Birthday Morning

Today was her birthday. She had turned 21 today.

  Samarpita got up very early, slowly came near her bedroom window, pulled aside the window curtains and looked outside. From her window, one could see the blue-green mountain which had now some left-over clouds from last night's rain.  She opened the window sash little bit, chilled air blew through her long hair and  she shivered little. Sun was yet to come up, or it would be a gloomy day like yesterday. She stared outside blankly.

 "Wish to be sunny one", She loved sun rays, and being from the hill station she loved little sunny days which were not pretty much common here. 

She looked at the garden below. From her first floor window, one could see the back yard garden where a heavily bloomed violet-blue hydrangea looked fabulous. Beside the hydrangea, there were lavender and golden mountain lilies which were now in half-bloomed state.

 She hoped to see them full-bloomed on her birthday. That would be the perfect birthday gift. A small smile crossed her face. She had to get ready for the morning prayers with her grandmother. 

   

    After bath, she was looking for her dress through her wardrobe and chose a white salwar kameez with green applique work on it, with green border. It was a new dress, bought by her aunt few months ago and she saved it for today. She was a person with a very quite presence,however she was a shadow where everyone in the house rest when they were in distress. Thus, in their lives she had a low key but essential presence. No one can find her shouting in the drawing room while watching cricket matches or music competitions or she was not the person to demand anything to anyone. After her mother's death, she became quieter and more silent than ever before. 

   She could hear her grandma's chanting while stepping to the ground floor through the staircases.  Her cousins,  her brother all the young generations were still in bed. Aunt was in kitchen, giving directions to the cook and uncle was in pooja-room. Her father was out of station, visiting nearby city for some work. In their joint family, there were no difference treating children. Altogether ten members of the family were very close-knitted. 

  She entered the pooja room, smell of sweet jasmine,mixed with agarbati enthralled her sense. Her grandmother was sitting in front of Durga Murti, made of nine gems or Nav-Durga, decorated with marigold and rose garlands. Her eyes closed and she was totally engrossed in chanting her durga-mantra. Samarpita sat little behind her, she knew today's puja was little especial because of her birthday and being a mother-less child she was always very especial to her. Her grandma was always worried about her and her brother, though her brother was the eyeball of everyone in the house. Samarpita knew it was she who made her grandma worried. Her being aloof or remain silent on everything made her grandma very anxious on her well being.

   

   Puja was over and grandma looked back, gave red tika on her forehead and said, "Did you have to wear this white today ? Do not you have any bright colour in your wardrobe ?" 

Thats the problem between her and  the rest of house. 

She loved to wear light, loved to be engrossed in her gardens,flowers, readings. She finished English Hons this year and planning for her Masters in English literature in the upcoming semesters. She loved her way of life, and hated the loud life of city. This was the reason she did not go to Delhi for higher studies, chose Dehradun itself.

"We will go to temple before lunch. But I want to give Bihu some money and fruits today." Grandma announced. 

"I can drop this to Bihu", replied Uncle, "while I go to office". 

" Can you drop me too? I have not met Bihu-chacha for a long time. I will go to temple from there by walking, said Samarpita, She was very fond of their gardener Bihu who was employed here for a very long time. He was not keeping well recently. 

Ok, take Don also. Grandma commanded. I will reach temple by 11:00 am.

Oh,Don and yes Don, their favourite himalayan Husky and her lone protector in this mountain road.

