Twenty- five Seven

Boy Doll, Girl Doll

March 3, 2013

Boy Doll , Girl Doll

“What can I get you?” I asked my little girls as I was preparing to leave for a holiday , my first ever , without them.

“Can I have anything I want?” they asked in unison.

“Of course, anything you want?” said I,slightly scared that they may ask for something impossible.

“I want a picture book,” said the older one

“And I want a baby boy doll,” piped up her little sister.

Christmas lights outside Hamleys London store in 2004. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The words rang in my ears as I went through the doll section at Hamleys, the iconic toy store in London. Here I was, having the dream vacation but miserable every time I saw a child. Like all mothers of toddlers, I yearned for a holiday without having to worry about two little girls tugging at my hand all day long. What I didn’t bargain for was that deep gnawing feeling, that tugging at my heart every time I saw a little girl, a feeling that was intensified when I saw two little girls walking down the road, playing in the park or just looking at a museum exhibit as I was.

My little girls were perfect – sisters who were born just eighteen months apart. With the younger one always trying to copy her elder sister, the girls were like twins, an idea re-enforced by my passion for dressing them up identically. But the girls were as alike as chalk and cheese : the elder one quiet, responsible, lady like and gentle, the little one chatty and bratty. And all through the holiday I remembered my girls and was just dying to get back to them.

I searched all over London for the perfect little boy doll and was told that there aren’t really any “BOY DOLLS”. So finally when I saw the doll section at Hamleys, I was convinced that this was the place where I would find one: and there it was a cute little bald baby,dressed in blue overalls,sleeping blissfully in a wicker basket.

It was really early morning when we arrived home but that did not stop my two little girls from rushing into my arms welcoming me with rib crushing hugs and millions of wet kisses. Amid chattering and hugs we opened our bags and delivered the goodies, thrilled to hear their appreciative oohs and aahs of delights. My little girl was thrilled with her doll and immediately began feeding it with the little milk bottle she found in the basket.

When the doll wee-ed, her sister told her that the clothes needed to be changed and the two girls busied themselves taking off the doll’s clothes. Almost immediately their chatter stopped and I sensed a perceptible disappointment.

“Mama!” they wailed together,” This is not a boy doll. It’s a girl.”

This post is a part of <a title=”Write Over the Weekend” href=”http://blog.blogadda.com/category/write-over-the-weekend-wow” target=”_blank”>Write Over the Weekend</a>, an initiative for <a title=”Reach out to the largest community of Indian Bloggers” href=”http://www.blogadda.com/” target=”_blank”>Indian Bloggers</a> by BlogAdda
Covering the tummy of the yummy mummy

March 3, 2013
English: pregnancy at 8th month (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Anna Shetty has been expanding rapidly these past few months and being the concerned mother, I thought I’d help her out with her shrinking wardrobe. Her initial idea was to borrow some of my clothes and for a while I was flattered: after years of being told how awful my clothes were, she was actually willing, nay wanting to get into my shirts???? The joy was only short lived when she found that while the clothes fitted her girth, they were falling off her shoulders leaving her with no option of getting her own.

Shopping for maternity clothes

Now if you are pregnant in Bombay and want to shop for maternity wear – DON’T even try. Most shops don’t have clothes for pregnant women – you are just advised to buy clothes in a larger size. And those shops that do sell maternity clothes have ugly, dull coloured ,shapeless garments that open down the front.

Tailoring a better option?

So I decided to tailor my own maternity clothes for her. After hunting down my old notebook where I’d written down instructions on how to make a draft, I sat down to making a paper pattern relying largely on my wits and my foggy memory. I took out my old sewing machine, cleaned it up and oiled it and laboured over two days to make the perfect maternity outfit. Alas! It was not to be. With a garment that was made to measurements that were neither hers nor mine, it was no surprise when it fitted neither of us.

With my enthusiasm thus dampened, I decided not to waste time and fabric sewing the clothes myself but getting them stitched from the local tailor. Rajesh Tailor who lives down the lane squeezed my order in and gave me four shirts which were reasonably “fashionable”. With stretchable tights worn below Anna Shetty managed quite well till I realised that while these clothes covered her bump, they were most unsuitable for feeding the baby.

This led to a mad scramble to get something organised before the baby was born.

Going back with more fabric to Rajesh was not an option because by now he was not only completely confused with my instructions of making something large but not so large and fitted but not too tight, but completely fed up as well and flatly refused to make any more clothes for me. This left me with no choice but to go down to Navinbhai my tried and trusted tailor of over forty years.

