Phool, Chiyya, Tadoo, Ghar...

My inclination towards art started at a very young age. By that I mean I could barely hold the pencil and had JUST learnt to say a few words, so I'm thinking I must be around two at the most. This is when I would go to whoever was willing to give me a little attention with a paper and pencil in my hand and ask them to draw four things only; phool (a flower), chiyya (a bird), Tadoo (my embarrassing nickname), ghar (a house). Now I really don't know what my fascination with these four things was at that time, but I do know that years later I was still hung up on them. Actually I shouldn't say four because I'm definitely not a self-obsessed person, so perhaps the only reason why I added my name to that list was that I was the only girl my age that I knew of. Yes, it's sad but true. I didn't have any cousins my age or even friends till I started school.
Anyways, it was much later that I realised that what started off as an interesting thing that a two year old would do, later determined who she was. Now that I'm a grown woman, I am so much into gardening and homemaking that sometimes I feel I should be making a living out of it. And ofcourse no matter how rotten I'm feeling, if somebody gets me flowers, I cheer up immediately. And although I can't keep any birds because of lack of space and allergy-prone kids (though I did keep parakeets for some time), I love them. I love looking at them perching on the trees behind my kitchen, I love the little sparrows gathering around the birdbath in my backside balcony, I enjoy watching the pretty ones discovering the pond in my front balcony and calling their mates for a quick dip or drink and I enjoy leafing through the pages of my coffee table books on birds.
Sometimes I wonder what if I had wanted to draw airplanes and rockets or princesses and fairies or even bugs; would I have been a different person now? Is it because of what I thought about in my early childhood that I am this person today or did I draw all that because I was that person from the very beginning? I still haven't figured that out.

Shontelle - Impossible

Crazy Things I Do ;)

• Every morning I wake up half an hour before the alarm rings because I'm paranoid that I might not wake up to the sound of the alarm, even though I'm a very light sleeper. And then I lie in bed and wait for it to ring half an hour later because I refuse to get out of bed even one minute before I'm actually required to do so. Yeah, that's how crazy I am.
• These days we have been getting up a little late so I set my alarm at 6:37. I know, I know, you are wondering why not 6:30 or 6:45? See, now 6:30 would be too early, I mean why get up a few minutes earlier than you have to; and 6:45 would be too late and I hate doing things in a rush at the last minute.So 6:37 is perfect :) not too early, not too late.
• I hate to use other people's earphones because I'm a hygiene freak. Okay this does not reflect very well on me, does it? Anyhow, so if I absolutely HAVE to share someone's earphones, and by someone I mean my daughter, who will not be very pleased with this post; I disinfect them. I know, I'm an evil mom *hangs her head in shame*. Just this morning, while we were on our way to school she was listening to our favourite song. I didn't have that one on my ipod so once we were close to school, she handed me hers.  I took a tissue and started cleaning it while she rolled her eyes at me. Then I dabbed a little sanitizer on the tissue and started with that. Poor thing couldn't take it anymore and said: 'Now that is really offensive mama! You can't even use your own daughter's earphones? You need to sterilize them?' So my little one asks what sterlizing is and she says 'to make something germ-free'.  I felt so ashamed of myself, I really did; but I continued with the vigorous cleaning because that's who I am, take it or leave it.
• I steal my 13 year old daughter's clothes and never return them :) Yes, I'm a thief, but I have a very good excuse for that. See, I'm very particular and don't like to wear anything with even a tiny spot or stain, even if nobody can see it. If I return her clothes, chances are that she will spill coke on it at a friend's party or come back with some sort of a mysterious stain. Now the next time I need to wear it and the stain does not come off, what will I do? So that's why... Most probably this will be my last post because she might kill me for writing all this for the whole world to see, so goodbye my friends...

Hopscotch

A courtyard full of the sweet fragrance of jasmine, the sound of sparrows chirping away noisily and a little girl hopping away on the hand-drawn hopscotch grid. Brushing strands of her brown hair off her forehead with the back of her tiny hand, humming something to herself, lost in her own magical world of princesses, fairies and goblins. Little does she know that years later she would still be playing hopscotch, but this time not on some crooked chalky lines but on the grid designed by life. And this time it will be much more trickier, with the added burden on her frail shoulders and the straight lines turning into more of a labyrinth, she would be panting away trying to avoid the hurdles. But the little girl's spirit and determination has now grown stronger as she evolved into a woman. She might be frail but even more relentless now to cross the rocky paths of life to the other side where there is love, laughter, peace. She continues with a new-found strength, not willing to give up. The ray of light is now getting closer, the sweet-smelling jasmine almost within reach, the faint sound of music becoming clearer... she's almost there, almost...

LIFE...

Just when we start complaining about the sad little thing called life, that is, OUR LIFE ; we come across somebody who actually has issues...real issues. We sit in airconditioned coffee places with our friends, smoking, having steaming cups of cappucinos and lattes and playing the sad, sorry, whimpering little people, cribbing and complaining and merging our heartbreaking stories with enthusiastic accounts of latest fads, trips abroad and shopping sprees. Meanwhile the driver who has driven us to this fancy place is standing outside in the sun and heat, trying to figure out whether he should spend the leftover two thousand rupees from his salary on his sick child's medicines and the much-needed kitchen staples, or the electricity bill. It's a difficult decision for him since it's only the 19th of that month and there are twelve more days left till the next salary. In the same lane there is an old woman selling crocheted shrugs to the 'defence ki begums'; or perhaps selling is the wrong term to use as she has been pestering the ladies coming to these posh areas to buy something from her. She hasn't sold a thing for the last five days and must manage to get some money out of these 'baray log' so that she can take some flour home to her seven hungry grandchildren and her widow daughter who is waiting to make chapatis out of that flour. It has been two days since they last ate a somewhat satisfying meal of aloo shorba (potatoes in a watery sauce) and stale roti.
I can actually go on and on but there are too many people like that driver and the old woman who are fighting a new battle every single day of their lives and it's depressing to know that we are so heartless that we come across them everyday, shrug them off and go on feeling sorry for ourselves because of whatever problems WE have instead of counting our blessings...