Mia, my new baby girl

...is finally here. Born two weeks early according to the calendar but not a day earlier if you ask me. All that begging to my belly and imploring to meet her seems to have worked. And no, despite it looking staged, the pose was her own doing.

I don't have words to describe what I am feeling. Fatigued to the bone could be apt but somehow that's not it. It's almost 7am here, I've been up since 5am, fed her, cleaned second round of yellow potty (I now know five different shades) in the night, put her back to bed and then couldn't sleep.

Despite all advice that says "sleep when the baby sleeps", it ain't that easy. For one, when everyone else is sleeping -- Mia included -- is about the only time I get to cuddle-cuddle her, as against cuddle-to-calm or cuddle-to-feed. Everyone else seems to get heaps of time just doing nothing with her. On the other hand, I seem to only feed, clean, repeat the same and then put her to bed because "You NEED to sleep JB". I even get scolded for not sleeping enough.

Honesty-shonesty

Oh well. I had some stuff I wanted to write about but then this turned out to be a much quicker post. Thanks to Chandni for giving me this award. Big truth: I am very self-conscious about accepting blog awards, especially tags. First self-conscious bit is the award and second would be the answering the tag thing that makes me either avoid acceptance or procrastinate the writing!

I think I'm honest most of the times, and more than honest at most other times. *evil grin* So according to "rules", here are 10 more honest things...though how relevant to anyone/anything, I take no responsibility for!!

1. I cannot understand when people (on Facebook) tag me on notes when they haven't said hello for ages. I always remove the tag.

2. Sometimes I think I'm too low maintenance. :/ Like my comfort food is khichuri (for crying out loud) and most animation movies make me really happy.

3. I am never happy with the bras I buy. Never. And now that I officially have udders, it's getting even tougher.

4. Though I have a baby bump, I have to confess that my doctor said, ''A lot of your bump is in fact belly,'' which kind of had me a bit glum. :/ But then rather a doc who's easy to talk to then overly bloody maternal.

5. I am scared of driving cars and can't believe I am being forced to er, learn. However, before you laugh, I have no fears about hopping on a motorcycle and riding around. Parents and Partner have forbidden it.
(And I thought I'd get to make my own decisions once I was 30)

6. I secretly (well not anymore) fear that someday I will stop being attractive for Partner. (However if any woman EVER thinks of using my sometimes low self-confidence as a weakness and tries any moves-shoves on my territory, oh boy, she better be bloody prepared for my real nastiness. Evil laugh)

7. Yet I find it very tough to use the above as enough motivation to really exercise. I mean what's the point if affection is only physical eh? Bring on the chocolates.

8. I am always a bit apprehensive discussing what's bothering me with people -- even really close ones -- because I can't stand the expectation that I am expected to follow their advice!
(I mean it's fair though, I make them listen for hours and then get pissed off when they give me all-knowing advice.)

9. I am very jealous of women who can sing (they always behave like divas) and women who say they "play a lot of sport". I can do neither...though I am darned good at some video games. I demand video games be declared sport.
(Er, if you sing or play sport, it totally does not mean you, thik-hai?)

10. I SUCK at shooting games/war games, especially on the Xbox. I always get my head blown up in 2 seconds (usually Partner) and completely hate it. I am VERY competitive in video games... I also insist that all double/multiplayer video games should ALWAYS have a default female character. WHY should I play Modern Warcraft 2 when I always have to be a man?

I pass this on to:
Silvara (who is very honest about (failure) with weight loss attempts)
Goofy Mumma (who writes so sweetly about shifting to a new country)
Pirate of the Arabian (who writes one bloody post a year, should bloody well be writing more)
DewDropDream (who I have not seen in aaaaaages)
Sree (who is so honest...it hurts. And I wish it would stop hurting)

We are pregnant

Why am I writing this, writing here? That’s the question I’ve asked the umpteen times I’ve tried blogging and haven’t. Each time I haven’t been certain of the answer and so haven’t bothered to write. I’ve sat and played game after game of online monopoly (pogo.com), tried the same campaign on Age of Empires at various difficulty levels, surfed through various websites…Done everything but blog. Either I’ve not known why I want to write – not what, never what – or someone else has said it better than I would, could. There’s no dearth of opinions, I’ve always had them by the truckloads, there’s just a sense of… Can’t-be-bothered. There’s so much that’s happened. It made the last year go by so fast, it seems I went straight from 2008 to 2010. Perhaps my not wanting to write was a way of dealing with so many new things, adjustments, changes. Perhaps. So many remember-it-lifelong events, moments. So many that at times you (and I) forgot them in an instant unless it had a Facebook album dedicated to it.

Blood, beats and the rhythm of rage

Some coincidences in life are funny.

