Formula one racing in India.

Who says that formula one racing is only happening in Singapore? This weekend I was fortunate to witness the same on my way from Mumbai to Pune. Earlier I was very upset at not being able to witness the event in Singapore. I was looking forward to getting some good shots of the racing. But alas as they say Man proposes God disposes. Though my consolation prize was to watch a similar event and even participate in it in our very own city.

Strike eight in the evening and the whole expressway transforms into one big formula racing event with almost every kind of vehicle in sight participating. We should be thankful to the authorities for banning rickshaws and bullock carts else we would have seen some real tough competition to the truck and trailer drivers who do not think that they are in any way inferior to the likes of Michael Schumacher and Rubens Barrichello or at least up to the likes of Narain Karthikeyan.

Most of these drivers view the ghats as the ultimate racing track in which to prove their mettle. So this weekend we had trucks crisscrossing the maruti 800s that drive in the neck breaking speed of 200 kmph. Till now i had no idea that Marutis could go this fast and also believed that the max speed allowed in ghats is 80kmph. The added sweetness to the whole episode came from the constant drizzling rain which made the view impossible and the drive all the more challenging. At anytime there was absolutely no respect for the lanes all the driver crisscrossing and cutting each other from any side and every side.

Not to be left behind the Shivneri driver took this as a cue to show off and drove in manic speed into the khandala ghat. I was really glad that I was not in that bus. The most annoying of all was the car with a Haryana number plate which honked at almost each and every truck, trailer irrespective of whether it was a suv or HCV. It was really annoying. The worst part was the guy got away with the honking because more than one vehicle gave way. The whole event which lasted for roughly half an hour to 45 mins was totally crazy. All through this trip I had an innova or some other big long car scrap past me. Once I had also had a trailer on my tail honking and driving on me laden with what seemed to be parts of a rocket. Not to mention the eerie time when I was sandwiched between a truck a trailer. Both of whom seemed to look like the leaning tower of Pisa, defying laws of gravity or just about it. I was finally glad to get home.

I should have been glad that God had answered my prayers. But wasn’t he listening properly. I only wanted to WATCH and take shots. Guess I wasnt very specific!!!!

Me’s back!!!

I finally returned home. I am glad. Singapore is a fabulous place to live in BUT something really strange happened when the flight took off from Singapore I looked at hubs and said: “I already forgot Singapore”. He thought I was strange and looked at me as though i had developed horns but when we landed at Mumbai, he realised what i meant. It felt as if i had never left. Its good to be home at last.

Coming home meant getting pampered fullto, settling down, and this you wont believe: eating begun bhajas EVERYDAY since i came. It is like coming to heaven…….. although the heaven is really short……. no grossly short of water supply. As they say kisiko mukkamil jahan nahi milta…… kiskiko pani to kisiko begun bhaja nahi milta!!! I have settled with the latter and am mighty pleased with my choice. I am totally into the enjoy it till it lasts kind of thing who knows where i have to go next. Specially with hubby playing passport passport and visa visa all over again. I don’t even want to know where when etc etc. When i go I will go till then it is Begun bhaja festival.

Spending some real quality time with my nieces. All these years I came and left and again came and left never really talking to them. This is the first time i came and talked unlike the other times when i came, played Santa, gave gift, got hug, and left. This time I got some real OMG stories. It kind of left me open mouthed…… really big time open mouthed and hubby grinning like a Cheshire cat…… he looks like garfield these days especially when he looks at me.

I have always been proud of the fact that my school though it did not produce Einsteins, it did produce some real good people and though our teachers were not the best they were ok. Specially with regard to dabbas!!! All through my tenure in school, I have never ever eaten anybody’s tiffin. I always stuck to what my ma gave me for lunch and ate just that, hubs on the other hand can write a whole dissertation with detailed analysis on who brought what in the tiffins and also when and why. Sometimes the details he goes into tiffins is totally astonishing!!!!