A LONG INTERVAL

আমি অনেকদিন হলো লেখা বন্ধ করে দিয়েছি।লেখা জিনিসটা আমার মতে অনেক পরিশ্রমের এবং যত্নের জিনিস।অনেকর বেশ কি সুন্দর ফরফর করে লেখা এসে যায়। ...আর আমার কেবল মনের খাতায় দাগ কেটে যাই কালী কলমে বা কম্পিউটার কীবোর্ড তার আর সুর  তোলা না। ....বাস্ততার দোহাই দিয়ে ফাকি বাজী মেরে যাই কিন্তু লেখা আর হয়ে উঠেনা
    কতদিন দেখি গমের শীষ এই সিড়ি-অলা পাহাড়ের ধাপে ধাপে লকলকিয়ে হাওয়ায় মাথা দোলাছে। .বলছে, " আমিও আছি তোমার মনের কোনো খানে।.তবু তুমি কিন্তু ভুলে গেছ আমায়।আমি কিন্তু রইব এক কোনায়। ..তুমি চাও বা চাও।"হঠাত দেখি একদিন বৃষ্টির মধ্যে পাহাড়ি রাস্তা ধরে বাড়ি ফেরার সময় সে ভিজ্চে অশ্রান্ত ধারা। ...খুশি তে মন ভরে গেল  ...এই জীবনের মধ্য গগনে এসে আজ শিখলাম কোন বৃষ্টি ভালো আর কোনটা খারাপ।..তারপর একদিন দেখি সেই উন্নত -শির কন্যা আমার আর পারছেনা খাড়া হয়ে দাড়াতে। ... গর্ভবতী সুফলা সন্তান-সম্ভবা তার সন্তানের ভারে নুয়ে পরেছে  দেখে মন জুড়িয়ে গেল  ..তার গর্বিত হাসিমাখা মুখেখানি যেন উজ্জল হয়ে গেল সকালের ঝকঝকে আলোয়  তারপর সেইদিন দেখি শুরু হয়েছে ফসল কাটার সময় কাস্তে দিয়ে মুড়িয়ে নিয়ে গেল শস্য ক্ষেত। ..মন টা গেল খারাপ হয়ে। .হয়ত এই আমাদের জীবন। .দাও দাও আর দাও  পূর্ণ করে দাও ঝুলি অন্যের।
    যাই এই সময় এসে গেল। ....যদি দুখ দিয় কারো মনে রেখো এ আমার মনের কথা। .নেই গো এতে কোনো ছলনা। ..মনে এসেছিল লিখে গেলাম এক টানায়। .
           ইতি
        অদিতি
    

Busy Busy days...

Ok..relocation hangover is over.And I am finally settled in India ...with all my prejudice AND pride..with all my Luggages and Kids ( one mine and other one my mom-in-laws') and got loads of new friends along with the empty feeling for old ones. But still I have not finished arranging the house.
   Once my mom told me that she took ten years to build her house (or our home) and took rest twenty years to renovate it..Arranging my house is kind of that...I clean my house every sunday afternoon and if semester is on (read if I am teaching the classes), by Wednesday there will be plenty of cloths  EVERYWHERE..I won't fold a single laundry till Saturday morning and my son's room will be like a mad house with all the Lego pieces everywhere. There will be cricket bat on the top of washing machine and cricket kit on his study table. I used to care before and now I do not care for pristine cleanliness anymore...
   Ok..thats also give a sense to you that why I have not posted a single blog for a very very long time.Life is kind of busy with loads of laziness on my share.Still feel to write sometime when I get time (though preparation for class lurking at the corner)..who cares..phoo..
  Have lots of fun...life is too short to repent..

Having Fun In Life

What do you mean by fun in life ? Going to restaurant..buying new clothes...chatting with friends ...reading a book..cooking something to surprise everybody ....or playing candy crush on phone..helping someone (willingly with no promise of return)..We all live to be happy in life ...actually thats what life meant to me.

Certain memories in my life I treasure . No It did not involve buying any expensive jewelry or publishing journal paper. I think having afternoon lunch with friends in a rainy (or snowy ) Friday ( having this joyful feeling that weekend is near)..or eating oranges sitting under the sun in a cold winter afternoon...eating Phucka(golgappa) with friends on the street (no restaurant can give give joy of street Phucka)  I treasure those moments. I have a strong childhood memory of eating loads of green peas by cracking them apart in winter morning (as soon as dad had come home after grocery shopping). 

  I think the happiness which matters to us need to not be related to achievement. See for instance, I get happy when my journal article get published, but that also accompanies whats next ? Thats where the trouble is.

 Anyways recently we figured out some happiness in our life by chasing birds from vegetable gardens.Here is the pic

 

He dedicated his T-shirts for the bad birdies .

I know he will grow up soon and life will move forward..but I cherish some of these moments.Never knew how to make scarecrow before.But it was fun.:)

  

  

The Waiting...

