The ya ya Sisterhood of Indian Army Wives

Ask any army man in any part of the world what keeps him going, and he will answer, "My Wife!" So, never take your title lightly, all you army wives, for you  are the backbone of your soldier. Not every woman can do this. It takes a very special & courageous woman to stand behind her man when he is out on field for months at a time. It is the spirit and stamina in the lady that helps her face the physical and mental challenges of everyday life. Oh no, not just any woman will do. Only the one wedded to the Olive Green can handle this challenge.  

     Just think...Can just any woman stand on the pier with a baby in her arms and one on the way, and keep a stiff upper lip as she waves good-bye to her husband, keeping back the tears for "the child(ren)’s sake"? Can just any woman lay alone night after night, for months and months at a time being the sole guardian of her family? Can just any woman get 2 weeks notice to pack up her whole household, pass an inspection, load the car, say a quick good-bye to girlfriends who became like sisters and take off for yet another duty station only to begin all over again? Can just any woman take the loneliness and heartbreak of having no tender kisses, gentle touches or of hearing the voice of her husband day after day? Can just any woman be a mother, doctor, maid, chauffeur, umpire, psychologist, financial consultant, tooth fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny, the main disciplinarian and STILL enforce the love and discipline of an absent father?? Not likely!

So all the ladies in the Army wives sisterhood share a common bond...of love, understanding & sharing. 'cause most often than not, they stand in each others' shoes.

But a few ladies from the army-wives sisterhood have been persistently bugging me and causing me discomfort of the heart and mind, especially at a time which is considered to be the most important in a woman’s life...the time when she’s on the family way. I baptize those ladies as my army-step-sisters.

The one who caused me much hurt was the one who used to be the closest & dearest sister I once had. Till date, I could never understand her behavior which she displayed the last time I ever heard of her. This sister-turned-stepsister used to be my friend, my confidant & my partner in crime. We were like two new entrants in the army sisterhood who learned most rules together from our blunders & follies. I would have gone on believing that we were very fond of each other & gave each other strength, being there for each other through our cloudy days...till I was proven wrong by what she did. She had broken that unsaid rule which bonded us in the sisterhood. She conspired and stabbed me from behind. I don’t know how she or her dearest one must have been benefited by what she did. She instigated someone against me that had consequences I will neither forgive, nor forget in my entire life. It caused me a lot of inconveniences and utter grief in the last few days of my pregnancy and must have definitely affected my baby too in some way or the other. What is it that people say about an idle mind being a devil's workshop? Somebody get her piles of work for the FWO (family welfare organization) programmes quick! before she conspires against someone else too.
Not only me, but even God should not forgive anyone who were involved in that conspiracy. I have only one question for that woman... “Why?”

The second step-sister’s behavior isn’t that hurtful, because the intensity of our love, trust & friendship was not that strong. We had a love-hate relationship from the very beginning. I didn’t expect anything at all from her & can’t comment much on her expectations from me. If given a choice, I would usually choose to stay away from people of such nature and never ever confide in a person like her. Though, I must say, she had been good to me on certain occasions & we also have had our share of good times together. Just too bad, I’m not into sucking up of anybody’s anything as per her whims.  To quote in another lady’s words, “That ‘ice-maiden’ & her ‘little assistant’ are two big suckers you’ve got there.”  
This one irked me by questioning me about a private matter at a time when she should have inquired about my health and about the baby’s development and if I needed any help while my husband was away. Not that she has done herself proud by following every rule in the book to the dot. Her ‘little assistant’ had passed on enough information to me that can embarrass ‘ice-maiden’ if she is worth her salt. So just one message for her too... “If you live in a glass house, its better to change your clothes in the basement.”

The third step-sisterly behavior displayed together by two ladies I hardly even know. Both are mothers of two children each. And something led them to believe that a local maid I hired from outside, was better and more trustworthy than the ones available for work within the campus and that they should ‘steal’ that maid from me by offering to pay her more and that, when I was 36 weeks pregnant.. I still smile at the immaturity of the combined act displayed by them. They better have some good explanation for that kind of unladylike behavior. “Hey there, step-sisters, guess what? Maids don’t control my life as they do yours, but what were you thinking? I hope your husbands aren’t stolen from someone else either.”

I would have never chosen to have to go through this phase of life or meet such ladies so insensitive towards another lady’s feelings & hardship. They cannot be sisters; they are step-sisters! I kept saying just that to myself and sailed through. I somehow kept my thoughts positive through all these, in spite of as difficult as it got.  But I have found that all these experiences have strengthened me as a person and brought me and my husband closer to each other than ever before.  It has shown me that the things I used to find important in life, well, just aren't as important as I once thought they were. I couldn't wait for my husband to come home almost till the time my baby arrived, but I was determined to hold on. And he was sent away the very next day after the baby came. I was angry, annoyed, helpless, sad. But I became stronger because of what I had to go through. I found strength in me that I never knew existed before. I found out who my real friends were and who weren't, who supported me through difficult times and who didn't care. And then I discovered a few real sisters, not related by birth or blood, but belonging to the same sisterhood. Where known sisters turned into step-sisters, there friendly strangers took over.

The First Lady of a separate Arm, made it her first prerogative to take care of my well being. She would drop by nearly every day to check on me & make sure personally if I was okay; if I needed any medical attention. She kept a vehicle on standby even at night just to take me to the doctor if anything should happen at the night time. She would always bring me a portion of home-cooked food & share funny jokes, just to brighten up my gloomy mood. Day by day our friendship grew. I would tell her my sob stories and she would share her experiences & say, “this too shall pass”. She gave me all the love & strength that I needed from an elder sister or from my own unit's First Lady. But Alas! So, I can never repay her kindness towards me. She will remain special to me forever.

Then there is this other lady (also a senior and from a separate Div) who would knock at my door at any time of the day and check on me. She’d tell me what to eat & what not to eat before the baby was born and took me out for morning and evening walks. After the baby was born, she helped me with a lot of important things which were either forgotten to be told or ignored by the doctors. Even till this date, there is never a day when she goes somewhere without asking if I’d like to come along or if she can get me anything from the market when she goes out. I know, she will remain my lifelong sister and friend.

There was a time when my neighbor from the top-floor provided me with pure drinking water just after I had moved in to our accommodation and before I got my water purifier in place. That is the noblest of things that someone can do to an 8-month pregnant woman. 

And then another lady who used to drive me to the shopping complex & movie theater every time I wanted to. Yet another one I met at a short-term course, loved my baby like her own and would baby-sit when I’d take my shower or cook. There were yet another couple of them who shared recipes & handicraft notes of classes I wasn’t able to attend with my baby only a month old.