On Monday night, while watching Media Watch, host Jonathan Holmes made me re-think my reaction to SRS (henceforth You-Know-Who). He was blasting off an Australian journalist for her ‘opinion’ column where she suggests beating up members of a political party because she didn’t agree with their opinions. Holmes’ exact quote, “That’s not opinion…that’s hate mongering.” It was pretty much what I had written in the gadha post. It made me re-think my reaction. Even though we are justified in our anger towards You-Know-Who, violence-against-violence is NOT the answer. What then is the answer to fear, frustration, anger and a sense of persecution?

The answer came through a series of coincidences…

Partner was out for an official dinner last night – read, bingeing with the blokes – and I was sitting at home with a massive headache. After losing the throne of Therebor and being beaten by the hordes of Mordor for the eighth time (Xbox 360, The Battle for Middle Earth II), I took my hurt ego and hurting fingers to watching some TV. Now Special Broadcasting Service (SBS) is one of the best channels here. It shows really good documentaries and it’s the only channel that gives equal representation to the multicultural Australia… Australians, Indians, Koreans, Indigenous; it has ‘mixed’ reporters/news readers. So last evening, I came across a documentary on Rio de Janeiro; rather the favelas – shanty towns aka slums – of Rio. It was the drums and music along with the images of dancing, bedraggled children that made me sit up.

It was like looking at Mumbai’s Dharavi again… plastic and human refuse, thatched huts that look like an ugly, mismatched mosaic in aerial shots, dogs and children generally lying around, poverty… and corrupt, corrupt police. While Rio creates images of exotic holidays for most – ignorant me included – there is a prevalent drug culture there. A drug-gang culture. To combat the drug-gangs, Rio has the military police, which can even put Delhi/Mumbai police to shame with its corruption and ruthlessness. If we hear about fake ‘encounter killings’ in Mumbai, the Polícia Militar (literally, military police) – under the garb of flushing out drug-gangsters – is also known to shoot innocent people at “point blank range”… often wrongfully. Or perhaps intentionally, no one can stop them.

The documentary was called ‘Favela Rising’ and was about the Grupo Cultural AfroReggae. Who are AfroReggae?

“…a Brazilian cultural group from Rio de Janeiro. Forged out of the police massacre of 21 people in their local community in 1993, they have gone on to establish an international profile for their pioneering work in taking young people out of the drug/gang culture of Rio de Janeiro’s favelas (shantytowns).”

It’s a cultural group that takes on the police and the drug gangs through… Music. Their songs talk of politics, murder, police, drugs and they dance their desire for life. AfroReggae strongly believes that “hatred breeds violence”. It was stuff out of movies, only this was not fiction: The sheer will power of one man – Anderson Sá, former drug dealer and the man who started AfroReggae in 1995 in the favela, Vigário Geral – to move people, to make a difference. As Anderson’s fiancé says in the documentary, “He is so determined to save the world, he does not think about himself.”

Because, like us, Anderson was and is, pissed off.

21 people assassinated by the police
Our people killed by luck of draw
Hatred breeds violence, I’ve had enough
Yet my pride still resides in Vigario
I love my community
But I’m pissed off.

From the song, I’m Pissed Off, AfroReggae

The people in the favela don’t blame anyone. As one old man said, “We don’t blame the government anymore. We realise that the society, people, the police, religion, us….we all have to do something if we want things to change.” Much like blaming LK Advani, Sonia Gandhi, the gaping economic chasm, Hindiusm and Islam or the billion-plus population of India will not help.

It’s like taking a crap: if you don’t wash your bum, no one else will wash it for you. Or wipe it (Australia, toilet papers here!)

Whether it is media-mongering thugs like You-Know-Who or roadside eve teasers. Blank Noise Project does it’s own peaceful thing for handling eve-teasers… Bangalore-based rock band Thermal And A Quarter (TAAQ) are doing their bit for tackling You-Know-Who and other similar death eaters. The newsletter from TAAQ was the other coincidence. I was sitting and watching videos of AfroReggae on YouTube when G-talk announced a new mail.

“…it’s time to unlock our chords, vocal and all. For nearly a month, Bangalore has been rocked by a big protest against the self-appointed moral police. While mostly everybody was throwing hate back at the hate-mongers, we came up with our strongest response: One Small Love. This unusual protest song is about making a difference through random acts of love – to unexpected people, in unexpected places, in unexpected ways…”
You can hear One Small Love here and can download it here. Check out AfroReggae’s MySpace page as well…it doesn’t matter if you don’t understand the language. Dance along.

CNN-IBN journalist DP Satish wrote on his blog that the best way to deal with You-Know-Who is to not give them publicity. While it is a good idea to not give them any hype, it will be silly to not discuss the issue. We will not make such issues or such people go away by not discussing them. The idea is to KNOW, so that we know how to react. While the media and bloggers did provide You-Know-Who with a global platform, they also informed people. Perhaps the next time those at the receiving end will be better prepared. Perhaps instead of just one man speaking out against You-Know-Who and other death eaters, more will stand up and refuse to let them have their way.

So many people making themselves heard and reacting is a good sign. Perhaps eventually, we will not need help wiping/washing our bums. And if what it takes is singing and dancing to the rhythm of rage, so be it.

