The thinking cap

It happened some time last year.

I saw a tiiiiiny plant peeking from my compost pile. Now I had put all sorts of kitchen scraps in there so I had absolutely no clue what plant it was. I gently pulled it out and planted it in a pot, hoping that it was a green chilli plant. I'd been trying to grow green chillies from seeds and had proven myself to be a total failure. Or in the words of monk Jianyu, "pre-successful".

I watered it and the plant grew. And I watered it some more and it grew some more. Unlike my cherry tomato plants Tommy, Timmy, Tammy and Tom, who were sprouting flowers by the dozen, this plant, unwilling to reveal its identity, had nothing but leaves. Xena, frustrated at not being able to name it, asked me to do so and so I named it 'Wildcard'.

Weeks passed by. Nothing but leaves. So I decided to call in the expert. My dad, who has grown everything from ginger procured from an unwilling tour guide in Bali to coconuts found washed ashore at Singapore's east coast beach.

I interrupted my family WhatsApp chat group, which is mostly kept alive by mom forwarding us forwards and asking me to check if they are legit. My favourite is this one:

तुलसी के दो पत्ते मोबाइल के पीछे कवर मे रखे रहेने से मोबाइल का रेडिएशन एक दम चला जायेगा।
प्रैक्टिकल कर के दिखाया बाबा राम देव

Wow. Just... wow.

Anyway, I sent them Wildcard's photo.

Me: Dad, what plant is this? It grew from my compost pile. I can’t identify it. Hoping for it to be chilli.

Dad: Wait for some time; if chillies appear, it is so!

Me: This advice is not useful at all!

Mom: I don't think it's chilli. Maybe capsicum. 

Sister: Send for dna testing????

Me:

Anyway, fast-forward several months. I was out on the balcony plucking Tommy's latest offerings to make veggie uttapams, when I spotted something on Wildcard that made me do a double take. 

HOLY. MOLY. 

Ladies and gentlemen, Wildcard finally has a name! Please say 'hello' to 'CAPtain'. 

(And yes, mom, you're a genius. Please just stop forwarding the forwards.)

Pray tell

"So he's very powerful... he lives on the Moon... and he protects us." Said Xena's friend.

Xena's jaw dropped. So did mine.

We were at a restaurant in a big group and to occupy the kids, I'd asked them to play this random game where each kid gives three clues about something/someone and the other kid has to guess what/who it is.

"I don't know..." Said Xena uncertainly. She looked at me. I didn't know either so we looked at the kid who had given the clues.

"So easy! It's Sai Baba!" She laughed.

Xena looked at me again, but this time accusingly. All she knew about the Moon (she devours the kids' Science magazine I work on) was that it was a natural satellite of the Earth and it didn't have its own light and as far as we know, has no life forms on it. And here was a 7-year-old with very advanced knowledge of a powerful dude who apparently lives on the Moon and protects us.

I blinked and nodded at her. It's code for "It's ok. We will discuss this later at home."

And what would we discuss at home? DFDR. Different Families, Different Rules. We try to talk about our choices vs others families' choices without judgement. Comes in real handy when trying to explain why she doesn't have her own iPad or isn't allowed to watch TV unlike other kids, and why we don't have a car or a helper aunty, and why we don't do puja in our house, etc. etc.

Speaking of puja, we were recently invited to a navratri puja at an Indian neighbour's place. When we reached, the kids were all sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the idol. Every kid present there attends something known as the Bal Vikas programme. They know all sorts of bhajans and mantras (there was a 2-year-old reciting the Gayatri mantra in the cutest voice ever!). Of course, it was a little weird because Xena was the only one sitting among all the kids, not singing along. She probably sat there wondering why all these kids her age (and younger!) knew all these songs, while she only knew Coke Studio Pakistan songs. In spite of some sympathetic looks, I was neither embarrassed nor proud about that fact. I looked at her, blinked and nodded. The usual routine. "It's ok. We will discuss this later at home."

I was on the phone with Mom later, telling her about how I hardly had to cook that week because of all the navratri pujas happening at neighbour's and friend's places, and adding on to that, the free flow of kanjak food that just kept coming home. I love attending these pujas. They have such a nice, vibrant, colourful atmosphere, yummy food and a chance to meet people I haven't seen in ages, and also encounter some new faces. I love the fact and I take it as an honour that I still get invited to these things, despite the hosts knowing that I'm probably the least religious person they know. For me at least, it's a social gathering more than anything else. And of course, the big pull -- everyone wears saris. (I'd go anywhere if you tell me the dress code is a sari. Sari ke liye sala kuchh bhi karega! #sarinotsorry)

"You should also have a puja and invite them na..." Mom suggested.

"I can't, Mom. You know me."

"I know..." Mom sighed.

Mom has a puja room with idols and photos of multiple gods and goddesses, and prays to them daily. In spite of that, she has not even once tried to force me to pray or do anything religious. I'm just not sure of the gods' existence, but I do respectfully acknowledge that others are. I don't even do the "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual" thingie, for I do not know what that means. Just try to be a good person, is what I tell Xena.

When I was a kid, Mom would sometimes tell me during "tough times" (not sure if I'd get 100/100 in that exam, or that scholarship, etc.), "Pray to God and you will get it." I would look at her indignantly. NO WAY was I going to pray to God (if there is one in the first place!) to ASK for stuff when I'd never even bothered to spare a thought for Him/Her during other times.

"If I were God, I'd be mighty pissed if some kid approaches me only when she wants stuff." I'd tell her, and she'd laugh.

