You Are in my Prayers

"We can't go back to school," one little boy told Rosen. "Our teacher is dead. Mrs. Soto; we don't have a teacher."


Six kids saw their friends die and I can imagine the trauma they must have faced as they witnessed the killing.

Dear Friends, fellow bloggers

I am one of the blogger who is taking part in observing silence for the innocent victims who lost their lives on Friday’s shooting rampage at Connecticut.  Like you we cried as the news reports come in. As a mother of two, it is really hard for me to imagine about how somebody can hurt those innocent 6 and 7 years old. Who supposed to be laughing at their Christmas gifts wrapped under the Christmas tree and long waited holidays? In the time of happiness we are mourning for the loss of these tiny angels.

Their life was cut short, their dreams were crushed. Those late night kisses and wonderful smiles when you pick them and light sadness when you drop them in the school is going to be missed forever to that little angel’s parents. Also to those moms, wife, grandmas, friends who lost their lives doing their duties as teachers and staff of Sandy Hook Elementary school.

We know that no words, no gifts, no act of service will ever take away the pain, but we, as bloggers and also parents collectively want those affected by this to know how close to our hearts they are

We love you; we pray for you, we are so heartbroken for your loss.

To honor the memory of the lives cut short, we choose to step away from our blogs and computers today to celebrate the gift of life and those we love the most, our children, families, good friends and community. We’re holding our kids little tightly, reaching out to neighbors and giving thanks for the moments we have together. Thank you for stopping by today, we hope you will join us in remembering, praying and gathering close. We wish you and your families a safe and blessed holiday.

Chota Bheem's Return Gift

Chota Bheem is the two-year-old child, grandson to my sister, who keeps me busy with his innocent chatter.

“Don’t call me Hyerank, I am Chota Bheem” he says whenever I call him by his real name.

The kid is smart, having mastered all the puzzle games on his ipad, sliding his tiny hands on the screen with efficiency. He watches all the TV cartoons with interest; his favorite show is ‘Chota Bheem’ and he identifies with the protagonist.

All the kids are smart nowadays especially those who get lots of attention from their families and at play groups.

There are theme birthday parties held regularly where these kids seem to have fun, a big banquet hall, or an area around pool is selected as a venue. The parties are celebrated on a large scale where the parents and helpers are also invited. There is separate area of the room reserved where all the helpers are grouped together and are served cuisine that is different from what other guests are offered. The helper will be offered only ‘Tang’ drink and one samosa while the other guests will enjoy a plateful of assorted delicacies.

“With 50 children there are 50 ayahs, the party becomes too expensive” complains the host.

Today Chota Bheem returns from one such fancy party with a return gift, guess what? hmmmn-

A fish bowl

During my growing up days, the return gift did not exist. It used to be small party with just wafers, cake and biscuits. The return gifts were introduced in the birthday parties during late eighties, but it used to be a small souvenir or bag of assorted goodies, but live fish bowl? Need I say more?

The fact is that kid is amused and watches with interest as the black shiny fish swims in the small glass jar.

“What will you name your fish?” I asked equally amused.

We start the naming game, with everybody suggesting and prompting him, soon the rare name is decided and now the fish is called ‘Chawal’

It’s Chota Bheem’s duty to see that ‘Chawal’ is comfortable and fed on time.

 Happy to share this post with group of Marathon Bloggers who promised to blog daily during the month of December.

(Un)Pleasant stay in the Hospital

Nobody likes to stay in the hospital.

It’s a miserable place to be, for the patients and also for the visitors, who devote their extra hours from their busy schedule to their loved ones. The nurses may be good or grumpy, it depends on their work pressure, but most important thing for patient is to pass their time in the best way that they can. Pain is constant and the more attention one gives to the pain, the more it refuses to go. The best way to find relief is to divert one’s attention from pain to something more interesting.

I had a misfortune of spending a week at a Hospital at Mumbai. This hospital is run by nuns and priest, so it is assumed that it could be the most pleasant place to be.

It was peaceful in certain aspect.

Early mornings, there is Mass in the praise of Lord Jesus, the patients are blessed, there are hymns and sermons, then the Christmas carols or devotional songs that keep the mornings peaceful.

The hospital has a rule that TV and Radio is strictly prohibited. I understand such restrictions because noisy distractions may disturb other patients if you are sharing the room.  But if there is pin for charging your mobile or other electrical appliances, then the hospital should have no objections for using such services.  Right?

I was happy to charge my mobile and keep in contact with my family and friends.

I was also in contact with my virtual world through social media. It kept me busy reading posts and blogs of my friends, news on twitter, poems and stories on social forums or playing scrabble with my friends. The few hours that I spend on my laptop were blessed distraction from my severe pain.

Until

A nun visited my room and saw me using my laptop.

“Are you doing some official work in the hospital?” she asked

I smiled and said that I just passing my time.

Two minutes later, the head nurse came to my room and asked me not to use my laptop in the hospital.

Ridiculous!

