How to survive Childhood.

I cannot reveal much but my absence from the world of blogging has something to do with an elephant and an evil eye. Ya? Moving on. My Boy has started his preschool and of course being so mollycoddled he cried for a few days until he realized that I am not  going to go anywhere and would be back in couple of hours while he enjoys at the  expense of his teacher so now he goes in all happy and comes out feeling all important.

Well now that he has started preschool, I am constantly reminded of my own days. Don’t we all wish that we could somehow go back in life and relive our childhood. Well, me for sure don’t. Even though I am fortunate enough to have had a normal childhood with expecting parents and bullying sibling. But somehow the whole concept of childhood seems so overrated!

I remember walking home from school with the burden of my  bag pushing me down towards the ground. No it weren’t just the million text books but majorly the one mark sheet hidden among the humongous piles of books, you know those types which needs to get your parents signature. The others were usually buried by me at the far end of the school playground. See I have always believed in giving it back to the society.

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My advice: Always remember ‘this too shall pass!’ and also remember to  take out the lunch box in time.  Because the chances of the mark sheet landing in your mom’s hand instead of the lunch box greatly increases during such already trying days.

And then that waking up early for school, home works, tests, limited play time, Bullies, bad teachers, worse food options, no creative freedom, no freedom at all.

Here are a few tips and tricks to survive childhood.

Be the pet your teacher always wanted: Bring her handmade cards,  volunteer to carry her stuff around and be her beast of burden, compliment her, Never question her or ask her intelligent questions and remember to humor her.

No use crying over spilled milk, cry before it gets noticed. Cry before the teacher asks you the reason for not doing the homework, cry before your father picks up his gold- plated- inheritance worthy pen reduced to a piece of junk, cry before your mother notices her expensive carpet stained, cry before your bully brother punches you in your face. You get the hang? It helps most of the time.

Stay calm and pray

Pray for the teacher to fall sick. Pray that your mum doesn’t give you a bad haircut. Pray that you get a set of sensitive and considerate parents or you might just get stuck with a funny name for all your life. And above all pray that you be the kid who is neither too thin nor too fat, neither too dark nor too fair, neither too short nor too tall.

Because middle path is the best path.

Always remember childhood is short and you will never get it back. So yay! This too shall pass.

And if all else fail pretend to be the creepy child. It never fails.

O ya! This works.

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Life Lessons from Bigg Boss.

I am a sucker for Big Boss. I look forward for it with the anticipation of a drama starved average woman. And if you think you are too sophisticated for the show, you know what, you may be right. Stick to daily soaps. Tamed and predictable. Now I am not a promoter of Bigg Boss, even though the post may prove otherwise, but it has been my guide like no one else has been.

You do not mash garlic in other people’s mug

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o jejus!!! Why me?

Now who would have known I could have learnt an important lesson, as this,  from Rakhi Sawant. She is my favorite Drama queen. Now would you blame her? Ginger? I understand. But garlic? who does that? Oh wait. Amit Sadh. So this one happened in the first season. When Amit, one of the contestant decided to pick up a random mug (conveniently not his and conspiratorially Rakhi’s ) and mash garlic in it.  From then own I have learnt my lesson and stuck to it. I mash the garlic in a different mug and add it to the tea later.

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You might get a bottle in your face for being too charitable

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You do not  DO NOT offer charity and then brag about it. More so to The Kamaal Khan. He who is a “Multi Millionaire”, He, who lives in 21000 sqft palace, He who drinks french water(Are you sure Kamaal its not called French wine?), He who drinks London tea. And if you happen to do just that, Look out for any unidentified flying object around, it could be a bottle headed right for your talking-too-much face.

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It landed on my face! Just like that!

“Baap pe mat jaana”

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Baap pe mat jaana!!!

When Manoj Tiwari’s love for the eggs made him challenge Dolly’s father in Bigg boss 5. I knew right away! This episode is going to be my favorite of all time. Ahem! Not for the ugly spat of course for the valuable lesson it taught me.

No matter how ugly a situation gets, you do not involve fathers. Fathers are like those forbidden but lucrative areas that you never trespass. Mothers are fine, going by the number “your mum” jokes doing rounds on the internet, but fathers, nope.