    Last Friday I came home early after submitting the grade for the semester. It was a bliss..relaxing and tension of time-line was over. This is very unusual for me; in a regular day I return home with my son in the evening and immediately get occupied in the whirlpool of business. Thus, that untimely homecoming gave me a different kind of feeling. The house looked quite and sober. In morning maid cleaned the house, so there were no toys scattered in the living room, no legos on the floor to step on and no plates with unfinished breakfast on the coffee table. Whoever visited my home previously, they know this is quite an unusual sight in my house. However, the pristine cleanliness did not give me any satisfaction. To me the house looked so desolate..so unusually calm that I could sense the eager waiting in the silence of the air. The sofas looked like they were waiting for some body to jump (even if you say umpteenth time not to do so), some people to sit and chat something random. The carpet wanted to give shelter for hundred lego pieces to be scattered on it. The warm sun light was feeling the room with the desire to wrap the jumping kindergarteners. I felt the sense of waiting everywhere. Hence this picture name is waiting. 

Just A Regular Day

U came by silently
Without much rustle,bustle
There is no looongg...meeting in my calender
U are just a regular day.

I love each bit of you
U are so peaceful
No hidden promises..no expectation
U are just a regular day.

I could cuddle you
Without the regular rush
I could hug without the tickling clock
U are just a regular day.
No busy meeting..no hidden promises..no dreams
I love you so much

Welcoming 2014

  This year is going to be a year with lots of change....planing back to India is just tingling on my thumbs...so handful of work. I spent most of my Christmas vacation on sorting out stuff..no.. not started packing yet. My final verdict letter has not reached my hand. Hubby's has come..but that poor fellow could not enjoy his achievement because of the "darling" wife.
   I have loads of unknown fear (this is associated with every thing). However, returning back to India is some kind of decision which can be marked as "life changing decision". Let us pray and hope.
   

Toys, Childhood and Generation

   I grew up in suburb of a big metropolitan city that is Kolkata (Calcutta). Though, 1/3 rd of my day was spent in a very quite school of south Calcutta, I cannot say I was a city girl.
  I spent all my afternoon playing with my friends in my neighborhood, and a lot of us came from a wide range of socio-economic background . But that did not infiltrate in our bonding or made me to learn some bad words (this is another wrong opinion about playing with kids coming from different background). I think that helped me to be better person, by knowing and trying to understand the difficulties which some of us face. Never the brand of cloth we wore or the price-tag of our toys did matter. In fact, we had all same kind of toys..a boy and girl pair( i think Rs 10-15 that time) and lots of kitchen cooking utensils. A new shoe box had a lot of value that time, because after that one of toy families would get a new house . The lack of ingredients never hindered our enjoyment and enthusiasm, in fact often having not much will boost up child's imagination and ideas. We grew up in a generation ( I would rather say a better generation when we did not have a 5 year old playing in i-pad), technological advancement often  take out a lot from a child's imagination and has profound effect on his developmental growth.
    Now, when I am a mother of a five year old. I did exactly the same thing what my contemporary mothers did. I loaded my child's room with loads of toys...each one of my friend knows how does it look like. I got lured by Big store toy rooms. First came "Thomas the train." My God! It was like an explosion. First Thomas, then his friend Edward..then Henry...Gordon..James..Percy.. the list continued. and It was not always my son. It was me too.Like comparing with other Mom , I would go to store and run to buy Emily..or blah..blah..blah.. But this post is not about catharsis of my feelings or self-declaration but a note to any new mom. It will never end...the list will never end. We are the easy piece or  soft target..we are nothing but consumers..dad..mom..grandma..grandpa...and our precious little ones. No.. I am not against these toys..but somehow I feel its really pointless to buy so many of them just to increase the number or variety. One always can have some of them but not all of them.
   Some of the toys I really love to buy and play.Like LEGOs, again I am telling myself..no more different types of LEGO boxes. I bought LEGO pieces in grams/in weight basis and gave Adi to play... what ever he wants to make. Some other good toys I feel are TRIOs and JENGA. All are building/construction toys and good for fine motor skills. Another game "Candyland" is suggested by Adi's school teacher. She emphasized to play with him to increase his social interaction and communication skills.
  Our present younger generation is so much addicted to technology that really not good for their mental health. Most of the little kids get glued with the i-pad and i-phone, tablets ...becoming more introvert. Often by playing together, people learn lot about team work. And its so much good to see them play together. Few days ago I went to take my son from school. And somehow I felt to watch him playing with friends without his knowledge. It was so good to see them playing together, running..laughing and jumping together. Childhood should be like this..without electronic gadgets and expensive toys but to play and laugh together from generation after generation.