But then, I've always loved following customs and traditions (Need someone to go rangoli for Diwali? I'm there! Some aunty needs mehendi done for karwa chauth? Summon me at once!), but it was always to do with the 'fun' aspect of it, and never the religious one. I loved making the little Lakshmi feet at the entrance to our home with rice flour paste, not because I believed it would bring the goddess of wealth home, but because it looked SO KAYOOOOT! Even now, I selectively follow traditions and customs (let's spring-clean the house for Diwali, but not for prosperity -- for the fact that a spring-cleaned house IS SO NICE!), and once in a while, question myself on my 'na idhar ka na udhar ka' stand on religious festivities.

Sometimes I've been told that as an NRI, I need to make sure I keep Xena in touch with her roots by following Indian traditions and customs. But deep down, I feel like there has to be some meaning to it. As a DAV school product, I was well-versed in many mantras like the Gayatri mantra and the Athaishwarastutiprarthnopasna mantra (yes, that's just the name of the mantra; the mantra itself is about 7386274387642 times longer), but when I think about them, what meaning do they have -- or did they ever have -- in my life? What is their significance that would make it worth it for me to teach Xena all that?

"But you can still just have a puja na... they all have it and invite you." Mom insisted.

"Mom, can you imagine me having a puja at my place? Can you imagine me establishing idols and pictures of various gods and praying to them? Following the proper procedure of doing stuff? I hardly know which finger to use when people offer me haldi-kumkum at these pujas. My leg goes to sleep in 3 seconds if I sit cross-legged on the floor, and then I'm flicking it like a mad person in a sari. If I did a Lakshmi puja, even Lakshmi would be appalled. So many people are doing the pujas properly, faaltu ka why should I irritate Her?"

"Yeah, true..." She agreed.

"Yep, so that's that. I do follow some of the customs and traditions but only the fun ones. Can't really do the serious pujas and stuff..." I said.

"Hmmm. Yes. I know. Haan toh then just have a party." She said, with an air of finality. The total lack of judgement in her voice was palpable.

Attagirl, mommy! Love you to the Earth's natural satellite and back. :)

Devil's workshop

Everyone and their grandmas are aware of my kind and loving feelings about WhatsApp forwards.

So imagine my face when my horrified and terrified mother sent me this, asking me if it was true and if she should "follow the instructions".

*deeeeep breath*

What the hell.

I mean, seriously. WHAT. THE. HELL.

So I sat down and explained to her that it was nonsense and no, she didn't need to do anything and no, she won't get charged for using WhatsApp and no, there is no over usage of user names, and no, Modiji's team is not debugging WhatsApp issues (they have better things to do... I hope), and no, her account will not be deleted, and no, she doesn't have to "actively chat with 50 people" (what the...?!) to retain her WhatsApp account.

Then I showed her some articles about how all WhatsApp-related WhatsApp forwards are hoaxes.

She had one question. It's a very, very good question.

"But who would come up with something like this and why???"

Beats me.

Got any ideas?

Glamp shots

Glamping.

It was a word I'd never heard of, until two weeks ago.

I came across the strange term while looking for ideas for a short vacation to take my Mom on. There is even a website called www.glamping.com. It defines 'glamping' as 'a way to experience the great outdoors without sacrificing luxury'. The Wiki page on 'glamping' defines it as 'a portmanteau of glamour and camping'.

Though I'm all for fully outdoorsy camping, it didn't seem like a practical idea considering the 5-year-old and the senior we had in our group.

So glamp we did, and boy, was it awesome.

I'll take the next few days to update my travel blog Hopscotch about this trip. The first post is already up, and here's a preview!

Cakewalk... not.

I have been reminiscing with Mom about my childhood days. I told her that only after attempting to do the same for Xena did I really really appreciate her efforts at making something new for my tiffin box every single day, even though she had to get up really really early for it (my school bus used to come at 5:45 am because my school was in another town, which was marginally bigger than the tiny town we lived in).

One of the things that came up in our conversations was cake. Mom had an extremely primitive oven, consisting of two aluminium hemispheres, a cord and a plug. And even with that, she used to make the most amazing cakes. My school friends still remember how she used to send cake for them, with their names iced on the slices.

My sister was the next in the family to get into cakes, and because she moved to the US, she got into it real deep. Sometimes I don't even understand the terms she uses when she describes the cakes she makes. She sends me recipes where I can't recognise half the ingredient names. Recently, she made a cake for her colleague and iced some complicated C++ joke on it. I didn't get the joke at all (even after she explained), but I did get how much effort she had put in, and I imagined how delighted the roomful of coders must have been to see a cake like that.

I was the last to get into baking, and I only started last year after we renovated our home and bought an oven. I started off slow and steady, but over the year, I have developed a real love for making and decorating cakes. I'm still using very basic ingredients for decorating, but I hope to get better.

Recently, I made a cake for a friend's kid's 6th birthday party. It was a real hit with the kids. Both Mom and my sister also said it was beautiful. Coming from them, that was high praise indeed.

As with all food, Xena is not a fan of cake, and is probably the only child I know who refuses to eat, or even taste, birthday cake at parties. I do hope that changes soon, because it would be real nice to have her ask me to make a specific cake and do it exactly to her liking. And have her eat it too.

Now that would be the icing on the cake. 

A knack for a snack

So my mom's visiting, and that's a great thing because unlike my spouse, I'm not blessed with annual parental visits. There is no direct flight for my parents to get to Singapore, and it's a real pain to travel with stopovers, especially when my dad insists on staying back because apparently his kitchen garden only accepts water from his hands.