Do not wash dirty linens in public

We all know this one is an idiom but do you all know how it came into existence? I was unaware too until Bigg boss blessed me with the higher wisdom. So once upon  a time there was a “I know I am beautiful”  Veena Malik and some Ashmit patel. Veena Malik had a enormous treasure of stilettos. Red, Golden, green, blue and all colors possible. She admired them day and night.

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They were very dear to her. Of course Ashmit was a dear too. Veena dilegently washed all the dirty linens of Ashmit even his chaddis until Ashmit under the influence of some evil power stole Veena’s beloved stilettos and didn’t  care to show them any love or respect. There were war of words like never before. By the end of which Ashmit got a flying stilettos and we the idiom. Veena swore never to wash dirty linens(of Ashmit) publically.

’14 years’ is a Pyscho boyfriend and not a Time span 

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F-O-U-R-T-E-E-N Y-E-A-R-S

Anybody seen Delnaaz? If you do happen to, tell her Mr 14 years is looking for her. He(fourteen years)is planning to file a defamation and a case of over exploitation against her.

Yes Delnaaz we get it  you were married to Rajeev Paul for 14 years. That in itself is an achievement! But you see for a moment I Thought ‘fourteen years’, and not Rajeev, is your husband  . And then it  dawned upon  me that  he(fourteen years) is the Psycho Boyfriend who clings on to you like a leech and reaches everywhere before you do. That is why you kept on saying that even your marriage with Rajeev was for ‘fourteen years’. YA?

I choose the ‘mumma’ you made me.

So recently I was scanning through your past year’s picture. And it is then I realized how you are all grown up. It doesn’t seem very long ago I googled a million pages because you had just swallowed a teeny weeny piece of a kiwi(yes people I am that crazy!) or the time when I refused to take you to this pediatrician because she didn’t smile at you, the time when I cried because you had just puked out milk.(In my defense I knew nothing about spitting up then) or when I almost tore off your daddy’s shirt  for I thought he had not effectively conveyed to my gynecologist the extreme (labor)pain I was in. That all seems a hazy memory now(literally!)

It would be two years now, two years of having you in my life. A few days back I woke up from a dream and I got all restless and just couldn’t go back to sleep for an hour. Nightmare? Not exactly! I dreamt of getting pregnant  and going into labor again. That is how scared I am of having another baby. No I am not scared of the labor pain or the responsibility that would come with it (okay that too, who am I kidding?) but I fear that I might not have an easy and wonderful kid like you. YOU my child have been a pleasure to have right from the time I conceived you.

I have heard people talk about how their baby had fought all odds and been born and therefore is a miracle baby. But I have always thought that in such cases the parents are the real heroes who have a rock solid strength to have an unfailing hope. I on the other hand, am not. And boy you understood that. And I knew you understood that from the time I saw your heart(or rather tiny you beating). I cried. And I cried every month when I saw you on screen. You have never given me a reason to worry, You had been a one push child. Yes one push and you were out and you still maintain your easygoing ways.

The haircut tells the story of your undemanding ways!

The haircut tells the story of your undemanding ways!

Even today, I feel guilty for that one moment and I know I owe you an explanation. For 32 weeks we were told that we were to have a baby girl. We weaved our life around pink. pink booties, pink mittens and pink dreams. And then just like that the Sonographer said

“He is doing fine!”

“you mean she!” I giggled still not suspecting anything but just an error of Pronoun.

” No, I mean the baby is a He, you know right?”

And just like that entered scrotum in our pinky dreams.

I cried for the unfairness of all, for the cute pink rompers I bought, for the songs i made keeping in mind a pretty little girl, for the name I had decide on. But let me put it this way, I did NOT cry because I was having you, I was crying because I was not having what I thought I would. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, because the moment i held you, I knew I had not wanted anyone or anything more than you. You were the one I always dreamt of. You always were my dream, they just took a little detour.

The moment I had you I knew my life changed from that moment on.

Yes.

I miss watching back to back episodes of my favorite sitcoms.

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I miss my days of clutches,

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If you know what I mean!

I miss my beauty sleep. Actually I miss any kind of sleep. Its getting much better now but there was a time I had started to resemble a zombie.

I miss trying and fitting into XS.

O XS when will you stop making me look like

O XS when will you stop making me look like belly dancer gone wrong.

But then what would i be without you?

A crazy lady with toned belly watching back to back episodes of a random show.