And today I realised...

I was gearing up to tell you what the denizens of Karthi are up to in the fourth phase of the lockdown. Then I checked the date and it rang a bell. I went back to the list of posts and went to the very last page and found... Yes! It has been ten years since I started blogging!!!

Why am I excited? Because it is very seldom that I stick to something productive and good for me. As many of you know, I am the queen of procrastination hereabouts, but another dubious distinction that I own is that I have a very well-developed case of startitis - the sufferers of this syndrome have multiple started projects, almost all of which are incomplete or still in the starting stage. 

But I must tell you that I am slowly coming out of that condition. Proof? This month, I completed one whole year of practicing Art of Living's Sudarshan Kriya without break. Today, I am on Day 390. Additionally, I have also been meditating daily for twenty minutes for 193 days. This year I completed two month-long daily-writing challenges, the second of which took slightly more than a month to complete 😊And guess what, I even painted the guest bedroom within a week with the help of my elder son!!!

This is what the room looked like after we took several heavy duty scrubbers to it.  Two years ago, when our labrador was a puppy and we hadn't built a kennel for her, she used to stay in this room. The result was a brown band all around the room at puppy height, which no amount of normal cleaning could remove. Thankfully, this was a project that was planned before the lockdown and we had all the essentials ready when the world went into a standstill.

The helpfully labelled box on the right contained leftover supplies from my first painting adventure about which I have written here and here. And now the room looks like this:

It is now a soothing mauve and is crying out for new curtains, which I hope to provide it with sometime when the world has righted itself on its axis once again. 

Meanwhile, back to my blog, I checked out the very first post of Not so Perfect Karthi written on the 20th of May, 2010. As I read it, I thought I would take you - all my readers - with me on a journey down memory lane. So here are a few posts that I liked and some that you liked (which I can see from the traffic, of course.)

Let me take you first to the post that garnered the most hits. I was in a very bad mood when I wrote this post, but as people took it up and started sharing their own experiences, I realized that I had written about a very important issue. Here it is: Thoughts of an Ordinary Malayali Woman

Geckos are still high on my list of enemies. Just five minutes ago, one startled me by making having a ruckus with its boyfriend and rushing from its hideaway to my floating shelf of books. The hussy!!! I have quite the mind to tell her off for the stains she leaves on my books - but I was the idiot in the first place to have merrily installed the floating shelves, so I think I will keep quiet. To know our history, you can read: 'ello 'ello Gecko Speaking

The description of a trip we took to Rameswaram and Dhanushkoti seems to be the favorite among  my travel posts. Here are my personal favorites: Hampi, Lakshadweep, Gavi  and Kallar and Meenmutty waterfall. The last one in that list shows how we used the first form of an app that we take so much for granted today - it is almost like opening a time capsule! Of course you can access all of them by clicking the Travel label. 

Then there are the umpteen movie reviews that have always have had a fan following, and slightly less popular ones about books. The parenting posts gave me a fit of nostalgia, thinking of those simpler days when it was so much more easier dealing with the kids.  Blessed Peace, Another Precious Year!, What does it take to make you happy? and Is this what parenting is all about? are a few of my favorites in this section.

Ah, I have been wallowing in all the memories evoked by reading all those posts while writing to you about them. It's almost midnight! The house is quiet, I can hear the rain-welcoming frogs croaking outside. No doubt several geckos are waiting to waylay me as I go to the bedroom. But I have to brave it unless I want to sleep in my not so comfortable writing chair. Goodbye for now! Hope I have given you something to enjoy!

And yes, a HUGE THANK YOU to all my readers for sticking with me for the past ten years! Couldn't have made it so far without you!😍💓

Living with anosmia

Yes, that is supposed to read the way it is written, I was NOT trying to write 'amnesia'. "Anosmia", as Google tells me, is "the loss of the sense of smell, either total or partial. It may be caused by head injury, infection, or blockage of the nose." That pretty little nose you see in my profile picture? Yes, it is only decorative in purpose, because I do not have any memory of sensing anything by way of that organ. Ok, I will not say that my nose is just decorative because it does help with holding up the specs that my high-myopic eyes need, it serves to humidify the air I breathe and keep out a bit of the dust.... Oh well, I just meant to say that I have not been able to smell anything for as long as I remember!

