Lost In Pink!

                                        

Finally! These roses are here. I have already talked about them in this post. Blooming away to glory, waving their tiny faces at me whenever I peek out the door, which I do a lot these days. Reading newspaper? Peek out the door for a second. Cooking? Ah, lets take a 5 second break to peek out. Just being lazy? Get up and peek out the door. My love is here. These pink bundles of sheer sensory pleasure, that make me want to dance every single time I see them. I am possessed by them.

When I first gave a nod to move into my current house, the biggest reason were four wild rose shrubs planted in the garden of the house. They had been in my short list of 'must have in life' since always. We moved in here late in April 2014 and by then, the flowering season had already gone. I admired the last few receding flowers longingly and impatiently waited for the next year. But I was very disappointed to note that I had to be out of town for a couple of months just as the first buds started to blossom. I was crestfallen. It meant I would not be able to see the flowers in full bloom, because we were scheduled to move in December.

Anyways, I got a few cuttings prepared during the rainy season. I just could not bear to part with this love of my life, now that fate had brought us together in such a dramatic manner. But there was more than cuttings in store for me. It turned out that we were staying here for a few more months. This meant that I could finally see the roses blossoming in their full glory. Hearing this news all I could think of was Paulo Coelho:

                

                        When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.

So here I am, feasting my senses on the gorgeous bunches of wild roses. For those of you who were wondering why I was not writing anything, I was very busy in loving these rose bushes, among other things. I even refused a long trip to God's own country because I feared I would miss God's own flowers, just in case they decide to blossom early.  

Even Google knows my deep love for these. It styled this picture for me. In love!!

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The Unsung Heroes: Indian Army Wives

Once, Yama, the ruler of hell, heard a large group of women laughing and talking, enjoying a party in hell. He asked his assistant to find out who these women were, and how were they so happy even in hell! Yama's assistant instantly answered his query, 'Sir, these are Indian Army Wives. They enjoy wherever they go.'

That might sound like a joke to many. But to my ears and eyes, it is the absolute truth. I walk among hundreds of heroes as a part of my daily routine. Someone might come across an inspiring story once in a while. I have hundreds of such stories happening around me, which I witness, feel and live. I see my heroes, I am proud to be in their company, we smile at each other and nod a 'good evening' or 'good morning', even when we don't know each other's names. We know that it does not matter much, we are friends anyways. Such is the spirit of our Army, our officers, and naturally, their better halves. Yes, my heroes are none other than Indian Army Wives!

Indian Army wives constitute a little army by themselves. This little army is a storehouse of talent and fun, a cache of songs and laughter and a beacon of hope in dark times of loss and turmoil. Among this group, one can meet women from all walks of life. Doctors, engineers, army officers, civil servants, lawyers, journalists, air hostesses, teachers, entrepreneurs, authors, poets, actors, classical dancers, corporate trainers, singers, artistes, you name it, we have her! How they manage to be everything that they are is nothing short of magic! At times, they leave me star-struck with their wit, their beauty, their panache, their elegance, their rich taste and class. But these qualities can be easily seen by anyone. Indian Army wives are much more than that. They are an ocean of beautiful hearts and minds, come together drop by drop, handpicked by destiny, to be paired with the bravest on earth.

I read somewhere, that we should not judge others, as we do not know their story. But I have seen people judging army wives many times. You see them partying daily, but you do not see the uncertainty of tomorrow clawing at their nerves. You see their glamour and style, you do not see the struggle that they go through in moving between one mossy old house to another, every alternate year, or even before that. You think that they do not lift a finger, but actually, the amount of back-breaking work that they do goes unnoticed, well hidden behind their charm. You can spot her driving away in a sedan, but you are conveniently unaware of the fact that she is running from pillar to post, to keep everything in place in the absence of her husband. You think that they enjoy too many 'freebies', you never try to understand their pain that is darker than those 30 odd black boxes in which they carry their entire life.