I wanted to know the reason for her senseless orders; she lost her temper and told me that I must pay Rs50 for the electricity I was using at the hospital.

Isn’t the use of electricity included in the room service?

I have used the electricity at the government offices, doctors’ waiting rooms, at the malls, at the airports, at public places and even during train journeys.

Nevertheless, I was willing to pay if that is what she suggested but she refused, saying, “I said you are not allowed to use your laptop in the hospital and if you wish to charge your laptop, send it home for the recharge. Nobody on my floor is allowed to charge their mobiles or laptops in their room, it is against the rules of this hospital”

Well! Well! Well!

The rest of my stay was spent staring at empty walls and making friendship with my pain.

Blast from the Past – Happy Times in Kuwait

The best trip I have ever had in my life is the trip to Kuwait. This was before the Iran-Iraq war. One of my close cousins had moved to Kuwait after marriage, she invited me to visit her. There were no moments of silence during my trip because laughter filled all hours of the day.

We were young and silly.

My trip coincided with my cousin’s brother-in-law. He was a good company but much irritated with our non-stop silly laughter. At home we played computer games (Bomber man and Mario) or watched Bollywood films. I hated fighting scenes and songs in Bollywood films, I fast forwarded such scenes as the result three hours movie lasted for an hour that irritated people in the house and more giggles from us meant more annoyance from BIL’s brother.

Going out was fun too.

The hoardings in the city were in Urdu script, which sounded funny when we would try reading it unintelligently.

We wondered what women wore under their burqua, we followed the women in the shopping mall to understand their taste in their clothing. What did it matter what they wore under burqa? We argued, much to the amusement of the men, but it was amazing to see their dressing sense in the visible parts of their body. A well manicured fingers and toes, lots of gold jewelry on their hands and ears, and beautiful stylish shoes.

We loved eating out. ‘Jarjeer’, a form of watercress (rocket) was included in salads, and in most of the meals. ‘Logaymat were Kuwait-style donut holes, crisp on the outside, lightly seasoned with saffron, coated in a sugar paste, with a hint of lime. ‘Machboos’ a dish cooked with either lamb or chicken (sometimes with camel) was browned then baked and served on bed of yellow rice. ‘Margooga, a pasta dish in sauce with cilantro, ‘Mutabag’, a tomato-based stew, ‘Qabot, a Kuwaiti style dumpling, stuffed with ground meat and raisins and served with tomato broth were the other dishes that I loved eating. Tashreeb (lasagna type) was the ultimate comfort food in Kuwait. ‘Torshi’ a homemade pickle that accompanied most dishes.

We were amused by the English spellings of the translated names. There were funny spellings on menu like ‘lamp’ for lamb. ‘Duqoos was the tomato sauce that accompanied rice dishes. ‘Jarish’ was pronounced as ‘yareesh’. In Kuwait dialect, they turned ‘J’ sounds to ‘Y’ and ‘P’ to ‘B’ and we had to ‘Bay’ and ‘Bark’ the cars. Kuwait was the place where I acquired a new name, people called me ‘Boosba’ which some of my cousins call me by this name even today.          

No outing is complete without picture. We clicked many pictures but always had three of us in the picture.

This is the photograph that brings beautiful memories in which four of us were able to get a pretty shot.

How did we manage that?

We had gone to the market to have the street food.

Fully satiated, we decided to walk down the seashore and we saw this large glass building in front of us. Three of us sat down immediately for a picture. That’s when my BIL saw his reflection in the mirror too.

“Finally we will get a picture with four of us” said my BIL. It seemed a good idea; my cousin quickly got up and stood behind her spouse.

Click! Finally we had one picture that had all four of us in one picture.

Lovely shot! Isn’t it?

But wait a minute; do you find anything funny in this picture? No?

But we laughed when we saw the picture

Why?

 Like I told you, sometimes we had no reason to laugh.

ps; Sharing these 'short few moments of blast from the past' with friends at Marathon bloggers

The brief was – Pick any photo from the past and write about the memory associated with it, it could be a picture taken during a trip, could be about a meal you can never forget, a dish that you are proud of, an event that is embed in your memory

Life goes on in Hospital

For a person, who is free and has timing adjusted to one’s needs, time spend at hospital is like living in asylum.

The day starts as early as 5am. The nurses who are too idle at night, need some activity, hence early morning they go on their rounds to check the blood pressure and the temperature of the sleeping patients. They know nothing about respecting people’s private space.

In a Holy Family hospital run by priest and nuns, morning starts with Mass, prayers and hymns in praise of God. Then comes the Christmas carols that are pleasant and soothing to listen to.

Lunch and dinner is served at proper times, they are tasteless (okay we cannot expect biryanis and nans in hospital, but nutritious food can be tasty too.)

You have visitors during the evening hours to keep you company. Some phone calls from distant friends and relatives. The longer you stay in the hospital, the lonelier you get, everybody you know has already visited you, everybody is back to their routine life and you live with yourself at the mercy of the nurses who care and the routine that suits the hospital.

Life goes on.