Disclaimer: This blog/post does not in any way seek to infringe any copyright of JK Rowling or the Harry Potter trademark. Just in case her lawyers decide to sue the blog owner, the use of You-Know-Who and ‘death eaters’ is duly attributed to JK Rowling. Thank-you for a phrase that describes evil so well, even though there is nothing magical about these evils. As a gesture of good will, the blog owner will soon be buying Tales of Beedle the Bard as well.

PS 1: Thank-you for the comments on the previous post....despite the numbers who end up reading this blog, not many react or interact. That is fine! Even if you choose not to comment, it would be nice if you pass on the One Small Love link to friends and people. Tks!

PS 2 : Check this out as well….LOVE the music.
See the AfroReggae in action, click on the video.

Mosquito makes man a eunuch!

Once upon a time, when doing Yugpurush or something similar, actor Nana Patekar said, “Ek machhar aadmi ko hijda bana deta hai.” (A single mosquito can turn a man into a eunuch). He is so bloody right.

While I am still much a woman, I HATE mosquitoes with every last red blood corpuscle that I have in my body (and the ones the winged bastards have not sucked out). I am currently at my parents place – not Kolkata as someone masquerading as me has typed in the chat box – and I look as if I’ve had red-spot tattoos on my body. My legs, arms, thighs and back are dotted with itchy, little red dots no-thanks to the mosquitoes that have been having a week-long buffet on my body.

Seriously, if you are bothered by mosquitoes and need a solution, invite me over. I seem to act like some sort of mosquito repellent for other people since when I am around, the shits ONLY bite me. So much for us humans being the smartest of all species as we still have not been able to control moskies. Once the science text books spoke of having eradicated malaria, now it’s back full swing. Not to mention dengue, also perpetrated by the blood suckers.

Mosquitoes have no conscience. They will bite you when you are celebrating your happiest moment or lamenting a loss. They will bite you when you are killing yourself to meet a deadline and even when you are making love. A mosquito bite during sex is VERY inconvenient. First you have to stop, then you have to scratch and if you can’t reach the spot, you have to ask your partner to scratch. Bloody romance killers.

I don’t know the species of mosquitoes that are now around but I can personally vouch that these parasites have evolved.

Earlier if you lit a Kachua coil (Tortoise brand mosquito repellants that are burnt and the fumes are meant to kill them), the moskies would fly helter-skelter. It was good fun watching them try and escape the fumes, smother in frustration and collapse. Then when Good Knight mats hit the market, the little blue tablets did pretty much the same thing. NOW though, the moskies seem to have competitions diving INTO the fumes of the kachua coil. And I swear to the lord, I have seen at least three moskies sitting ON a hot, supposed-to-kill-them Good Knight mat and getting a tan.

I have seen moskies the size of my nose in Sikkim and have heard stories those could kill a horse. I am much smaller though thankfully those never bit me. Apparently Norway has mosquitoes the size of airplanes and drivers are asked not to collide with them. :[ Here at my parents place they aren’t that big, but are just as mean and just as skilled in the art of giving maximum pain. They also seem to compete in who can give me the biggest bump that later turns into an angry red burn that stays for a week and itches me.

For one, there are the guerilla mosquitoes. These are the ones you will never see till they bite you. Even after that and sitting with your eyes plastered on the walls and trying to find them, you will never manage to catch one and YET be bitten WHILE you are hunting for them. Some brazen ones seem to mock me by buzzing from right under my nose.

Then are the F-51 jet-mosquitoes. These dudes attack in a formation and make a straight dive for you. So while you try to defend yourself from five, there’s another two choosing that tender spot at the back of your neck, or behind your knee, or between your toes, or on your eyelid. Have you ever been bitten on your eyelid? I have just been, even as I type this. Shits.

I am sure at least some of you have encountered the Phoenix mosquitoes: You squash them in your hand, or against the table or on the notebook and JUST AS you think they are dead and remove your hand, the bastards zoom off. They DON’T die, they rise from the dead! Some of the Picasso mosquitoes also display the phoenix trait. Picasso moskies are the ones that bite in a pattern… Like I discovered five bumps on my thigh after my video game session last night and realized the bites looked like a flower. Or bites that are in a zig-zag or some such pattern. I appreciate artistic license and all that, but not with my blood dudes.

It’s a pain, sitting and writing here because I have suffered serious blood loss by the time I am done with 500 words. And now that I have to go and play my last round of Empire Earth – can beat the computer in the island scenarios but am thwarted when I choose the land scenarios – as tomorrow this time I will be on a train, I dread the bites I will have. Sigh. If only I could bite the bastards and make them feel the pain. If only.

PS: Um, have you heard of any women addicted to video games or a particular video game? My father reckons I am going to destroy my still-to-be-made family because I forget to make breakfast as I am playing a video game. If you know of girls who play games AND still manage to run families, do share. I will tell my father. Sigh. Going now, my kingdom calls.