Such friendly strangers, whose husbands are either with them or also away on field, together we often marvel at how we are making it through the separation, but really, we are surviving. We are continuing with our lives. Sometimes it seems hopeless, but we are making it through this and are much stronger for it. If I were not able to have someone like them here to help me keep a positive outlook, it would have been much more difficult for me to sail through. Such ladies truly deserve love and respect. I consider them my army-sisters and we enjoy each others company while our husbands are away serving the nation.

If any new bride wedded to the olive green is reading this, I encourage you to actively search for that special someone in the sisterhood you can connect with, who will neither bitch behind your back nor will be totally insensitive to your being and situation, but will be goodhearted and genuine in nature. If you already have, keep that friendship alive and cherish it for lifetime.

Why I like celebrating HOLI

The festivitiy of HOLI go back a long time and holds a lot of significance in my life. Right from my very childhood, I have seen my father prepare and get involved in the festival whole-heartedly. He'd prepare us a liquid magenta dye from the seeds of a local vegetable, for our 'pichkaris' and give us dry indigo to be used as powder-colour. Our colours always stood out, did not stay for long and were much safer than the synthetic dyes and 'gulal' available in the local markets. Dad would also prepare the finest 'thandai' sans 'bhaang' with lots of dry fruits. Ma would be busy mixing loads of 'sweet boondi' with 'bhujiya' and have her sweets ready for all our visiting neighbours & playmates. It was always exciting for us on holi as we wouldn't even sit at our study tables on those 2 days of the festival and would start playing right from the moment we finished our breakfast. The first day would be the dry-colour day and the second day would be the wet-colour day. Nonetheless, both the days were equally fun. The neighbours' stopover would always be at our house, especially for the special treat that ma & dad always offered. Every year it was a customary thing for us and I grew up seeing this household tradition till I grew up to be 21. This festival always allowed us to blend our sensivities with a certain joi-de-vivre. That was then.

After I moved to Delhi, I was introduced to a quite different and shocking culture of playing holi there. People, especially young boys and even the not-so-young boys would have small balloons filled with water ready about a week before the actual festival. They would aim and throw these water-balloons hitting passerbys, especially girls and women, at vulgarly embarrassing places. It wasn't fun to turn up at a class or at the workplace with a wet shirt-front or a seat-wet jeans. Nobody would or could say anything to these 'goons' as they would have their cheesy line ready...bura na maano, holi hai! (don't mind, it's holi!). And since one couldn't escape this torture in the name of a beautiful festival, the best thing to do was either to stay indoors or somehow avoid venturing out in the prime hours of the day. On the actual days of the festival, it got even worse. With access to alchohol and bhaang, people quickly turned into demons and in the name of camaraderie it became a festival that was vulgar and boorish. It no longer evoked a sense of choice as much as it evoked a sense of force. And I began detesting Holi with all my heart through my entire stay in Delhi.

Then last year I celebrated Holi (to use the cliche) with gay abandon, fun and frolic...my first after marriage, with my husband and his entire unit and brigade. It was very special and a great equaliser. It brought back good old memories of my childhood Holi and in a way I got emotional and salubrious, especially to watch my spouse celebrate the festival with equal enthusiasm and vigour as I remembered my dad doing it years ago. We smeared colours on one another, had bhaang-thandai with snacks, got drenced from head to toe, sang and danced and finally rounded it off with a sit-down luncheon with the entire unit. It was indeed a festival of colours, fun and happiness. It really didn't matter which colour was in fashion...as long as you knew who was going to dab it on you and that your special one is watching over you, assuring that no one went overboard to an annoying extent. It was about sharing, not about hoarding. And I fell in love with the festival once again.

This year, though I'll be missing celebrating holi with my husband, on the brighter side, I'm spoiled for choice whether to be home to enjoy this wonderful festival of colours once again with my loved ones in our old wonderful customary tradition, or to share this colourful festival with other families of defence at the club. Guess I'll choose one day of each. Happy Holi to one and all!

What I'm missing the most these days

For the last 8 months, I have been deprived of some mundane daily pleasures that I never fully appreciated… until they were gone.Whether it's longing for a second cup of coffee or desperately missing skinny jeans, I am weighing in a few pre-pregnacy perks I plan to enjoy once the baby is born.

Being carefree, independent & unforgetful. I miss being the independent woman I had always been. People (esp the ones who care for me) won't let me do anything for myself. I can still do a lot of stuff – slowly, mind you! but I can still do it. I miss my mind. I can't remember things or be detail oriented. I forget everything and make really dumb errors now. I used to be extremely efficient but now I really feel I'm sluggishly inefficient. I don't feel as sharp or on the ball. And I forget a lot. The more 'ditzy' I feel, the more I feel like I'm less of a strong, smart, independent woman. My friends and family members want to help with everything when they come over. My mom makes me sit down while she cooks and even brings me food to last for atleast 2-3 weeks or atleast till her next visit. I hate doing chores, but I also feel stupid sitting there twiddling my fingers while my mother or the domestic help work around trying to make things easy for me. I also miss my independence. I need help moving objects around the house. I often need to ask for help doing things that used to be so easy. I miss dancing until I can't dance anymore. Now I can barely walk straight, only waddle.

Emotional Control. I miss my old attitude (because apparently this one is too soppy). Everything makes me cry – either happy tears or sad tears. I miss having control of my emotions. I'm so tired of breaking down over silly stuff (like over a book I read or even watching a movie I've watched so many times before...without crying). I'm nagging and a grumpy nervous freak, cranky, irritable and crying over every silly thing in the world. I'm so tired of being overly emotional like this but also can't seem to help it. I want my nonchalantly happy & carefree attitude back....soon.

Peaceful sleep. I miss sleeping on my back and stomach, not using the bathroom every hour or so. I miss sleeping a full night and getting out of bed without having to roll off. At 34 weeks, even sleeping on my side is impossible. I have to sleep sitting up at times, which makes dreams weirder and headaches are almost a given. Right now (4 weeks to go) I need to be surrounded by pillows to be comfortable for the few hours of sleep that I get. No comfortable sleeping position or even sleeping at all! A great night consists of two uninterrupted hours without any back or abdominal pain, and not getting out of bed at 5a.m. because I'm tired of just lying there trying to get some sleep. I can't seem to keep my eyes open past 10p.m. but once I fall asleep, it doesn't last long because I get these vicious kicks to the bladder from my diva in training. Maybe this is mother nature's way of preparing me for the baby's arrival and the night stay-ups to follow.

A normal sense of smell. Before, I think I had an average sense of smell, but now it's sharp. Like a diva, I've abruptly left restaurants because of a disturbing smell..esp of chicken or prawns. I used to love chicken and all kinds of non-veg food. But now I can't even bear the thought of chicken, let alone smelling or eating it. The super-sniffer has its not-so-good points, like being able to distinguish people's horrible body odour or stinky socks, even hours after they have gone. I earnestly hope to get back my normal sense of smell after my pregnancy ends.