Legend has it that my Dad used to stuff my nose regularly with Vicks Vaporub due to my excessive affinity for all kinds of common colds that came my way. I must have been a serious sleep deterrent with my constantly stuffed nose! Anyway, according to the ENT my family took me to at the age of five, intemperate use of this topical ointment was the culprit. Henceforth, my Dad was very careful to rub Vicks only on the exterior of my nose when I continued my friendship with colds. There is no scientific evidence for the ability of Vicks to cause anosmia, so let me go on record here that I completely exonerate my father of any culpability in this. 

The second and last intervention was in my early adulthood when another ENT took it upon himself to get me back my missing olfactory sense by any means possible. He made me take enough zinc tablets to galvanize a small ship and also did some cauterizing and left my poor burned nostrils stuffed with cotton wool for three days. Nothing came of it. Even today, smells are as complete strangers to this nose as ice is to the Sahara. I will not bore you with a list of smells that I cannot sense. The nearest thing I know to smell is when I paint my nails and I have a burning sensation when the nail polish is right under my nose, unlike my female relatives who can smell freshly painted nails half an hour after the fact.

What brought my attention back to my "disability" was a discussion in my writing group that is led by Dr. Manu Remakanth. He is currently conducting an online writing workshop with a series of videos, the first three of which have dealt with how to use the sense of smell and descriptions deriving from it in one's writing. One of the exercises that he gave us was to list some smells and the memories that were tied to them. As you can guess, I couldn't contribute anything to the subsequent discussion. Description of my anosmia led to people sharing that it could cause frequent hospitalizations and near-death situations. This led me to think how I have coped with my anosmic condition so far in my life.

I think one of the greatest aids in coping with a disability is having a good support group. No one in my family or among my friends has teased me or looked down upon me for my lack of smelling prowess. No one has played any pranks on me for the disability. I have always had people to smell things for me if I was in doubt of anything.  My sister was always ready to conduct a sniff test of me or my attire. My sister-in-law and DH help me choose perfumes. My kids always smell food that is doubtful to tell me if it is still good or not. They can also tell me whether there is any smell of leaking LPG. My friends would walk with me past the Chem lab and tell me I was lucky that I didn't have to deal with the rotten-egg smell of hydrogen sulphide gas. They never said,"Oh poor you, because you cannot smell 'this or that'."

The second thing that has helped is counting the advantages that an anosmic nose gives me. To this day when I am talking to pregnant ladies who are complaining about the myriad smells that make them vomit, I am able to smile smugly and tell them no smell ever bothered me and I never had to vomit even once in both my pregnancies. If envious looks could maim, I would have to be carted around in a wheelbarrow by now. The same goes for when anyone in my family has stomach flu or such. DH gags when he is hit by the smell of vomit anywhere, while I can go in and take care of vomiting children and 'accidents'. Last August, when a stray dog died hit by a motorbike across the road in front of our house, it lay there festering for 18 hours and no one would go near it due to the smell. I dug up a pit in my upper yard, got my son to help me to carry the body and buried it. My son was heavily muffled up, even so he had to keep his face averted. I don't think I would have been able to do that if I could smell normally.

In fact, my sister-in-law (who is slightly hyperosmic) tells me that my anosmia might be a big factor in the success of my marriage because she usually flings away an item of clothing worn by DH and tells him, "It's a GOOD thing your wife cannot smell." And it is also a good thing that DH is a teetotaler, so I don't need to play detective with my nose to find out what he drinks. Taking things to another spiritual level, if the control of the senses is the sign of a good yogi, I have things quite easy. What with my faulty eyesight and my non-working nose, I only have three-and-a-half senses to control in the first place! 

As far as the literary device of evoking memories and sensations by describing unique smells goes, both in the appreciation of this device and in using it, I am certain that my imagination can cope with it even without having experienced smells. For instance, a good writer can make a person who has never seen or touched snow feel it just by describing it. Similarly, I can model myself on several literary giants who have crafted wonderful olfactory pictures to create something unique on my own. Besides, I have a host of smell stories in my community that I can always borrow and improve upon! And if I am in doubt about the smell of anything, my sister-in-law is one of the best olfactory resource persons on earth.  So I do not see the lack of the olfactory sense as a handicap in the literary field either.

No doubt I have missed a whole dimension of the physical world by not being able to smell. May be, by not having the ability to tie memories to smells, I have lost quite a few unique memories as well. But looking back, I can see that I have been immensely blessed in the disability that I was burdened with. So, if Mephistopheles himself were to come and offer me a good, perfectly working nose with retrograde effect in exchange for any of my other senses, or in exchange for my loving support group, I would give him a cold eye and a scornful lip and sashay away in absolute disdain.