Staying away from her husband for a while is a part of any army wife's life. During these tough times, while the officer is braving the challenges of glaciers and super low temperatures, the wife has her own glaciers to climb. In that duration, she doubles up as a father to her kids, a son to her in laws, and does everything that the man of the house is supposed to do, that too with elan. Did you know that army wives compare their separation length with each other and someone who has been away 'only' for three years in a marriage of seven years feels luckier than the one who had to spend three years and one month away. Isn't that a fancy yardstick? 

Life, in itself is not easy. Life as a woman is more difficult. Women have the fighter's instinct and they are tough from within. Army wives are a lot tougher. They live in the present and enjoy thoroughly while keeping in mind that tomorrow might be different. The past year went like a slideshow, leaving me scared and saddened many times. Every now and then, an unfortunate news comes and wakes me up from my sweet dreams to the harsh truth. The reason of my not writing much this September and October was not sheer laziness or any kind of fancy army-wife-partying spree, it was a rather low and heartbroken phase for me. We lost Maj Dhruv Yadav, an officer who I met very briefly, and had the chance to find out how much he loved kids. He used to ask Coco, 'Who am I?', and when Coco replied 'Dhu uncle' in recognition, his face beamed with joy. Proud to be in Coco's good book, he did this again and again, just for the fun of it. 

When his news came, all I could remember was Coco's beloved 'Dhu uncle' and his radiant smile and cried at the sheer injustice of fate. I have never spoken to his wife, but all I could think of was her, and their unborn child.  I bless his son with all my might, and wish him all the happiness of the world. Even today, not a day goes without remembering Maj Yadav, though I barely knew him. I do not know anyone stronger than his wife, and salute her for being so brave. She, and many others like her have proved time and again, that as long as we have such iron willed women, our frontiers will stay safe.

I must let you in on a little secret now. I am an army wife myself, and consider myself quite strong. A senior officer once jokingly said that I should be awarded 'Paramveer Chakra' for my bravery of staying alone in this 'forest resort' like house for a few months. But I think my bravery ends there. Inside, I am scared. When I was about to get married, my colleagues sometimes played 'ae jaate huye lamhon' for me, not knowing that inside I died a thousand deaths. Can you believe, I run away whenever the movie Border is being aired on tv? I haven't watched it, and do not have the courage to watch it ever either. My bucket list has bungee jumping though! I pray to God for peace and harmony, because no one else's life depends on it but my own. Whereas, my magnanimous heroes promise to stand by each other, come rain or sunshine. They do not know defeat, and quitting is not an option for them. They stand proudly by their faujis and  that my friends is all the more reason why I worship my heroes, these soldiers without uniforms, the Indian Army Wives.  

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Little Miss Pinky!

The lazy woman has got rather active hands which do not like to stay still even during her laziest lounging-in-the-sun sessions. She is also constantly on the lookout for interesting new projects. Knitting for fashionable little girls figures very high in her list of interesting projects. So, when she heard a very good news of the long awaited arrival of a baby girl in one of her husbands' senior colleague's home, she shed a few tears of joy right there in her bean bag and then it was all cheer and laughter at the prospect of yarn shopping for a new project in Coco-land.

All the internet was rinsed thoroughly for the cutest available pattern and I settled for this pair of booties. Then the hunt for a matching hat began and was met with success a short while later. A pattern for sweater was also searched for, but after a lot of search generated not much, I decided to make a simple front open sweater knitted from neck downwards, and make it a little wider at the base to make it look fashionable and not boxy. 

I am not happy with the yarn that we get in Indian markets, whether for babies or in general. I do not find the colors or the texture attractive but have to make do with whatever is available. I went to the market and with great difficulty and little inputs from Coco's dad (which rather confused me) chose baby pink and purple in Vardhman's Baby Soft. 

The booties were ready quickly and so was the hat. The sweater stayed rather neglected and was knitted in many installments as a result of lazy woman's busy social calendar in December. It was lying in my closet for at least two weeks under piles of sarees from the Putti Parade that I mentioned in the previous post. Finally, when I realized that winter will be over and the baby will grow big before the sweater is finished and delivered, I hurried up and finished making it and decorating it with little crocheted flowers, after a lot of brainwaves about buttons and ribbons and what-nots. 