Durga Puja-2013

  I came to know about the exact data of Mahalaya just two days before (Thanks to Facebook). Being married to a non-Bengali and being away from Kolkata for ten years, indeed make me forget about lots of Bengali cultures. No I am not complaining..just stating a fact. If you are in West Bengal,  you want or do not want ..advertisements, sales will make you aware of the biggest festival of State is coming. However, the changing weather of Boston only makes me aware of the fact, fall is approaching. U might be thinking I am snob..I am not .

   My Durga puja became less meaningful for me with time. May be I am getting old. However, I miss those moments of childhood................... I cannot remember exactly the time..but I had a Shiuli tree ( scientific name Nyctanthes arbor-tristis) in our Kolkata home. I think I might be 7-8 years old that time. Every day morning I would get up early, run under that Shiuli tree and get amazed by seeing those white flowers completely covering the ground below. I miss those days, the fragrance of Shiuli..the soft white petals and orange floral stems. Not so long before (may be five year down the lane), I was in Chennai at in-Laws place and those familiar scent floated in the air. I ran downstairs and found our neighbor had the same tree. That was the last time I saw her, felt her in my palm. Hence, my Durga Puja does not get complete without the smell of Shiuli and morning running to pick them, make garland out of them.

  The preparation of Durga Puja used to start at least one month before with the smell of new clothes and frequent trips to Tailor's shop (Tailor uncle made my dresses from the age 3 until I got married). ...fashionable frocks with different designs. I have a vague memory of soft clothes, nice patterns….mostly small floral prints. I think first time I selected my own dress when I was like sixteen years old. Still I had no complain and actually I kind of liked those dresses chose by my father. Now, after these many years and losing my mother, the expectation is reduced to sub zero level.  

      One more thing which made my Durga Puja memorable was the bunch of new books published in occasion of Durga Puja . Lots of my memories are attached to those books. I remember my father brought my first Anandamela Pujabarshiki (which is a special book still now gets released during Durga Puja) when I was six. I read that book like the bees get to know first time where is honey. After these many years I still cannot forget the feverish reading without getting up from bed . Most of the authors keep their best literary work to be published during the pious occasion of Durga Puja. So there would be lots of expectation among book-lovers . Here in united states ,I miss that spirit a lot. Indeed, one can get all the books that publish there in USA but the spirit of young mind waiting eagerly every day for the fresh new pages to smell, to hold in her hands and read and feeling is missing. I told you I am getting old..

 
     

Bye bye 2012

A year gone and gone with the wind…

Just thinking about the worries of mine at the beginning of the year…no…. those things do not scare me anymore; do not make me awake at night. The worries for future are there, but they have lost the intensity. The vulnerability of life is so pronounced that I do not worry for position, status or power fight any more. Two incidents of 2012 had shaken me from the core. One was Sandy Hook Elementary School incident and the other was the rape and unimaginable torture on a 23^rd year old girl. My faith on humanity is hanging on a thread. Yes, I know about war and death of children in war. But this is like the sudden full stop of the beautiful lives of 20 little children, their laughs and their dreams. After my mother’s death, I have not been shaken so much. The second incident was so brutal that I could not even think about that anymore. Even the word “animal behavior” is nothing to describe that crime. At one point of time, I thought,” let it be. Let the Mayans be true. The world is no longer a place to live anymore.”

   I am a mother and I play a very critical role in a person’s life. Now instead of raising a successful man, I want to raise a human being who should be compassionate and caring and who will value humanity more than anything else. That is the only think I hope for and breath to live for.

  Bye bye 2012. 

Learning With You....to Adi.