Safe at home - 4th week of lockdown...

In the past two weeks, I saw the Fridays come and go with me not posting on my blog here. I found myself struggling with work on a tough assignment and it left me averse to spending any more time at the computer than I absolutely had to. The first week of the lockdown went by in a tizzy of making sure we had all the supplies we needed as well as making sure our loved ones are okay. With the second and third weeks, it was a problem of finding our rhythm and getting a routine going. We all buckled down to work in the morning. In the afternoons, DH relegated himself and his laptop to the master bedroom while the kids and I did our own things.

I'm afraid that we took the "vacation at home" thing a bit too seriously because in the first three weeks, we made homemade pizza, garlic bread, Kerala parathas and several kinds of fried snacks for tea. The result was that last Friday, I got on the scale and saw that I had put on three kilos!!! So now I've informed my family that we are going back to our plain fare, rice and green gram gruel if need be, so that we will still fit through the door after the lockdown is over. 

For our fortnightly vegetable shopping expeditions, I sewed up these:

I knew there would be a use for old jeans! Denim and some black felt were the closest woven fabrics I could find in my stash. I shaped them just enough to make them fit snugly. In fact, they fit so snugly that they tickle my lips, so my next iteration will be a mask that stands away a little from the end of the nose and lips. I already have a pattern downloaded for the same. But even this version is super cozy, sweat absorbent, moldable over the nose (twist tie inserts), washable and passes the "blow out the flame" test.

In the midst of the work craziness, cooking craziness and regular housework I spent half an hour every evening for two weeks on a live meditation program every evening. But soon I found that I was rushing around the whole day just to get from one task to another without stopping. So I decided that Sudarshan Kriya and Sahaj Samadhi meditation practice in the morning would have to do for each day. The last week, I slowly started discarding what I saw as non-essential in my days till I stopped feeling rushed - can you believe it? Being rushed, during a lockdown!!! If that isn't irony, I don't know what is!

So this week, both in honor of all those who couldn't even be with their loved ones for Easter or Vishu and in the cause of minimalising, we had a pretty low-key sadya on Tuesday. Usually I make all the requisite curries that fill the top part of the banana leaf for the Vishu sadya -  pachadi, kichadi, olan, thoran and aviyal. Not to mention parippu, sambar and kaalan to add to the rice. This year, we made do with two side dishes and two curries. The kids didn't want to cancel their sweet dish, so I made the simple palpayasam. And that was that. The only thing luxurious about our Vishu this year was the Kani - with its sumptuous display of golden blossoms...

My Dad's golden shower tree provided us with that opulence. Speaking of my Dad, I am very grateful that he has taken our warnings so much to heart that now he has finally started calling us when he needs anything from the shops. In the first week, DH called him just as he was about to take the car out to buy something that he had forgotten when he bought things before the lockdown. After our repeated requests not to go out, he has finally brought himself to ask for our help when he needs something. That is a really hard lesson for an independent man like him, but he has learned it!

I also found itty bits of time here and there to finally finish this muffler/scarf that now only needs a little trim of the tassels and a little blocking to finish it up...

I finally finished and uploaded my final assignment yesterday. Now I am going to give myself a real summer break with little work at the computer except my daily writing assignment and my blog, of course. I am going to find more time and energy to play with this little gal..

I hope you all remember Minnu, from here . She has grown bigger, has been weaned (although she desperately tries sometimes and gets whacked by her mother Chunchu), and resides in our garage most of the time. When she wants company, she comes and mews at our front door. Her voice is uncannily like the homemade whistle we used to make with green coconut leaves in our golden days, so DH has given her the alternate name of 'Olappeeppi'. It looks like her mother has given her over to our care just like her grandmother Chakki left Minnu's father Akrami with us. We don't mind! 

Everyday, we call on each other to witness some new funny thing that the kitten does. One day we screamed with laughter as she scrambled on our jack fruit tree and hung on there with her arms flung out as our lab Goldie came gamboling out of her kennel. Another day she reenacted Hollywood hero-style action trying to escape Goldie - you've all seen those stunts in which motor bikes skid under eighteen-wheelers and come upright on the other side, haven't you? Minnu skid under the garage doors just like that! Kunjunni and I were doing some weeding in our upper yard at the time and we had to cling on to the rake and spade to save us from toppling over with laughter. 