Off-limit food. I've craved runny eggs so badly ever since becoming pregnant, I almost don't want to eat. For that matter, I even miss the sheer joy of eating. For my entire pregnancy, eating has been tainted by morning & evening sickness, followed by heartburn and indigestion. The biggest thing I look forward to after giving birth is eating loads of KFCs, unlimited slices of pepperoni pizza and lots of sunny-side-up poached eggs.

Caffeinating. The 3 Cs...Coke, coffee & chocolate… sweet Lord… I crave for them all the time. I occasionally drink a regular soda or have an occasional cuppa, but I'd like to drink more of them. And chocolates! I just can't have enough of them. I know they're bad, but I really miss them in my system way too much than ever before.

Wine & beer. I'm not a drinker in the least, but I miss my wine. After a long stressful day or with a really good meal, there's nothing like a nice glass of wine. And I miss beer too, when it's hot and humid out. I miss the taste of an ice-cold beer and being able to have one whenever I want... on my balcony on a nice warm day or before dinner, enjoying it while watching my favourite soap on tv. Guess, I still have a long time to go before laying my hands on a mug or a flute.

Sexy shoes. I really, really, really miss my collection of heels, fancy dressy shoes, sexy stilettoes and all the pretty shoes my usually tiny feet could fit into earlier. I'm so sick of practical (though comfy) walking shoes, and although I love my slip-ons and flat pumps, I'm sick of having to wear those too, almost at all times. My feet aren't swollen so much as puffy, so my feet don't look good in cute shoes. I'm sure my shoes and cute sandals all miss me too. And yeah, I also miss being able to tie my own shoes, that's why now its always strap-ons or slip-ons. Can't just wait to put my feet into a sexy pair of high-heels again.

Dressing up. The sexy diva doesn't look so sexy anymore with her belly wiggling and portruding and hair not so sleek and shiny. I miss getting my hair done! I miss being sexy, 'cause I don't feel that way very much. I'm huge and uncomfortable and I miss my cute outfits. I used to be quite proud of my super-toned pre-pregnancy body. I miss my cute little belly button and the naval piercing I had till a few days ago, but I eventually had to take off the ring once my naval started expanding and popping out. I miss my abs and oh! having adorably pedicured feet. Will I ever be able to wear my nice old clothes and shoes again?

And most of all, I miss My Husband. Ever since he visited me after 4 months of separation and left again for his post, I have been missing him even more than ever before. I miss being able to snuggle with my husband in bed and falling asleep holding him. All that I want is be with him again and be pampered by him like he did when he was here. I want him to be here with me at the time of the baby's arrival.

But all said and done, the love, pampering and attention I get, the anticipation of the baby's arrival and the sheer joy of feeling the baby move inside me... that is all which takes to keep me going and I wouldn't trade this phase for anything else in the whole wide world.

My Valentine!

My baby, you're not out in this world yet,
We've seen you in the ultrasound, though never in person met.
My world changed forever the day you were conceived
Your heartbeat takes me to the reality of what I've achieved.
Seen all the tiny toes in both your feet
Just can't wait till the day we meet.
Seen your eyes, nose and also your mouth
I think you have a lovely little pout.
Seen your arms, legs and belly too
Barely 2 more months until you're due.
Darling, you're connected with my umbilical cord
But the way you lie in there, I feel you're really bored.
Heard the sound of your heart beating so fast
I'm really getting impatient now, till I get to hold you at last.
Soon will come the day when I'll hold you in my arms,
Hoping to protect you from every harm.
I feel ecstatic when you move inside the womb of mine
This time o' little one, I take you as my Valentine!
As you grow with lightning speed, I'm treasuring each day
Promising to myself, I'll give you a rainbow even when the sky is dull & grey.

CRAZY NO MORE...

I was in my usual bind when New Year’s Eve came around. It was time to assess the past year and, if there was something I felt needed improvement, to resolve to do better. The familiar candidates came to mind: travel a lot, paint, cook passionately, laugh more, break more rules and try to be more organized. In short, I'd promise to live my usual crazy life acting on impulse at every step... do stuff I'm really passionate about... speak my mind out... the works. They sound familiar because each year I make almost the same resolutions and each year I'd follow some and break some. With 1 year of marriage, 4 station changes and 9 months of wait for a family quarter, our stuff is still in a chaotic state, I am still waiting for some help from husband's unit to come over and unpack our household belongings, and the very thought of organising our quarter to give it a 'home' feel and look, has become a dirty thought. Living out of a suitcase in every destination we changed for the last 9 months, my 'own space' currently at my parents' house has become a testament to chaos and craziness. There are piles of books on my computer desk and some more scattered on the bed. The computer chair I placed near the desktop table for reading and typing or for the convenience of an occasional guest, is usually used as my clothes-stand. Sometimes, its more of a magazine rack, laden with so many back issues there is no room to actually sit on it to read. So much that visiting friends/relatives sometimes have to sit on my bed when I don't get a prior notice to clear the chair of clothes or magazines. It isn’t pretty. I assured myself I could—and would—finally clear it up… starting today. Or maybe tomorrow(?!). I would make my resolution to be very neat and organised wherever I am and stick to it! But first I needed to go to the market before it closed for the evening, to pick up a birthday gift for my little cousin. Then on to the cleaners. The carpenter would arrive post lunch to make modifications to my old book-rack and frame an oil painting I had made. I also promised I would meet my friends later in the evening. And somewhere in there I had to make time to work on a writing assignment I had accepted and whose deadline was racing uncomfortably close.

By the time I returned home from the market, I barely had time to put everything away before getting dressed for the evening. My husband reached to celebrate New Year's eve with me and we were going out first for the birthday dinner at my cousin's, then meeting up with close friends to celebrate New Year's eve.
“Let’s go,” he calls after getting ready around 9-ish. “It’s getting late.”

I leave a cascade of tried and discarded outfits on my bed and rush out with him to my uncle's. We have a great family time there and since we can't manage to get an available cab service with a driver who agrees to take us around town, party-hopping after 9pm, we cancel the plan of meeting up with friends for tonight. Nonetheless, we have an amazingly awesome 'family time' with good food, laughter and happiness. We come home a little after midnight. I am too tired to fold and put the pile of unworn clothes away, so I dump them onto the 'chair' at the foot of the bed, toss the bedspread over them, and crawl under the covers with a warm and snuggly hubby. We fall asleep almost instantly.

In the morning, on the first day of the New Year 2011, I know I am already in trouble. I take out my journal and write the almost familiar 11 resolutions (11, since its 2011)...

