Why a girls getaway is important?

We, the babes, ( look at the audacity of calling ourselves that) just got back from our trip this monday and we had a really awesome trip.  

Keep guessing the location, that we went to, which I plan to reveal shortly.  ( just to keep you all, my readers wondering!!)

But before I put together the experiences of the wandering souls, I wanted to tell you all why it is important for the girls to getaway in the first place.

1. Bonding – Not that we girls need to get away someplace to do this,  but when you live together for few days, there is an intimacy that we get to experience which beats every other short get together's.   We get to know the sleep cycles, fitness schedules – didn’t help coz we never even gave fitness a thought during the holidays, eating habits, bargaining skills, technical capabilities with gadgets, posing skills, organizing abilities and why, we even know each other’s weird potty behaviors and menstrual cycles.  Over all these, we really bonded over small talk, deep conversations and mindless prattles.
2. Laugh for no reason –  Each of us have varying range of laughter – the loud gurgling laughter that is mine, Sudha’s Guffaw, Rosy’s belly laughter and the modest of all, Jay’s chuckle.  We can see something together and laugh heartily in our own special ways, and you see laughter is the best medicine.
3. Get away from real life for a short while – All the 4 of us play different roles in our personal and professional lives like every other woman around the world and its our second nature to multitask and play these roles to a T.  There are also times these roles overwhelm us and we may not even show it out to the others including family.  The Girls trip is a perfect getaway to forget all our roles briefly and just hang out with the soul sisters just to rejuvenate each other in order to get back to reality and live it all up to the expectations of the loved ones.
4. Do mindless stuff -  Yes Yes Yes.  This is the perfect opportunity for us mothers not to worry about being role models to our little ones and big ones, and do stuff which suits our whims.  Like for example, taking pictures, plonking on the middle of the road.  Having a conversation over a bottle of homemade brew of wine, or just laugh our heart out listening to stories.
5. Understand how much we mean to each other -  yeah we know, we mean a lot to each other.   But there are moments in a trip, which will make this evident and the love shines through.   Like for example, when we met Rosy at the airport we were jumping in a huddle, screaming our heads off, our guide was kind of taken aback.  Nyugen our guide had a few intimate questions to us after she saw us do that.  There are also incidents which showcased our love for each other and I will let the girls do separate blogs on this.
6. The girls are worth it – for all the hard work we put round the clock all around the year at our workplaces and at our homes, we deserve this break and we need to do this at least every year, if not more frequently. The memories we create are a little gift to ourselves and fuels us to go through life unabated, and keeps us looking forward to the next one to come.
7. Feel empowered – When you prove to yourself that you are capable of some new learning and new ways of working things out, empowerment is on its way.  Travelling with a bunch of girls and doing it in a poised way, gaining knowledge about other cultures, going around this universe makes you realize, how small and insignificant one is.  And that is empowerment in itself.   While the girls getaways are common, we still have people around us who cannot do it for various reasons, and there also ones who can do it and the simple verdict is travel, and especially travelling with girl gangs makes you feel empowered.  Just the sheer act of surviving a new place, new culture around unknown country men gives that empowerment.
8. Enjoy the nature  - Ah, how I can I ever explain this.   Nature is intrinsically  adorable and there is mother nature who will surprise you venerably with her astoundingly vibrant beauty.   The more you enjoy nature the more you want to be one with her.   Atleast this time, the girls were mesmerized by the voluptuous natural beauty of the location we chose, offered us and we are still in a daze.  Good enough reason to get away with girls.
9. Talk about absolutely anything and anyone – Uninhibitedly  chatter away about work place friends, our children, our other friends, our spouses, our dreams, our fears and this list is endless. 
10. Root for each other – The best of the things that happens in a girls trip is how we highlight the positives of each person, from our physical appearance to our talents, our interests in life, accomplishments, our cooking, organizing, tactical abilities in every conversations that we have.   It could simply be how well someone can pose for a stunning photograph at the right angle to highlight the right curvatures or probably the ability to manage all the photographs in a cloud platform, without making a hefty payment for storage 😊

So, my question remains.

Which location do you think we chose this time. 

Post script :

For the first timers here, we, the group of 4 ladies, who call ourselves, babes, purely because we are narcissistic, went earlier to Banglok in the year 2017 and then to Bali in 2018. 