I'm not saying that things have been perfect all the time at Karthi. It cannot be when a stir-crazy father, a football-loving-and-missing teenager, a TV-loving and sedentary pre-teen and a mother who goes crazy if she doesn't have a long stretch of alone time everyday are cooped up together at home. Fortunately, we take pains to accommodate each other, find common interests and have decided to accept all this. That is called love, in my definition and my cup overflows. Hope all of you are finding your own havens at home in these difficult times!

List-making in the time of Corona

Lists are so calming to make. Especially in times like these when we can see no end-date to the difficulties that we are facing. My bullet journal is now being filled up with lists of different kinds. Permit me to share just a couple of them with you today.

Things that I am absurdly grateful for, in no particular order:

1. Kerala's healthcare system
2. My family's health
3. Being in the country side at a time like this
4. Having lots of space in and around the house so that none of us feel confined
5. Having our Lab Goldie who keeps the boys fit and active by chasing them around the house in the mornings and evenings
6. Having children old enough to not to have to look after and entertain all the time
7. Having children young enough to still want our company at this time
8. My to-be-read pile
9. DH having a job that allows him to work from home so that he is kept busy
10. Amazon Prime Video and 6 unseen seasons of Downton Abbey
11. My craft stash and projects
12. Kunjunni just finishing his board exams on the day all CBSE exams were suspended
13. Copy-editing clients who keep me on my toes and help me use my brain for things other than worrying about the news
14. Daily evening guided meditations on the Art of Living YouTube Channel
15. The Government of Kerala that is leading from the front in this fight
16. The Government of India that is leading the fight nationwide
17. Friends who are reaching out
18. Our neighbors who are keeping the curfew beautifully, yet keeping in touch

I shall stop here, even though the list is incomplete...

Things I hope never to take for granted once this nightmare is over, again in no particular order:

1. Going to the library
2. Visiting friends and family
3. Planning and taking small trips
4. Eating out
5. Walking through the market
6. Taking bus rides
7. Going to my favorite stationery store and browsing through all the products
8. Grocery shopping
9. Being able to pop in at neighbors' houses
10. Online shopping
11. The healthcare system
12. Going out without having to wear masks and carry hand sanitisers
13. Our public parks, museums and beaches
14. The freedom to roam

Every difficulty is an opportunity to learn new things, to re-calibrate, to open our eyes to things we have been ignoring or suppressing.

If the virus had not manifested itself, we should have been in Bangalore today, on a four-day trip. We cancelled our tickets long before the government suspended all travel. We gathered groceries and put ourselves under lock down three days before the government declared it. Everything is alright in our little corner of the world. 🙏

The elephant in the room...

Till today, I have been avoiding this topic on purpose so that I can send out happy, frivolous tidbits that can lift the spirits of those who read my musings...

I don't know about you all... On my phone's browser, a page has been open for a week now. Every 12 hours or so, I pull it down from the top to refresh it. The loading bar travels its path from the left to the right. What I get at the end of it are numbers. Numbers that keep on dialing up with each refresh. Numbers with plus signs beside them; numbers in red with plus signs beside them. All telling me how many people have been affected by country and the number per million of the population.

Am I being ghoulish? I don't know. All the political unrest of a few weeks ago has been swept away by this deluge. The burning streets and neighborhoods must be eerily empty now. If this is not a sign of how unstable and unpredictable life is on this earth, I don't know what is. And yet, even in the face of a scourge that is spreading fast and winnowing the weak and infirm as well as some fit ones, there are people who are selfish, careless and simply wanton, for want of a better word.

Governments can only do so much. A month ago, a young guy from DH's company returned from Singapore with a cold, went to the hospital, disclosed where he had come from and was immediately asked to enter quarantine by the doctor. A health worker visited him as soon as he had returned home and advised him and his family on how to keep the quarantine. Every day he received a phone call to assess his health condition, every second day a health worker visited his house to make sure that he was okay. This is the level of care given by our government. No one can do it better.

And then came a few irresponsible people from Italy, the Gulf and so on and all hell broke loose in Kerala. Reports are coming in from all over Kerala about people simply refusing to quarantine themselves for two weeks at home. At the same time, there have been some very heartening news items like that of an aunt who missed her daughter-like niece's wedding because she was completely healthy but in home quarantine because she had been to Qatar to visit her new grandchild. 