1. I will keep my space sparkling clean, no matter wherever I live.

2. I will travel more with or without the husband.

3. I will get more organized and follow a routine.

4. I will stop putting off things for later if I could finish them much earlier.

5. I will get a new job before the year ends.

6. I will spend less on shoes, clothes and perfumes.

7. I will watch more movies.

8. I will paint a lot.

9. I will start writing a book.

10.I will never compromise/sacrifice on anything my heart really wants.

11.I will continue to be my crazy self whether someone likes it or not.
 

I ponder over these written words, though, I am almost certain I would break most or all of them. I close the journal. What is the use? I am overwhelmed by the resolutions and I almost never follow them. It is too hard to stick to some of your old habits when you have new people, new committments and new relationships in your life. I go downstairs to my mom's kitchen and making 2 strong cups of tea for hubby and me, bring them upstairs in a thermos. Hubby is still snoring away, smiling ocassionally at me opening a squinty eye, then drifting back to his lazy morning slumber tucked under the cozy mink blanket.

I pour myself a cup of steaming tea and sipping on it, take a look at my resolutions jotted down neatly. I resent the pattern I have created for myself, yet can’t see my way out of it. In my guilt-ridden wanderings around the room, I brush against the chair and some of the clothes fall to the floor. As I bend down slowly to pick them up, underneath the computer table, I see a book I had recently bought at the book fair. It is a 'how-to' book on getting organized. I had bought it thinking I would get around to reading it, but not surprisingly, I put it off and was slowly beginning to forget about it. Now I suddenly can't wait to read it. It helps me see that I don’t need to do it all immediately... that I can prioritise things in my life depending on their changing importance. I can tackle one small thing at a time. I can make a schedule and follow it. I can start slowly. I can do one project each day instead of trying to do it all at once. I finally conclude I can break the pattern.

Our baby moves in my womb.

“I’m sorry,” I tell baby. “How could I have forgotten you all this while? You are now the first priority in my life. I love you so much.”

And then it strikes me all at once and everything suddenly becomes so clear. I know what I should do. I grab my journal and cross out what I have written before. Then I write my resolution for this year... not eleven, not ten, but one resolution.

My only resolution this year is to be a responsible person. A responsible wife, a responsible mother, a responsible daughter and that means I'd be CRAZY NO MORE.

A very happy and prosperous New Year 2011 to one and all.

Movies I watched in 2010

S.N. Date Time Cinema Movie
1 18th Jan'10 13:20hrs PVR-Select Citywalk (Saket) AVATAR (3 D)
2 19th Jan'10 10:00hrs PVR-Anupam (Saket) DID U HEAR ABOUT THE MORGANS
3 19th Jan'10 13:30hrs PVR-Anupam (Saket) CASE 39
4 16th Apr'10 11:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) PATHSHALA
5 16th Apr'10 14:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) PHOONK 2
6 30th Apr'10 14:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) HOUSEFULL
7 09th May'10 11:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) BADDMASH COMPANY
8 01st May'10 16:00hrs PVR-Inorbit Mall (Mumbai) SHREK 4-FOREVER AFTER
9 12th Jun'10 19:25hrs CINEMAX (Nashik Road) RAAJNEETI
10 22nd Jun'10 22:00hrs CINEMAX-City Centre Mall (Nashik) RAAVAN
11 19th Aug'10 14:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) PEEPLI LIVE
12 06th Sep'10 14:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) WE ARE FAMILY
13 19th Sep'10 17:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) DABAANG
14 03rd Oct'10 14:00hrs ANURADHA (Guwahati) ANJANA ANJANI

DOWNLOADED/TV WATCHES:

NO PROBLEM

MY NAME IS KHAN 

STRIKER

I HATE LUV STORYS 

KHATTA MEETHA

ONCE UPON A TIME IN MUMBAI

ISHQIYA

KNOCKOUT

UDAAN

INCEPTION
ACTION REPLAYY
LAFANGEY PARINDEY
PHAS GAYE RE OBAMA
AISHA
BREAK KE BAAD
WANTED
ATITHI TUM KAB JAOGE
RAKHT CHARIT
GOLMAAL3
TEES MAAR KHAN

MOVIES I NEED TO WATCH:

DO DOONI CHAAR

LOVE SEX AUR DHOKHA

HARISCHANDRACHI FACTORY

ANTARDWAND

THE JAPANESE WIFE 

DUNNO Y…NA JAANE KYON
SOCIAL NETWORK
DUE DATE
UNSTOPPABLE
KHELEIN HUM JEE JAAN SEY
GUZAARISH
KITES
AAKROSH

Thank you, Santa!

(Or was it really the FedEx delivery guy I should be thanking?!)

I always wanted to believe that Christmas wishes really are granted. Now I have a reason to believe that. I can only remember wishing for something for Christmas as a child. One year, when I was about 6 years old, I remember wishing for my two front teeth as I stood behind the Christmas tree at our school church, because they took a long, long time in sprouting back again after I lost them milk teeth. And since I didn’t like to be teased and bullied by all to smile and show my toothless grin, I had really hoped that Santa would put them back in place. That was then. After that Christmas, I don’t remember ever asking Santa for any Christmas gifts, since I would be mostly occupied with the celebrations of the festive season with family or friends.

But this year was different and I had made a secret wish to Santa.

What I wanted most of all this Christmas was for my husband to come and visit me since we had not seen each other for a week over four months now. As every time my husband would prepare to come for leave, something or the other would happen and he would always be called back, leave cancelled. This has happened for atleast 3-4 times now in the last 4 months. So, I was almost certain that I won’t get to see him at least before another couple of months, but look what I found on my front porch at 5 a.m. on Christmas eve …

Thank you Santa, for bringing me so much joy this Christmas.
I know I'd be really pushing my luck if I ask for more, but can you send him again for New Year's too? Pleeeease.....

Happy Birthday, darling!

I never realised before how blessed I am to be married to you. After exactly 1 year, 2 months and 2 weeks, things have slowly started sinking into my cute little head. Little did I know what lay ahead of us when I vowed, "... for better or worse, in sickness and health, till death do us apart." 'cause that time I had a very rosy picture in my mind and mostly dreamt of being together with you. I even bragged at times saying Who needs a man on a white horse who carries a sword and wears a shiny armour, when I have got a man who drives a tank, shoots a gun and wears a combat uniform. Never did I realise then, that the OG uniform would involve so many sacrifices on our part, especially that we'd have to stay away from each other for such long durations. But now I know exactly how difficult it is for you to be doing what you do and how hard it is for me to stay away from you for this long. It has already been 3 and a half months since I last saw you in person and it seems this time the wait is never going to end. Though I hear your voice every day on the phone, my heart still misses a beat everytime I get a call from you. Sometimes when you go on an odd-hour patrolling, I break down and cry, praying constantly for your safe return. And only when I get a call back from you that you are back in your room safe and sound, can I fall asleep in peace. I'm scared to watch the local news without keeping my fingers crossed and wanting your safety more than anybody else's.
I don't want my tears to make you weak. They only mean I love you more and more every day and I feel so proud of being your wife. I miss terribly the warmth and love of your touch and the feel of just being held in your arms. The only thing which keeps me going strong inspite of everything, is the rush that I get when I feel the presence of your love growing inside me day after day. And that makes me smile... very often.
I had really hoped you could come home for your birthday today and given me a chance to do something special for you. But as in the army country comes before family, so here's waiting and counting down the days till I see you again. And this is the part which seems to be so damn hard.
Happy Birthday, darling! I miss you so much...