I thought I knew everything about ABCDs... and I can teach you in my finger touch. Little did I know that its as tough as solving a scientific problem ?

Ode to food-bloggers

  I like to cook and do not like to be disturbed during cooking. Cooking is a kind of meditation I choose. But when you have a pre-schooler sneaking in your kitchen all the time, its very hard to concentrate. Usually, I get up quite early in most days of week ( I hated that when I was kid). Early morning time is the best time for me to cook aka meditate. I enjoy and relish it. If I had to do the same thing after coming from office, I feel crazy and angry. So mind it, time and moment are crucial things for my tasty food.

    I never thought I would turn out to be a foodie,much to my parents' surprise. My love for food begun when I left home for higher studies. The difficulties to get home-made (aka home-taste) food were my driving point to get tasty food. Then after eight years of hostel-mess food, I really love any kind of home-made food from any part of the world. Still I did not get my hands-on experiments on food and solely dependent upon my cook, my mom and mom-in-law. But the real journey begun after coming to USA.
    When I crossed Atlantic and reached Boston, my culinary expertise was limited within rice(!), daal(lentil soup) and begun bhaja (fried egg-plant). Oh Oh I forgot the boiled egg. I fed plenty of bottled and ready made baby food to my son in his first few months staying in USA. But I was not happy eating the same recipe again and again. I started cooking some things else, long-distanced calls to India gave me the recipe of fish and chicken, but we know our moms. They will never able to tell you size and proportionality of ingredients. And the search for wonderful world of food-blogging left open to me. I really appreciate them. The amazing food-bloggers all over the world keep posted about their cooking and photographs. I learnt almost everything from them. And then something happened to me.
   I fell in love with cooking. The everyday chicken biriyani from Bongmom or coconut-steamed prawn from my friend's blog make me a cook, at least my husband and kid like it. Somewhere, I started believing that cooking is not only about food, recipe or eating. Especially displaying a well cooked food, the appeal of vision is very important. I feel I should give an example here. I never knew about the green, leafy chard in India. On first look, I thought its beet-root leaf, yes, though they belong to beet family but they are not same. And I avoided them for quite sometime. Then this post from ecurry made me to go to store and buy some chard. By now you might be doubting about my sanity. I admit i did not add pine nuts and recreated the same except I added poppy seeds( aka posto) end of that chard recipe, but it tasted awesome and fell in love with the chard.So the whole thing started from a particular blog-post.
   Here are my most favorite food blogs from where I read recipes and cook :
             1. Bongcookbook
             2. Bongcook
             3. ecurry
             4. Cooking and recipes 
             5. Peppermill
             6. Bakerella
             7. TheIndianSimmer
            8. veggiebelly
           
There are many more awesome blogs where I read recipes but these are my regular ones. I respect the time and efforts they put on their blogs. The whole point of creativity is to get mental satisfaction is very true. So I cook and so I think everybody cooks for.
Before I finish just want to quote this single word poem from Bob Raczka,
              "Creative i crave art".
Cooking is indeed a special kind of art.
    So happy blogging and cooking. Chao..
  

    

Uncertainties in Life

Life is full of uncertainties and  I think repeating this line again will not make it more cliche.
   I often think my life is really full of uncertainties and for last couple of years really it was. I keep my finger-crossed in daily basis and think that tomorrow gone be all-right and then tomorrow I will wait for another tomorrow.
   But when I listen about the mother waiting patiently for the miracle to be happened for her dear child or the son who is waiting eagerly near his father's ICU to be awaken for months, then I pray for them.
   God gives me lot of uncertainties but He knows he has given me the strength to fight also.
                      Hope everything is alright for all of us.

My New Year Resolution

Let see whether I can be a good girl for at least ten days. The schedule of good girl includes
    # exercise aka walking atleast 15 minutes per day for  next 10 days
    # making Adi to study everyday for 15 minutes ( its tougher than the previous one)
    # have a little time atleast 15 minutes exclusive family time
    # no playing any online games
    # study at least 15 minutes per day
# drinking atleast 6 glass of water (it never happened)
                GOOD LUCK TO ME

First few days

Being a new parent is really challenging and of course one of the high pressure job. And trust me I have plenty of defenders of my previous statement.  The first two-three years of a child life requires a huge attentions and definitely lots of care. A new parent will be tired like a hell all through the day and night. Then the awesome moment will come when the tiny face will first time realize who you are. I still remember those days when Adi was just a month old and stared at my face for quite sometimes. Its like he wanted to know me well and wished to understand me better. 