Even while deaths are being reported in other states, Kerala still hasn't had even one fatality due to the flu till now. Touch wood. Even the extremely elderly set of parents from Pathanamthitta have been coaxed back from the brink of death by the wonderful health carers. Even as I write this, the health department workers are each doing the work of ten or more people without thought of shift, holiday or rest to keep us safe. 

All at Karthi heaved a huge sigh of relief on this Wednesday because Kunjunni's board exams were finally over. It was just at the right time too, because on Thursday, all of the rest of the exams of CBSE 10th standard were postponed indefinitely. Kunjunni who had missed playing football in our yard for a whole year with his friends - a couple of whom were in the tenth themselves - enjoyed an evening full of football, scaring the poor front yard plants once again.

All his friends are from hereabouts and they don't go out much or use public transport to get around. Yesterday again he had an evening to play. But then came disturbing news. One of his friends had gone away to play on a hired turf. One neighbor came back from Chennai when his university closed indefinitely. He was required to attend a mandatory health check for crossing the state border. He was declared healthy for the time being and asked to remain inside his home for 14 days. And he immediately came out and mingled with his friends joking that he would not be cooped up at home come what may and spoil two weeks of his unexpected vacation.

Kunjunni had plans to play again today at 7 am. But yesterday, we all heard the PM's address and the whole family talked about the need for care and home quarantine. I told Kunjunni frankly that I was upset about his two friends who were flouting the health guidelines. I told him that I didn't have any right to admonish them, and that he was the only one with whom I could share my concern. He didn't tell me what he had decided. But today morning at 7, when his friends came, he came and told me that he was giving them his ball, but he wouldn't be going out to play. Understandably he was morose and gloomy for sometime. But he made me immensely proud for making the right choice.

A home quarantine is not at all hard on me because I am a homebody and have enough to work and play at home. But it is tough on the men in my family. DH loves driving all over on Saturdays and even on Sunday, he will all too often announce, "I'll be back in fifteen minutes" ostensibly on some errand, but really to take a spin on the scooter. He loves going away on trips and planning months ahead. Yesterday we cancelled our train tickets to Bangalore where we had planned to catch up with friends and family. Besides, he will have to start working from home where the internet is at times spotty. 

My father who will turn 85 this year is fiercely independent. We offered to do all his shopping so that he could remain at home. Yesterday, the PM asked citizens of 60 and above to stay at home. I called my father to reiterate our offer to do his shopping. He happily told me that he had driven out yesterday to fill his and my brother's prescriptions and had refilled his pantry. So he can sit comfortably at home for a month. He is much the same as my DH when it comes to staying at home, so I will need to keep an eye on his movements. 

All in all, it is going to be a bit tough on all of us in the coming days. But for nothing will I flout the government suggestions. On Sunday the 22nd, we will be strictly observing the janata curfew. And yes, we will be out on our balcony, ringing a bell for five minutes at 5 pm that day to thank all the selfless health workers of our country. We owe them more than we can ever know. 

Meanwhile I have a few projects lined up at Karthi for these trying times. More of that next week. 

Meanwhile, stay in, stay healthy, stay happy! Break the chain! My prayers go out to all of you!

Why I don't subscribe to the martyr mom persona

I fell in love with English literature at the age of fifteen. Two years later, I fell in love with the guy who was to become my best friend and partner for life. I would have been extremely happy with these two loves. Looking around at the lives that I see now, I am extremely grateful that I still have these two  in my life. But time had kept aside a truly wonderful gift for me. At the age of twenty nine, I fell in love again. It was the moment that I became a mother.

Growing up, I was not a very maternal person. I didn't subscribe to all the mushiness associated with marriage and bearing children. I loved my siblings, of course, but I seldom had any affinity for children as such. I would tilt my head and look on curiously when female relatives of my generation played house and found great joy in pretending their ragamuffin dolls were their kids. I'd rather climb trees and dream away in their high branches or immerse myself in a book.

But all that changed when I became a mother. I was brought up to be a career woman, there was no other option available at the time. It was what I was expected to be even after getting married. But it flipped the exact moment that I became a mother. As my babies started expressing their unique personalities, I understood that I could not ever leave them and go to work. I couldn't bear to think of getting to know about all their antics secondhand. I couldn't miss their smiles or tears. I couldn't not be the person to take care of them when they were ill. That is how I came to be a stay-at-home mother (SAHM) despite all the flak that I had to take from my well-wishers.