Parakeets and Doves

5.30 am.

Unable to open my eyes, I am still in a world that I have never been before. Ever.  In the distance, I could hear the chatter of Parakeets and cooing Doves and I am longing to have a look at them from the window.

My bed is the middle of the room, and through my half closed eyes, I can see another pair peering into me.   I moan a bit and unable to move, go back to my slumber.

Interrupted by discomfort, I try to turn around a bit on the bed, but the chirps of the birds, calm me down. A burly hand gently pats and reassures me.  I know that guy hasn’t slept a wink. I let things be. I have no choice.

This was 22^nd August 2018.   How do I remember the date so well, you may ask!

How can I forget?

I am going to take you, my dear readers, through some parts of my life, that I want to let go.  Writing it down here always have been comforting and in more than one way acts truly as my therapy.

Always confident about my health, an unplanned medical check, didn’t prepare me enough for a huge turning point.   The doctor who was doing the Ultrasound scan was taking longer than usual and his face was turning grim and I could sense something was wrong.  The doc, a pleasant chap, told me at the end, Ma’am,  I see two desmoid tumors in your abdomen and I want you to consult an surgical oncologist at the earliest. 

Myriad thoughts ran through my head when I drove back home that day.  My parents were home, mom was unwell and I was taking care of her.  J was away at Cochin and I know he will freak out at this message just like me, which he did.

What followed this diagnosis is something that I would never want to go through ever again.  Waiting for doctors consultation’s took most of our time.  And we met 7 doctors across the city from 7 different hospitals in less than 10 days.  J came down to Chennai on a prolonged leave.  Painful tests, Scans, allergies to medications administered for the tests, fear of the unknown, tears all followed.

The verdict was the same – from most of the doctors.  I had fairly large ovarian tumor, on which a biopsy cannot be done, since it would upstage the tumor especially if it is malignant, so I need to go under the knife and remove my uterus and the ovaries through a frozen section ( which simply means they would do a biopsy when the surgery is on), better if I did it with an oncologist rather than a gynecologist.

We only had to decide when and with whom.  The decision was not as simple as it sounds.

Finally in less than two weeks of the diagnosis I went under the knife on 21^st of August 2018.  10 days of hospitalization and for once I had J all for myself.  He didn’t move out of my hospital room in those 10 days. Poor soul did not sleep a wink most of the days I was in the hospital.

I was grounded for 2 months – had to be on complete rest for medical reasons.  No driving, no bending down, no lifting weights, not even walking too fast.   My schedules went in for a toss the whole house hold stepped up and rose to the occasion.   J made a painful choice of coming back to Chennai for good at the cost of his job. Nidhu, my 6 year old niece was my nurse for 2 weeks.  My sister came over and stayed with me during my post-operative period.  

It turned out that the tumor was  benign and I recovered pretty fast, much to the surprise of the surgeon.   Thank god for not so small mercies in life.

The whole process has been traumatic and I am still recovering from its emotional impact.  In hindsight, it was truly a divine intervention that I even went in for a medical check, given the fact that the appointment itself in the first place a big mistake made by the healthcare team. Literally, an unknown hand, pushed me for a routine check and this one surfaced from nowhere and my early diagnosis helped me to get away without much complications.  An ovarian tumor can go undetected for long periods in time and can develop complications that could be fatal. 

I know I have gotten all of you worried, putting this out here, but I want to assure you all that I have been able to get out of it pretty well and if you know the stuff I have been doing to get myself back on track, I am sure you all would be proud of me.  And I am going to write about it too.

Among some blessings in life like family and friends, if I was sure of something, it was your well wishes.

Terribly Tiny Tales

As a Leadership coach and Trainer, TTT meant only Train the Trainer until a pretty young girl, named Zarna whom I happened to meet a few weeks back, told me about terribly tiny tales. She is a PETA activist, a sincere vegan and an aggressive crusader of animals, environment and nature.

Its amazing to read these terribly tiny tales, some are heart wrenching and they inflict deep sense of emotions in the reader.   TTT is an attempt to cut the long story short, literally, and an attempt at saying stories in less than 2000 words.

