Month: February 2011

Blame game

Every time Buzz does something that gets me mad, I turn to D and tell him:

Tum pe gayi hei!*

After all he claimed so himself and it is a matter of who points the finger first. Yes yes, I am always first in that. And since there is no way he can prove me wrong, he mumbles and moves on.

We were out on an aimless road trip the weekend before last. Got to a small town and decided to take a break, stretch our legs, get something to eat. As we parked the car, there was this horse with a carriage to take a ride on and Buzz being a big fan of animals (at least in books and on TV) I thought I would let her see a real life horse. But as we walked closer, Buzz started screaming:

No horse, no mumma horse nahein.

As I picked her up and she clung to me with her face in my neck, D promptly tells me:

Tum pe gayi hei!

 Since with everything he does she can’t have taken after him, I am left with no argument.

Buzz sweetheart your Maa’s naak is in your hands. Please don’t katwaao it.

*She takes after you!

Singing Saturday – Sayonara Sayonara

Song as sung by the father-daughter duo

He: Skydiver skydiver kal phir aayega skydiver.
        Ithalata hua balkhata hua..
Her: paachute
He: ..parachute pehen ke aayega skydiver.
       Skydiver skydiver..
Her: aipain
He: ..airplane me aayega skydiver.
        Ithalata hua balkhata hua..
Her: Helmate
He: Helmet pehen ke aayega skydiver.

Need I say more?

From one generation to the next

The story goes, there once was a 3 year old boy. He would not eat anything. Not one thing, no matter how many things his mom tried. Milk was the only thing he lived on. Such strong love.

One day dad came home with the news that he got posted to another town and they were to move within the month. As mom worked on cleaning and packing up things, getting ready to move, she came upon an idea to get the boy to eat. She told the boy,

If you don’t eat, they won’t let us take you with us. You will stay here.

Will you go Maa?

Yes, I will.

Will Papa also go?

Yes, he will.

Will you take the little sister?

Yes, she get to go as well.

If I start eating, can I go too?

Yes, they will let you come along.

The poor boy scared of being left behind because of the mysterious ‘they’ starts eating. One roti with sabzi for each meal. Mom is relieved that her son is getting a little more nourishment.

Move day comes, everything is packed up in a truck and then the family makes their way to the bus stop. Few hours of travel and they get to their destination. Another few minutes by rickshaw and they arrive at their friend’s place, where they would be staying a few days till the house in set up.

Come dinner time, mom asks the son to come have his meal. The boy refuses,

Now that we are here, I don’t have to eat. I want only milk.


Days goes by, but the milk vs. food struggle continues. The boy starts school. Every afternoon as his mom walks him back from school, he stops right in the middle of the huge community park in front of the house and starts screaming,

Haaye mujhe bookh lagi hei. Mujhe dudu ke bookh lagi hei.

..much to the laughs of everyone in the community. And he keeps at it till he gets his glass of milk soon after he steps inside the house.


A couple of years pass. The boy finally, in the year past, has started to eat without a fight.

One evening the dad comes home. As is the norm, Mom hands him a glass of milk to drink after he has washed his hands. The little sister, now a toddler, comes running and sits on her dad’s lap. Looks at the glass of milk,

Papa aap jab ghar aate ho na, to Maa aap to pura glass bhar ke dudh deti hein. Mujhe itna kam deti hein (holding her index finger a little way away from her thumb)

Yeah lo beta, tum mera dudh pe lo.

Nahein papa, aap maa ko kehdo mujhe bhi glass bhar ke dudh diya karein.

Dad calls out to Mom and asks her why the girl gets 3/4 th glass of milk instead of a glass full?

Pucho is se ki yeah kitni baar dudh peeti hei din mein,

comes the reply.

Beta, aap kitni baar dudh pete ho?

Papa jab mein subah uthti huin to tab eak glass. Phir dupehar ko uthne ke baad eak glass. Phir shaam ko eak glass. Aur phir sone se pehle eak baar. Bas.

Mom smiles an angelic smiles and says,

Agar aur dudh pilana hei to ghar ke baahar eak gaayein bandh lo.


Many many many years pass. The little girl now has a little girl of her own. Every time food is place in front of her, screams of..

No mumma, no khanna.

..are heard, as she pretends that she is not hungry. A minute later the same little thing makes demand for milk and guzzles down 8 ounces of milk without any breaks.


