Reyaisms 34543233

Reya’s teachers tell us she is not social at all in school. While not surprising, I realized today why she doesn’t have too many friends when she points to a boy in the park and says,” Mamma, I can’t play with him. I don’t even know this creature’s name!”.



Reyaism #45345

Continuation of Reya’s understanig of the songs we play to her.

“Mamma, can I listen to the Rose D and K song please”

The song in question, Bhaag bhaag DK Bose! This we ain’t playing anymore :d

Reyaism #45345334

TS and I play an eclectic range of music in the car. We’ve never realized how focused a listener Reya is, until this.

We’re driving Reya’s Vidya bua to a cafe, when Reya chirps up:

“Vidya bua, this is a song about temples.One aunty talks about mandirs, and that means temples.”

The song that’s playing…”Ajeeb dastan hai ye, kahaan shuru kahaan khatam, ye Manzilein hain kaunse, na wo samajh sake na hum.!”

Reyaism #3956834

Reya realizes that her nanny, Fahima aunty doesn’t understand English. So the child of three automatically shifts to Hindi while conversing with her.

Overheard today:

“Fahima aunty, ye game ka naam hai Snakes and Ladders.” Pause! “Matlab Saanp aur ladders”.!

Going private

I’ve had thoughts. I’ve had thoughts and ideas and stories that threatened to bubble over and explode my brain. But I’ve resisted posting them here. When I started this blog, it was meant to be a laugh riot, an entertainment zone, where I channeled my inner Amy Poehler! (Oh ha ha ha!) But lately, all these thoughts and ideas and stories seem to be either about the resident monkey in the house, or household woes…you know, the kid did this, the maid said that.

So I’m going private for a while. To collect the thoughts. To put the ideas into words that make sense, instead of what only a two-year old can comprehend.

See you on the other side.

PS: I do know that writing this post AFTER making the blog private doesn’t benefit anyone, except, well, my incoherent thoughts.

Nourishing food…aahhh

I just cooked a delicious and healthy dinner for TS.
You can take away the ‘delicious‘ cause we’re talking about MY cooking!
And you can take away the ‘I just cooked‘ cause it was cooked by the maid!
And you can take away the ‘healthy‘ cause it was last night’s dinner reheated!
Sigh! Whats Pizza Hut’s number again?

The Conversation In The Park

With the arrival of winter in NCR, I get to enjoy an hour or so in the sun everyday. After breakfast, I ceremoniously park myself on a bench in the park. For company, I have grandmotherly auntyjis from the apartment block. They share the bench with me and swear how the winter sun keeps their arthritis at bay.

In the last month or so, I have shared my bench with 6 or 7 grandmotherly auntyjis. Now you cannot share a bench with a grandmotherly auntyji without getting pulled into a conversation. Not even when you are absorbed into your phone while your grandmotherly bench-mate stares at you. You eventually have to chicken out and croak a feeble “Namaste auntyji”.

And then it begins. The Conversation.

Let me rewind here and give you some background first. One day TS asked me what I did during the one hour in the sun. I thought for a while and recalled the first day in the park, when I met Grandmotherly Auntyji #1.

After the “Namaste” and the “Jeete raho puttar” was over, the conversation went something like this:
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Beta yahaan rehte ho?
Me: Ji, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Kaunse floor pe?
Me: 6th pe auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Apna makaan hai?
Me: Oh nahi, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Toh rent pe ho?
Me: Ji, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Ham yahaan 2nd floor pe hain. Apna makaan hai, abhi 2 saal pehle khareeda. Pehle Janakpuri mein rehte the. Bete ka ek bangla Pitampura mein bhi hai, par aaj kal toh sabhi log Gurgaon mein rehte hain. Toh humne bhi khareed liya ek.
Me: Ji, Auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Waise bete ka ek makaan sector 25 mein bhi hai. Par yahaan security achi hai, toh yahin rehte hain.
Me: Ji, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Naukri karte ho ya housewife ho?
Me: Naukri, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Mera bada beta CA hai. Samsung mein kaam karta hai. Mahine mein 2-3 chakkar foreign ke lag hi jaate hain. Chota US mein settled hai. P&G mein hai.
Me: Acha, Auntiji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #1: Meri badi bahu Mahindra mein kaam karti thi, par phir chod diya. Choti waali Infosys mein hai. Ghar se hi kaam karti hai. Unka bhi yahaan Dilli mein makaan hai. Par abhi US mein khareedne ka soch rahein hain.
Me: Ji Auntyji. Chaliye, main chalti hoon. Ek ghanta ho gaya mujhe yahaan baithe! Bye.

Then I remembered the day I met Grandmotherly Auntyji #2. The conversation went something like this:
Grandmotherly Auntyji #2: Beta yahaan rehte ho?
Me: Ji, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #2: Kaunse floor pe?
Me: 6th pe auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #2: Apna makaan hai?

I further recalled the conversation with Grandmotherly Auntyji #3. It went like this:
Grandmotherly Auntyji #3: Beta yahaan rehte ho?
Me: Ji, auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #3: Kaunse floor pe?
Me: 6th pe auntyji.
Grandmotherly Auntyji #3: Apna makaan hai?

Yes, you guessed it, all 6-7 conversations were so similar, it was uncanny. So you see, every time I go downstairs to the park, I have The Conversation with grandmotherly auntyjis. So far, I have gathered property and career information about 6-7 families in the apartment block. Now I am trying to figure out how much this information is worth. Do you think I will be able to quit my job and make millions sitting at home in the park?

No? I thought so too.

Have well meaning people ever shared information with you, information that you don’t see much use for?

Say hello to our new member

So the new writer I had spoken about in my last post arrived in October. But there is a slight hitch. TS tells me it will be a while before she starts writing for the blog, or reading, or even talking for that matter.

Seems like I will have to write on her behalf for some time. Ofcourse, I could write about her too, but based on the following data collected over the last few days, it is going to be rather mundane for you readers.
She’s sleeping
Oh, she’s awake. Come on everybody, lets play with her.
By the time everyone reaches her, she’s asleep.
Oh she’s awake. Come on….
Played in loop, with a lot of poop and peep and feed thrown in.

So I guess regular programming will resume here from now. The new writer will join us as soon as possible. For now, here’s a picture of how she looks like.


Go on, say hello. She’ll smile.