I have finally caught the 'wordpress' bug. Not sure if it is going to make a whale of a difference but am willing to give it a shot. The new address is
http://sukanyabora.wordpress.com/
Still need to work out some kinks but do visit and leave a comment on the new look!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Different
We know our true friends when we are in the dumps. In my case and for most of you, this was perhaps one of the many hard lessons we learned growing up.
Now that I am a mom, I can confidently add, we know our kids when we are unwell. But in a good, comforting way.
I had a health setback last night. With soreness coupled with excruciating pain and restricted movement, it wasn’t pretty. I did what I do best when I am indisposed. I groaned, moaned and whined! The kids, seeing their mother’s despair (read melodrama), went into action, in their own distinct ways.
A, my 3 year old got the sofa ready so I could rest my injured leg. She brought me cups of water and at some point even a cookie while constantly asking me, is you pain better now, mama?
On the other hand, D, her older brother, sat afar with a frowned forehead, observing me and his sister closely. Concerned he was going to bawl, I asked what’s the matter, sweetie? I don’t like to see you like this, was the reply I got. He sat away from all the activity until I proceeded to get in bed. He jumped right in with me, gave me a tight hug and said Mama, I love you. I am sorry you are in pain. Please get well soon. Hugging me tight, he laid next to me, the warmth and love of his embrace giving me the strength to fight the paralyzing pain.
Two little people with different modus operandi. One a pragmatic, ‘hands on’, commonsensical doer who scurried into action the minute something went awry. The other, laid back yet sensitive and emotional, contributed in a way he saw fit.
This uniqueness, no matter how often I witness, always amazes me. In some instances, it is very subtle but more often than not, the nuances are simply there in front of me, reminding me of the intricacies of human behavior.
PS: BTW, setback was a severe muscle pull while playing badminton. I brought it upon myself-didnt warm up enough before I plunged into the game. Much better now although the soreness continues to be there. Will take maybe another day or so to recover fully.
Now that I am a mom, I can confidently add, we know our kids when we are unwell. But in a good, comforting way.
I had a health setback last night. With soreness coupled with excruciating pain and restricted movement, it wasn’t pretty. I did what I do best when I am indisposed. I groaned, moaned and whined! The kids, seeing their mother’s despair (read melodrama), went into action, in their own distinct ways.
A, my 3 year old got the sofa ready so I could rest my injured leg. She brought me cups of water and at some point even a cookie while constantly asking me, is you pain better now, mama?
On the other hand, D, her older brother, sat afar with a frowned forehead, observing me and his sister closely. Concerned he was going to bawl, I asked what’s the matter, sweetie? I don’t like to see you like this, was the reply I got. He sat away from all the activity until I proceeded to get in bed. He jumped right in with me, gave me a tight hug and said Mama, I love you. I am sorry you are in pain. Please get well soon. Hugging me tight, he laid next to me, the warmth and love of his embrace giving me the strength to fight the paralyzing pain.
Two little people with different modus operandi. One a pragmatic, ‘hands on’, commonsensical doer who scurried into action the minute something went awry. The other, laid back yet sensitive and emotional, contributed in a way he saw fit.
This uniqueness, no matter how often I witness, always amazes me. In some instances, it is very subtle but more often than not, the nuances are simply there in front of me, reminding me of the intricacies of human behavior.
PS: BTW, setback was a severe muscle pull while playing badminton. I brought it upon myself-didnt warm up enough before I plunged into the game. Much better now although the soreness continues to be there. Will take maybe another day or so to recover fully.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
D's New Project
My 6 year old has decided to keep a diary. He picked up a 'spongebob squarepants' (one of his many favorite characters) themed notebook this afternoon at the mall. Unsure of its usefulness to him, I had asked him to reconsider his choice and perhaps get something else. But he was adamant about this tiny notebook. When I asked him what he was going to do with it, he promptly said, I will write, mama.
He stayed up past his bedtime to pencil in his very first entry. The inspiration for it was the fun filled weekend he enjoyed with his cousin. Presenting you the very first write -up in 'D's Journey Book'. Yes, he decided to call it something special settling for the aforementioned name.
Do check out the "heart". Nothing short of PRECIOUS!
Pleased with his first entry, he informed me, mama, I will try and write every day, so when this book gets filled up, I can read my writings.
I hope I can help him sustain this new interest and get him to journal regularly. If we can keep this up, who knows, we may soon have another Bora blogger making the rounds in the blogosphere.
He stayed up past his bedtime to pencil in his very first entry. The inspiration for it was the fun filled weekend he enjoyed with his cousin. Presenting you the very first write -up in 'D's Journey Book'. Yes, he decided to call it something special settling for the aforementioned name.
Do check out the "heart". Nothing short of PRECIOUS!