But, I should have known better. Navinbhai is a specialist of sari blouses and at best a Xerox tailor or one who can copy perfectly. Moreover, he is notorious for taking his time and has occasionally delivered the garment just after the event. But I am the eternal optimist and gave him two lengths of beautifully patterned fabric – soft cotton that would be perfect to wear in hospital. I spent ten minutes patiently drawing out the design, explaining how I wanted the lace to be positioned,how the garment should flow gracefully, how the neat opening down the front should not hurt baby and above all dinning into his head the importance of getting the garments ready BEFORE the baby was born.

After two weeks of intense badgering and hounding,Navinhbhai gave me a call informing me that the clothes were ready me and I hot footed it to his shop, pleased as punch that finally I would get the perfect maternity wear. I even imagined setting up a new line of business – Great Expectations: Maternity wear for the Fashionable Mum . I was gob smacked when he held up the garments : there were not two dresses but THREE. Obviously there was a HUGE gap between my concept and his reality because the long flowing knee length dress I had envisaged was now converted into TWO baggy tops that barely covered the bottom !!! When I asked him how he could make two garments out of material meant for one, he just shrugged his shoulders and said ” But there was so much cloth!!!”

Moral of the story : Sari blouse tailors can only make sari blouses and expecting them to do anything else is not great but downright foolish.
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Lessons shared

March 2, 2013

After a pretty harrowing week I finally found something in my mail box that made me smile.

I just had to share this session of old management lessons with everyone. I wonder how many of my school friends would remember the Lessons that were read out to us during Assembly which always ended so :
Thus endeth the lesson, the most awaited words in the whole assembly.

Enjoy!

Lesson 1 :
A priest offered a Nun a lift.
She got in and crossed her legs, forcing her gown to reveal a leg.
The priest nearly had an accident.
After controlling the car, he stealthily slid his hand up her leg…
The nun said, ‘Father, remember Psalm 129?’
The priest removed his hand. But, changing gears, he let his hand slide up her leg again. The nun once again said, ‘Father, remember Psalm 129?’

The priest apologised ‘Sorry sister but the flesh is weak.’
Arriving at the convent, the nun sighed heavily and went on her way.
On his arrival at the church, the priest rushed to look up Psalm 129.

It said, ‘Go forth and seek, further up, you will find glory.’

Moral of the story: If you are not well informed in your job, you might miss a great opportunity.

Lesson 2 :
A sales rep, an administration clerk, and the manager are walking to lunch when they find an antique oil lamp.
They rub it and a Genie comes out. The Genie says, ‘I’ll give each of you just one wish.’
‘Me first! Me first!’ says the admin clerk.. ‘I want to be in the Bahamas , driving a speedboat, without a care in the world.’ Poof! She’s gone.

‘Me next! Me next!’ says the sales rep. ‘I want to be in Hawaii , relaxing on the beach with my personal masseuse, an endless supply of Pina Coladas, and the love of my life.’ Poof! He’s gone.

‘OK, you’re up,’ the Genie says to the manager. The manager says, ‘I want those two back in the office after lunch.’

Moral of the story: Always let your boss have the first say.

Lesson 3

An eagle was sitting on a tree resting, doing nothing.
A small rabbit saw the eagle and asked him, ‘Can I also sit like you and do nothing?’

The eagle answered: ‘Sure, why not.’
So, the rabbit sat on the ground below the eagle and rested.

All of a sudden, a fox appeared, jumped on the rabbit and ate it.

Moral of the story:To be sitting and doing nothing, you must be sitting very, very high up.

Lesson 4
A turkey was chatting with a bull. ‘I would love to be able to get to the top of that tree’ sighed the turkey, ‘but I haven’t got the energy.’

‘Well, why don’t you nibble on some of my droppings?’ replied the bull. It’s full of nutrients.’
The turkey pecked at a lump of dung, and found it actually gave him enough strength to reach the lowest branch of the tree.

The next day, after eating some more dung, he reached the second branch..
Finally after a fourth night, the turkey was proudly perched at the top of the tree.
He was promptly spotted by a farmer, who shot him out of the tree.

Moral of the story:
Bull Shit might get you to the top, but it won’t keep you there.

Lesson 5
A little bird was flying south for the winter. It was so cold the bird froze and fell to the ground into a large field.
While he was lying there, a cow came by and dropped some dung on him.
As the frozen bird lay there in the pile of cow dung, he began to realize how warm he was.
The dung was actually thawing him out!
He lay there all warm and happy, and soon began to sing for joy. A passing cat heard the bird singing and came to investigate.
Following the sound, the cat discovered the bird under the pile of cow dung, and promptly dug him out and ate him.

Moral of the story:
(1) Not everyone who shits on you is your enemy.
(2) Not everyone who gets you out of shit is your friend.
(3) And when you’re in deep shit, it’s best to keep your mouth shut!