Jus' lyin' around doin' nothin'

Just as my husband dropped me at my hometown Guwahati, preparing to leave for his new location further ahead in the northeast, I was not too sad this time. I had fancy plans of taking up a job here to keep myself occupied. But not before long, we discovered to our utter joy that the stork would be visiting us in another 9 months. So hubby left for his new location leaving me in the custody of my parents and requesting me to not even think about taking up a job till I completed my first trimester.

Though I took his advise quite casually and continued my search for a job, to my horror I found out that no organisation is ready to employ a candidate who has recently conceived. My immediate reactions on being rejected by good companies on such a ground, ranged from disappointment, shock and surprise to plain outrage. My husband, parents and ma-in-law were clearly upset with me even for taking up those odd freelance assignments which helped me keep myself busy. So finally I had to put aside all doubts and misgivings and decided stay at home, after all.

As I entered my second trimester, my doctor saw that there was some forthcoming complication because I was not taking adequate rest and recommended a total bedrest for an entire month. This time I had no choice to even try something creative online. I was asked to lie down in bed at all times and could get up only to eat or to go to the bathroom. Till a year ago, while I was still in a hectic fulltime job, I would have loved to be in such a situation where I was recommended a 'forced' bedrest. But now, since I had nothing much to do anyway and no job whatsoever, I knew that I could only keep myself sane if I kept myself intellectually satisfied and creatively occupied. So, the first thing I did was that I asked my husband to somehow manage to send me all the unread books that were lying with him in his boxes. Also, I asked my friends, cousins and parents to get me all the books that I had on my 'to-buy' list. And day by day, as I lay in bed recovering, I devoured history, poetry, gossip and all the latest bestsellers. I had ample time on my hands to go through every detail of the daily newspapers and read Femina, Good-housekeeping, Cosmopolitan and Outlook Traveller, cover to cover at one go.

My dad fixed a portable tv in my room, so when I got bored of all the reading, I switched on to my favourite programmes on the tele. I was never much of a tv-person. But now I discovered quite some good and useful programmes that are shown on the tv.

Sometimes my old friends in town would pay me a visit and make me laugh and feel good. My closest girlfriend in town would come and visit me, her baby in tow and while both of us chatted away to glory, laughing and bitching and filling our hearts with small passionate girlie-gossip, her daughter would play by my side on my bed, allowing me the pleasure of consuming her delicious smell of milk-n-baby powder. That has such a healing power in itself, its amazing. My best friend would call up from Delhi and fill me up with all the gory details of her metro life, making sure I was not missing even a single bit of the spice in her life that I used to once share. My sister and another dear friend from Mumbai would call up and spend long hours with me on the phone regularly, leaving me smiling and with a happy heart. My ma would cook up the most simplest yet delicious food that I'd be craving for and my dad took care of all my doctor visits, reports, medicines and injections that was prescribed for me. Ma and I would have long conversations usually before or after lunch, when she'd manage to get some free time after all the household chores. They are such energy boosters for me to drag through the days. Sometimes my cousins and relatives would drop by and say hello to me, since I could not go out anywhere.

Apart from the entertainment and social interaction, I thoroughly enjoyed these people visiting me as each of them had to offer something valuable and special in their own unique way and each of them taught me something in return. While someone gave me tips on what kind of soothing music to listen to, someone else would advice me to wear very loose fitting clothes for easy comfort and breathing. Someone would give me invaluable tips on childcare while others would chalk down lists for me on what to eat and what not to eat.

After completing a month in bed, dreaming, consuming knowledge, entertainment and soulful music, I have started writing more regularly now. And held my paintbrush in my hand after almost 9 months.

Though I miss my husband terribly and long to see him and be with him, yet I have so many things and people around me to make me constantly feel pampered as a queen. Now, I can only smile because hey, just lying around doing nothing has been a great learning experience and a very well enjoyable one as well. Can't just wait for motherhood now :-)

Here comes the Fall...

I love the fall. Maybe that's why I was blessed with an Autumn wedding. I missed this season in my entire 11 years of stay in Delhi. There, you never get to enjoy either spring or fall... only summers and winters. Hence, this year has been all the more special. I am home and the mark of Autumn has started with our 1st wedding anniversary.
To me, 'fall' signifies the heady whiff of 'xewali phool' or the night-jasmine flowers (those tiny white flowers with a saffron centre and stem) which bloom by night and fall down by morning. The tantalising peek-a-boo chill of the early morning mist, when you feel comfortably numb with a blanket thrown over to catch that extra half-an-hour's sleep. The sipping of lemon-tea sitting in the balcony amidst the little greenery that's still left on the trees and starting the countdown to those cold and foggy winter mornings' hot ginger milk tea.
Fall always make the markets turn a little more interesting than ever, with new designs of clothes and shoes and a variety of things to buy as festive gifts for friends and relatives. Just the right time and excuse for some retail therapy, more so, as it is customary. Even the local markets turn colourful, with the endless variety of fruits and vegetables that the season has to offer, resulting in heavier fares from everyone's kitchens.
Fall marks the start of a colourful festive season lined up from Durga Puja, Laksmi Puja, Kati Bihu, Diwali, Eid and Christmas, that eventually leads to a bright new year. Durga puja is always a community affair, where the whole neighbourhood chips in and not only take pride but clamour to help in. Dusshera always sees the whole neighbourhood gather in for some community function after the idols are sent for immersion and the nonchalant calorie-indulgence in gobbling up piping hot jalebis. The sprucing up of the house for Laksmi Puja and pre-diwali clean-up always means cleaning and polishing locked away silver and brass utensils and those small twinkling electric lights to do up the building on Diwali night and light up numerous diyas (earthen lamps) and burn crackers and fireworks with the family and neighbours. More indulgence with calorie-induced diwali-sweets (made in pure desi-ghee) and dry-fruits and exchanging of gifts. Kati Bihu involves the woman of the house to worship Tulsi ji (holy basil) every evening by lighting a diya (earthen lamp) for the entire month. Eid calls for lunch/dinner invitations from our Muslim family friends/neighbours, which means indulging in laughter, happiness and huge helpings of pulao, meat and sweet vermicelli.
Then slowly the winter sets in. Not a season that I look forward to, but then, winters in Assam are not so bad either. With the warm sunny afternoons to gorge on plenty of citrus fruits after lunch, or sharing cups of hot peppery soup with the family while watching our favourite soaps on TV in the evenings before dinner, I look forward for a happy winter this time at home, also hoping that my husband gets atleast a couple of days off this time to be with us just in time for his birthday in December.