After everything was ready, it was duly taken out to the lawn for a photo shoot and at least a hundred pictures were clicked before pack up. Meanwhile I stared at the lovely set and drooled at all the cuteness a lot. I promised myself to keep making such sweet little things every once in a while to keep in touch with my love for cute little things. With a lot of love and care, I packed the entire set in the same plastic clear jar in which the yarn came, and mailed it the next day.

Happiness Galore!

                                        

The last few months have been crazily busy. I reminded myself almost daily to come here and write something, post new pictures, dole out news, but as they say...lazy peeps are never short of excuses. So, here we are again, half past December, in my favorite season of the year, on my favorite place on earth, sunning my lazy self on my bean bag, my hands full with knitting and cups of tea keep coming to keep me in a pleasant mood. 

It has been so many days since I dropped the threads that I am very confused as to where should I begin, what should I tell you first about? The Good news or the better one? Or better still, the best one? Haha, lets begin from somewhere, in chronological order. First of all, the trio here in Coco land celebrated all their birthdays and anniversaries etc, and this blog also became three years old. 

As we happily celebrated three birthdays and an anniversary in the past few months, the thing I was most worried about was the imminent posting due this month. I was not worried about packing or logistics. I was only worried that I would miss  the pleasant winter sun and lovely days of lazing on the lawn. Someone up there heard my prayers and gave us a rare second chance, that is, an extension. Coco's dad cleared the big exam that he was studying for and that is the reason behind this extended stay in the pleasant lap of Himalayas. However, we are also happy that his torturous long hours of studying are now behind us. But the extent of my happiness at this extension can be understood by those few people who have spent some time with me in that divine sun.

Meanwhile, being an army wife, I was also engaged in various social events that occur seasonally. Crazy days of 'Putti Parade'* in sarees happened. Additionally, festivals, parties, arrival of guests, Coco's school, short days of winter and my laziness, everything happened at once. And I forgot to deliver a great piece of news. Bringing Up Coco's entry 'Glee, Thy Name Is Tea' won the second prize in Blogadda's 'Ready for rewards' activity.  A few thousands worth of e-gift vouchers and a lot of happiness. Online shopping is trending nowadays in Cocoville.

Wait, that's not all! I have one more exciting news to share. Yours truly is now on her way to becoming a published author with her short story getting published in the upcoming anthology 'Colors: Shades of Life'. You will definitely be kept posted on this. This one is dedicated to you. Yes, you, the reader, who come here, read my posts and support me immensely. Without your support, all my stories would have stayed within me. So, yes, this one is definitely your doing. And I cannot thank you enough for this. 

PS: I love hearing from you, be it personally or through social media. I would love it even more if you comment here on my blog. Your valuable words will stay with me forever that way. Staying occupied with Coco and too much lazing in the sun has affected my memory, and I do not always remember what you said.

*Putti Parade is a type of punishment given to cadets in which they have to wear all their uniforms one by one and parade in front of the punishing authority, within an impossibly short span. And trust me, I tried unsuccessfully to count the number of uniforms that these people have! 

Coco's One Liners

Papa: Who is this?

Coco: Galfend.

When Coco was born, I could not wait for him to grow up and start talking to me. Now that he is in that 'natkhat' phase, he keeps us well fed on a generous dose of his cute banter, often funny, sometimes hilarious, and his candid, spontaneous remarks often leave me in splits of laughter. Though, the fact that such conversation usually takes place when no one else is around to laugh with me takes a lot of fun out of it. Later, when I reproduce the incidents to his father, grandparents or his aunts and uncles, it is only half of the hilarity, coming from a grown up, who is herself laughing uncontrollably, the words barely making sense.  