By the way, am I introducing the concept of  terribly tiny tales to any of you? any fans around for ttt? Banking on you readers and your support, I tried my hand at it.   heee - haaw :-) so here we go !!

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I don’t like anyone jumping on my bed, the aunt said.

But I am not anyone, I am family.  So you will allow me, won’t you?  The niece replied innocently.

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Tell us your secret about being so happy, a colleague wondered.

She smiled happily in the knowledge that only her pillow case has felt her tears.

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The young child, who had just begun to speak, fed her fish. 

The grand aunt was excited.  Did they say "thank you" to you?  Asked the aunt.

They only have mouth.  They don’t speak said the wise grand niece.

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They both were in the same city, but couldn’t meet or talk.

She smiled, took a deep breath and sighed.  She was breathing the air that he was breathing too.

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She poured out all that was troubling her.

He listened intently, brows knitted in concentration, pain visible in his eyes.

He cannot offer her any solutions, but that was just enough for her to ease the agony of her aching heart.

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I’m yours.  You are mine.

They both repeated.

Are they? 

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A pair of eyes looked at her from across the room.  She tried looking away – many times.

Finally their eyes locked on one another.  That’s when she drowned into it. And the smile never left her.

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The short hair irked everyone around.

Fashion many assumed.  Rebel some labeled her. Style icon few said jealously.

Only she knew the pain when long hair is grabbed.

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Her life was a clear stream, flowing in harmony  – with a definite purpose and a destination. Calm and serene.

Then he came along.

Hari Ramakrishnan, the Brat tamer!

Alert :  a very late post!

I attended Evam’s Theatre workshop on the 11th of November 2017 and had been waiting nearly two decades for this. I had always loved theatre, but kept away from it, what with the host of responsibilities that come from being a full-time working mom. And hey! Did I tell you I completed my MBA when my son Dennu was still in high school? I should mention J was one hell of a supportive guy and the least demanding of all. 

I put my heart and soul into this workshop. Having organized numerous corporate training sessions, I was wondering if I could implement a few tactics during the workshop to make it more vivacious and interesting.

I still remember it clear as day. I walked into a hall full of youngsters, most of them about my son’s age, sitting and chatting away. During my introduction to the group, I confessed how out of place I felt since I was the oldest and instead of walking away from something I had waited so long to pursue, I decided to stay and take it head on.

They were an enthusiastic bunch from diverse fields of work and it took me no time to ease in.  Madhu, an effervescent youngster came up and told me later, “We thought you were a rich babe.” She also gave me the title of “Honorary Millennial” and I wore it proudly throughout. If you’d ever socialized with a millennial you would know how difficult it is to earn that damn title!

Our facilitator was a sweet chap named Pradeep and he told us that the amateurishly scripted plays that we’ll be putting up on the final day as part of the workshop will be reviewed by a director and a group of seniors from EVAM.

We were 18 of us in total and later got divided up into 4 groups. We had to put up plays for this mystery director’s review after which we will be entrusted to him for around a month of rehearsals. We had to put up a paid show for the public as a group and get involved not just in acting, but also in marketing, publicity, promotions, light and sound, booking of the hall, selling the tickets, back stage, costumes, props for each of the plays and what not. It was an awesome experience.

Hari was a serious looking young man (to me), a bit older than Dennu, fair, good-looking feller who kept to himself to begin with. He was succinct and only gave positive feedback after our short plays.

All of us were terrified of him, unanimously. Mother promise – even me.

Hari instructed us that going forward, whoever signed up for the next phase would have to assemble at Wee Bee’s RA Puram at 7.30 pm every day until our show day.  He was truly a man of few words. Very pleasing, but he knew how to put people in their places.

The rehearsals started every day on the dot at Weebee’s. Yes. We started with warm-up exercises which quickly made us realize how out-of-shape we were. If anyone showed up late, that person had to do some extra warming up and he was merciless about it. Yep.

I had to drive 20+ kilometers crisscrossing the city, past some of the deadliest signals. I drove for more than 75 minutes every day, but promptly made it to the rehearsals on most days.

At WeeBees, Hari also introduced us to the Assistant Director for our play, Pavithra Baskaran a very stylish looking, professional young person, giving us an inkling that she had directed a lot of plays. AD, was a confident girl, but would listen to Hari as if he was her master, which he was.