During the rains, to prevent the kids from getting wet and playing in the rain my school has this policy of all the kids eating their food in class at their desk and a particular teacher eating with them so that they can be monitored. My niece comes up with this incident that a certain teacher at her school (incidently she taught me as well as my older two sisters) everyday brought an empty tiffin box and then asked the students to share their food with her. She then went round and took whatever she liked from the students tiffin and ate it. She is especially partial to sweets. So if the mother has packed a pastry for her daughter, the daughter never got to eat it. In some cases the daughter also goes hungry unless her friends have shared their food with her. The teacher meticulously shortlists the tiffins she likes and those kids are at her brunt everyday. “XYZ what did your mother give you today?” So much that my niece says that she carries two tiffins and she has her favorite food in the short break and the other tiffin with not so favorite food in the lunch break which she can display to the teacher.

She said she had gone hungry many days after which my sister has started packing not-so-interesting food for her. I was totally open mouthed after listening to this story with popping eyes et al. Hubby on the other hand is totally motivated and is seriously considering a career change. So these days the kids are totally terrified when the said teacher walks in during the lunch break……

Gawwwd how disgusting can a teacher get!!! I am still wondering whether this is a perk that teachers get for teaching or if teachers salaries are getting really low or this particular teacher is getting the kids to diet or her favorite movie is bhootnath and she is taking the movie really really seriously or it is a case of a really really hungry teacher or she is trying to teach the kids something…….. I wonder what that is???………. still wondering!!!!!

Time lost and lots gained.

My Singapore stint is drawing to a close and I am really happy because I will be back home and be with Ma after a long long time. Infact on record this is the longest stretch I have been away from her. I will also miss singapore:

Especially the escalators (I am arthritic…. remember. Here there are escalators in every nook and corner and you never ever have to climb any stair….. in some stations there are also conveyor belts so you dont even have to walk. The most amazing thing was once in City hall MRT there was a musical stair made to encourage people to use the stairs instead of escalators….. I actually tried playing a song.

The MRT – it is really lovely. No hassle changing trains and going anywhere. I travelled length breadth and all over singapore nonchalantly and never ever had to ask for directions to reach a certain place.

The 24 shopping stores – I bought veggies and grocery and also shopped in the middle of the night. Mustafa is usually so crowded that shopping there at 1:00 in the night is really cool….. the salesmen are free and they attend to you.

China town – It feels like you are in a fair…..in say rajasthan. It is really colorful and bright.

Sitting on the bank of the waterbody (I donno whether it is a lake or a river or a reservoir or a canal…… I come from Pune remember….. The only water bodies that we see there are the mula and mutha and I still get confused categorising them into river lake or stagnant dirty water…… though clarke quay water also stinks and is quite dirty) at clarke quay with hubby and singing majhi songs irrespective of who was looking.

The safety that girls have in singapore. I travelled alone at 1:00 pm. Singapore has almost no crime and the ones that actually happen make headlines.

Mariamman temple – that was the first place that made me feel like home. There is a strange aura to the place….. almost made me break down every time I went there. I went there every week. Guess I still need a mother to placate me wherever I go.

The other place is the tooth of buddha relic. The idol of buddha is so endearing and peaceful. I sometimes attended their services. Nestled between the hustle bustle of chinatown you can suddenly find yourself in most peaceful surroundings.

The pine trees outside my home…… I am going home but they arent.

I felt inhibited in singapore for only half a day, because thats when I slept. The next day itself hubby called the hotel and asked me to come to fuji xerox. I took a taxi and the driver told me that I should walk. When I told him I didnt know the place he actually showed me the place and on the way told me the whole singpore transport story. So my induction to the city was really thorough.

Losing a friend to anger, or distance or to life or to death or any other reason is quite traumatic but the crux is that life goes on. Lots have happened since I left home. Have to go home and face all of it again and peel open a lot of wounds some of which have not healed yet. I dread it but it is a job to be done. So on a somber note posting this song from Pinky, A beautiful gazal from Ahmed Faraz one of my favorites after Galib and a translation of the song and also the rendition by Runa laila.

  

 
Ranjish hi sahi……!!!