This time, however, we found a good workaround. First, Mom flew off to my in-laws' place, and after a couple of days gup-shupping with her samdhi-samdhan, she took a flight (a direct one, yeah!) here.

Every time she visits, our phone calls preceding the visits are rather dramatic. Sample the ones from this round. (I feel like I'm now having all the squabbles that as a teenager I never had with my parents.)

"No, Mom, I don't need any masala. We have Indian shops here. There is a minimart nearby. I get everything."

"Okay, I can't find Kashmiri mirch in the minimart, maybe get me a pack of that."

"No, no kurtis and salwar-kameezes for me. There are hardly any occasions to wear them. They will just sit and rot."

"No, no shirts for Viv either. We have just Kon-Marie-d and we don't... I'll explain what is KonMari when you get here."

"No, he will not at all 'bura maano' if you don't get anything. You know him."

"Nope. No dresses for Xena. She doesn't like dresses, and the dresses you get are all fancy and frilly and, err... scratchy."

"No, I don't need papad and achar. Just get your stuff and come."

"No, no mithai, please. No mithai at all. Okay? Okay wait, can you get 100 grams of kaju barfi?" (It's the only mithai I like.)

"Don't bring cash, okay? You'll lose in exchange."

But parents are parents. And moms are moms. One more level up.

So there was all the drama after she got here.

"What is this Patanjali nonsense? I didn't ask for Patanjali mirchi powder. I wanted Kashmiri mirch."

"No, I don't care if everyone in India is using Patanjali-everything. I wanted Kashmiri mirch."

"Two dresses for Xena?? I asked you not to! Good luck convincing her to wear them."

"Why so much papad? Oh my goodness, my freezer is bursting with mini papad packets because of Xena."

"This is not 100 grams of kaju barfi. This is more like 300 grams! Why????"

"I don't care if the mithaiwala will judge you for buying 100 grams of kaju barfi. I had specifically said I wanted 100 grams. I don't go to the gym every day to have a ton of kaju barfi sitting in my fridge!"

"Oh my goodness, why did you get so much cash??"

"What is this?? Oh my goodness, why did you get ribbon pakoda?? Where did you even get it??"

"You let mom-in-law send soooo many packets of ribbon pakoda?? Of course she will send it if you tell her you like it soooo much! Do you have any idea how addictive it is... all my gymming... yada yada yada..."

"What do you mean if I don't want them, you will take them back with you? You are the queen of binge-snacking. You're certainly NOT taking them."

Okay, so here's the truth. Whenever Viv and I watch stuff on Netflix, we snack a bit but we kind of (try to) control it. But there was this time that we finished an entire container of ribbon pakodas that mom-in-law had sent. (That stuff is the devil, I tell you, THE DEVIL!) After that, we swore that we shall not let any more ribbon pakoda or any other such addictive snacks from India cross into our threshold ever again.

Last night, Viv and I were watching 'Elementary' after Xena slept off. Suddenly he paused the show mid-way and walked off. I knew what that meant.

"Get the whole dabba then," I hollered after him.

"You're a girl after my own heart," he gleefully bounded back with the box of the kaju barfi in his hands.

We finished it. In less than 5 minutes I believe.

Sigh.

The boxes of ribbon pakodas are still sitting in the kitchen, unopened and under threat that Mom will take them back with her since we don't want them.

It's a real dilemma, I tell you.

W is for wish

Dear Pickles,

I don't know when and whether you will read this, but here I go anyway. A long long time ago, when you were all of 1, your mommy Maya, Aunty S and I participated in this old-fashioned thing called an A-Z blog marathon, and we decided that we will all write a post on the same word, expressing our take on it. We then decided to make it more meaningful by choosing the word 'wish' with each of us making a wish (or wishes) for the three little tots -- you, A and Xena. So your mommy has written this for A, Aunty S has written this for Xena, and I'm writing this for you. (We agreed to post them simultaneously at 10 am IST.)

It would, of course, be presumptuous of me to assume that what I wish for you is what you would wish for yourself. We can make all the wishes we want for our children, but we have no control over the future and we don't know how things will turn out. But parents can be just as stubborn as kids (as you will discover) and so here I have 8 wishes for you.

I wish you:

- love, respect and appreciation for the gift of life your parents gave you

Everyone talks about the sacrifices that parents make, and children are probably sick of hearing them. Some cliches, such as 'You'll know when you have your own kids' are actually true, as uncle Viv and I, and your parents, have discovered after stepping into parenthood. You will discover that in good time, but for now I hope you can see that the life you have is truly a gift from your parents, and I wish you the wisdom to love it, respect it, appreciate it, and live it fully.

- a heart full of love and kindness
The world is a beautiful place. But at times, it can get ugly and scary, and full of hatred. The Internet especially, can sometimes become a horrible place full of unkind comments. I hope that by the time you grow up, all this blows over and you guys start afresh, with love, tolerance and kindness for one another.

- a life full of fewer gadgets and more real interactions
I hope that by the time you grow up, people around you are looking at the views and one another more than they're looking at their digital devices. I wish that given the choice, in your world, a kid picks a friend over an iPad (or its futuristic equivalent) any day.

- a cleaner and greener world 
The generations before you have royally screwed up the Earth. We are sorry for the state we have left it in for you guys. Though we are trying to make amends, it is a tad late. We hope that by the time you guys grow up, you will be more aware and will have more knowledge and resources to undo the damage done, and make the Earth clean and green again. And in case you guys have to relocate to Mars, remember our mistakes with Earth, and don't make them there.

