily for a primary (needless to add male) wage earner?

Miracle Moments

Ask a mother of six, and she will have a unique story related to the birth of each of her child. Guaranteed. The experience of pregnancy and motherhood is so dramatic and life-changing that simple moments could remain eteched in your memory. I have this two unique tangible memories, associated with my the birth of my children, that I cherish like no other. Am making an effort here to paint them as true as possible to the sweetest memories I carry with me.

Push — One sunny afternoon, while I was close to 8 months pregnant with my first son, I was travelling by car. I remember my, otherwise overactive, baby would remain still everytime the car was in motion. Our car stopped at a traffic signal and we were waiting for the light to turn green. Suddenly I could feel two tiny feet pressed against my belly and it was pushing me very hard. It seemed as though my baby was impatiently willing the car to move forward. It was so surprising I just kept staring stupidly at my large tummy with a huge perplexed smile. Hubby, noticing me grinning ear-to-ear, asked "What is it?" With wild gesticulations I tried to explain him the feeling of having two tiny feet pushing me from inside. The car moved on and the pushing stopped. I got an inkling then of how impatient my boy is going to turn out to be. :)

Sweet silence —  It was a few minutes after the birth of my second son. My morning had been witness to a short but very painful labour. My little wonder boy had entered this world screaming, kicking, and holding on to the umblical chord. My gyn-obst laughed and called him little tarzan. While lying on the delivery bed, exhausted, and in a daze, I could hear him crying non-stop as he was being cleaned. In sometime, I saw them bring him to me, wrapped in a clean and soft blue cloth. He was crying his lungs out and I had no strength left in me to hold him. The nurse gently touched his face to my cheek and all of a sudden his howling stopped. He simply stopped crying. Silence. I did not know how to react, except to smile, in those few seconds. Soon the doctors descended to complete their work and he started to cry as they took him away to the neo-natal care center. But that one moment made me realize that he recognized me. He knew me from the different hands that handled him. It was one magical moment that I will never forget all my life.


Just re-living those memories makes me smile. What is that one moment that has moved you so much? Something that will remain etched in your memory, like carvings on a rock?

 

 

 

The Second Arrival

With the arrival of the second baby life changes beyond recognition. Here are a few home truths that comes from experience:

#1 You have already experienced pregnancy with your first born. So your growing frame is not going to make you wonder-struck again. That does not mean you would love your second child any less. And yes, every pregnancy is different.

#2. Guilt - thy other name is motherhood. You start living a life of guilt- you feel guilty of robbing your first-born of his exclusive status, you feel guilt towards your second one for not adequately loving it, you feel guilty of renegading your husband to some obscure corner in your life, your guilty of not maintaining a spick and span house..etc The list is practically endless. Having an extended family makes life a lot easier.

#3. You will forever be exhausted. Children right from inception are a drain on your energy. You will be depleted of all your patience, sleep, life source and will still have to be up on your feet. The little task masters are very demanding and what can ever stand against a tiny non-stop wailing baby?

#4. You cannot please the world. Everyone and their cousin will have suggestions of what will help you lose those pounds and what to feed your babies so they can gain more weight. Ask them to take a walk. The world as such pretends to understand or empathise with mothers only to snigger at their back. Give them the middle finger.

#5  Husbands turn into full-time fathers only after the second one arrives. Till then they oscillate between being a very bewildered new dad and a sulking you-have-no-time-for-me husband. Once the second one arrives they transform into hands-on dads. They grow more responsible and so much more endurable. Ok, lets make that adorable. :)

Top 10 Sites for the Marketing Enthusiast

Everybody worth their salt are discussing what's in and what's not. Here is my personal list of  top social websites; tools  that are a must-know, must-visit for every marketing professional. Not in any order of preference.

#1 Twitter: Much has been written and said about the power of a tweet. Everything still falls short of what it can do for a brand. Lurk around even if you don't get too many followers.

#2 Linkedin - I am not yet a part of Linkedin and I have my own personal reason for it. However, it has its share of loyalist who swear by it. See you there shortly.

#3 Pinterest - The latest toy in the market. Keeps your interest

#4 Facebook - Learn to keep your professional and personal prirorites apart and it will work for you.

#5 Plugged.in - A knowledgebase for entrepreneurs and the startup/geeky community, it says. Get to meet the likeminded.

#6 Scrible - Online annotation tool. Every helpful for those aggregating and researching online content.

#7 Storify - Let lose the journalist in you. Neat tool to collate and curate content from other social media sites and present the story in your own way. One can also explore Storyfull.

#8 Mashable; Wired - My mornings are incomplete without paying a customary visit to these sites.

