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Sunday 14 December 2014

Top Story at Faking News - Two minute breaks making people lazy contrary to the belief

Another Attempt at writing News Satire - Two minute breaks making people lazy contrary to the belief. Made it to Top Stories on FakingNews.


http://www.fakingnews.firstpost.com/2014/12/two-minute-breaks-making-people-lazy-contrary-to-the-belief/

Friday 12 December 2014

Jab Khud khana banaoge tab pata chalega.


Either I am becoming my Mom or the sentence from my childhood is still haunting me “Jab khud khana banaoge tab pata chalega”.  I keep saying this phrase so often, that I think that I am my Moms brains in my body. But wait my Moms sentence has changed now, its more like “Ab pata chala” or “I told you” with the mocking smile. Life has come Full Circle.
Sacre bleu! French Kids Eat Everything - Bon Appetit - mom.me
Whats for dinner you said?
 I made the healthiest Veggie Khichdi the other day, after braving to ask the maid to cut so many veggies. Now you tell me, what is wrong with a wholesome nutrition packed meal. For a moment there is utter silence on the table, as if we are moaning the death of a good meal. “What?” I said and everyone started complaining left right and center. Kids say “There is tomato and beans. Yuck” And Mr Husband, “It feels like I am back to the hostel days, when I used to eat just for the heck of it and couldn’t really tell what it is.” So what am I supposed to say when Aunty-in-law says, I am not feeding the poor baby husband healthy food, and so he is unfit.  And my kids are malnourished, because I eat all the food.

Food items
Papa
Mom
Kids
Vegetables – Potato
Sometimes
Always
Never
Potato
Always
Sometimes
Never
Pizza/ Pasta/ Noodles/ Burger
Never
Sometimes
Always
Fruits
Never
Always
Sometimes
Samosa/ Kachori/ Pakoda/ Chaat
Alwayd
Sometimes
Never
Laddu/ Chakki/ Halwa
Always
Never
Sometimes
Ice-cream/ Cakes
Always
Always
Always
  
After this recent study on my family, I think I should only make Cakes/ Ice-creams to make everyone happy at the same time.
Mom makes the best curries, dal, paranthas, samosas, even the plain dahi or salad she makes, is just awesome. When she comes to stay with us, I still don’t remember after 10 years of my marriage that I have cooked for her even once. I am not very proud of that, but I have come to realize now, that home cooked food made with Moms love is the best. I miss her cooking. My mouth is watering with the thought of the amazing spread she prepares everyday, putting in so much thought, effort and pain. And as a kid, when we used to come back from school or afternoon classes, she used to serve hot snacks everyday. I can’t even think of doing that, even if I have nothing else to do.

I put in half the effort and time (half of which is my maids effort) as my Mom and then when someone complains, I feel so offended and demotivated. My motivation level to cook everyday is already low, and then there are offers on Monday Magic, Don’t cook Wed offer, thank god its Friday offer. But Mom I remember used to never order, never ever and going to restaurants was considered a luxury.

The meaning of “Jab Khub banaoge tab pata chalega” has really evolved now. It makes me feel guilty that I was so unappreciative. To make my kids repent and appreciative one day, I too have decided to pass the sentence with so much Depth and hidden meaning to the next generation. And then laugh one day, saying “Ab pata chala”.

THIS ONE'S FOR YOU MOM. I know I don't say it enough but,I Love You. More Now.

Wednesday 10 December 2014

Friday 5 December 2014

Don’t Judge Parents by their KIDS



Its Oreo’s third Birthday and we are at the Supermarket, buying party supplies and return gifts. We haven’t thought about what we are going to Gift Oreo yet, buying something is a distant dream. It was easier for his First and second birthday because the idea of being pampered and showered with gifts had not evolved in his mind then and we would easily neglect and ignore him. Even if he got many gifts on his birthday and they went missing the next day, he wouldn’t notice, unless ofcourse he saw Brownie playing with them.

But this time its going to be different, we knew already from the shopping list that both my Husbands offspring had made. I know they are my husbands offspring and not mine because I was a good kid, but whenever I meet someone from my husbands side after a long time they will make sure that I know about all he had broken there. I think its his Karma that I’m paying for.

You know how much fun it is shopping at the Superstore, with the whole family, its like an adventure trip. On one side there is the biggest Remote control car and Doll house complete with Hair colouring kit and dozens of pairs of shoes for the Barbie. And the other side is Kids shrieking, “Why not?” “One more” “I don’t love you” “Just one last” “My friend has it too” “You promised” “I’ll tell grandpa”. Its not easy walking through those aisles while dragging brats holding your feet.

Oh I missed, there is one more side besides the kids and loaded racks, your Husband, who will keep commanding “Stick to one aisle at a time” “Stop staring at her dress” “There are no offers or discounts, take what you need” “Avoid the embarrassment and let the kid have it” “Look at the watch, its time for the cricket match” “Just one more thing from the shopping list and we are done”. Who wears a watch to the shopping mall and looks at the damn incomplete list anyways?

I am going to skip the Stranger side of the story, who will look at you, like such unloving parents and disagreeing couple. I will come to that later, but for now I’ll say to them it is very easy to make someone hate you when you let your kids be themselves.

So despite all the hurdles and distractions, we finished picking up random things some of what we intended to buy and some what the marketing gurus wanted us to pick and still stand united as one family. The husband consoled later saying that he will make another trip alone in case we forgot something for the party.

The party was planned a little on the last minute but we managed to pull it off, inviting only the kids and skipping the judgmental parents. So I guess it was a little easy, playing the games in the order in which they appeared on Google Search and ate in courses as it was cooked and served. Nevermind the party details, it is about gift right now.

So he got a Big Remote Control Ferrari Car as a birthday present and he couldn’t resist himself from boasting it in the playground the next day. We leave buying such expensive gifts to Relatives and Santa, so I guess Oreo was too excited to have it for the first time. As much as we wanted him to play inside and not break it on the first day, we didn’t want to hurt his emotions. It’s a jungle out there in the playground, competition, bullying, envy and conflict, and not to mention fist fights.

Another kid, Oreo’s age has one of those automatic battery operated Cars which you can sit in, maneuver and even honk. So while one of them was ruling the territory for a while now with his most sophisticated cars and was used to kids running after him asking for a turn to sit in. The other one had just been crowned the Birthday boy with 10 new toys, a jealous sister and latest gizmo, so the fight was pretty much obvious.

We didn’t know what was happening, until Oreo came back crying. We started scolding him, thinking that he had broken his new car, but later understood when the other kid came barging in our house complaining. Oreo had broken this Kids Car Horn and was crying to avoid the scene. The other was also pointing at Oreo and crying and nose running faster than his tears. I tried to ask Oreo in front of him as to what had happened, but he is too small to understand my intentions yet. By this time the other kids Mom had come and politely asked the kid to leave with her. She was kind enough to let go of the whole incident saying “What if my kid had done the same thing to someone else”. And before I knew, everyone was back to their work.

Now that is what I am talking about, “Kids will be Kids, if you let them be”, so don’t judge the Parents by their Kids next time at the Superstore. Moral of the story.