A year ago TODAY

A year ago today, hubby and I got hitched.

Everyone who knew us individually, had given up all hopes that either of us would take the plunge. Though it never bothered me to think that way, I seriously began to doubt that any man was ever made for me. Being fed on a healthy dosage of romantic songs, movies and novels, I was always over-critical, suspicious and cynical about any guy who would approach me and I would crib endlessly and dig out faults with those endlessly lost potential partners. And the only ones I liked were either way too younger or already taken. Not that I never had relationships before, but they ended in strange ways. Either the guys were total jerks or something or the other never worked to last long enough. None of them could keep me engrossed for long, anyway. My friends told me that my expectations of my 'dream-guy' were way too unrealistic... he should be intelligent, well-read, have a great sense of humour, earn decent, not too ugly-looking, dress smartly, wear good shoes, have a head-full of hair, listen to good music (not Enrique-type of songs)... and maybe there were 20 other items in the list which I went on adding over the years. And every guy I used to meet used to be measured against that mental list. But I was soon made to realise by my folks and friends that I was dismissing too many guys without even giving them a fair chance! They told me to ditch the unrealistic expectations, as no one man could fit the bill (especially since Brad Pitt was already taken and George Clooney had been a confirmed bachelor so far). I was left with no choice but to start meeting guys they set me up with and pick only one thing or two on my mental list that I absolutely could not compromise on (like, him being 'straight' or that he spoke correct English, for instance). But I was not ready to settle for anything less. I longed for a guy who would also be ready to tolerate my (infamous) temper and loud mouth to go with, pamper the child in me and dote on the woman in me. And then one fine day, out of the blue, came this guy...

We met, and in that moment I thought there wouldn't be anything special brewing this time too. So many times in life we meet people, talk to them, like them instantly and then just forget all about them and we move on with our lives. But this was nothing like it. He was everything I always wanted in my guy... a nice human being, charming, fun, tall, good-looking, well-spoken and him being in the armed forces was like the cherry on the cake. We eventually hit it off pretty well. We never rushed in. We never pushed each other. I slowly began to feel this growing warmth between us and our relation just developed as forests grow... without any conscious nurture. His maturity stirred me, whereas my impatience amused him. He wooed me with his charms and slowly I felt okay to be vulnerable, as our inhibitions lowered. Before we knew it, our relationship was made official with our engagement. And ever since, we never looked back... in regret.


We just clicked and kept on clicking... at our computer mouses and the keyboards, and also at our mobile-phones' keypad buttons. And with each passing day and month, our brainwaves harmonised on their own. What else could we depend on, except those so called 'wavelengths'. Our relation just grew on those written words that flashed on our computer screens in the form of 'love-mails' and those endless hours of talking on our phones through countless sleepless nights. The long distance between us made things a little improbable for us. You can't share every feeling through emails or on the phone. But love has an uncanny tendency of making things easy for the takers. So, we made up for the lost moments when he used to visit me once in a couple of months. I was totally transformed. I stopped being the flirt I'd always been and for once, all my friends and colleagues came to believe that this time I was seriously in a relationship.

In six months time, before I knew it, we were tied in holy matrimony. I had mixed feelings in the beginning, and was as confused as he might have been. I would sometimes get upset about having to leave my job and my single, carefree life with no responsibilities whatsoever, having to concentrate less on myself now and focus more on 'us' and the society we lived in, sharing the bed with him whereas earlier I would have the entire bed to myself, expecting him to remember birthdays, death anniversaries, wedding anniversaries of friends, family and even someone in the extended family and getting offended when he did not. The wet-towel-on-the-bed habit, walking with wet slippers all around the house, leaving footmarks on the bathroom floor and saving all the dirty undear and socks to be washed on Sundays... all these things were quite a shock and annoying in the early days of our marriage, but slowly, these irritants grew into familiarity which seemed to offer great comfort and security in both our lives. I am not even getting into my habits which might have got on his nerves. I'm happy not knowing of them.

Thus, through good times and bad, being both right and wrong, sharing love and quarrels, we have seen a whole year fly by, since the date we tied the knot. And after a year of marriage, I've come to being familiar seeing my husband wake up next to me when we are together or me staying happy and involved in something when he is away on 'field-duty', as easily as seeing my face in the mirror. And I have learnt that once in a while we do need to take certain things and people for granted to make our 'circle of comfort' complete. And though my beloved has some quirks which really irks me to the core, yet gives me a comfort and security, which further gives me confidence that our world will still go round! I'm hoping it only gets better from now.

The plague of the AUNTYji-s and their agonising questions

India is perhaps the only place in the world where we are taught from our childhood to address complete strangers, neighbours, acquaintances or anyone who is not even remotely related to us, as UNCLEs and AUNTYs. It is considered 'rude' to address someone (elder) by their first or even last names. And I have been completely comfortable with this culture until a few years back when I had to undergo the 'U.K. voice and accent training' and the 'UK Culture training' for my job. Slowly I learnt of some cultural similarities in American and other European society too, with a striking difference with us Indians and our culture.
For instance, there is no good thing about being 'single' in India... especially if you're a girl and over 23 years of age. The general calculation is that you graduate by the age of 21. After that, you'd be lucky to have been been spared for 2 more years after you have graduated, just in case you want to pursue a professional course, but soon thereafter, all those agonising questions and 'looks' will crowd your way, especially from those snooping neighbourhood Aunty-jis.


AGONISING QUESTION # 1: SO, WHEN ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?
The good thing about being a single girl in India is that everyone wants to find you a groom---your parents, your relatives, your neighbours, the taxi-driver, the laundry-woman and sometimes, even your colleagues, and definitely those Aunty-jis. Everybody seems to know somebody, or their son, who would be perfect for you. You'd have been so grateful to have been saved from the manhunting routine of Ally McBeal or Bridget Jones... if only you'd also agree that that particular 'someone (or their son)' is perfect for you. I mean, where would you get the opportunity to even find that out? They would want you to get married immediately without questioning their judgement. No dating, no flirting, no slowly maturing the relationship. And they will (in most probability) steer you away from the sexy ones and settle on the most excruiatingly boring IT-type-settledin-the-U.S. of A.
No-no! Thank you so much, but I think I'll take my own sweet time to find out that man-of-my-dreams for myself.
I had come a long way in my single days from this question with my cheeky comeback:
"Auntyji, didn't my ma tell you that I'm a lesbian and till the time homosexual marriages are legalised in India, I would devote my years to serving the poor until I can legally unite with my one and only true love?"
Believe me, those Auntyjis will be too shocked to react at first, but then derive that you must be going through a lot of stress searching for a groom as there must be something wrong with your horoscope, and then might even spread the word about it around. But never will they dare bother you with the bugging question ever again.