#9 Wordpress; Blogspot - You can like them, write them or even ignore them but you surely cannot abondon them.

#10. Youtube - Would the internet be the same without Youtube? Possibly not.

There are a host of others Ryze, Flickr, Foursquare, Slideshare, Prezi etc. Each with its own unique business proposition and its own set of audience. Check them out and share what works for you.

Cafeteria Musings

My organization offers flexi-timings and work-from-home options. Huge benefits, if you ask me, especially for young mothers. Some days I end up eating lunch alone at the office cafeteria,  Being part of a globally dispersed team does not mean not having colleagues but there are days when none of whom you interact with are around.

Its might be unthinkable for many but I enjoy these occasional periods of solitude. It gives one the time to observe people around you, how each one differs in their dress, mannerisms, how they address one and other, the team dynamics and so on. And at times one inadvertently ends up being privy to amusing conversations, snippets of information that makes your meal-times fun.

There is this team who lunch with their manager who has quite a formidable personality. It is really amusing to see them being led to the dining table and after a quiet lunch walk away almost like school kids. There is one vibrant boisterous attention-grabbing crowd whose lunch sessions are replete with guffaws, jokes and gaiety. Its spring for them throughout the year, I suppose. The food is secondary, they walk-in and immediately own the place.

My favourite is to observe the couple doing the dating dance. One of them usually reserves a chair for the other, they partake even canteen food, generous with offhanded compliments on everything about the other (if the relationship is new) or tease incessantly which makes the other blush and yet they enjoy the attention. The ritual hardly changes even if they are among a crowd of twenty people. Oblivious to the world around them. :)

And then there are the usual girl gangs who love to bitch about everything under the sun. Conversations can start of with the railway budget, movie or UP politics and ends in some kind of rant (personal or professional). This groupie's carry elaborate lunches in multi-colored boxes, take the time to actually warm the food in microwaves and discuss the recipes of the curry. Given a chance they would love to combine the lunch and coffee-time if not for something called the work-break. :)

And lastly there are the perpetual lone wolfs. You can recognize them from a mile. Don't want to generalize but they mostly are the bespectacled-nerds who smile at their smart phones or are busy grasping their tablets mindless of what is in their plate. You can confound and intimidate them by simply asking if the seat next to them is free.

People analytics is more fun than data analytics, I say :)

Later is Now.

Children in their own inexplicable way end up teaching some of life's biggest lessons to us. The other day my son wanted me to play with him, while I was busy on my laptop. His pleas started getting persistent and I tried to shoo him away with different errands. So he got me a cup of water, arranged the cushions on the sofa and piled the day's newspaper and was back to ask me to play with him.

Again he started coaxing: "Mamma, mamma come to play na."
Me busy tapping on the keyboard: "Later, Avyukt"
Avyukt: "Mamma, come now"
Me (a little firmly): "Later. I said later right?"
Defiantly he says: "Later is now, mamma"

Those words struck a chord in me. We do postpone most of the things that we actually want to do to a later time. I will tend to my gardren - later. I will clean the cupboard - later. We'll watch a movie - later. Its never now. I guess we learn to postpone small things that bring us joy in the hope that once the bigger must-do's are done with we will find the time. But those things are never completely done and our small wishes remain just that - wishes.

I closed my laptop and without a word went to play 'train-train' with my son. We pulled the dining chairs in a row and had great fun. He was exhausted and asleep in about 30 minutes. I felt an elation seeing him asleep peacefully. All the laurels, hikes, letters of praise will not equal the simple joy of seeing a smile light up your child's face.

Our Misadventures In Parenting

That my boy has settled down at his school and well-adjusted to his routine has knocked one worry off my list. On day 1, it was alarming to see my little boy with a dangling satchel in tow, trudge almost half-a-mile from the school gate, cross the tiny little bridge in his campus and climb a flight of stairs to reach his class on his own. For a mother who has him chaperoned even at the play swing, this was akin to seeing him take-off on his first space mission. Its a different story how we actually followed him on the pretext of talking to his teacher, hovered near his class, pretended to be busy on the phone when some teacher passed by and stalked his return van journey for a week. Its with some conviction I can say that we have also managed to settle down. Today, two months down the line, its a matter of pride when Avyukt returns home with a skip in his step and a new tale to tell.

First week, he was full of stories of the 'brown boy'. "Who is this brown-boy, Avy? Is he your friend?" "No. Brown boy sits next to me."
"What's his name?" Thinks hard for some time and says exasperatedly "Brown boy, mamma." Makes a poker face and says, "He looks like this no? He only is brown-boy" I pretend I understand him.

