I’m still here. Really. Not dead, not faded away. Just somewhat pre-occupied with life and baby. Just tired.
Life goes on, though. The baby’s now 8 months old. He’s sitting up, eating semi-solids and blabbing away at 3 am. In between stealing nicks at his fingernails with a mini swiss-knife (who knew cutting a baby’s nails would be so difficult and that they would grow SO fast?), trying to entice him with khichdi and inventing games to stimulate his already visible super-intelligence, I’m also getting some writing done.
In the last few months, besides my regular gigs, I’ve had articles in the Guardian Weekly, DNA (Pune) and the Herald (Goa). Plus, I’m editing a charity newsletter (for a fee, of course), planning a column for a newspaper and dreaming of street photography and being India’s answer to Garance Doré (and Scott). All this usually happens between 8 pm – 11 pm most nights (or 2.30 am yesterday, if you must know), with baby-wake-up-breaks in between. Tired, who me?
Next year, you’re going to see my byline in some leading newspapers, the big glossies and popular news websites. Sales in the bag yet? Nope. But by year end, they might be. They just might be.
I hope to be blogging more frequently in November. It’ll be colder, baby’ll sleep better, I’ll have loads of free time. Yes, that sounds like a plan.
But in case you don’t hear from me, please don’t strike me off your blogroll.
See you soon. Promise.
We received this cup as a gift for Baby M and it came with a small leaflet inside with information about other TT products and a diagram on how to use the cup.
Despite doing what the leaflet said, there was no water coming out of the yellow spout. The pointed pink spike inside doesn’t have a hole on the top either and I was wondering whether we needed to cut off the top like we do on sealed straws.
Google came to my rescue as usual. It seems that mothers the world over are confused as to how to use this cup. On almost every parenting forum, women are sharing stories and tips on using this product. Most of them are putting the cup back into storage to be used only later as a drinking cup (minus the lid).
For all those who searched Tommy Tippee’s website in vain for instructions of any sort, here’s the solution!
First of all, remember that it is your 6 month + baby who will use the cup, not you. What is it that babies this age do? They bite. They chew. They chomp down on everything (well, mine does).
So, assemble the cup as per the instructions. The pink spike points upwards and fits into the yellow spout snugly. Don’t worry about the spout being blocked. Fill the cup. Close the yellow lid so that it snaps into place and doesn’t rotate anymore. Give it to baby.
Baby will chew on the soft yellow spout which will cause the pink spike underneath to shift ever so slightly resulting in a little liquid coming into baby’s mouth. This is ideal for babies who are not ready for free-flowing liquids yet. Plus, they can chew all they like!
Try it yourself. But sterilise it again before giving it to baby. Let me know how it goes
Remember my post on trying to identify this tree?
Well, thanks to our friend Rajiv, we now know that this tree is commonly called the Rain tree (Albizia saman). So nice to be able to give it a name 
Thanks, Rajiv!
It is a little past 10 pm on the first day of Ganesh Chaturti as I start to write this post. I’ve just put the baby back to sleep again. He’s been trying to sleep since 5 pm. The signs were all there – a tired little face, rubbing his eyes, hyper-excitability, laughing as if he couldn’t stop. The baby books will tell you that by this point, he’s gone beyond sleep. As a friend put it, “He’s too tired to sleep”.
Being a public holiday didn’t help. Living in a lovely house with an envious view may be a blessing, but the location is a curse. It’s not just the traffic flowing by on the main and arterial roads or the motorcycles zooming by or the reversing cars with their ‘Silent Night’ alarms at 3 am. It is the incessant honking. It is the pile-up of vehicles at the petrol pump next door. It is the impatient buses with their super-loud horns wanting to get past the petrol pump.
Tonight, it is all of this. And it is also the vehicles heading to the ferry for the first night of immersions. Fireworks, car honking in tandem (reminds me of Iraq or Afghanistan – just the celebratory guns are missing ), loudspeakers attached to trucks laden with idols.
Poor God – between now and New Year, His hearing will be sorely tested once again. No wonder our prayers aren’t heard anymore.
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I have lived in Bombay for most of my life. Yet the noise here, in little Panjim, is nothing like I have ever experienced. I remember endless conversations with Mr.R when I tried to convince him that it was easy to tune out the sound – it fades into the background, I said.
A year later, I see how stupid I was. Contrary to popular wisdom, you don’t get used to it. Rather, it grates on your nerves every waking moment.
Elevated noise creates stress. With the baby, my threshold for tolerating unnecessary noise has dropped dramatically. Most days, I feel rather militant toward the buses, trucks, cars and bikes that honk as they turn, honk as they pass by, honk as they stop. It is never ending. Sooner or later, something has to give.
We’re contemplating putting up a banner in the verandah which reads “Silence Zone. Baby sleeping”. I don’t think it will make any difference. If we had people with any sense , I think uncharitably, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. More importantly, I suspect we have enough malicious, out-for-a-lark people around who will honk precisely because you ask them not to.
So, short of moving out, what are our options? Do they make earplugs for babies? Perhaps we can try those earmuffs that kids in England wear in the winter or during Halloween – furry, colourful, often with devil’s horns or an angel’s halo attached.
The other option? A public campaign to reduce noise, endless letters to the editor, glaring at drivers, petitioning to shut down the petrol pump.
How does one cope? Any tips?
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Update on last night: We got no sleep. Baby kept jumping out of his skin everytime a firecracker went off either nearby or in the distance. He looked petrified – no child should be subjected to this. Not for any reason, not even God.