Ahmed Faraz

Ranjish hi sahi dil hi dukhane ke liye aa
aa phir se mujhe chod ke jaane ke liye aa

pehle se maraasim na sahi phir bhi kabhi to
rasm-o-rahay duniya hi nibhane ke liye aa
kis kis ko batayenge judaai kaa sabab ham
tu mujh se khafaa hai to zamane ke liye aa

kuchh to meri pindaar-e-mohabbat ka bharam rakh
tu bhi to kabhi mujh ko manane ke liye aa
ek umr se hun lazzat-e-giryaa se bhi mehruum
aye raahat-e-jaan mujh ko rulaane ke liye aa

ab tak dil-e-khush_feham ko tujh se hain ummeedain
ye aakhari shammain bhi bujhaane ke liye aa

 

Even though it is anguish, come once even if it is to torment my heart
Come, even if to leave me again

If not for our past association
Come for the sake of the world and the society

Who all should I explain the reason of separation
Come, despite your displeasure, for the world and the society

Respect a little the depth of my love for you
Come someday to placate me as well

Too long have I been deprived of the pathos of longing
Come my love, if only to make me weep again

Till now, my heart suffers from some expectation

Come to snuff even these last embers of hope

Translation in English!!!

When I was ten and six

Lately all the posts in my blog have become nothing short of emotional atyachaar…. so I took a cue from NaBloPo and its daily topics for the month of June and this is the best topic that I could think of. If you could go back in time and meet your 16-year old self, what three things would you tell yourself?

If I had to go back in time and meet my 16-year-old self….. I would have been in the twelfth standard in St Mira’s College….. almost a purani jeans and guitar moment. Those days life was FULL up to the brim and very very interesting…. too interesting if I look at it from my Ma’s point of view.

At sixteen Life had:

Too much ambition.

New found freedom.

Lots and lots of laughter and giggling.

Experimenting with EVERYTHING.

Living and sleeping in jeans and skirts and wearing Dad’s shirts….. especially the ones he ironed the night before to wear to work….. which he absolutely hated!!!

It was the time for: Friends, making groups….. breaking them. Talking about boys all the day until you almost puked….. yeah that much….. and I did puke at the end of the day…… Each person writing a dissertation on their current love and the loss of past love!!! Man it changed very often…… used to have a hard time keeping track of everybody’s……. Flavour of the month.

Sixteen was also the era of getting proposed to almost every day with flowers, letters written in blood or maybe red ink, teddies and a wide paraphernalia of things…… usually fighting back…… slapping….. beating them……. eating flowers and becoming a walking talking paper shredder machine, specialising in shredding letters and cards into very very tiny minute particles and then blowing them in the air. Believe me the whole experience was quite traumatic causing me to stay indoors at home for days ultimately being thrown out by dad.

Bunking college and spending days in college canteen gorging on vada pavs and vada sambars or experimenting with henna designs on each other’s palms and hair styles (mine was a ladies college)

First time copying from chits in the surprise (or surprise for us as we were busy bunking) tutorials and then throwing shoes out of the window and then jumping off the window to catch the train….. the shoes first because that’s where the chits were. Using the window more than the door to leave the class.

Sitting in the last bench in class and singing songs or writing poetry or sketching and giving lots and lots of grief to the teachers.

Spending the whole of sanctuary sketching on each other’s palms or tying up two random girls’ dupatta with each other or braiding their hair together or writing notes to each other with the background music of Keshava Madhava or aye malik tere bande hum.

Bunking classes and running in the tracks to catch the 245 local and then alighting at Shivajinagar and then taking the return local back to Pune at 330 and then finally going home in the same local at 450…… our scheduled time.

It was also my first exposure to the world of electronics and telecommunication. My friend’s pa had banned her from making phone calls so we used to join wires and then make calls and then again replace the phone to its broken self. There were these one rupee telephone booths at Pune station which often malfunctioned and we could make free calls for hours….. we did not even have to insert a coin. It was like our own private hotline. Very often we used to have some person threatening another on the phone next to us…… usually had to with some girl. We also gave a lot of blank calls to all our dushman….. and sometimes to some of our could-be friends as well.