Right from day one we knew Hari was not someone to mess with. We started by reading our scripts aloud, and can you believe when Hari was around we all were quiet, no small talk, and we all actually listened to him. 

He was still the pleasing guy we knew.

Then the roles were assigned to each of us. Every time he demonstrated how to portray a character, there he was effortlessly and convincingly transforming into the character himself. He could be Lalitha one minute and bin Laden the next. Oh yes. We had a character called Bin laden. He could dance, imitate, act and it took us very little time to realize what a dynamite he was.

The rehearsals were getting harder, we sometimes stayed on till 10 or later towards the 3^rd and 4^th week, and by the end of second week, we figured this guy was not only pleasing, he can easily switch to becoming a terrifying ringmaster. A pocket-sized ringmaster.

He spewed some of the nastiest rebukes in front of the group, and uttered some not so holy words in the native language that none of us would dare forget our lines. (We still did, that’s another story!) During the third week he threatened to abandon us but didn’t.

Once I told Hari how in my entire life I had never heard so many expletives as I had in the three to four weeks of Theatre rehearsals.

But he was completely in control of the entire group, making sure we were on time, we did the rehearsals well for the D day, and if we really had a good show day on December 9^th, it is definitely his efforts.

In the final week of rehearsals, every play had to go on without interruption. Even if one actor had a slip up, we had to reenact the whole play from the top, no questions asked. There were some plays that got done, some 8 to 9 times or more.

We decided we’d have the last round of rehearsals at my home. The entire crew stayed over, rehearsed till 1 am and then started again the next morning. One of my neighbor inquired worryingly if there was a fight going on at our house. They’d never heard so much noise coming from our place. A friend who lived close by told me that she could hear us rehearse. We had to throw our voices on the show day at Alliance auditorium because we wouldn’t have microphones and practicing loudly was our only way.

Hari would teach us what to expect on the show day– like audience losing interest if the voice is too low, waiting for the laughter to die down before we go on with the rest of our lines, where to look when the play is going on, the importance of not looking down, utilizing the stage space, how to walk, talk and act confidently.

Hari has been in theatre for more than a decade and has done a play called Yaman VS Woman across the world, 100 times. Yeah you read that right–100 times. And when he directed us, the experience showed. 

He was a fun guy to hang out with if he does not don the hat of a Director. Once he got on that mode, he was one real task master.

If at all, our show “7 tales at 7” was a success, our group Theatre brats owe it to this little fella, who defies his looks and age.

What does Love feel like?

Love feels like

Those twinkling eyes

Full of mischief

Waiting to receive me

Love feels like

The bags of medication

You pick up 

When you get to know, am ill

Love feels like

Taste of Betadine

That is used to gargle 

When my throat is sore

Love feels like

All those little white lies

Which you utter

and we both know what they are

Love feels like

Sitting beside you

And looking out of that window

Into nothing specific, may be just a dump yard

Love feels like

That soft call in the middle of the night

When I have slowly gathered

The entire bedspread to my side

Love feels like

That voice that tells me

You snored but I am okay with it

When I know how you hate it

Love feels like

You waking up

At the slightest noise

When I come into the room

Love feels like

The gleam on your face

When you see the sparkle of my pendant

at the breakfast table

Love feels like

That touch of your palms

On my aching back

When I complain of pain

Love feels like

All the little things you do

To put a smile on my face

Without expecting anything in return

The final blow

You drew memories in my mind

I could never erase

You painted colors in my heart

I could never replace

I didn’t see this coming

But you knew all along

Nudging me to get there

Inch by inch

How could you roll up all those little punches

Into one massive blow

Tossing me into infinite numbness

Breathless, Worthless

Our pacts forgotten

Winning hands down

Willing to let go

Tumbling the crazy hormones out of control

Well timed, well aimed

Murderous, monstrous

Lethal

The final blow.

Tiny Therapist

Its her birthday today and she turns six. 

The most adored one in our entire family.  Youngest of the lot.   My sister’s daughter Nidhi.

Having seen three boys grow up in the family, mine and my brothers non-identical twins, Nidhi was a breath of fresh air for all of us.  She is a real bundle of Joy and a cutie-pie.