A cry breaks the silence of the night. Maa opens her eyes and notes it is 4:15 in the morning.

Mumma dudu,

comes the cry. Maa knows she is hungry, what with no dinner the night before. In her frustration, she tells the little one,

No khanna, no dudu.

This is greeted by silence.

Mumma, no nini.

Mumma, diaper change.

And so many things are tried. The end result is she is out of her crib, has her milk in her hand, is running around the house and Maa is utterly exhausted.


This milk obsession is going to be the death of Maa. And the worse is she can’t even complain to her own Maa, because all she gets is big smiles from the other end. Sigh!

Brilliant Business Idea

Week before last saw me reading quite a few cards as friends showed me what they bought. This Monday saw me reading a few more, as they showed off what they got. Over time I have come to realize that I am a card snob. There are very very few cards that I really like. For the rest, I just kind of make do with whatever is in the store. As I scrunched my nose (mentallyof course), I got thinking. I read a lot (of blogs) on a daily basis and love so much of what I read. Between us, we cover all the various emotions. So why not start a card business. We have such good writing and there are so many creative people. We can write something funny, something thoughtful, something mad, something mushy. We will be a hit, I tell you and will mint (not yours Pepper. That one won’t multiply unless you do something about it) so much money from everyday things we write anyways. 

So what say blog people?

Bloggers of the world unite, have nothing to lose but their debts.

Don’t sue me Karl Marx.

Once the idea took place, I went and did some research (in all the years I have worked, I have come to realize that you have to show a working prototype to convince people. SIGH!! People don’t see brilliance right in front of them, till they see visual proof) and came up with some card categories curtsy our blogger friends.

What is a card company without a Birthday Card? But if the card is funny and happy and edible to boot, who can resist it? Miss Smart Ass calls herself a smartass for a reason after all.


A ‘Miss You’ card is of no use if it does not make the recipient of the card not yearn to head back. Who better to make anyone feel ‘the angst of missing a loved one and painting the picture of joy of having you around’ than our very own T?

Then there is the quintessential I-am-so-in-love-marry-me! section in every store. Have you ever noticed how boring they are? Would a girl ever fall for crap like that? So a card by our resident expert in asking the tough questions, a girl’s point of view on how to propose, Rev.

LOVE. Four letter word. Over used like none other, especially in the week past. We seriously need people to write about it without making all of us diabetic. Enter Miss Rays. Love and all the perfect words that go with it, per jara hut ke.

Now a card store just HAS to cater to all the various holidays. How else would they make money? Can you seriously think of anyone better to get in to the spirit of things better than our witchy, madcap, make them laugh till they drop, Sakshi? Come come have a look. This one has Halloween written all over it.

Sorrow, sadness, hurt – the flip side of life. None of us can outrun this. Hope is what makes us carry on through all the black times. Can you find better words to give the much-needed encouragement than the ones, the ever thoughtful, Dew came up with?

Welcoming people back with cards and gifts is common, but a simple ‘you were missed’ is just so blah. Spicing it up and still being honest about it, is Happy Feet. Perfect is the word.

There is so much hoopla about the New Year. So much money gets spent. So many cards bought and sold. But someone has to give it as it is and still make you look forward to it all. Steps in the Nut. Asks the questions that need to be asked and still wishes you happy.

Ever card store needs to have their mark, their own special something. Pepper comes up with that special tadka. ‘Special offer’ cards for all occasions and no occasions at all. Earn point and redeem them as you go. A better offer you will not find. And oh what a way to spice up your otherwise boring life.

There are always things we are thankful about in life. But sometimes we all need a reminder of the little things, when we are down and out. Scribbler gives her special touch to make you count your blessings and smile as you go. A perfect gift for someone, who needs to look beyond the clouds and see the sunshine.

Aah..and how can we not have a card store without a section for Hindi cards. Whispering Moonz enters ever so gracefully with her thoughtful and amazing words. Who can help not be moved by them.

And the good news is that this is not the end. There is a need for that perfect picture to go behind all the words written. Enter Wordless Wednesdays (Swaram, T, Bikram, Smitha, Uma). And what is a card store without e-cards. And what are e-cards without some amazing graphics, Tanishka are you listening?

If you think this is it. Let me tell you the grand expansion plans. Once we have this part of the business going, we can start of a food cafe in the store corner. We have so many amazing cooks in the blog world after all. Uma with her South India food, Sags with her kheer, Pal with her quick to make train dosa, CB with her amazing cakes.