Coco dressed as lord Hanuman during Dussehra celebrations at his school

                             

My mother used the word 'bhakau' to scare me to sleep when I was small, though I hardly ever got scared. Coco's dad heard it from me and tried to use the same word for Coco. Now, Coco being my true son, never really got scared, and his dad had to bring in the next big scary thing 'mota bhakau' into picture, which was mildly effective. It was an intense sadistic pleasure to find a friend who used to say that we should not scare the child, coming to terms and using 'mota bhakau' to control Coco's naughtiness, though it barely helped. 

Now, last week Coco had cough and cold, and we went to see the doctor where he saw a little kid his age, and said, 'hello fend, how aa you?' The kid went on, not paying much attention and Coco spotted his mother following him, covered in a burka from head to toe. Coco's jaw fell as he watched her move, his head rotating in sync with her movement from left to right, and after observing her thoroughly, he concluded, 'Mommy, see, bhakau aunty!' I had no place to hide, and I laughed out loud in a room full of waiting patients.

(Spelling mistakes in Coco's lines are intentional. They are written as he speaks. His grammar is hilarious too!) 

In The Land Of Bond, Ruskin Bond!

Coco never ventures out without his fleet of little cars, and he never leaves a place without getting us to buy more cars. It was quite usual for us as we ended up buying this pack of six vehicles at the mall road, Mussoorie. Last weekend we visited the queen of hills and stayed overnight. In the evening, after we reached our place to stay, we refreshed and went ahead for a long and leisurely stroll on the mall, where the above mentioned shopping for cars took place.

 As far as I remember, I have always loved hills. They have their own smell, their own charm and they never fail to mesmerize me. It is quite another story with Coco and his dad who get motion sickness during curvy hilly drives. His dad though, remains fine when he is driving the vehicle, but the child in my arms constantly threatens to throw up, which is quite a spoiler for my love of hills. In any case, before we move out of this place which overlooks Mussoorie, I wanted to visit Mussoorie in a relaxed manner and not for only a few hours like we did earlier at many occasions. So we planned a weekend at Mussoorie which is a 30 km drive from our home and set sail. 

It was gaiety and gala as usual on mall road, and as we neared Cambridge book store at the far end, I suddenly remembered it was Saturday, the day of the week when Mussoorie's very own celebrated author Ruskin Bond comes and meets his fans. I felt a rushing sensation that I get when I am excited and proceeded to enter the bookstore. But my hopes died down as I glanced up and down the aisles of an empty bookstore, except for a single salesman and the owner on the counter. 

We stayed for some time, looking at books, not courageous enough to ask anyone, and as a few other people also arrived, we gradually came to know that Mr Bond comes between 3 pm to 5 30 pm or so. Oh, if only I had known! At 5, I was happily chatting away with a senior couple at our guest house over steaming cups of tea, overlooking a deep gorge. Anyways, the very courteous owner at the bookstore allowed me to click a few pictures of the store. I was also extremely happy to find that they keep scores of signed books by Mr Bond for sale. At least! 

So we bought a few story books for Coco, and one signed book of Ruskin Bond, and very grudgingly exited the store. The enthusiasm with which people were talking about Mr Bond, the excitement about his books and the fanfare were all testimonies to his great work. I was a little crestfallen at not being able to see him, even when I had the opportunity, and I wished him a long and happy life, out of sheer fan-love.

Aww, so much love! Later, I gazed at the signature for a  a few minutes, before falling asleep beneath a cozy comforter in the chilly Mussoorie night.

After the bookstore, our next stop was Kalsang, the favorite Thai-Chinese food joint of the foodie tourists, where we beat the chill in style, with spicy lip smacking food. After having our fill, we strolled on the mall road for a while where Coco caught the fancy of a group of bubbly and noisy young people, among many others, as it always happens wherever we go. So he had a long round of photo shoot with these boys and girls. Sensing the presence of too much energy to deal with, Coco's father left the pram and watched as we all clicked away.   

We returned to our nightly abode after an ice-cream (I know, in the chilly weather!) and a couple of strolls on the mall road. Though I was tired by now, and sleepy, I read quite a few pages from my newly acquired book and fell asleep dreaming of adorable hill ghosts, Bond style...