Most people who see us together, cannot resist mentioning our resemblance, mostly mistaken for mom- daughter duo. I call my niece  Nidhu and she calls me Vinsu.

A couple of days back, my sister couldn’t hold her enthusiasm in her voice, when she called me.

A HR recruiter by profession, my sister quit her day job at an IT organization after Nidhi’s arrival and became a work from home consultant.  Now she is looking at restarting her corporate career and is slowly making Nidhi understand that when she comes back from school, she may have to stay with a nanny until my sister returns from work.

Nidhi wasn’t happy.  Period.

The drama queen she is, apparently told my sister, that she will miss Amma, she will be scared if Amma is not home.  My sister thought she was almost successful in convincing Nidhi about this nanny stuff after long conversations and justifications ideal for a 6 year old.

Finally Nidhi has one condition.

Okay Amma, I will stay with which ever Akka you ask me to, but make sure you get me someone like Vinsu.

How do you like that?

My sister’s question to me “ How do I find someone like you Chechi?”

This is therapy finding its way to me.

Overhauling a Vintage item

We have a conversation starter at home now.  A rare one at it. Its right there on the coffee table as a center piece and none misses it. I take every opportunity to tell anyone who is willing to listen, or otherwise, about how it came to be.

During our recent trip to J’s tharavad in a pristine village called Vellarvally, Kerala, J chanced upon some household items that he had seen and used as a child, stashed away  in a storeroom, where they keep all and sundry. 

Overcome by nostalgia or whatever the emotion was, he brought some of them to Chennai. I was surprised and a bit annoyed, initially,  at the junk,  that found way to our home, simply to add to the clutter. Looking at it, I thought it was made of iron, but J disagreed vehemently. But then a sudden brainwave asked me why not get it polished and use it as a show-piece at home. 

I am going to be done with the suspense of what it is and here is a picture of what J brought home which I thought was a piece of trash.

Cut to the chase, the Vintage Iron box, after an extensive lacquer polishing, looks like this now.  Yep.   

Doesn’t it look as if it is just out of Jeweler's shop rather than from an attic? Apparently, it is made of brass as J kept saying.

Joe’s brother-in-law who recently visited us could not believe it was the same coal iron box he must have seen at the tharavad many years ago.

As though I have given it a new lease of life, which otherwise would never have seen the light of a day. Every astonished look makes me feel proud about salvaging junk (at least what I thought it was) into a piece of treasure.

All Agog!

There is no sweeter pleasure than to surprise someone you immensely like by giving them a surprise when they least expect it.

And that exactly is the purpose of this post.

So who is that I am trying to stun?  That you will figure out as you read on.

Gils is my blog friend from my virtual world. 

And No.  He is not the one I am trying to  astonish. 

But I have to introduce him in this post to you all to set the context.  He is a perseverant blogger with 1034 posts ( as of now) to his credit.  He is a voracious reader and writes about a whole bunch of stuff, like book and movie reviews, poems, short stories, plays (yes, that included), about IT his bread winning field and puts up a lot of his perspectives about life in general.   What I love about his posts are the pun and clean humor.

There is a new addition to the topics and that happens to be his junior and its amazing to see the world through Gils’ juniors’ eyes. 

Recently I was reading one of his posts about Junior being adamant about a green toy train and he was not convinced about any other coloured train.  After many attempts in many elite places, they finally found one in a pavement shop and he settled only when he got what he had in mind.

I still haven’t reached the person whom I am trying to surprise.   Context setting is still on. No wonder one of my dear ones told me, I am not known for coherence.  He really said that to me, amidst a fight. Now I know, why!

There was a comment on that post that said, If it were me, I would have asked for Ferrari 488 Spider. 

While at Ferrari World, Abu Dhabi, during our recent trip, I dragged J into their retail space which had an impressive collection of branded products and memorabilia and pestered the store guys to show me the scale model of Ferrari 488 Spider and here is the picture of my Magnum Opus surprise for you RAMESH! :-)

Post script :

1.  Ramesh, I didn't buy that for you because, they didn't have a red colored one.

2.  Gils, I couldn't find that post on your blog anymore, though I searched for it in your blog.

Dubai Diaries

Joe and I have been married for 24 years 14 days and 8 hours ( give or take ), as of today.