- good health to enjoy your life
Eat healthy. Drink plenty of water. Exercise. Trust me, the payoff is much better than it looks on paper.

- a vocation that fills your heart with joy and makes you look forward to Monday mornings
Your parents are PhD-armed heavy-duty academics, and in our days (gosh I just made us sound so old), that would have meant an automatic and compulsory PhD for the offspring. But you were born in an era and a family that believes in freedom of choice, and I hope you find something that is your true calling, and yet provides you with the means to enjoy your life the way you want to. Some of us (*ahem*) take a while to get there, and I want to let you know that sometimes it is a winding path with ups and downs and confusion and uncertainty, but you just need to keep going and you will eventually get there.

- a love for travel
I hope that you will like to travel as much as your parents and we do, for nothing opens up your mind and heart the way travel does. From what we have seen, the people you meet and the cultures you experience during your travels change you as a person. In a good way.

- good friends
Last but not the least, I wish you good friends you can share your life with. It doesn't matter if they are two or twenty in number; what matters is that you can be truly yourself with them. Just the way Uncle Viv and I are, with your parents.

Love always,
Sayesha Masi

A fruitful journey

A long long time ago, when I was a tiny little girl, my friend's dad asked me, "So tell me beta, what does your father do?"

Okay, so that was the first time anyone had asked me that question. Phrased like that. And I took it literally. I didn't know I was being asked about my dad's occupation, not his hobby. So I tried to think of whatever I had seen my dad literally do on a day-to-day basis, to compose my response.

And this is what came out.

"Ummm... My father goes to the bank... and he digs up soil... puts seeds in the soil... waters the plants... and plucks the fruits."

I was very proud of myself. It was a very tough question, needed a lot of thinking, and I had managed to capture all the key points of what I had seen my dad generally do in life.

It was only when my friend's mom told my mom that they had thought my dad was a gardener at a bank, that my mistake came to light. Everyone had a good laugh, I sulked for a while, learnt what "What does your father do?" truly meant, and rehearsed the correct answer "My father works in a bank. My father works in a bank. My father works in a bank." a bazillion times.

I remembered this incident yesterday and it just suddenly struck me that my statement from many years ago has now turned true. Except that he doesn't go to the bank anymore, now that he's retired.

But now I can answer with confidence and pride if asked "What does your father do?"

"My father digs up soil... puts seeds in the soil... waters the plants... and plucks the fruits."

And my answer this time, would be absolutely correct.

On the watch

Me (to mom) - So Mom, now that I am a mother too, give me some tips on good upbringing.

Mom (smiling) - Don't worry, you'll get there.

Me - No, but tell me how you managed to keep my sister and me, well, you know... morally upright, through the rebellious teenage years.

Mom (smiling again) - Well, it's too early. There's time for that.

Me (really really fishing for a compliment) - No, I mean, we were so good as teenagers. You could fully trust us. You never had to keep your eye on us all the time.

Mom (without batting an eyelid) - I had my eye on both of you all the time. You just didn't know it.

:|

Collateral damn-age

Now I am generally not the "Why me???? Why only me???? Why not them??????" kind of a person, but recently a situation presented itself before me that made me say these very words.

Recently, my niece Aishu celebrated her 5th birthday. Mom, who is in the US now to see her freshly-minted grandson, was giving me the low-down on the phone. Aishu had had a lot of people wishing her and asking her how old she was. "I am FIVE years old!" She declared. In jest, my mom asked her, "And how old is your mom?" She looked lost for a while and then came up with what she considered a number much bigger than five.

"Ummm... Mom is fifteen years old." She said.

"And your Dad?" Asked my mom, after she was done laughing.

"Hmm... Eighteen."

The rising levels of amusement around her and the fact that nobody was correcting her was making her more and more confident, so her answers started coming in thick and fast.

"How about grandma?"

"Grandma... Twenty-four years old."

"And grandpa?"

"Twenty-seven years old."

"How about Mausi?"

"Mausi? Thirty years old."

:|

No seriously, why me???? Why only me???? Why not them?????

Word for word

My in-laws like to watch this health programme on TV called 'What's good for you?'.

The other day, I was in the computer room when the programme was on. Suddenly I heard my Dad-in-law shout, "Wah wah!"

"Wow, he must really like the programme..." I thought to myself.

And that's when I realised it. The programme had started and he was just calling my Mother-in-law who was in the kitchen. (In Tamil, the word "wa" means "come".)

Mum's (the) word

So Mom was here for a visit, and on one of the days, Viv and I were supposed to call her when she was at home and tell her to take a bus and meet us at a place at a particular time. Now this was going to be a big event, because she had never really taken the bus by herself to a new place before. Viv had given her rough instructions, but had told her that we would call and tell her again.

When we called her, the phone was beeping (or like my niece Aishu says, "Mausi, your phone is crying. You need to charge it.") so Mom said she will change the batteries first in case we got cut off in the middle of our conversation. So she hung up and that's it -- we just couldn't get through to her after that. It looked like the phone was indeed out of charge, and though Viv had shown her where the charged batteries were, she was probably having a tough time opening the phone to change them. I don't blame her -- many a pretty and blameless fingernail of mine had perished in the attempts to change the batteries and so it was always Viv who changed them.

Viv and I stared at each other. Now what??

"Do you think she will panic?" He asked.

