So your Facebook profile pic is a random guy?

Disclaimer: This did happen.

Mom: "You sound like you were sleeping?"

Me: "What do you expect at 7 a.m on a Sunday mom?"

Mom: "So what is it today? Tired or very tired? Those seem to be your default status."

Me: (Mentally to myself - Now I know where we get our 'cutting' sense of humor). "Ma, am old now and working full time is tiring. Plus have a kid and home to manage. Add to that am not superwoman."

Mom: "Thats fine. These are choices one makes. So I heard you have a boys photo on facebook."

Me: "What boy?"

Mom: "I have no time and energy for Facebook. But someone told me, you daughter has some boy's pic as her display photo."

Me:"Oh! thats a footballer. And really people discuss all this? I am that important? Also you know I am just short of 40 years, definitely not a teen who should be reprimanded."

Mom: "Its Facebook. You know there have been legal proceeding for just posting and liking. You watch the news am sure."

Me: "Yeah no comments on that right now. Don't sue me please, we are family. But how is this affecting anyone's life? There is just so much to worry in the world besides Facebook pics?"

Mom: "One wonders about your mental health."

Me: "Its too late now. Plus you should know FB profile pics take up a lot of energy. You need to dress, then click pics showing happiness and then window dress and dent/paint the photo. Or have something exotic to show. One of my pals was posing at Machu Picchu for her profile pic. That is a tough one to beat. I am working on an exotic pic. Don't worry." 

Mom: "Just put your own picture, some family photo, holiday pictures, trees, flowers you grew or just leave it blank. Why a random boy?"

Me: "Freedom of choice, extends to Facebook pics I hope. And it is not a random boy. Its a footballer your dear grandson likes. We feel he is under-rated we are doing our bit for him. Its like social service."

Mom: "At your age one assumed better sense would prevail."

Me: "Better sense defies age I notice and do you realize a few years and your grandson will be on Facebook with all kinds of photos? And he won't even explain."   

Mom: "Yeah, will be nice to see how you handle it. I will be out of it. Though he is a really smart and sorted kid, I think you lucked out."

Me: "Please remember, behind every sorted kid is a mom sorting him out. Anyway please inform the well wishers, our kind hearted daughter is helping that poor lad. Its completely driven by charity."

Wow! did that just happen?




   


 

On my eternal love for paneer and going home

Why do we go home? 

For the food, the love and the memories. 

For the old toys which stay safe year after year, while the rest of the world goes to pieces. 

For the childhood poems and old diaries (I found one from when I was 11, and it had my Last will and Testament !!) which are treasured.

For seeing us become our parents, “No, you can’t eat that ice cream. And bedtime is 9 no matter what.”

For seeing our parents become ‘cool’ and ‘fun’ when dealing with their grandchildren, “Lets go and eat donuts and ignore your mother.”

For food which tastes like nothing ever does.

For cupboards which still have our old clothes.

For that room which is called ‘Yours’ though you stopped living there more than a decade ago.

For the simple belief that a few hugs and a lot of paneer can cure anything in this world. Be it a broken heart, existential angst or job troubles. 

For reaffirming your faith in mankind.  

For the reassurance that no matter what you do or where you go, you have a place to come back to.

 

       

Where will the pigeons stay?

I love livings beings. But pigeons are one messy breed to handle. I am saying this after countless pigeon hatching sessions. No, I was not hatching their eggs, I was just letting them hatch their eggs in peace - in my balcony, on the bathroom ledge and the bedroom window which they claimed by placing an egg. For the uninitiated, pigeon hatching is a long drawn process in which you desist from touching the place a pigeon has claimed. Since the pigeons will not hatch an egg if they sense you have tampered with it. So you have to let it be - filth and all. Once the pigeon egg hatches, the baby takes a while to learn to fly. Again you have to let the place be. In one case a pigeon was so happy living on my window ledge that it made a very long stay and I finally had to shoo it away.

Alright, so the above background establishes that I am a good person, pro-pigeon, non-territorial and in general worth knowing. The only thing I hate is when any living thing messes with my plants. I don't have a huge garden just a few plants in the balcony, but I am extremely attached to them and am very particular about their well being. I actually get worried when one of them goes through a less than healthy growth phase and the death of a plant is very devastating for me. This does not make me nutty - just pro-plant.

So lately the pigeons have taken to my plants with a vengeance. Pick, destroy, randomly uproot. Of course, they are 'just birds' who know no better, when we have humans 'the one with brains' doing the same. So being pro-birds, I was not in favor of putting nets to ward off pigeons.

But today they set me on the war-path after they uprooted my lovingly and carefully grown herbs. I decided I was totally done with them and declared my intentions to my son.

Son promptly declared,"Its all your fault." While I was muddling over this. He tells me "The likes of you have cut trees and taken away all spaces the pigeons can live in. So before taking away your balcony also, please find an alternative space for the birds."

Profound and shows someone is doing a good job with him. As for me, I will steel myself and let the pigeons be for now.  I think Ill put my 'wise' son on devising some kind of training to make the pigeons a little more sensitive to my plants.

While I have given up on human beings, my feeling is the pigeons might somehow be more amenable.





        

HoliDaze

April, May and June,

Son is on the moon.

Its that time of the year again,

When getting up in the morning is not a pain.

Son is up with the lark,

Though my mornings (which begin at 5 a.m.) are a bit stark.

I wake up to the sound of a basketball,

Hitting the wall.

Its holidaze he says,

To my sleepy, laconic gaze.

One hour later,

It gets no better.

The house looks like a war zone,

Legos strewn and toys dismembered and torn.

The sound is magnified,

The TV volume amplified,

I see his pals running hither and thither,

While I dither.

The last I saw a game of pillow fight was on,

I escaped to pen my feelings in full form.

Its bed time finally,

Though he just informed me with glee.

Its Sunday tomorrow,

Your watch with the alarm I shall borrow.

Ill get up at 5,

And take a long jog to revive.

Sigh! Sunday and 5?

Its like these kids connive.

To make the moms feel blazed,

Every HoliDaze.