Friday he returns to say "Mamma, I pulled the jhuttu (ponytail) of Khushita" Worried I asked, "But why??" "She follows me everywhere, mamma. And today she went ahead of me in the play slide"
Huh uh! Is this supposed to mark the birth of the proverbial male ego? I tried to explain to my best how such behaviour won't fetch him any friends. Alas! He seemed defiant when it came to Khushita going ahead of him.

The other day he proclaimed the moment he jumped off his van, "Mamma, you know Veer is a boy!" Okay. A minute later, he continues in a higher octave, (Maybe he did not get the reaction he was expecting from me) "Mamma, mammma, Veer is a BOY!" "Oh! thats wonderful sweetheart. Er, how did you know?" and braced myself for an answer. Smugly he replied "Dhruv told me."

A week back Avy comes running late in the night, "Mamma, papa is telling all bad words." Giving an accusatory glance at his dad I ask, "What did papa tell, dear?" "Papa saying, go to bed" :|

Last evening Avyukt was busy with his "dip & dab" painting session at the dining table and in the process knocked a few items to the floor. Hubby reprimanded him telling he needed to be more careful or could end up hurting himself. Seeing Avy upset he tried to lighten the situation with a mock cry and pretended to imitate him. Mishearing Avyukt muttering to himself, hubby came down harsh on him again and said - Avyukt! No using bad words. How dare you say "bloody fellow?" Blah Blah..

Avyukt looks up perplexed at his dad and meekly says, "I said baby-fellow, papa. You crying like baby" Hubby looks sheepishly at me and tries to slink away. My smile wanes, as I hear Avy retrospectively muttering - "bleedy feelowh?"
Sigh!

As I write this, I hear him trying to convince his grandmom that he is a *real* doctor and he needs to operate her eye. He is upset she keeps cowering from him and wants her to keep her eye open as he operates on her with a bottle-opener and some Johnson Baby cream!

We are only a month away from welcoming Avy's sibling to our warm fuzzy world and I am filled with excitement, wonder, and worries of the days ahead. Please wish us luck.

I am happy and I want you to believe that

If your happy and you know it, post an update
If your happy and you know it, share a pic
If your happy and you know it...

These days people actually have so little to say and so many ways (read media) to say it. My timeline in  twitter talks of what one had for his breakfast, who bought the best brand of vinegar or when they plan to cross the road. There are yet others, who for the want of a few 'Likes' and flowery comments are ready to bare it on FB for all and sundry.

Maybe its the inherent human need to be appreciated but it hardly stops there. From there stems the need to be looked up to and maybe that's why one comes across pompous status updates where they claim to eternally live-in paradise or have professionaly reached the pinnacle! Sure. Smirk. smirk.

In the constant need for validation and reassurances, I wonder if they are even living the moment fully. The parties that one attend, the scumptuous food one eats in fancy restaurants, the dresses one shops for are all updated for the benefit of the rest of the world. All in a bid to show a happy and successful face to the world.

I have to say it once again though - nothing meaningful to share and yet so many means to do that. And this is one of my classic excuses for not being able to blog more regularly. ;)

My poor little squished ego

Of all the delusions that I may have, the one I definitely do not carry is that of my singing capabilities. I am no Lata Mangeshkar or an Asha Bhonsle is but plain knowledge but definitely am not a female voice version of Anu Malik too. Now Why am I raking this all of a sudden?

My son has caught the seasonsal flu and is at home at the time when I leave to work. Its not called the age of 'terrible two's' without reason. So for past few days he runs up to me, clings and starts bawling saying I am not supposed to leave him and go to work. I then cajole him, make up stories of a bad boss who will be bad to mamma if I dont work and end up making lots of promises to take him to his fav jhoola park; malls etc and feeling wretched leave home.

Well today was no different except that sonny boy was half sleepy with droopy eyes. So I thought why not sing him a lullaby of sorts and then can make a clean exit while he has sweet dreams. With such good intentions I cradled him and for whatever reasons the only song I could think of at that time was "Khwaja Mere Khwaja". I had just about crooned two lines of it when he mumbled - 'Mamma padathey'. Of course, what a stupid song to sing to a baby. I decided on my personal fav "Thode badmash ho tum" from Sawaariya. Within minutes my sleepy boy says - Mamma Padathey. Mamma don't sing. Each letter a little more pronounced than I would have liked to hear.

Silence.

I slided him to the arms of my much amused mother and embarassedly muttering that it was getting late to office, I booted from there. Babycenter lies when it says kids love to hear their mom sing and they dont mind off-key notes. I exactly now realise what they mean when they say "my family is my best critic".

My boy is ill and possibly wanted some quiet. Bad choice of songs, maybe. Hmm I think I need to learn some good lullaby's soon.