Yesterday, I watched a video on YouTube: Feminism, Mom and the Game of Chess . The speaker in the video describes his mother in the stereotypical Indian mom way - the mother who cooks four different types of breakfast a day to suit all tastes, the lynch-pin of the house without whom the family has to subsist on Quaker Oats all the time and without whom the house became a pig sty. The woman who gives up playing chess because her husband doesn't allow her to participate in the nationals. Ultimately when the father orders the mother to give up her promotion and get back home, she immediately obeys. It is heartening to see that the son cares for his mother's dreams and wishes, but never once does he say that he offered to help her in her chores, nor did he or his brother learn to cook and clean the house so that his mother could pursue her career and get what recognition was due to her.

Although my decision to become a SAHM was partly unconscious, I was sure of one thing - I would not be a martyr mother. That was a decision I took long ago. I was determined not to become a door mat. So I make one kind of breakfast each day - according to the thing I've made, it might be thoroughly disliked by at least one person in my family. E.g., Kunjunni hates upma, DH dislikes wheat dosa, they both don't like pancakes and Ani hates all vegetables in general. If anyone doesn't like the particular dish of the day, they are free to fix themselves something that they do like. And of course, I make my own favorites sometimes even if nobody else likes them in particular.

When Karthi was being built, the thing I most wanted to get right was the kitchen. I wanted it to be an open-plan kitchen near the living room. DH hated the idea. But I was adamant about that one point. Because I knew that if the kitchen was relegated to an invisible corner of the house, I would be the only one working in it while the menfolk lolled around on sofas watching TV. This was one valuable piece of knowledge I had gained from living in seven different rentals during our marriage of which two had open-plan kitchens. DH and I compromised by having the option of closing off the view of the kitchen from the living room with curtains if required.

So our boys have grown up watching me cook and helping me as part of their daily lives. I have made sure that my kids know the rudiments of taking care of the home. With two boys, it is easier to do all the chores by myself instead of having to direct them constantly. We don't do chore charts and such, but I ask them to clean their rooms, fold their clothes and occasionally do their laundry. Kunjunni has a knack for doing things and a genuine liking for learning how to cook. When I went to the Attukal Ponkala last week, he astonished me by making iddlis by himself without step-by-step instructions from me. He also told me where he had erred slightly, but all of them had a jolly time at breakfast. 

One of the things I love observing while visiting people is the family dynamics, especially in relation to women. Some women are genuinely generous and derive the greatest pleasure from giving away the best of their food to others. Conversely there are also some women who make it a point to choose the burnt, underdone or otherwise imperfect parts of food for themselves and then look about for approval and appreciation from their audience. They make me gag with their piety and their naked approval-seeking attitude. In my family, we share and share alike. Occasionally, if I am feeling very generous, I might give up a portion of dessert. But that is it.

With all the recent interest in mind-body medicine, I have been going through Deepak Chopra's and Louise L. Hay's works on the subject. In the book You Can Heal Yourself, Hay outlines the emotional states that cause different diseases to manifest in different parts of the body. She attributes cancer to resentments, secret grief and hatreds. She attributes menstrual problems to rejection of one's femininity, guilt and fear. Breast problems are directly linked to motherhood issues. Taking everything into consideration, it seems to me that it is important for a woman to make self-loving choices or end up having dire health problems. And from what I have seen of some women succumbing to such diseases in old age, they will be further criticized for being inconsiderate because they never cared for their own health while toiling away for others.

I have really come to love the art of homemaking over the past few years even if I was brought up to look on it as drudgery. I also don't think that my home or garden needs to be immaculate showpieces to show how industrious a homemaker I am. I am not what one calls "house-proud" at all. A decent level of cleanliness, a lot of comfort and personal touches are the things I go for. And of course, I love cooking things that my family loves. I would never have taken up baking if my kids hadn't pushed me into it.

One thing I have come to notice in life is that if you keep constantly giving up the things you like for the convenience of others, they will just take it for granted. So if I feel like going away for a meditation retreat, I inform my family in advance, take moderate steps to ensure their well being in my absence and I go. I don't cook and freeze meals for their use all through my absence. If a literary festival comes to town, I see how I can accommodate it into my schedule without disrupting anything absolutely important, and I go. DH used to see me crocheting and criticize it as a time-wasting activity. But I still do it because I love it.  Being a homemaker is a 24/7 job the whole year through. It doesn't change even on vacations with family. So I deserve such small breaks. 