The year was 1995, January 30^th, and it happens to be Martyrs day. 

Celebrating Anniversaries ( whatever they maybe) helps us to get back from the daily grind, look back and relive some of the past. Wish I had started a tradition of some kind, which we had followed religiously over these 24 years, but since I haven’t, every year it has been different.

But I do take some effort in surprising J with some strange, but unique gifts and most times I have caught him off-guard.

The ones that I could recollect now are a set of tablas,  he knows classical music and played the tabla in his younger days. First time visitors to our house, usually notice it and J feels, I take the trouble of finding unique gifts as a means of fishing for compliments.  One of the years it was a Bosch toolkit, which he hugged around and kept looking at, romantically, for atleast a couple of days.  Even today, he refuses to let anyone else handle it.  😊

The ground work for a gift is usually done much ahead, the cues picked up from unexpected conversations and its feels good to astonish him once in a while. One of the years I got him a rosary made of Rudhraksha seeds which is a topic of conversation in many of our family parties, as he wears them on grand occasions.

As we advance into the marriage, it’s really difficult to keep up the standard of surprises, as you run out of choices.  There’s no way out other than growing up into the armor that you have created.

He does try his part too, given the fact that surprising a woman is not as easy as it is for me.

This year, it was him who came up with a proposal of holidaying in Dubai, and asked me to work out the schedule, which I did.  I had plans for the anniversary and kept it a secret till the last week.

And guess what?  I booked a Helicopter ride around Dubai.  He was thrilled to bits.     

Dubai Police Academy, with whom we were booked, had elaborate and stringent procedures – being at the venue an hour in advance, security checks at multiple points, a session on how to embark and disembark, stuff that you can carry and what you cannot, what you can and cant touch , ID cards, earphones, security check again, someone to put on the complex seat belts, life jackets, etc., etc.,. 

And until we get on the heli, we would never know the seating arrangements as the seating is based on the weight of individual passengers and they would distribute us accordingly  to balance out the weight. 

While we were clicking away pictures, amidst the rhythmic wop – wop sound of helicopters that was landing and taking off, I was praying with a smile, that J gets to sit in front along with the Pilot.   Paired  with us were an Arab couple, the man heavily set and almost burly and a petite wife. 

My prayers were answered, J got to sit with the Pilot and had a beaming smile.  

I sat smugly next to the Arab guy, knowing I managed to surprise Joe, yet again.

P.S : I have been telling Joe, I wanted a picture with an Arab guy and you see, my wish was fulfilled too.

Joe getting strapped - and that's how beaming that he can get.

That's a snapshot of us - 24th year together.

Arrival delayed exactly by an year

I landed up on this post while I was rummaging through my drafts and realized it is good to be posted, except that is exactly an year late.

Better late than never, don't they say?

Publishing this post, without any edits!

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I will start this new year with an interesting post.   Ahem. 

I know this is not new year, we are almost done with the month of January and I have stopped writing interesting posts.   Self check – so did you ever write an interesting post ? okay lets swipe these questions under the carpet.  Of late, the best I am getting at is swiping stuff under the carpet.

Yep.

Okay now back to my blog post topic.

I just completed 23 years in marriage last Marty’s day.  Don’t ask me the connection, but my parents were those humorous people who hid an uncanny riddle to all those who attended our wedding on 30^th January 1995.   None got it though, then.  Who will be the martyr among-st us was the riddle.  Dawned on the bride and groom later and they are still deciding who it is.

So this anniversary I was in Kochi, where the hubby now works and spent a beautiful weekend with my paternal cousins celebrating a church feast which is an absolutely fantabulous event in the parts where my cousins live. Kalparamba in Thrissur to be specific. The entire family jing bang around, hubby dear was the chief guest of the day. The son-in laws always get special treatment. With atleast 50 of them from my dads family, food, drinks and fireworks ( the real ones at church) there was a frenzy  at my dad’s paternal home to which our own anniversary added a dash of spirits.

Dennu had come halfheartedly and was loitering around  without actually being recognized by some of the family members.   His hair and beard covered his face and he had grown beyond recognition to most of my ageing uncles, aunts and cousins.  Most people kept their doubts to themselves and kept smiling at him wondering who he was.