"No," I said, "I think she's already panicking!"

"Maybe she will just stay put at home?"

"But what if she leaves home based on your earlier instructions?? And then we can't find her??"

"Maybe we should go home now and pick her up?"

"What if she has already left home by the time we get there?"

"Maybe she will try to open the phone with a screwdriver or something?"

"Maybe she has already broken the phone?"

Ok. Ok. Stop panicking. Regroup. Regroup. Think. I told myself.

"Ah!" I said.

"What?" Viv asked.

"She will go to a neighbour."

"Are you sure??"

"Yep. She's an Indian Mom. They do that. I'm telling you. She will pakka go to a neighbour!"

I was confident, even though I had just had this conversation with her a few days ago.

Mom - So who lives here?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - And this side?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - And opposite?
Me - Dunno.
Mom - You don't know your neighbours??
Me - Um, no. It's different in Singapore. We don't really have the "Aunty, Mummy ne ek katori cheeni mangaayi hai." or "Bhabhiji, hum ek mahiney ke liye out of town ja rahe hain. Yeh rahi ghar ki chaabhiyan, zara nazar rakhiyega?"
Mom - So you have no interaction with your own neighbours??
Me - Yeeahh.. Not so much. If I went over and started talking to them about cheeni ki katori or chaabhiyan, I'd probably get dirty looks...

I don't know. Maybe it's me, maybe I've just become cynical, but the vibrant 'neighbour culture' in India, is truly found only in India. It's not like I have not made an effort, but things here are more formal and people don't 'haq se' impose themselves on their neighbours the way they do in India. And that's how I have adapted myself to live here.

Anyway, so back to my story and how it ended -- Mom called Viv about 15 minutes later. From some unknown number.

Not only had she found a willing-to-help neighbour, she had found a happy-to-help Indian neighbor.

Jai ho, Mom!

Cold treatment

You know how when you travel, you keep wondering what you left behind and it completely drives you nuts and only when you realise what it is that you left behind (yes, there's always something) that your mind is at peace? Nope, never happened to you? Okay fine, good for you. Just asking. Hmmph!

Anyway, so before my parents left, I went from room to room on an inspection tour to check if they had left anything behind. Of course, one always leaves one thing behind, but I wanted to make sure it was only that one little thing and not anything important. They followed me around, highly amused.

"You remembered to take everything important?"

"Yes." They answered.

"Did you leave anything in the drawers?" I asked.

"No."

"Anything in your bathroom?"

"No."

"Anything on the dining table?"

"No."

"Anything in the drying yard?"

"No."

"Anything in the washing machine?" I opened the lid and peeped in.

"No."

"Anything in the fridge?" I opened it and asked.

"Fridge???" Both of them burst into insane laughter.

"Okay fine. Laugh all you want. I'm just trying to ensure your peace of mind. Hmmmph!" (Yeah, you can tell from my tone I was kinda mad at them for going back so soon.)

So they reached my in-laws' place yesterday (yes, they're having a gala one-week holiday there!) and my Dad called.

"So did you realise what you left behind?" I asked.

"Hmm... Yes... I did leave something very important behind." He said, with a very sad tone in his voice.

I felt a gush of warmth in my heart. He was gonna say, "My darling daughter", wasn't he?

Well, he didn't. :/

"Ginger sprout." He said.

"Ginger sprout??????? What ginger sprout? I thought you only took coconuts to grow in your garden!"

"Oh no, I bought a ginger sprout to plant here, but I left it behind." He sounded inconsolable.

"Sigh... Where did you leave it??"

"Erm... in the fridge."

:|

The parent diaries - II

And the madness continues...

• Since my parents have seen pretty much all the touristy places in Singapore, I am running out of new places to take them to. The good thing is, in showing them these places, sometimes Viv and I end up seeing things we had never seen before. Viv had never been inside the Singapore Flyer, and neither of us had been to Marina Barrage before. The kites at Marina Barrage were amazing, and there was even one shaped exactly like this!

• More childhood stories! Apparently, at the age of about four or five, my friends and I had been bragging to one another about our families and possessions. In a bid to outdo my friends, I told them that my nanny had 40 teeth! Strangely, she didn't take it as a compliment when I related it to her later.
  
  
• I made chinna vengayam sambar (sambar with small onions) for my parents today, using my mom-in-law's recipe. "What's this?" Dad asked. "This is chinna vengayam sambar. Do you know what is chinna vengayam sambar?" I asked in a challenging tone since he is so proud of whatever Tamil he has picked up. There was complete silence for a few seconds. Then he spoke. "I know Chinnaswamy Stadium." he said coolly as he helped himself to the sambar.
  

• Mom has now gotten over her fear of exploding computers and is getting quite adventurous. With a little help, she is able to watch all the missed episodes of her favourite TV shows on Youtube. I was really pleasantly surprised the other day when she asked me to show her how to view the Youtube videos on full screen mode.