We can rule the world people. Brilliant am I not? So what say, let’s get on with it. But before we do, come on tell me what do we name our business?

This time, right now

Dear Buzz,

‘She is so much fun these days’, your Paa turned to me and said. I smiled, big. This one sentence gets repeated so many time a week, that I can’t even keep count. But then it is the truth, you have become a lot of fun. Everyday things have been colored in your flavor. Your commentary added to everything you see and how you see them.

As you learn your shapes, you see them all around you. The doors and windows and table and laptop are all rectangles. The TV and fireplace are square. Traffic signal lights and balloons and bulb holders are circles. As you sit in the car and call out, ‘Triangle’, I look around and can’t spot one. I turn around and ask you, ‘Kahaan hei baby, triangle’? You point to the direction arrow, the head of which looks like a triangle, take my question as, ‘Kahaan hei, baby triangle’ and respond with ‘Baby triangle’, followed by pointing to the bigger direction arrow across the road and say, ‘Mumma triangle’.

As you figure out your numbers, you call them out everywhere you go. From grocery store aisle numbers, to street numbers, to the pages of the books I read, to channel number on TV, to T-shirts of the basket ball players, to bus numbers. As I stop at the traffic signal you know there is a ticker on the right, which shows the temperature in degree C, degree F and the time.  You wait for it every day. And the minute we stop there, you start off, ‘6, 4, 2, 9, oval*, 5’. And with that I have my temperature and time check without having to look for them.

As you start to distinguish between your colors, you call out red and green for all the traffic signals. You tell us the colors of all that cars we pass by. You say the color as I dress you us. You scream the colors of the billboards everywhere we go.

As you make animals your favorite, you distinguish between a cheetah, a tiger and a puma. You correctly say monkey, gorilla, chimpanzee and orangutans as we look at them in your book. You ask to see pictures of panda, brown bear, polar bear, koala. You know your parrots from macaws and toucans.

As you go from home to daycare, you switch your language without a stop. There are so many times the words you speak in English catches me by surprise. The way, when you talk to your teacher you say, ‘heart’ and then you turn to talk to me and say, ‘dil’. The way, at home you say, ‘Mumma potty’ and at daycare you say, ‘poo poo’. 

You even make boring thing like going grocery shopping fun. As we walk down the store, you point to every fruit and vegetable. You smile at every bueberry, every onange, ever stabaeya, every banana that I put in the cart. You clap at all the milk I place in. You cry out in horror when I pass by brocoli and not place it in the cart. When you see plain yoghurt and call it ‘dahi’ and next see flavoured yoghurt and call it ‘gogurt’, I can’t help smile.

You point out to the moon every day as we make our way home at night. Then one day you say, ‘Mumma crescent’, and for a minute all I feel is amazement. Yes you have seen crescent moon around 4229872 times (if not more) in books, but that you made the connection and correctly at that, for the first time makes me swell up with pride.

You laugh at silly silly things. You are happy when you learn to jump for the first time, with both your feet in the air. You pull your Paa and me up to play with you. You do a little dance as your Paa sings, ‘Oh Buzz nahaai nahaai’. You get upset when your hair falls in front of your eyes and scream, ‘no baal’. You ask for Pasha** the minute you get in the car and keep at it till you are sure that I am making it for dinner. You and I build buildings with your blocks and the minute all the pieces are done, you call out, ‘clean up’ and start to break up the building and place the blocks in their bag. You watch ‘Iron man’ with your Paa and then remember him at odd hours. ‘Iron man dishoom’, you scream as you run around the house. So many little little things, so many reasons to smile every day.

You make every day special for us, sweetheart. You brighten even the days that are gray. You make us feel. You make us go on. Now looking back, we can’t imagine a life before you. You have colored our world with you and we love you for that. So stay healthy, stay happy, stay you, always.

Loads of love,

*Oval is your zero for now
** Spinach and cheese ravioli, pasta for you


You all know how these things go, right? Someone puts a video on Facebook, someone likes it, someone comments on it, someone reposts it, and so the fire spreads.

Yeah so, a video made it to the Comfy household. Which one you ask? Maa is not exactly sure, but she thinks it was the last action sequence from the movie Robot. Why does she think it was from Robot:

1. Because it had, as Rev Akka calls her, Plastic face.
2. Well there was an even more *stretched beyond recognition plastic faced*, Rajnikanth. Maa is still not sure, but she does think it was him.

