The one on Serendipity, a bulky Uterus and the constant Pregger!

“Serendipity is a fortuitous discovery, especially while looking for something entirely different”, says the dictionary. Happy accidents , basically!

But I wonder if there is a word for eerily awkward and embarrassing accidents! All you Logophiles,...... HELP me out please .'Cause, I would really like to know what this thing is , that has been happening to me over and over again.

And Dear Holy-Whoever out there, I pray and beg you, to not make the world any smaller. This is too weird for me to handle!

But may be not as weird as holding your own Mother's bulky uterus I guess.

Now how often do you actually get to see the womb you were born in?. So I couldnt get more excited when I had to play the dutiful child, helping with Amma's Hysterectomy.

No..... I chickened out when the doctor called for us to hand over the neatly chopped out uterus . Though people who saw it told me it looked as big as me when I was born :P

But the whole experience was sweet! Taking care of Amma was like taking care of an over-grown baby. Helping her walk, bathe , pee...... dress her up, feed her, put her to sleep every night with lullabies.....

To wake up alarmed in the middle of the night every time she coughed in her sleep, or when she tried turning over to the other side.....

Im really glad I could be there to just do all that for her. I miss smelling her cheek whenever she grinned at me!

I miss the smell of my home ... the smell of ploughing in the nearby field...that balanced blend of cow-dung and earth …thats one damn sweet smell that brought tears of happy memories and got me all nostalgic! I had completely let myself out in that delicious aroma, when she 'purr'ed and brushed her ear against my ankle.

'Chingaari' --my neighbour's cat. She is a constant Pregger! I cant recall the days when I saw her not carrying. She's loaded , all the time. Now , Im not very cat-friendly, but this sweetheart here has managed well to win me over.

The only sad thing about her getting pregnant is that, she fails to protect her new-borns, mostly. The kittens are killed and eaten up by a wild cat every time. I never get to see her babies. They are murdered, even before they can open their eyes. Poor Chingaari runs around the house crying and mourning; worse, lactating. And my heart goes out to that helpless mother every time!

But this time I helped her keep a watch on her babies! And touch-wood, all her three kittens are still alive. And they all look just like her, beautiful black and white fur balls!

Have you heard of this age old belief that if a cat litters in your house, it will bring you good news!?!

Last time Chingaari littered and her kittens survived, my sister got engaged!

And guess whats the good news this time?

No prizes for guessing, Im gonna be an Aunt! :D

Aappandi!!!!!!!

One and a half years...... and I was there and back again!

The place which changed me and grew me

The place that tortured  and loved me at the same time

The place that gave me wings and kept me rooted......

I held my breath in delectable exhilaration when the bus passed through the longest flyover in Shamshabad. I could see the whole city from up there. I even thought I caught a glimpse of the fort of Golconda.

Not much had changed.  No lush carpet of greenery or overbearing trees.

Its all the very old rock boulders and skyscrapers. 



Mushroom Rock at the University Campus

Except  most of the  glass edifices had safety nets on it, which pretty much reminded and explained everything about the agitation in the city. Days are close when one would have to say “ I studied at the University of Telangana”

Otherwise everything else was just the same.

The  loathsome chlorinated hard-water said 'welcome home'. And the bumpy share autos took me around that home.

Naam , Namak Aur Nishaan  written at the gates to Sainikpuri... ..never had noticed that before, perhaps new.





Calvin Nambiar on a sunday afternoon



My niece has grown taller. But shes still the giggling bundle of cuteness, who likes to try on my Kajal stick and Livon Hair potion.

Theres a new addition to the Nambiar family – Goofy Nambiar. Calvin and Winnie Nambiar  likes the new company Im sure. It was nice meeting you all.

Radhettan, at the shopcom, who still dint even ask for the order, and with his infectious smile gave us our share of gopi bonda and chai.

An old pic outside Radhettan's shop 

It felt good to be back,character-gazing with my Sattwick friend. There were all sorts.

Met some old faces, and spotted the psuedos, the survivors, the intellectuals, the industrious, the love birds, the leaders........

Miss perfect melancholy has become prettier. Her room still smells of microbe-repellants  and Tao physics . That was the best Qubaani ka Meetha I had with her over a lot of catching up. 

I jumped with joy at the sight of my old ladybird cycle. She is still pink in health and is not missing me much.



The Birthday Circle

Was walking again through the Birthday circle with Mr Jobless and Frivolous Maturity

And we were back to being students again, and got drenched in the nostalgic mizzle.

Crept into the children's park and stole a ride on the swings.

Laughed at each other's jokes, caught up on each other's life.

And sighed with so much relief and gratitude that our good old friends have not changed much.

And worshiped and thanked life again for being so impeccably beautiful.

The morning I reached Bangalore, as I was getting to work, I told the auto-driver “ ikkada  left theeskondi”( Take a left here, please In Telugu).  Telugu??? I forgot  whatever Broken Kannada I knew in  just a weekend??

And that moment laughed at me and said out loud “ Aappandi!!!” ( STOoooooP) .

'Stop for a while and take this in !'

This chapter of my life is called “Dreaming”

It is my fervid conviction that I want to build a house of my own. I don't know WHERE I am going to build it, and I also don't care a flying fish* about WHEN I'll be able to do this. All I know is that it is going be the most beautiful yet simple house ever.


My parents and friends would come and not want to leave. They will appreciate each and every idea and detail that went into the design and the form.

I would repeat the whole conservation in my dream about how they loved everything ---- from the patio, the french country kitchen cabinets, my spacious attic, the basement cum study; to the cookie jars at the dining, towel holders, scented oils, and potpourri in the bathroom.

I know what furniture I need, what plants to grow, what crockery and cutlery to use , what curtains to drape, what Salvador Dali painting to hang where and even what dogs to pet.

Yes, the dogs... three of them, Cookie, Hugsy and Ty. Cookie is a beagle, the youngest and the naughtiest. Hugsy is an adorable, golden retriever, totally hugg-able!!( I named him after Joey's stuffed toy-penguin from F.R.I.E.N.D.S) and Ty is a fully grown, male, white labrador . He makes sure that the rest of them behaves ( including me)!.

I would replay this pretty picture of me coming back home, welcomed by jumping dogs, fresh scent of the pauls-scarlett climbers , and the warm embrace of logs burning at the hearth--- over and over again.

And I would bake every time someone came home. Souffle it would be, anything less in my story-book house would be a shame. They would call me the pastry -princess , as they relish down delicious slices of pies, made out of freshly picked blueberries, served with whipped cream and butter.

I would play my Tin Whistle (an irish flute), and put my dogs off to sleep and pick up yet another short story of Chekov, Murakami or Saki and snuggle myself up in my bed till my eyelids fail me.

Gradually I'll fall asleep too, feeling content, and wanting nothing more from life.

As I said, this chapter is called “Dreaming”