Twenty- five Seven

Taxing times

May 9, 2013
While going to office this morning Hubby Dear asked me if I needed any money and was most shocked when I said an emphatic NO.

Normally by the end of the first week of the month I have to make a trip to the bank to withdraw money for the rest of the month. I make so many trips to the Bank that it is almost like the obligatory daily visit to a Temple.

But this week thanks to the traders’ strike most shops in Mumbai have downed their shutters. Of course this is inconvenient to say the least but at least it has meant that I have achieved my dream of financial discipline – observing one day in the week as a NO EXPENSE DAY. And the traders are protesting the LBT or Local Body Tax which is an additional tax the Municipal corporation intends imposing on the traders. I have no idea exactly what this tax entails but considering our Municipal Corporation is one spineless organisation which bends to the will of the corrupt and ugly, I wholeheartedly agree with the traders who have dug in their heels and refuse to pay this tax.

However, there have been times over the past few days where I’ve had to dash out to make some urgent, last minute purchases and was happy to note that certain traders actually keep their shutters half down and give their loyal customers what they want provided they have phoned in advance. So in that small window of fifteen minutes or so when the shops are kept open ostensibly to be cleaned, a lucky customer can get what he wants.

Till today the chemists are still open so I was surprised when a lady came in to ask for “Lindt” chocolates of all things and when she was told that they didn’t stock them, she called up her home to ask if ” Toblerone” would do instead. That’s when I realised that there must be many shopoholics who are actually going through withdrawal symptoms with this strike but I actually couldn’t be happier. With Rs.500 notes vanishing faster than you can count them, the only way I can cope with inflation in my daily budget is by allocating one day in a week where I don’t spend any money – not even pay a bill. This is quite hard to do with every billing cycle being different so now that the shops are closed and I perforce have to close my wallet, I am thrilled that my expenses this month will be within my budget.

I am also happy that I can get out of many odd jobs to be done with the excuse that ” the shops are shut!!”
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An endless cycle

May 4, 2013
Wow Dinga came into our lives five weeks ago and from the moment we saw him our lives changed forever.

To start with we changed into grandparents and suddenly had to don the Mantle of Maturity. We had to become fonts of wisdom and knowledge of why kids cry or why they don’t cry. We had to activate our dormant reflexes of dandling babies, rocking them to sleep and rediscover the joys of conversing in the third person and delivering messages via the baby. As for me, particularly, I re-learnt the art of singing out messages and keeping the baby quiet with mindless chatter. For, as the decidedly older than me pediatrician told me rather sternly looking me straight in the eye, when I accompanied Anna Shetty to the clinic for Wow Dinga’s first immunisation, “Mom, babies don’t know any better. For them they still think they are in the womb. They don’t know what is day and what is night.”

Believe me nor do the parents or the grandparents.

Miraculously that little bundle of joy changes who you coo over in the hospital turns into a something that generates constant activity galvanising the care givers into an endless cycle of eat, pee, poo, eat , pee, poo interspersed with periods of sleep – deep contented slumber or fitful cat naps. Occasionally this is varied with periods of calm (Hallelujah!) or periods of screaming , red in your face screaming, squirming and wiggling ( O God please help me!!!) for absolutely no reason at all.

Yesterday, was one of those days when all we seemed to do was burp and nappy change from day break to nightfall and shush the baby into silence when he wasn’t peeing, pooing or eating. When we used up the last dry nappy he fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

And surprisingly, the very second he closed his eyes and yawned and stretched and nodded off , we couldn’t help but ooh and aah, miraculously forgetting those harrowed moments when we were as frustrated, bewildered and helpless as he was.
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- There is so much to say.
Rush Hour Morning

April 28, 2013

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto: Taso de kafo. Français : Photo d’une tasse de caffé Español: Taza de café (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda

Write an excuse for not working today.

Work means different things for different people. For housewives like me every day is a different day, an unstructured day with jobs that range from the mundane to the extraordinary. For my husband my work day consists of having coffee with my friends.

So this is my excuse for not “working” today

COFFEE MORNING

Most days are like clockwork when things go real smooth,
From breakfast till midnight like a well oiled machine.
But some days just tumble from one thing to the next till your day goes by in a seamless blur.

I was supposed to meet my friends at the club at ten for a spot of coffee that was long overdue.
But I hadn’t reckoned for a morning that began a little after four
When a wrong number from somewhere disturbed my deep slumber.

With this rude pre-dawn awakening
I needed to stretch a few extra Asans to shake out
the remnants of sleep.
As I twisted and turned from one pose to the next,
I completely forgot that I had to rush through the morning to
Meet with my friends.

So I sipped my green tea
and glanced through the paper
And rushed to the bedroom to help out my daughter.

I helped burp the baby
And loaded the laundry while I ironed the nappies of the day before.
Then dusted the bedroom and made up the beds,
Sorted out tablets and
Fried up the eggs.
Buttered the toast and stirred up the porridge.
Cut up the fruit and ordered the veg.
I massaged the baby and helped bathe her clean.

Rushed through my emails before
Showering.
Then dressed like a lady all perfumed and coiffed
I stepped out to wait for the one life that was working
As it slowly climbed up .
I jumped in and impatiently and waited for it to go down.
And it did ever so slowly stopping at each floor

When I got into my car and put it in gear
I saw the thin needle hover just above red.

So I ran to the petrol station to find I’m four cars behind.

I put down the window and tap my impatience while the

Mobile rings sharply and Jo at the other end says

“Where are YOU? We’re waiting it’s a half past Ten.

For me this was sacrilege for I’m never late
I mumble most sheepishly :

I’m sorry I was late, I forgot to look at my watch!!!