Getting back to the video, Paa made Maa sit down and said, ‘You have to watch it’. So as Maa sat with us on her lap, Paa handed the laptop over to her and started the video. What followed was an army of clones take various shapes and forms, destroying everything that came in its path. So much fun. Till it took down a helicacker. As the poor mangled helicacher fell to the ground, we cried out,

Helicacker aaaooooovvvviiii!

This was a couple of weeks back, but the simple fact that helicacker got an aaaooovvviiii upset us like no other. Every time we see a helicacker, we remember the aaaoooovvvviiii all the plastic, robot, clone, computer animation, whatever gave our helicacker. And we continue to scream,

Helicacker aaaoooovvvvviiii!

at random times and give Paa pain because every time we say that, Maa gives Paa a dirty look and says, ‘You had to show that video to me right then. You could not wait till she was in bed? What was special about it anyways?’. Paa looks away sheepishly as he mumbles, ‘It was impressive technology in an Indian movie’.

But for the us the fun part now is that Paa has taken to showing us different helicackers and telling us, ‘Dekh helicopter theek hei. Helicopter, no aovi’. We love our helicackers and love watching them, so we don’t think we are stopping any time soon. :mrgreen:

No Mumma

Mumma roti. Mumma roti. Mumma roti.

For the 2 minutes that it takes me to make one roti, she repeats these two words non-stop. As the roti goes on the plate and I get yoghurt out, she quickly opens the spoon drawer and gets her spoon out. I pick up her plate and place it on the table.

No mumma, no khana. No mumma.


We are getting dressed to go out.

Mumma outside. Mumma baahar.

The coats are on. D and I have my shoes on. She is off standing on the other side of the room.

No mumma, no shoes. No mumma.


She sits on my lap, drinking her milk, rubbing her eyes. I place a kiss on her head and tell her, it is time for bed. Off she runs, away from me.

No mumma, no nini. No mumma.


I go to pick her up from daycare. She is standing at the window looking at the reception area, waiting for me. As I step inside her class, she runs and picks up a toy. I get her jacket out, but she runs from one toy to the other.

No mumma, no jacket.

When push comes to shove, she is on the floor screaming,

No mumma, no ghar.


Buzz, chalo nahaie time.
No mumma.

Buzz, all done nahaie. Chalo bahaar niklo.
No mumma.


I give up. I do.


I came home from a trip to the stores (OK mostly grocery stores + one other). From one of the bags took out a dress I got for Buzz and showed it to D.

D: Who is this for?
Me: Buzz, who else.
D: It is too big for her. It won’t fit her.
Me: will.
D: No way, that is a big girl dress. She is still a baby. It will fit you. Are your T-shirts not that big? Not for Buzz. You go wear it.

Are we in denial or what  (both about Buzz’s size and mine)? 😀 😀

PS: The dress does fit Buzz.

Ice, she shouted..

Any time a kid at daycare gets hurt, ice (actually cold teethers, but they call them ice) is applied at the injured area. In some cases it is useful, but in most it is just a way for the teachers to soothe the kids. A way to say, we know you are hurt and we are doing something about elevating the hurt.

I was picking Buzz up from the daycare one evening. She wanted to play some more, so she ran away. But in her hurry to get away from me, bumped into a wall. No no..let me clarify. Her hand happened to graze the wall. She went running to her teacher.


she said. I firmly told her,

You are not hurt. You don’t need ice.

Her teacher put forth a question,

Does she ask for Ice at home as well?

I had to laugh and reply,

Oh, all the time. At every perceived injury.

Her teacher smiles and relayed,

They all do that here. If someone gets hurt, all of them come running asking for ice for the child who is hurt. Once that is done, they all want ice for themselves. When refused, they all keep falling or pretending to bang against things. It takes good 10 mins before calls for ice die down.


When at home, if Buzz is really hurt, the first thing she wants is to be held. Once that is taken care of, the next order of priority is demands for ice. As we hand over an ice-cube, she holds it to the injured area for a few seconds and then is happily seen licking on the ice-cube. As her hands get cold, the ice slips.

Uh-oh, Ice!!

The picking, licking, dropping game goes on for a while. Hurt forgotten.