• So after much prodding and many demos, Dad finally got down to creating his own blog. We had some hilarious conversations relating to that. Sample this:
  Dad - So I can post anything and anytime I want?
  Me - Yep.
  Dad - And everyone can read it?
  Me - Yep.
  Dad - And they can comment on it?
  Me - Yep.
  Dad - And how will I know if they commented?
  Me - I have set your blogger account to send all comments to your mailbox.
  Dad - WHAT?! NO! I want them at the end of the posts like they are on your blog!!!
  Me - Relax, Dad. They will be there too.
  Dad - They will be on the blog and also in my email?
  Me - Yes.
  Dad - How many comments will I get?
  Me - It depends.
  Dad - On what?
  Me - Well, on what you write and how often you write. I used to be very regular and used to get lots of comments. Now I am less regular and number of comments are fewer too.
  Dad - So how regular were you?
  Me (proudly) - Well, in the first year I posted 234 posts!
  Dad - That's all?
  Me - THAT'S ALL?? Let's see YOU do THAT! Hmmph!
  Dad (confidently) - I will post 365 posts in a year.
  Me - HA HA HA! 365 posts in a year? HA HA HA! Dad... shall we make this interesting?
  Dad - You wait and watch.
  Me - Oh, I will. :D
  

• Much later...
  Dad - Wait wait, how will my readers know about my blog?
  Me - Depends on who you want your readers to be. You can pass your blog URL to family and friends if you want them to read it. And it will spread from there. It will take time though.
  Dad - How much time?
  Me - I don't know. Mine took a few years to really kick off and now it's kind of tapering. Basically anything can happen.
  Dad - Few years? Hmm... and how will your readers know about my blog?
  By now, I was really having fun so I went into major bhaav-khao mode.
  Me (indignantly) - My readers?? Why will my readers know about your blog? You go get your own readers!
  Dad - ????
  Me (coyly looking at nails) - Well, I could share your URL on my blog, but I will charge.
  Dad - ????!!!!
  Me - Okay, I won't charge, but I can't just advertise your blog URL so blatantly. I have principles, you know. I have never sold a single ad or recommendation to my readers.
  Dad - So I have to get my own readers?? :O
  Me (evil grin) - Yep, but you should have no problem with that, considering that you're going to write 365 posts a year. Muahaha!
  

• Mom and I talk serious Indian politics too. This conversation is from this morning.
  Me - Mom, Rahul Gandhi is 40?!
  Mom - Yeah...
  Me - Why isn't he married yet? I thought he's supposed to be the most eligible bachelor of the country?
  Mom - Don't know... maybe he didn't get any good proposals?
  Me - Or maybe he got so many he didn't know what to do?
  Mom - Maybe! Sonia is also so busy... who will sort through the proposals?
  Me - Priyanka should do it, na?
  
  
• Dad was on the computer when he logged a servicedesk call.
  Me - What happened now?
  Dad - I can't log into my bsnl email.
  Me - Okay, let's try again.
  Dad (after trying again) - See?
  Me - Are you sure you keyed in the right password?
  Dad - Yes, yes, I am totally sure.
  Me - Then I don't know what to do...
  Dad - It must be your computer then... it works fine at home.
  Me - There's nothing wrong with my computer. I still think you have forgotten your password.
  Dad - My password is 100% correct.
  Me - Well, I don't know what to do then...
  Dad (peers into computer) - Wait wait... I don't think this is my username.
  Me - :|
  

• I woke up with a very bad cough this morning. I had already applied for leave so I didn't have to go to work. Mom grounded me though! "No roaming, sight-seeing, shopping today. You will stay home ALL DAY!" I had never been grounded as a teenager so it was doubly funny.

• Dad asked me where he can get a sticker with the word 'Singapore'.
  Me - Sticker with the word 'Singapore'? Why?
  Dad - I want it. Where can we get one?
  Me - I am not sure. Can I get you a fridge magnet with the word 'Singapore' instead?
  Dad - No, I want a sticker.
  Me - But whyyy??
  Dad - Oh, I have three big clocks next to one another at home. One shows the India time, one shows the US time and one shows Singapore time. So when you or your sister calls, we know what time it is for you. I already have stickers for the others, I want one to stick on the Singapore clock.
  Me - Yaaaa allllaaaaaaaah...
  

• I was really surprised to see Dad watching a CWG badminton match on TV. I was even more surprised when he told me that he used to be very good at badminton (Yeay! This explains my own love for badminton!) and chess (bleah!) when he was in school. He told me that the principal of his school wanted him to lead the school's football team but he had no interest in the sport, so they created the special post of 'Non-playing captain' just for him! LOL!
  

• This happened yesterday when we were walking from the bus stop.
  Me - So Dad, have you ever had alcohol?
  Dad - You mean like in cough syrups?
  Me - No, like in drinks.
  Dad (proudly) - No, never. There was actually a bet in an office party between two groups about whether I can be made to take alcohol. I didn't.
  Me - Hmmm... remember we went to Cafe Iguana when you were here the last time?
  Dad - Yes...
  Me - Remember that mango drink we ordered a whole jug of?
  Dad - Yes...
  Me - Well, that was mango margarita. It had tequila.
  Dad (long pause) - Okay, I did NOT know that.
  

The parent diaries

:( looks like SSSK took one of Shotgun Sinha's "KHAAAMOSH"es to heart :(

Thanks to this nudge from regular bewda Arun on my last post, I'm back in the bar. Sorry about the long absence, my parents are finally here (remember this drama?) and I have been trying my best to get away from the office often enough to spend some quality time with them. It's been an absolute riot so far, and here are some snippets:

• Dad's 'To get from Singapore' list actually included 'A coconut from East Coast beach with a sprout so I can take it home and plant it in my garden'. Hey bhagwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan! He scoured the beach for a full week before he actually found not one, but three of them! It was hilarious to see Mom's expression when he placed them in his suitcase. I don't know how he is going to take them into India (isn't carrying soil and seeds into India illegal?) but I have asked him to make sure he has enough bail money.
  

