I got back home around 10 p.m. from India and both my kids were tired and sleepy. However, on the dining table a place was set for me and there were Quiche ( my youngest baked it), French fries and a pot of tea.

Then my son opened the fridge and took a packet of Red Leicester cheese and told me

“Mom, I know you wouldn’t had any cheese while you were in India and so I bought your favourite Red Leicester cheese for you”

When I lived in England, I used to buy any cheese that was on sale and once managed to buy red Leicester. I loved it. I have never had them after that until a couple of months ago, I found it at Aldi’s. My son was with me that day and as I bought it, I told him how much I loved Red Leicester.

There is no Aldi where I stay. The nearest one is in next suburb and for my son to have gone to Aldi’s to buy Red Leicester, it meant, he took the bus, walked to the shopping mall, bought the cheese and then walked back to the bus stop and took another bus home.  But he did that for me.

It is always the little things that make me the happiest person on earth..

Oh the dramas

My life is full of dramas, but the events of the past two weeks would win the top prize for this year.

So, I went to India for a short trip for three reasons

  1. I had a work assignment
  2. My best friend is in  India on an assignment and I wanted to see him
  3. My mother turned 80 and although I have no love for her, I felt it is still my duty to see her as 80th birthday is supposed to be a major milestone in a person’s life.(not sure why)

Everything was going according to plan. Before, I left my friend had told me that he will be sending his driver to pick me up from the airport and when I asked him how will I recognize the driver, he replied that the driver will be standing there naked. So, when I came out of the airport, I looked for the naked driver.. couldn’t find him.  I sort of expected my friend to give the driver a sign which would have something like “welcome home, Pain in the Butt” and as I scanned the people standing at the waiting area, I noticed someone  holding a coffee cup near his mouth in attempt to hide his face. My friend assumed erroneously that I wouldn’t recognize him and since I have known him for a very long time the chances of me not recognizing him even though he was incognito was pretty slim. So round 1, I won.

Then we went to his house, he made me Chaya, just the way I like it and we talked till his morning alarm started to ring at 6.30 a.m. I had a meeting at 9 and he had to be at work at 8.30 and so we thought we will sleep for 1 hour and will go for brekky at  7.45 a.m. which we did.

The next few days, I finished what I came for and my friend had to go to Beijing for a meeting. Which gave me three days of free time and I thought I would go and see my mother. So, I phoned my mother. I was suffering from a serious case of sleep deprivation when I made the call.

I said Amma this is me and I was showered with a volley of insults. It took me a little while to realize I wasn’t talking to my mother, but my sister younger to me. I assumed it is her, because she is the only one who can rant like a lunatic.

So, the gist of the matter is, I am not allowed to call my mother, because I write about her in this blog. What puzzles me the most is, I never asked my sisters to read this blog. They are nosey and want to know what I am up to and they check my blog everyday and then they get agitated. The simple solution for their problem would be not to read the blog.I have not had any contact with them, nor am I interested in wanting to find out. The ranting lunatic had in fact checked my Linkedin account three weeks ago. It is not rocket science to find out who checked your profile on LinkedIn because LinkedIn will tell you who checked your profile. It is like they just won’t leave me alone.

Years ago, when my maternal grandmother went to stay with her youngest son, he and his family wouldn’t let us see our grandmother. This is a common occurrence in our family and I was sort of expecting it to happen one of these days. You know, the keepers of the aged get the free ride to be bullies and impose control and their version of what is right and wrong. As I have no intention of having anything to do with my mother, I had hoped that with this trip to India, I could wash off my hands and live happily ever after. I knew the keepers of the aged(aka as my sisters) in their quest for justice for their aged mother wouldn’t let me know when she dies. So, I know I wouldn’t be attending the funeral when that day arrives. So, technically this was the last visit I was going to make to visit my mother and since I was told I can’t se her anymore there is nothing much I could do, but to consider that she is no more and go on with my life.