AGONISING QUESTION # 2: HOW MUCH DO YOU EARN?
If you are one of those lucky spinsters who has a job you love and the one that even pays you handsomely, you sure have got yourself a lot of attention back home amongst your relatives and the neighbourhood Auntyjis. With the attention shifting more towards higher education and salaried women these days, and hoping that one fine day their Tina-s and Munni-s would earn as much as you do, or even more, it isn't uncommon to be asked (whether you're married or not) about how much you earn. While in other countries this is a very personal and objectionable question, our fellow countrymen (and women) don't really see the harm in sharing the news of their or others finances. Had I wanted to be a nice and harmless person, I'd have been modest and replied that I was just earning enough to support my lifestyle in those single days of mine in Delhi... enough to stay comfortably in a good locality, enough to buy books to open up a mini library, enough to take off to any place I fancy, on my own and afford those trips myself, enough to buy my own drinks whenever I wanted to party with the girls, without depending on any loser of a guy, enough to buy good clothes, shoes and accessories and watch countless movies every weekend. But ofcourse, since that's none of their godforsaken business, I used to say:
"Psst, it's a secret but I'm sharing this with you... I work for the FBI as a secret agent, my 'real' salary gets transfered into a Swiss bank account, which I haven't touched yet. So I really don't know what's my salary. Must be a lot, since I'm on first-name terms with my personal banker who also happens to be the Swiss Bank Manager. Gee!"
Again 'that' look on their faces, but I love my peace more, to even care.

AGONISING QUESTION # 3: OH, YOU'RE A HOUSEWIFE?
Taking off from the continuing trend of being an independent salaried woman, who lived life on her own terms, travelled extensively on her own and partied hard, being a 'home-maker' after marriage and wanting to settle down to a less hectic life, might bring with it its own connotations. Perhaps you are still smart enough to get yourself a high paying job, but perhaps your husband and you both agree that you have toiled enough for 11 long years before you got married, and maybe now you can do with a little relaxation because what the husband earns is more than comfortable for both of you to survive without you working. But in India, it's amazing how people will think of it as anything except that it is a personal choice.
So, when I'm confronted with this annoying and agonising question, there's no better way than proclaiming:
"No, I'm the Domestic Goddess. And this is my real place... in the house, at my husband's feet. Don't you agree?" Then bat your eye-lashing and flash your most charming smile.

(I mean, c'mon! It's not like I have a contaminable disease, for crissake!)
Here, chances are that you might be even appreciated for your newfound realisation of the essence of being a woman. But you'd definitely not be plagued with any more of that question.

AGONISING QUESTION # 4: IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT (IN YOUR MARRIAGE)?
All thanks to the age-old Bollywood film moralities and a certain Kapoor's Saas-Bahu saga on the different tv channels, a married woman in her maternal home, is seen as not fulfilling her marital duties. Nobody considers that fact that things are different when you are married to an army officer. There are times when you are posted out of a station and the husband goes out to a 'field-location' (where its not safe to keep his family) as his new posting. You have not got a quarter in your preferred location yet, and while waiting for the same, you prefer to be with your parents and siblings and childhood friends in your hometown, rather than being all by yourself in a strange city in a rented accomodation. But here again, if you have visited your parents and stayed on for a while, it is inevitable for those Auntyjis to ask this agonising line. A woman's place is by her man's side, after all. The zooming divorce rates in India these days, where it can now be confidently yet sadly called a trend, may also be the cause of your neighbour's suspicion.
On such situations, I can very wickedly excuse myself with a long sad face and also a few (did I see tears in her eyes) looks, letting my mother face the music, but I choose to retort:
"No Auntyji, I just wanted a break from all those soul-stirring, earth-shattering sex with my husband. See how much weight I've lost from all that regular exercise. Phew! Now I want him to spend some time with his mistress in the Assam-Arunachal border too. *wink!*"
Chances are that the Auntyjis from the neighbourhood will never visit your house again and even pretend to not see your mom when they cross ways. But atleast you'll have your last laugh with your mom (if you have a mom as sporty as mine)!

AGONISING QUESTION # 5: ANY GOOD NEWS?
If you're one of those 'fortunate ones' who's finally succeeded to nail a man and got hitched, the next question is, invariably, this one. How can you be nearing your 30s or even past it and not have babies yet? Our society, incidently, revolves as it is, around marital and maternal bliss... the only essence of being born a woman. Those do-gooding angels might even offer you the number of a fertility specialist, accompanied by a miracle story of a certain Mr. & Mrs. Sharma. These kind of questions are enough to put new bride off any social occassions. Worse still are the congratulations on a (is that a) baby bump, that's in reality the after-effect of skipping your regular gym or eating too many samosas. You can try and laugh it off, but if this question still persist, try my comeback:
"Yes lots! Which one would you like to hear first? I'm going off to Goa with my girlfriends this Christmas and might even do Bangkok for some shopping from thereon. Check out these fabulous snaps of hubby and me from our last vacation. The prints have just come in and you're luckily on time. And oh, I'm totally in love with my pedicurist for choosing this lovely new shade for me. Isn't it sexy?" See... "
Chances are that the question will fade away on its own when you seem so content and happy with your current life and situations, even without you doing or saying anything nasty to the Auntyjis. It may raise a few confused eyebrows but believe me, it should definitely prevent further noises.

The Officer=The Gentleman=My Husband

Hubby has small annoying mannerisms that I have not been used to in a long while of my civil life. For instance, he will always hold the door for me in the house, in restaurants, in a car/taxi, etc. He will never let me hold any bag other than my purse even though his hands are already full. He will never start or close his plates without me whenever we are eating together, even at home... even if he's getting late for work.

On one of my bad-mood-days, I snapped at his mannerism and told him that he doesn't have to hold open the door for me because I'm a Lady. That I have all my limbs in perfect working condition, well capable of doing these things for myself.
To which he coolly replied,"Darling, I don't hold doors or bags for you because you are a Lady, but because I'm a Gentleman!"
I can do nothing much but just shuddup!