• The only time I ever talk Indian politics is with my Dad. Mainly because it's very entertaining to just say 'Sonia Gandhi' and watch him shake his fists and explode.

• We have been shopping like mad in the last few days. Just for fun, I showed Mom some branded purses and asked her to guess the cost. She couldn't and I told her, "Twelve hundred and ninety-five". Her next question - "What?! Dollars or rupees???" LOL!
  
  
• On the subject of branded stuff, Dad's question really threw me off. "Should I get Gucci shoes?" For a second I couldn't tell if he was serious or kidding. I just went :O. (Of course, he didn't in the end.)
  

• It was a proud moment for the whole family when baby Aish called and we realised that she has picked up the concept of time difference. "Mausi, it is night here," she said, "Is it morning there?"

• Sample another conversation involving baby Aish who called one morning. Mom (who always complains that Aish speaks to everyone but her) picked up.
  
  Aish - Where is Mausi?
  Mom - Mausi has gone to office.
  Aish - Where is Mausa?
  Mom - Mausa has also gone to office.
  Aish - Where is Grandpa?
  Mom - Grandpa has gone to the beach to look for coconuts.
  Aish - Ok bye.
  Mom - ?????????!!!!
  

• My Dad is trying to turn vegetarian. With one exception, he says. Singapore chilli crab!

• Mom and I went for a combo pedicure. It was such a perfect bonding moment -- we even got our toenails painted in the same colour, to the amusement of the pedicurist. (I had deposited Dad at a plant nursery so he wouldn't have to endure a full girly hour with us.)

• I am still so impressed at Dad's organic garden back home! This year, he harvested a 9.5-kg pumpkin, a gazillion coconuts and more than 100 kg of tomatoes! Apparently, even the neighbours started getting a bit sick of receiving free stuff and he had to give the tomatoes to the maid who set up a stall and started selling them!

• This is Mom's fourth visit to Singapore and even now, after knowing that the island is teeming with Indians, if she spots an Indian on the road or an Indian bus driver, she turns to me and mouths excitedly, "Indian?"

• Viv had entered a go-kart race and we decided to go support him. I could not believe my ears when my Dad asked him if he could take a spin with Viv in a double-kart. My dad. In a go-kart. Man! I almost sang 'Yeh dosti' when I saw both of them take off in the double-kart.

• Mom is getting interested in Sudoku and it is so fabulous to see her progress from the one-star puzzles to the five-star ones (we call those panch-pandav-sudoku!). I actually watched in pride like a doting mother as she completed a PPS all by herself.

• Now it's Viv's turn to have to endure my childhood stories. Muahahaha! One of my personal favourites, other than the fish market incident is this one. Dad's friend came to visit us. I was about five years old. Dad told me, "Go tell Mom Mr. Blah-Blah is here." I went and repeated it to Mom. She was in a bad mood for some reason and said, "So?? What am I supposed to do??" I went out and Dad asked me if I had told Mom. I said, "Yes, I did and she said -- So?? What am I supposed to do??" Yep, right in Mr. Blah-Blah's face. I doubt he ever visited us again. :/

Family feud

"Yenna vishesham?"

I did a double-take. Had I called Dad-in-law by mistake? Nope, it was Dad all right because the pronunciation seemed a bit bonkers.

"Huh? Wha... wha... WHAT?!" This is all I could manage.

"Yenna vishesham?" He repeated cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" I asked, still stumped.

"You don't know 'Yenna vishesham'? You're married to a Tamilian and you don't know what is 'Yenna vishesham'?????"

"I know what is 'Yenna vishesham' all right. How do YOU know 'Yenna vishesham'???

"Of course I know what is 'Yenna vishesham'. Do YOU know what is 'Yenna vishesham'??" He laughed.

Okay, this was going nowhere.

"'Yenna' means 'what' and 'vishesham' means 'special'. So you're asking - 'What is new/special?' Okay now? Happy?"

"Correct."

"What correct? Of course I know it's correct."

"But you didn't use it in a conversation. I did." He said proudly.

"Well, I don't randomly use it to impress people. I use it when... erm... it's... needed."

Dad had gifted me two books on how non-Tamilians can learn Tamil in 30 days. Viv is a terrible teacher when it comes to Tamil and the only useful stuff I learn is when the in-laws come over, so my Dad thought he could supplement my education with the books. Word of advice -- Do NOT believe a word of what those book titles say. 30 days my foot. Sure I can now almost pronounce 'kozhambu', almost differentiate between kannadi/munnadi/pinnadi and nariya/periya/seriya and almost insult people by calling them 'korangu', but I am still far away from really knowing the language. The last thing I needed was my Dad learning more Tamil than me.

Anyway, I let the incident go and dismissed how thrilled Dad had sounded at his 'victory'.

Until this evening when Viv sent me an sms, saying he was going to get home late from work.

AHA.

Quick as lightning, I messaged back, "Yenna vishesham?"

Viv's response was in Singlish, which loosely translated to emoticonspeak is this --> :O

Muahahahaha!

Now I just have to call Dad and ask him if HE has ever been sarcastic in fluent Tamil. Ha!

The parent trap

Okay I am going to behave like one of those annoying women in those annoying teleshopping channels who hold up the WonderMop or some such thing, show their annoyingly dazzling teeth and say, "This works! Like magic!"

I am going to hold up this post, give it a little shake to get your attention, and then with a dazzling smile declare, "This works! Like magic!"

Why?

Well, I just got an email from my Dad that made me almost fall off my chair.

"We're thinking of visiting you in September..." it said.

:O

Going green?