Pleased with his first entry, he informed me, mama, I will try and write every day, so when this book gets filled up, I can read my writings.
I hope I can help him sustain this new interest and get him to journal regularly. If we can keep this up, who knows, we may soon have another Bora blogger making the rounds in the blogosphere.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Closeness
* They put on their costumes, pretend to be fairies, princesses and superheroes at the crack of dawn. If they had their way, they would stay awake all night long.
* They follow each other all over the house like little lost lambs, mostly the brother leading his two younger sisters, devising games, making plans only decipherable to them.
* No matter how different their cores are, they giggle, laugh, cry, whine, scream in unison making the rest of us admire their seamless, uncomplicated existence.
Yes, folks, kids fest is on at the Bora household. After much anticipation and waiting, cousin A is finally here and nothing can put a damper on their collective spirit, vigor and boundless energy. They don’t see each other often but when they do, it’s like they were never apart-such is the closeness they share. And I hope this closeness is able to withstand some of life’s inescapable twists and turns, becomes stronger, more meaningful over the years.
* They follow each other all over the house like little lost lambs, mostly the brother leading his two younger sisters, devising games, making plans only decipherable to them.
* No matter how different their cores are, they giggle, laugh, cry, whine, scream in unison making the rest of us admire their seamless, uncomplicated existence.
Yes, folks, kids fest is on at the Bora household. After much anticipation and waiting, cousin A is finally here and nothing can put a damper on their collective spirit, vigor and boundless energy. They don’t see each other often but when they do, it’s like they were never apart-such is the closeness they share. And I hope this closeness is able to withstand some of life’s inescapable twists and turns, becomes stronger, more meaningful over the years.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Workings of a Toddler Mind
Rice (Bhaat) is a staple in the Bora household. We call ourselves 'Khaati Axomiya'(pure assamese) - the ‘Bhotua’(Bhaat=Bhotua) types. Hubby Dear, especially, enjoys it thoroughly. He gets restless if he doesn’t get to eat rice for more than three days.
Then there is A. His sweet, adamant daughter. She hates rice, to the point that even when a morsel is placed in her mouth, she pretends to gag. They are lot of things she and Hubby dear have in common, down to the looks, but this one, clearly, is not one of them.
She falls apart the minute I say, we are going to have rice and dal tonight. Her usual retort is, oh no, mama, I don’t want dinner, with her tiny hand clamping her mouth. And believe me when I say its takes might to pry that hand off her.
For the past few weeks, she has been complaining of headaches. So much so that it got us concerned. Yesterday, Hubby dear took her to the doctor for an evaluation. The pediatrician couldn’t detect anything but told us to carefully observe her going forward. If she continues with her complaints, we'd have to consult a neurologist, which I hope, will not be necessary. Seriously.
She comes back home thrilled after a visit to her favorite place. Yes, she is still in the -oh-I –love-to go-to-the-doctors-I –get-stickers-and –lollipop phase. I decide to tell her how eating ‘good nutritious food’ is an ideal way to deal with the headaches.
You know sweetie, this is the very reason I tell you not to eat junk food. I say, sounding overly patronizing.
But I lurve junk food, mama. I love cheeps, cookies, carrots (thank God!), grape-ees,(thank god!) cereal, bread (thank God!), candy (Bah!) BUT I DON’T LIKE RICE! And you know what mama?
What?
The doctor told me yesterday that I should NOT eat rice. That it is the rice that is making my head hurt, mama!
What? Did she really say that? I ask, believing her.
Well, almost. Yes, my 3 year old trickster-in-the-making almost fools me into thinking that ‘rice’ is the culprit, the cause of the headaches. The sucker that I am. I am completely blown away at how her 3 year old mind works.
Then there is A. His sweet, adamant daughter. She hates rice, to the point that even when a morsel is placed in her mouth, she pretends to gag. They are lot of things she and Hubby dear have in common, down to the looks, but this one, clearly, is not one of them.
She falls apart the minute I say, we are going to have rice and dal tonight. Her usual retort is, oh no, mama, I don’t want dinner, with her tiny hand clamping her mouth. And believe me when I say its takes might to pry that hand off her.
For the past few weeks, she has been complaining of headaches. So much so that it got us concerned. Yesterday, Hubby dear took her to the doctor for an evaluation. The pediatrician couldn’t detect anything but told us to carefully observe her going forward. If she continues with her complaints, we'd have to consult a neurologist, which I hope, will not be necessary. Seriously.
She comes back home thrilled after a visit to her favorite place. Yes, she is still in the -oh-I –love-to go-to-the-doctors-I –get-stickers-and –lollipop phase. I decide to tell her how eating ‘good nutritious food’ is an ideal way to deal with the headaches.
You know sweetie, this is the very reason I tell you not to eat junk food. I say, sounding overly patronizing.