    My first few days with Adi were very strenuous and tired. The proper latching did not happen first and he was always on demand and every two hours he used to get up for milk. But those were not  the moments I dreaded for. The change in relationship of mine with others and evaluation of myself in others’ eyes I hated most. Its like I was only and only meant for the baby. Its true I became mother and he needed my attention most but there was other me who existed even before his birth.  The most reason in post-delivery blue which is known as postpartum depression is the adjustment in the new role as mother. I had the same thing. The sense of loss of freedom and question about my ability as mother haunted me maximum. 

      My mother came to stay with me after delivery and her assurance was really a lot helpful for me.  After all she was the one who grew me. I think earlier days girls used to go their mothers’ home for delivery was a right thing to do. But all of us are not the fortunate and often stay quite away from the motherland itself.  Another person played a very important role was my husband. He was also a new father and  he also used to get freaked out in small things like me, but he kept the faith on me (sometimes against a lot of pressure). We used to stay in research institute’s apartment and sometimes he would go out to put baby’s cloth in the yard. And he was a kind of hero because he being a man taking care of baby’s clothes. I think the territory of father was so long confined in to just roam around with a pretty baby and take him to park. But as a parent, sleepless nights were spent by father was quite new at that time. And I think more fathers do that, the postpartum blue of mother will decrease in sharp rate. Early parenthood is not only for mother, its for father too. We stumbled a lot and hey , we enjoyed to lot. In my opinion, believe the parental bonding intensifies with the early postpartum problems.

Reading

I like to read and I can read anything....good book,scrap...anything printed on the paper or uploaded in the world wide web. Reading something soothes me alot, especially when I am distressed, sad or do not know what to do.
   I think reading a trash also help someone to judge their own decision. Reading enriches our mind but there are certainly some drawbacks of reading though. For me sometimes I get too much into the book, in fact I start living in the world of imagination, aka "lost in characters". Sometimes too much involvement in a book, influence my decision making and somehow the character becomes a part of me. Still I read.
   Nowadays reading blogs have become an addiction to me. I do read some blogs with lots of eagerness and sometimes I do wait for their latest post.

The Garden

  The silent dew drops fell on the green leaves of the cilantro, the firm skin of red tomatoes looked like the wax-polished. Morning garden was so silent and peaceful like bliss. The tendrils of pumpkin plant hugged the bamboo fence with such affection and assurance that it seemed like a mother holding her new born baby. The sky was clear and blue and looked like a deep ocean, only over the top. 

   She stepped her feet on the green grass and felt a kind of satisfaction and pride. The first bloom on her jasmine plant gave her an unexplained happiness and pleasure .The fresh fragrance of the white jasmine buds and bloomed flower would linger with her through her whole day, in her daily chores. 

 She was born in a far corner village of west Bengal from where she dreamt of the outside world. She read Chaucer and Shakespeare in the dim light of lanterns, sometimes even till the dawn. In her later days, which surrounded by so many concrete buildings and fences, she managed to keep a small patch of green, much against her husband’s choice. Morning till late night, she would be busy with households, children, journals, students, yet she felt a strong urge for this small patch of garden to visit at least once in a day. It was like an oxygen parlor in her work-suffocating life, a place of her complete freedom. 