The martyr thing? Not for me, no sirree!

And the cats keep coming...

Akrami has not come back so far. Last week, as we came back home, the kids saw a similarly colored cat running away from our porch. All of us ran after him calling out loud, but of course it was not him. A few weeks ago, DH finally broke down and asked our neighbor about him and she too said that she felt he was gone because he didn't come around whenever fish was delivered at her home. But two days later she called out to us and said someone had seen him wandering in the valley below our hillock. We took it with a pinch of salt, because nothing could have prevented him from coming to our place, nothing.

Meanwhile there is no dearth of cats at Karthi. Here is Akrami's wife Chunchu...

As you can see she shares her husband's love of yoga and the ability to make herself comfortable wherever she is. Her greatest drawback as we see it is her lack of conversation.And her high-pitched mew simply grates on our nerves, but we tolerate it as she is our daughter-in-law.  Here are the kittens she brought with her the first time over.

She brought two little 'uns that you see in the front of the picture. Then there was a half-grown cat who is staring directly at us at the back. Of course we had to name her Pirate for the black patch!

We were happy when we saw Chunchu pregnant and then brought us her kittens. But we soon noticed that she kept away Akrami and tried to insinuate her kids into the house whenever we weren't paying attention. We assured her as we do all cats that she is allowed to use the enclosed garage, but sorry, we couldn't have her in the house. 

One day when the cat family was here, DH brought home some ulli vada and called out to Akrami. Akrami came over the wall and was making his leisurely way to the porch. That is when a tan and black Pirate streaked past us. She went right up to Akrami and slapped him on the cheek! We were all so stunned! Akrami, the poor guy, quietly turned back and went away. DH was so incensed that he ran off Pirate, the kittens and Chunchu. He made it quite clear to them that Karthi was Akrami's home first and no one should drive him away. I can tell you that Pirate was persona non grata for a long time. Only Chunchu returned meekly with Akrami for food.

For all her slim looks and meek little mews, even Chunchu could be aggressive. One evening, Kunjunni gave them food in the cat bowl. We had craftily buried anchovies in rice mixed with curd so that they would have to eat the rice to reach the fish. There is only one bowl and Akrami doesn't like sharing bowl time. So he graciously allowed his wife to eat first and lay down just inside the front door, chatting to us. About two minutes later, Chunchu came and lay down beside him. By this time, Kunjunni and I moved to the porch steps to enjoy the evening sun. So we placed the bowl below the steps. Akrami strolled down and began to eat at his leisure. 

A few minutes later, Chunchu slowly nudged her way between us and went down and sat Sphinx-style in front of the bowl. A minute later, she tucked up her front feet beneath her chest and napped a little. Then she got up and swiped her right arm straight across Akrami's face. It was as though she were saying, "You lump, I ate just a little at first so that you wouldn't have to remain hungry for long. And here you have finished more than half already!"

Akrami didn't make any protest and just rolled on to his side beside the bowl as though that was all he had intended to do in the first place. He resolutely ignored two humans whose jaws had hit the step beneath them. Chunchu in the meanwhile ate so daintily, again avoiding looking at us gaping at her! My little feminist heart was torn between going, "My poor Akrami" and "You go, girl!"

One day after this incident, Akrami visited me in the afternoon, an unusual time for him. As I gave him food, he kept going to the entrance of our porch and looking out towards our neighbor's house. I asked him, "Are you scared that she will come?" and I kid you not, he looked up at me and said "Yes!" I laughed so loud and long that he looked thoroughly miffed! That day our kids learned a new acronym - BP (Bharyaye pedi - scared of wife/hen-pecked)!

Now Chunchu and her daughter come visiting from time to time. At the time Akrami disappeared, Chunchu was pregnant again. Last month, she brought home another pair of kittens...

They were almost identical with very few markings to distinguish them.  So we named the one with a vaguely 'M' shaped marking on her head Minnu and the other was christened Chinnu. As of last week Chinnu is missing, Minnu visits us with her mother and aunt during the weekends. 

Meanwhile Pirate is back on the accepted list. That is one cat who we'd like to know better. Because if we give her something that she likes very much, she too goes "Nomm, nomm" just like her father. And she can talk too. Last weekend she was on child-care duty. Minnu was crawling all over her, slapping her, biting her neck and rolling all over her. But she was very patient and didn't hit back at all. 

So no, there is no dearth of cats here at Karthi. But we still miss a yellow and white tom cat...