stuff that hides

(Republished without permission, please go here for more such)

Tears and stuff

Things got a bit intense last evening.

I walked in on my daughter watching a re-run of Jungle Book 2 on television. You know it. Mowgli rediscovers his old friends in the jungle, after discovering hormones in the man-village. My daughter was crying because Mowgli knew he had to return to mankind, and Baloo the bear was giving him a hug to make it easier.

‘Why aren’t you crying?’ My daughter asked me. She was pouring tears. ‘It’s so sad and happy at the same time.’

So I cried a little. I was surprised at how easily the tears came.

We sat there, sniffling, pre-teen daughter and middle-aged father, as the credits rolled up. It felt good to know that in her eyes I wasn’t a wimp.

quoted

"The human race would have died out if it was left to men to have babies."
--- Colleague at work when discussing a picture of a woman in labour that appeared in the Sunday Age newspaper. She believes, and we all agreed, that men cannot tolerate pain as well as women do. They (men) just don't have any pain threshold level.
Pic courtesy: theage.com

aao, khao

What better way to start 2010 than by completely feeding my face? In the year and half of my being in Melbourne, I've made no pretenses about missing Indian food. Especially when it comes down to chaat and sweets and the other goodies we take for granted back home.

It was a random chat with one of the dude's at the Indian store at Moonee Ponds that lead to my best discovery in Melbourne yet. Ironic though that it should be Partner asking about "Where can we get authentic gulab jamuns?" instead of me. Perhaps because Partner has been quite sick of the disintegrating gulab jamuns I've tried making. They taste almost the same except they are not round or any other shape.