Them - "What else?"

Me - "Nothing much. When are you coming here?"

I cannot remember how many times I have had this exact exchange with my parents. These words are uttered without fail towards the end of every single phone conversation with them. Bole toh sabko dialogue by heart ho gaya hai.

And my "When are you coming here?" is inevitably followed by the hazaar bahanas they supply, ranging from visa-jhanjhat-problem to workers-are-laying-the-roof-on-the-new-house-problem to no-direct-flight-to-Singapore-problem to more creative ones such as Dad's "But what about my garden? My pumpkins will get stolen!" to Mom's "I can come but who will take care of your Dad?" (Well, I can't really blame her, He is like a child sometimes. Once she left him to arrange for his own lunch and came back to find out that he'd had a litre of milk. Yes, a litre of milk. For lunch. Sheesh. My dad, ladies and gentlemen.)

And oh oh oh, the most annoying excuse they have? "Arre wahan jaakar hum kya karenge?" ("What will we go and do there?") Aaaaarrrrghhhhhh!!!

The in-laws are leaving next week and it's now time for me to try once again to get the other set of parents over before the end of the year. It has been quite futile so far (in my 12 years in Singapore, they have bestowed upon me a grand total of two visits) so I figured I had to change my strategy. Instead of repeating the above dialogues for the zillionth time, I decided to go the ahem, 'green way'.

So in a landmark conversation last week, this is what happened after the usual exchange of news:

Them - "What else?"

Me - "Nothing much. Ooh Amma and I are making matar paneer."

Mom - "Oh...."

Dad - "Matar paneer? Arre wah!"

Me - "Yep. We just got back from shopping. Got some awesome stuff."

Mom - "And I suppose you made your usual masala chai for your Amma and your Appa and had it together?" (She knows my in-laws love my masala chai.)

Me - "Of course!" (It was a lie. We hadn't had chai that day.)

Dad - "Ok... what else have you been doing?"

Me - "Oh, just going shopping and watching movies and going to the beach and cooking new dishes together..."

Mom - "You're all having a lot of fun, isn't it?"

Me (casual tone) - Yeah.

Mom - Hmmm... what else?

Me - Nothing much.

Mom - Nothing?

Me - Yeah. Nothing.

Mom - Hmm... Ok...

Me - Ok. Gotta go. Bye.

***

Now I wait and watch. Muahahaha! :D

Arz kiya hai...

Poochhne se kya milega, woh toh bas bhaav khaate hain
Bhaav dena toh band karo, phir dekho kaise aate hain.

Gen(e)iuses at work

Every time Viv does something strange and I point it out, he tries to push the blame to his genes.

"I know, my Dad does this too." He would shrug his shoulders and say. I didn't believe him at all.

Okay, now sample this.

A few months ago, we were walking around in San Francisco when I saw a group of people travelling on the road on strange-looking vehicles. Call me ignorant but I did not know what that was.

"What's that?" I asked Viv.

"Segway tour."

"Huh? What's that?"

"Segway tour."

"Ughh... But what is a Segway tour???"

"Segway..." He said slowly, paused and looked at me, as if that was explanation enough, and then concluded with "tour!"

And he continued walking leaving me gaping at him in the middle of the road.

So we had an argument about my lack of knowledge about Segway tours and his lack of erm, vocabulary. And I won and it concluded with him saying, "Hmmm... actually my dad does this too."

Fast-forward to the present.

We were thinking of suitable touristy activities for the in-laws who have been to Singapore so many times they have already seen the usual stuff.

"Oooh I know! Why don't you try the reverse bungee this time???" I suggested.

"What's that?" My Mom-in-law asked.

Before I could open my mouth, Dad-in-law had spoken.

"Reverse bungee." He said.

"Huh? What's that?"

"Reverse bungee." He said.

"Ughh... But what is reverse bungee???" She asked.

"Reverse..." He said slowly, paused and looked at her, as if that was explanation enough, and then concluded with "bungee!"

Mom-in-law and I looked at each other and shook our heads, united in our agony.

I feel your pain, sistah.

See you tomorrow!

Why I am looking forward to tomorrow:

• I will have reason to make masala chai every day and great company to enjoy it with.
  
  
• I will check out some of the touristy places in Singapore that I haven't been to yet, such as the Singapore Discovery Centre and the Asian Civilisations Museum.
  
  
• I will play proper Scrabble. Viv is hopeless because he makes hopeless words like 'Flexthiz' and 'Bi'.
  
  
• Group Sudoku yeaaaahhhhhh! :D
  
  
• I won't come back to an empty house after work.
  
  
• I will finally have a reason to call my home telephone number.
  
  
• Viv will be home a little earlier than his usual "I was debugging, you see, and I found this BEEG BUGG!" homecoming hours. (Dude, you put the bug in the program yourself, and then you debug it and then you expect me to be impressed? Sheesh.)
  
  
• I will be able to make full use of the Great Singapore Sale.
  
  
• I will have a bucketload of Kurkure. And I will take some to work. (My colleagues love it too! They call it 'Indian Twisties'. LOL!)
  
  
• I will have the DVDs of my favourite new Hindi movies, which are not yet in my collection.
  
  
• I will have yummy rasam.
  
  
• I won't have to sit through Viv's cricket matches by myself. I will have company to shake my head at and say, "How do these guys play under the blazing sun all day long??"
  
  
• I will have one guy who wholeheartedly agrees with me that Viv is a dhakkan.

Yup, the in-laws land tomorrow morning! :)