But I lurve junk food, mama. I love cheeps, cookies, carrots (thank God!), grape-ees,(thank god!) cereal, bread (thank God!), candy (Bah!) BUT I DON’T LIKE RICE! And you know what mama?
What?
The doctor told me yesterday that I should NOT eat rice. That it is the rice that is making my head hurt, mama!
What? Did she really say that? I ask, believing her.
Well, almost. Yes, my 3 year old trickster-in-the-making almost fools me into thinking that ‘rice’ is the culprit, the cause of the headaches. The sucker that I am. I am completely blown away at how her 3 year old mind works.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Til' September
Last Saturday, Hubby Dear and I checked out Til’ September, a rock band at a local biker bar. They were a.w.e.s.o.m.e. After a seemingly long time, heard a local band of high caliber with a great vocalist and talented musicians. They played a couple of sets with a good mix of classic and contemporary rock and closed the night with the quintessential Doors classic-Roadhouse Blues with almost everyone on the dance floor.
Most of the band members with the exception of the keyboardist belonged to the armed forces lending to the band's uniqueness. The vocalist, Scott, an army major by the day is Hubby Dear’s colleague. The keyboardist, a stay-at-home dad graduated with a degree in music. And oh boy, did he rock? With his fingers flying on the keys and strong back-up vocals, he was a treat to watch. Some of the proceeds (donations and tips) were collected for “Freedom Alliance”, a support organization for kids who lost a parent or parents to the war.
Great music for a greater cause.
I could not stop my feet from tapping to their music and eventually got pulled on to dance by a spunky, carefree middle aged woman who was a fixture on the floor.
The bar was unlike others I have been to. This was a place right next to a highway, a joint we sometimes crossed and were suspicious of. The minute we stepped onto the entrance, we were partially greeted by 'smokers', stealing a few drags in between their drinks. Although the crowd on the night of the show is somewhat diverse, its patrons are mostly heavy duty bikers on Harleys and mean looking Bullets, dressed up in their leathery gears from boots to head bands. There was this woman dancing provocatively and flashing intermittently to the men around her and at the far end, was a group of old ladies, quietly sipping their alcohol and swaying themselves to the music. By old, I mean old. Really. The beauty of this dichotomy was that everything seemed normal, nothing was out of the ordinary, everyone was groovin’. I shuddered to think about the scene these exact circumstances would create in a place like Delhi.
It was a far cry from a high end bar, devoid of the bells and whistles but it wasn't sleazy. It had a simple lay out, regular tables and chairs filling up most of the area leaving a very tiny space for the band and its equipment. The actual bar took up most of its space and I have to admit, I was mighty pleased with their restrooms. They were surprisingly clean and well kept! They had a food menu which we didn’t try since we had filled ourselves up with a sumptuous sushi dinner before getting there. Hubby Dear was content with the big bottle of Kirin he polished at the Japanese restaurant. I wanted to drink some more though I was doubtful if this place would serve anything else other than beer and hard liquor. But the friendly server in somewhat shabby clothes surprised me with a glass of Shiraz.
With a solid band performing, interesting company (people watching can be so engrossing!), I’d be damned if I asked for more. All along while listening to Scott belt out some classics and alternative stuff, I couldn’t help but think of my brother and his band. His singing and range were quite similar to my brother’s and made me reminiscent of all the gigs my brother’s band performed at and how proud, almost snootily, I was to be the rocker's sister. I tell ya, those were the days!
The show ended a little after midnight satiating the hunger for good ole’ music in all of us. Hubby Dear and I congratulated Scott and came away feeling rather gratified but also wanting more. This is a band I would definitely listen to again. They rocked, to say the least.
PS: If you live in the Baltimore/Whitemarsh area, check them out. They seem to be in great demand and do shows mostly in that part of town.
Most of the band members with the exception of the keyboardist belonged to the armed forces lending to the band's uniqueness. The vocalist, Scott, an army major by the day is Hubby Dear’s colleague. The keyboardist, a stay-at-home dad graduated with a degree in music. And oh boy, did he rock? With his fingers flying on the keys and strong back-up vocals, he was a treat to watch. Some of the proceeds (donations and tips) were collected for “Freedom Alliance”, a support organization for kids who lost a parent or parents to the war.
Great music for a greater cause.
I could not stop my feet from tapping to their music and eventually got pulled on to dance by a spunky, carefree middle aged woman who was a fixture on the floor.