 (My mother has a strong love for garden. In my memory, she and her garden had been intertwined with each other. )

A weekend

In our school, every alternative Saturday used to be a holiday and I used to eagerly wait for those alternative Saturdays with long weekend. Mostly extra studies or extra coaching classes were scheduled in those weekends, yet I still wanted those days. One more memory of Saturday was my mother. She would come home early from school and spending extra time with her was very precious. Sometimes, some relatives would have dropped by on weekends and there would be lots of fun.
Eventually we started college and weekends lost their charm. And when the pressure of education was thrown on our shoulders, our weekends were heavily occupied by coaching classes. Believe me, I had a biology tuition of 4 hours on Sunday. But life goes on.
In university hostel, weekends were not like weekends any more. Every Monday we had exams and marks used to be added up with the total marks at the end of semester. So, those Monday-exams were important and took out all the life from our weekends. In first year I studied like an obedient but in second year I became rebellious. No grade-fear could stop me from hanging around in Ganeshkhind chowpatty in Sunday evening and eating the oily greasy Chinese Hakka noodle with pumpkin-tomato sauce. Sometimes we used to go and eat in Bengali restaurant Deep. These memories are still so fresh in mind that it did not feel like I am talking about something of 8-9 years old. One more memory in Pune University Hostel was watching one TV program of Hindi film music. My God! There was only one TV in whole girls’ hostel campus. The whole common room used to be overcrowded with girls. Nowadays when every song has been uploaded in YouTube, running for watching some Hindi songs must seemed to be ridiculous now. But those times these were our only entertainment in our hostel life. Another memory of Friday night was watching Hindi Movies in Hostel. All chemistry girls would sit together with running commentary and used to get scolding by senior students. I still miss those days.
Then I reached IISc, and my weekends can be categorized as before and after meeting my future husband. When I was single and alone, I used to get up at least 9:00 am and rushed to mess to eat the last served food in mess. But after getting engaged, I used to get up 11:00 am and after telephoning the boyfriend at least 10 times for pleading to get up, I would go to mess directly 12:30 pm. Thats called life. No breakfast in most of the days. And when baby reached in my life , my life changed so much that I can say no weekend fun in life any more. I know... I know… when he will grow up and read (if) this blog, he may say” Mom, why are you waiting for weekends? You have fun all the weekdays now”. Yes, fun of raising a kid .

Confidence

Today morning was very gloomy and cloudy. Though I got up early but started little late from home. That kiddo will tell so many stories at night and morning it’s very difficult for me to make him get up. Anyway, I had to take a cab for him and dropped him at the day care. After that I was waiting for the bus for more than 15 minutes and scolding MBTA. The wind was chill and started drizzling also. I was feeling very depressive because of this late bus. I was thinking of my hardship because of waiting for bus. Suddenly, something had happened. I saw a lady, cycling putting one baby at the front seat of her cycle and other one (below 1 year) on her chest on baby swing. I Just amazed seeing her confident. I do appreciate her confident but was not it little bit too much for the babies’ safety? I certainly cannot take these risks for Adi. God bless her and help her.

Rainy Day

Today is a rainy day and not a very busy day for me. I could not concentrate my mind on my work. Actually I am in need of a strong motivation or a lot of work pressure to keep myself going today. Monday Morning blue had a strong effect on me during morning rush hour. That time Steve Jobs motivated my mind. One of my friends posted his wonderful talk on his Facebook wall; I just happened to listen that and liked it so much.
So many bubbles of thought surface on our mind but they just fade away. Sometimes we do want to capture them on the piece of paper. Alas, it’s really hard to put all of them on writing. I am not an avid blogger. I write because I love to write or talk. I think when we talk to a friend , these kinds of melancholic blabbering will bore them a lot. But Microsoft office will say nothing to me. So this is an excuse for me for blogging.
For the last few months Boston had huge show showers, blizzards and lots of other things in the name of snow, winter, cold and chill. But when I come back home by daily commute, the frozen Charles River looks so beautiful. Now, the downtown Boston no longer reflects on the evening river water, yet it’s so beautiful. I was born in Kolkata and spent twenty five years of my life there. I loved that city too. Yet this uncanny beauty I never saw there. May be as because, Kolkata never gets frozen. Kolkata will be remained in my heart as a bubbly city, colorful people, in March-April red-yellow flower rush on both sides of the road. People abroad here talk about the poverty and dirtiness of Kolkata. I just want to tell them, ”Have u ever been in Kolkata?” If you ever lived in that city , definitely you would find some different kind of charm in there. Each of these cities has their individual appeal.
See, this is the thing happens when I start writing something, I write something else. Boston and Kolkata get intermingled and ultimately I finished my today.