My friend stays in a service apartment in Bangalore and the only things he had in the kitchen were water, tea and sugar. I wanted to cook something for him when he came back from Beijing and it was a struggle. I bought a packet of meat masala powder and cooked motta perattal, and prawn curry and served it with ready made parathas.. I am pretty sure both the dishes tasted exactly the same, again there was nothing much I could do.

I managed to find the Chef who used to work at the old Rice Bowl. He was so happy to see me after 23 years. I had a Tibetan patient and the Chef would send food for me and the patient. He also taught me how to cook Indo-Chinese dishes before I left India.

I trekked some of the hills that Beautiful Eyes and I used to climb. I had hoped to build a roadside memorial for him and I was sure I would be able to find the spot where he had the accident. At that time, the highway was a single lane and not any more. Everything has changed and I couldn’t find the spot. So no roadside memorial.

I bought a Kasavu mundu for my son and three Ikat sarees. (one for Yaya, one for Baby and one for the girl my son will bring home one day) I have always loved handwoven Ikat sarees and I wanted my kids to have one as I am pretty sure a decade from now, there won’t be any more Ikat weavers in India.

As for the sparring my friend and I are known to do and keep a score, except for the first evening where I recognized him, I lost the rest of the games. I didn’t know the capital of Liberia, where Moldova is located etc. I said the hills I trekked were exactly the same as the ones found in Sholay movie..which is grammatically incorrect as they can be similar, not same.

Although I didn’t get to see my mother, I had a really good holiday. I ate a lot, met people who played a huge role in making me who I am and managed to spend time with my best friend.



Many ways

My son is beginning to get stressed. Grade 12.. this is it.. the events this year will play a major role in his life. The past few days the weather here is extremely hot and I make it a point to sit outside with the kids at night. At the moment, Venus is visible in the South West sky and I like watching the stars and talking to the kids while enjoying a bit of breeze.

“Mom, what if I don’t pass IB exams?” He asked me this evening.

I told him ” sky wouldn’t fall if you fail the IB exams. You can go to TAFE, get a diploma, use that and go to Uni and get a degree then use that degree and go and do your masters. There are many paths you can follow that will take you to your final destination. Your job is to give your best shot and that is it.”

He looked a bit relieved. And I know I will be repeating this a few more times.

Seriously though, I remember the stress I used to be under. “oru varsham povum” ( you will lose a year) that was the only thing that mattered. It was something worst than dying. People used  fake their birth certificates at the time of applying for jobs, in order to gain an extra year of work and therefor more money.

I wish someone had told me when I was young that the sky wouldn’t fall if you didn’t follow the standard format



I moved my residence twice, refused to give the forwarding address to the realtor. Changed my house telephone number and pays for having it unlisted. I am not part of any mallu organization. I do not speak to Mallu friends who knew me here for fear of my older sister contacting them to find me. I walked away from every support network I had here including my relatives.

I have gone to all these extent because I really do not want anything to do with my sisters.

There came a point where I had to make a choice. I just couldn’t go through the theatrics any more.

I have my share of struggles, but that is ok for I am capable of handling it. I like my life the way it is. I get to choose who I want to talk to and what I want to do with my life. I also get to choose how I raise my kids. I get to decide what I consider as my success or my failures. I am the captain of my ship and I sail wherever I want to go.

I was so angry when my sister attempted to contact Yaya. First of all she was undermining my authority. I guess she was trying to show me that she doesn’t give a fig for my feelings, after all she was speaking to her niece!. Now that Yaya is 18, I will not tell her not to talk to my sisters, I have to let her make those choices even though I will not be happy.. I hope she wouldn’t talk to her aunt because my child has no idea how vindictive and vengeful my older sister can be. Or how my sister will play her manipulative games and turn my child against me.

I have been so happy and peaceful. I love the house where I live, we have so much of laughter and fun.. I have a beautiful garden… and yet I am beginning to feel the need to take my kids and run.. some where far away from my family.. My family is a like jelly fish..and I keep cutting the tentacles and it keeps growing. It is a nightmare that I can’t just seem to escape.