The bar was unlike others I have been to. This was a place right next to a highway, a joint we sometimes crossed and were suspicious of. The minute we stepped onto the entrance, we were partially greeted by 'smokers', stealing a few drags in between their drinks. Although the crowd on the night of the show is somewhat diverse, its patrons are mostly heavy duty bikers on Harleys and mean looking Bullets, dressed up in their leathery gears from boots to head bands. There was this woman dancing provocatively and flashing intermittently to the men around her and at the far end, was a group of old ladies, quietly sipping their alcohol and swaying themselves to the music. By old, I mean old. Really. The beauty of this dichotomy was that everything seemed normal, nothing was out of the ordinary, everyone was groovin’. I shuddered to think about the scene these exact circumstances would create in a place like Delhi.
It was a far cry from a high end bar, devoid of the bells and whistles but it wasn't sleazy. It had a simple lay out, regular tables and chairs filling up most of the area leaving a very tiny space for the band and its equipment. The actual bar took up most of its space and I have to admit, I was mighty pleased with their restrooms. They were surprisingly clean and well kept! They had a food menu which we didn’t try since we had filled ourselves up with a sumptuous sushi dinner before getting there. Hubby Dear was content with the big bottle of Kirin he polished at the Japanese restaurant. I wanted to drink some more though I was doubtful if this place would serve anything else other than beer and hard liquor. But the friendly server in somewhat shabby clothes surprised me with a glass of Shiraz.
With a solid band performing, interesting company (people watching can be so engrossing!), I’d be damned if I asked for more. All along while listening to Scott belt out some classics and alternative stuff, I couldn’t help but think of my brother and his band. His singing and range were quite similar to my brother’s and made me reminiscent of all the gigs my brother’s band performed at and how proud, almost snootily, I was to be the rocker's sister. I tell ya, those were the days!
The show ended a little after midnight satiating the hunger for good ole’ music in all of us. Hubby Dear and I congratulated Scott and came away feeling rather gratified but also wanting more. This is a band I would definitely listen to again. They rocked, to say the least.
PS: If you live in the Baltimore/Whitemarsh area, check them out. They seem to be in great demand and do shows mostly in that part of town.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Honor
In just about 2 months, the 2010 Commonwealth Games begin in Delhi. The host city has been undergoing a complete overhaul for this most anticipated event but apparently its not quite there yet. Not quite to some may seem like an understatement, particularly to those who feel that the city is presently in shambles to be the proud host of one of the biggest sporting extravaganzas. Residents, locals and sports fans are unsure of Suresh Kalmadi's capacity to deliver on his promises as the chairman of the organising committee. Well, however slow the progress has been, I hope Delhi pulls through like it has in the past and dazzles everyone at these games.
On the other hand, the Queens Baton Relay, one of the greatest traditions of the Games is on its last leg traversing the capital cities, evoking spontaneous enthusiasm and support in sports lovers across the nation. It will reach Delhi for the opening ceremony on Oct 3. The Baton reaches Guwahati, my hometown, in a day and the city has gathered up some of its finest sportspersons to welcome and spread the excitement of this much anticipated event. Among them will be my father. Yes, my Bapi. The ardent lover of sports. The once famous footballer who was instrumental in putting his small state on the map with his skillful, stylish play and sportsmanship. He will be one of the privileged few who will carry the baton at the ceremony being put together by the state officials.
It is indeed a great honor, he says to me this morning on the phone. I will have to run and with my bad knee, not sure if I will be able to, he worries. He is 82 years old and yes, his knee is bad. The knee that forced him to quit playing tennis in his later years. But he is determined to be there - to represent his state and country with delight, dignity and a pride filled heart. Apparently, he has been showing off to my brother how he will run albiet only a short distance.
Bapi, words defy me for I cannot articulate how proud I am of you. You are an inspiration to one and all. I know I won't be there when you run with the famous baton but I will be there in spirit, cheering you on.
On the other hand, the Queens Baton Relay, one of the greatest traditions of the Games is on its last leg traversing the capital cities, evoking spontaneous enthusiasm and support in sports lovers across the nation. It will reach Delhi for the opening ceremony on Oct 3. The Baton reaches Guwahati, my hometown, in a day and the city has gathered up some of its finest sportspersons to welcome and spread the excitement of this much anticipated event. Among them will be my father. Yes, my Bapi. The ardent lover of sports. The once famous footballer who was instrumental in putting his small state on the map with his skillful, stylish play and sportsmanship. He will be one of the privileged few who will carry the baton at the ceremony being put together by the state officials.
It is indeed a great honor, he says to me this morning on the phone. I will have to run and with my bad knee, not sure if I will be able to, he worries. He is 82 years old and yes, his knee is bad. The knee that forced him to quit playing tennis in his later years. But he is determined to be there - to represent his state and country with delight, dignity and a pride filled heart. Apparently, he has been showing off to my brother how he will run albiet only a short distance.
Bapi, words defy me for I cannot articulate how proud I am of you. You are an inspiration to one and all. I know I won't be there when you run with the famous baton but I will be there in spirit, cheering you on.
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