Via Knack, I came across this simple, but lovely idea that spreads optimism, inspiration and fun, guerrilla style.
From the blog:
In a world where we are constantly bombarded with negativity, I want to spread optimism and inspiration – guerrilla style – by randomly putting up post-it notes with encouraging messages in public places.
How easy is this. Little post-it’s. Words of wisdom, encouragement or hope. Left behind in public places. Anonymous (if you wish or link to falafel’s blog).
What’s the worst that can happen? The post-it can fall off, fly away, be ground dirt before you know it. Or someone could find it, smile and be happy for that brief moment (or the rest of the day). Reminds me of bookcrossing (that’s another definite idea-to-try).
Looking forward to seeing little post-its around Panjim. It’s really too cute to be called clutter
I enjoyed this post from Tomato Nation. Some sensible points here
If you have reached the age of 25, I have a bit of bad news for you, to wit: it is time, if you have not already done so, for you to emerge from your cocoon of post-adolescent dithering and self-absorption and join the rest of us in the world. Past the quarter-century mark, you see, certain actions, attitudes, and behaviors will simply no longer do, and while it might seem unpleasant to feign a maturity and solicitousness towards others that you may not genuinely feel, it is not only appreciated by others but necessary for your continued survival. Continuing to insist past that point that good manners, thoughtfulness, and grooming oppress you in some way is inappropriate and irritating.
Grow up.
Is it only in India that cars have this ‘music’ while reversing? You hear everything from a beep-beep to Beethoven, to Jingle Bells, Silent Night and Happy Birthday. Every day.
I don’t recall seeing this in the UK or anywhere in Europe. Our car in the UK had rear parking sensors which were meant to alert you when you got too close to something. It certainly didn’t beep ALL the time.
In India, we have chosen to disable these unnecessary sounds. We choose not to add to the cacophony. So no reversing music, no door locking indicators. And for those who say that they need the music to alert people that they are reversing, guess what. We haven’t had an accident yet (touch wood).
You don’t need music to prevent accidents. You just need to slow down and pay attention.
And when you hear Silent Night at 3 am (ah, the irony) every night, when there’s absolutely no other traffic around, you know that there’s something seriously wrong with the traffic rules and with what automobile manufacturers consider necessary ‘accessories’.
This is a very common Indian flowering tree. You’ll see it everywhere. It’s the one we tried Guerilla Gardening on. Do you know what it is called? Let me know if you do.
(C) Mr.R 2008
This photo (by Mr.R) was taken during last year’s monsoon (you can tell by the boats in the background – there’s no marina this year). I love the colors – shocking pink sari, bright blue umbrella, grey everywhere else. The blue of the umbrella matches the pontoons as well.
There’s hardly been any rain this year, but local color is always abundant.
Bal Thackeray, his son and nephew are some of the most powerful and influential people in the country. Right? At a word from them, cities can shut down, public transport paralysed, ‘lessons’ taught. Their favourite subjects are the welfare of the much beleaguered Marathi Manoos, preserving the sanctity of Maharashtra and Mumbai from ‘outsiders’ and along with the BJP/VHP/RSS protecting the Hindu rashtra.
So, it surprised me when I read this news report from the Hindu archives.
Penning for a cause
IF YOU thought that Shabana Azmi has devoted a good part of her time to social causes, her hubby Javed Akhtar is also in the same frame of mind, as of now. The writer-lyricist has been asked to wield his powerful pen to instil a sense of cleanliness in Mumbaiwallahs, exhorting them to keeping the city clean.
The request, from Uddhav Thackeray, Bal Thackeray’s son, has nothing political about it, says Akhtar. In fact, these powerful words are to be set to lilting music by Anu Malik and then aired on satellite channels, interspersed with appropriate visuals, to make an impact on the cosmo-crowd of the ever-alive metro. Javed saab should be thrilled to be associated with the assignment that’s going to work for a genuine cause, just as he was while lending his lyrics and dialogues to Honey Irani’s (ex-wife) directorial debut “Armaan.” The lyricist got so drowned into the nitty-gritty of the film that he went overboard, giving his inputs to the screenplay too, and managed to get his name included in the credit titles of the film as a joint-screenplay writer! Akhtar saab is in for so many surprises these days.
(Compiled by Ranjani Govind)
Of course, this was way back in 2003 when life was much simpler and the Thackerays didn’t have the familial issues that they have today. And did this project ever see the light of day? I don’t know.
That’s besides the point, though. This report reiterates something I’ve always wondered (and Mr.R keeps asking aloud, too) : The Thackerays, being so powerful, have the influence to change the face of Mumbai overnight. One word from Senior Mr.T and the city can be sparkling, no garbage, debris or filth everywhere. One diktat and the city can clean up its act and make that first step toward that infamous Shanghai model the BMC keeps touting.
One word from Bal Thackeray about saving the tiger, their own symbol and we might well see a reversal of the animal’s (mis)fortunes. I’ve written about this before – does the reverence for the tiger end with the SS flag? How about doing something about their rapid decline? Or is it indicative of the SS’s own status?
Here’s a good natured challenged (I mean well, really). I challenge the Thackerays to use their power, influence and capitalise on the mass adulation they enjoy to make Mumbai a better place. Put aside the usual shenanigans of breaking shop windows, burning effigies, scheming to run the cash rich BMC or foul-mouthing opponents. Shake up the city and help build it into a place worth living.
The T’s can single-handedly change the city. Nobody else can. The question is, do they want to?