One of the aunts though, couldn’t hold her curiosity at the way he was talking to me, and blurted out – silencing even the sounds of fireworks going on in the church. 

Are you her brother or her husband? ( surely her eyesight was on the decline and it was late into the night.  So, blame it on the lack of illumination)

You should have seen Dennu’s face.  The cheeks that were visible, just a bit of them through those untamed beard,  went crimson red. For no reason he looked at me, opened his mouth in awe, and then collected himself and said, No I am her son.   2 minutes silence – that was for the martyrs day.  I could see Dennu was not amused.

Couple of more instances where we had to go silent, this time, they checked if he was my brother.    After that, anyone coming close to Dennu got an explanation of how he is related to J and me even before they asked.  Every one bemused how the naughty child has grown up to a nice young man and showered him with all their love.

After the feast Dennu left for Chennai, as he is preparing for his GRE exams and wanted J and me to have a day for ourselves on our anniversary.

I come back home this morning on 31^st January, after a fun day of loafing and movie and lots of talking to J and Dennu opens the door.

My turn to get startled!

A clean shaven face.   Elated, shocked at his transformation, I ask Dennu Why Baby, why?  I had told you an umpteen number of times to look civilized and how come you have done this now?

Dennu gives me an intense look and a meaningful smile and says,  Maa, the brother bit was okay, but I couldn’t take the husband part.

ROFLing

I know it’s a bit too late to wish you guys a happy new year.

Magic

The mesmerizing voice slowly

Builds up the adrenaline rush and

Gets her heady

Burst of magic comes alive in her

The walls built over a period of time

Sluggishly cease to exist

And she pours out all that is in her heart and soul

Working up the charm of a little girl that once she was

The voice has dwindled

She only has the letters now, and scarce

Pieces of her heart tucked into words

That she could never say out aloud

The summery perfumes of March pained her

Made her feel like an infinitesimal being

Drunk with a starry void

Dark and tormented, furor of passion.

Ray was what she was called

She was a ray of sunshine with a radiating smile

Her love was pure, golden, but limited

Always doomed, to expire

Vincy Joseph

Bragging about my Theatre ventures

The theatre group that I am part of, called Theatre Brats, when we  came up with our first ever show “ 7 tales at 7 “ as part of our graduation mandate from a Theatre workshop that I attended through EVAM at Chennai, had an amazing response and our show ran a full house at Alliance Francaise.

I can’t believe I told you the story about how I got into theatre so crisply.  😊

That reminds me, I had done something similar to a Monologue of a middle class woman, who suffers at the hand of her husband and how she solves her problems – by killing her husband in the end. J came down to watch our show and my play was titled “The final blow”.  After the show, he came up and asked me, if he should come back home with me or he has to leave to Kochi the same night. 

Our first show was on December 9^th 2017 and exactly after 6 months, on June 9^th 2018, the group got together yet again, with the same director, Hari Ramakrishnan, aka the brat tamer with a bigger and a better show titled “Six fable cart”   with 6 short plays.   This time we were doing 2 shows one at 4 and  the other at 7 pm on the same day.   I was playing the role of a TV show anchor, which actually is a spoof of a Vijay TV serial and the first time I was trying out humour.  And the best was Dennu, got into Theatre along with me, after all those rehearsals that happened at home and we both did the play together.

Infact, Dennu was definitely a much better actor than me.  You see it is difficult to teach a old dog new tricks.

On June 9^th, Indian Express carried this article about our group and Ta-Da, my picture came in the papers! Yes. I am going to flaunt it here to you all 😊

That's me as Lalitha, in Final blow, after killing my husband Vikram.

This time for the Veshadaris show, I was only one invited from Theatre brats group, and on 5^th January, as usual after my morning walk, on my way back, my friend Kuttan’s wife, Nancy calls up and asks, Is that your picture in the paper?  I hadn’t even looked at the papers then.

This time, The Hindu carried, my picture and was talking about the show. Wonder why, they chose my picture over the other 6 actors, I thought this was a very hastily put together picture of the psycho!

January 5^th, Theatre brats were putting up a show at IITM park for the corporates and I could not join them due to this commitment. I was so excited and showed Dennu the paper and saw him taking a picture of it.  I almost thought he was so proud, and here is his Instagram status for that day.