Sultan...the new king of my heart

Sultan is the little prince of Captain N (our current next door neighbour in Devlali).
Cptn. N found Sultan in an almost fatal state and nursed and fed him back to health again. Now Sultan has recovered and is growing naughtier by the day.
The first day we had shifted into the quarter, Sultan barked at us constantly. Then I went to him and started talking to him from afar. He seemed to like me talking to him. He began initiating playful tricks when I went near. If he found anything which looked remotely similar to a playball or water-bottle or slipper, Sultan would hold it into his mouth and pretend to be possessive about it. If I did not pay attention, he would throw it at me and bark slowly, provoking me to get near it. If I tried getting near, he would steal it right under my nose and run away, challenging me to catch it. That was the beginning of a successful relationship I'd had with Sultan and slowly introduced him to my hubby. While hubby smoked his morning cigarette, Sultan would go near him and try to catch the smoke rings but when hubby said 'down' or 'no', Sultan would instantly follow and obey.
Our months of a glorious summer in Devlali were spent basking in the glow of literal puppy love while training and establishing new routines for Sultan as his real owner had no time to devote to the pup. In fact, most of my time was spent incorporating him into my life and me into his. Most of my days were spent in quiet, loving solitude with Sultan. While I sat reading in the easy chair in the balcony of our quarter, Sultan would lie relaxed at my side and sigh with contentment. We were a happy couple. My heart was nourished and I felt content and full. We spent almost a month this way, until Captain N and his unit got ready to move to a new location, Sultan in tow.

During this 1 month I spent with Sultan, this is what I learnt from him:

1. Look innocent and lost when you need some extra care and attention.

2. When it's in your best interest, always practice obedience.

3. When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

4. Run, romp and play daily.

5. Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.

6. Take naps and always stretch before rising.

7. On hot days, drink lots of water and lie in shade.

8. Be loyal but be open to making new friends.

9. Never pretend to be something you're not.

10. Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

11. Delight in the simple joy of taking long walks.

12. Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy ride.

13. Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

14. When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

15. Let others know when they've invaded your territory.

16. Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

17. If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

18. When you are happy, dance around and let it show.

19. To be mischievious, yet to know when to give it up.

20. No matter how often you are criticizedor punished, not to buy into the guilt thing and pout but to run right back and make friends again.

The last laugh

Hubby comes back visibly happy from his sutta break and meets me outside the lingerie store in the Inorbit Mall (I let him have a smoke while he lets me pick up fancy lingeries... a perfect understanding suiting both our needs). I become suspicious... why he is so happy? Oh no! Must have surely done something he is forbidden of.
"Honey, what's with the grin on your face?"
"Oh nothing! I just picked up a set of Adidas deos. They're quite nice, actually."
"Hmmm... But weren't you supposed to be on a sutta break? You managed time to pick up deos too, eh? Not bad!"
"Actually, I couldn't smoke. As I was going out, the salesman lured me on to try a sniff of his stock and he wasn't just ready to let me go without testing a whiff of each first."
"So, the salesman got you again? I bet he must have sold you the worst smelling deos that he couldn't sell to anybody else."
"Do you actually think Adidas can have any 'foul smelling' deos?"
"Who knows?!"
"Ok, check out this smell..." He holds out his pulse points on both the hands for me to sniff.
"Oh God! Stop!! I can't make out anything. Its just a mixture of your sweat, your signature AXE with several new ones. Smells gross to me."
Hubby looks visibly disappointed now, not being able to prove his point. So, I try to ease it out for him.
"Ok honey. I have full faith in your choice. You must've picked up something very nice, I'm sure."

Hubby is happy now. Promises to buy me deos of my choice too.
"But I can't apply deos on my skin, I'm allergic, you know that. You can buy me more perfumes, though."
"No, you have too many perfumes to last you for the next 10-15 years. I think you should pick up deos now. Try spraying them like I do... lots of it above your clothes so that it doesn't touch your skin."
"What? Are we talking about deos or handkerchief perfumes? Why would I spray deos on my clothes?"
"Just try it. You'd thank me for the tip."
"Okay, if you insist".
I am almost tempted at the prospect of it. I must admit I admire the way hubby sprays his deos on before leaving for anywhere (yes! on his clothes). The masculine smell of his signature AXE prevails for a longer duration and totally kills the effect of my delicate EMOTION (Rasasi) or YESSAMIN (Avon) or COOL WATER (Davidoff) or my favourite TENDER TOUCH (Burberry). I end up smelling just like him. The only perfumes of mine which win over his deos are the strong ones like Burberry DEEP RED or YSL CINEMA, but obviously I can't afford to spray them on for casual wearing. I save these ones for those special evenings. So, now is my chance to give it back to him. I would pick up a nice smelling deo and spritz it on like him and kill the smell of his new Adidas pack of 3. Yippee!
By the end of the day, I am so overwhelmed with all my shopping, eating at my favourite KFC and watching a movie, that I completely forget about the deo to be bought. Hubby doesn't remind me of it again, of course. He is already in a state of shock from the damage done to his wallet with my other 'wholesome' shopping.
Days pass by until after 2 weeks when I am reminded of my due deodorant to be bought. In the meantime, hubby has already finished off his first one from the pack-of-3. Adidas FRESH IMPACT. Hmmmnn not so bad! I like the smell of it. And now he's opened the second...Adidas SPORT FIELD.
"It smells horrible", I complain. "I knew it. The shopkeeper made a fool of you. This deo, nobody must have picked up."
I quickly smell the third one... DYNAMIC PULSE. Okay, this one's fine. Only the second one I hate.
"But I like it, what's wrong with it?" Hubby protests.
So, that day, in our usual evening round of walks, when we are in the Umrao Plaza (a small shopping complex comprising of shops run by army as well as civilians, with blarring music and temporary eating joints, sprigging up in the evenings for the gathering crowd), we walk through a small shop full of perfumes and deos. I don't miss the opportunity to remind hubby of my due. He cannot refuse it, of course. So we go in. After testing a series of deos from Revlon Charlie Blue, Charlie Gold, Jovan Musk, Nivea, Nike, etc. I derived that these perfumes are not originals. So I ask the shopkeeper for a more Indian brand... Temptation (I quite like the ad 'sorry boys!' and I've heard it smells good too.
"Sorry ma'm. Don't have it right now. Can get it for you in a day or two. In the meantime, why don't you try this one? Its quite popular among the other ladies who come to my shop."
Saying this the shopkeeper offers me to smell the apealing TOMY GIRL.
Hmm.. I like it. Hubby likes it too. Very fresh and nice. Smells almost like the original, but at Rs.120/- I really doubt it. We pick it up anyway.


Reaching our quarter, I am quite thrilled with my new purchase and am admiring it. Hubby takes it from me, sits on the bed, and forced by his usual habit, reads up the whole of the small print at the back body of the deo can.
"Ha, ha, ha! Darling, you've picked up TOMY GIRL, have you realised? This is an alternative product to TOMMY GIRL, it claims here. After all the rec'ce (a short form for Reconnaissance... very frequently used lingo in the army) you only managed to pick up a fake. How's that for a change? Now who is cheated by the shopkeeper? Ha!"
"But darling, don't you give it to me that my picked up 'fake' still smells better than your 'original'? Surely I must have got some taste. After all, I chose you!" *wink*