At 16 padyatra was the call of the day…… I walked and walked and walked and walked First from home to Khadki station then Pune station via tracks to Koregaon Park…. to college then to work in Camp and then from Camp to Pune station and since I was in marketing all over again everywhere. Considering that pocket-money was so less, auto rickshaws was a status symbol something I could not afford.

Covering our faces while going to the theatres to catch the movies…… lest someone recognised us.

At 16 I had my first job….. financial independence.

First love……. first break-up…… first heart-break!!!!

Read books and more books and lots more after that….. all kinds of them……. Sometimes even read more than two a day. Read my first and last science fiction and totally hated it.

16 was also the time for serious studying…… slaving over economics and accountancy…… what saved the day for me was Subodh classes’ 99 test series and French and English. I wouldn’t have scored above average without these factors.

At 16 studying was usually done in Pune University main building or lawns or in the Sanskrit section because nobody went there those days. My home would be full of my sister’s friends and lots of clutter for her impending wedding causing havoc in my study pattern eventually started studying with the radio in full blast.

16 was also the first time I went to sinhagad for the first time and instantly fell in love with it.

Age 16 witnessed my oldest sister’s wedding….. my first experience at event management….. loved every moment of it….. also witnessed a Bengali wedding for the first time in my life.

Me having some or the other issues and refusing to go back to college or stepping our of home and dad threatening me with dire consequences and repeatedly telling me the importance of education and importance of career.

16 was rebelling……. rebelling against everything and anything that came before me. Lots of screaming and shouting at home……. Ma and Pa getting lots and lots of grey hair. The only thing I spoke at home were: I don’t know, I didn’t do it, I cant do it, I wont do it, I am hungry…… anything else and Ma and Pa would have a heart attack. Eventually Ma started using reverse psychology to get me to do things.

16 was sleeping lots and lots of sleeping so much that Ma had to throw me out of the bed each day and Dad gave me a lecture on sleeping each and every waking hour even when I was awake eventually I decided if I had to take it, I might as well do the bad deed.

16 was also the time when Ma scrutinised each and every male friend of mine and froze most of them. Every Sunday along with the oil head massage I also had to listen to Ma’s speech on the virtue of women…… typical Sulochana and Nirupa Roy style…… well it worked….. it kept me straight.

16 was not worrying about weight and eating everything and doing everything.

If I had to go back and tell something to myself it would be……. Great going…… You re the best!!!!

I wouldn’t want to change a thing or do anything any differently for those days then made me what I am now and waise bhi do sixteen year olds even listen???

Kaaash……. Only IF

Don’t you wish for things……. sometimes impossible but you keep hoping that only if….. I do that very often. I keep hoping for things impossible. I am not going to talk about macro stuff like world peace or anything or the sort……. that I think is tooooo impossible. I am talking about the very minuscule atomic world that is mine and mine only.

People who have read my posts earlier will know what is coming……. I wish I had wings. My school friends had a get together this weekend and this is the first time that I am missing. I sooooo miss not meeting them. Every time we meet we have a blast. The plus thing of the whole occasion is that most of us don’t have any hang-ups or show offs or anything of the sort. It is just all of us meeting up to have a great time and just having a blast. Just unadulterated fun!!!!

Ever since the first meet, I keep looking forward to these get togethers. What makes this special is the bond we have. Though we don’t keep in touch with each other over long periods…… though we come from different fields, the fact that we studied in the same school for 12 years makes the bond very special. The values imbibed into us by the nuns of the school have stayed with each one of us and underneath all of it we are still the same we were years back in school though one sentiment that we all have in common is that…… we are all glad that school is over.

The picture that has been coming to my mind over and over again are of the pink flamingos……. In my blog that is the most cliched of all things but I cant help it.

The whole of last week the Kash….. Only IF sentiment was for samosas and jalebis and aloo chaat and tamrind chutney and pani puri. This is something so common in India available in just about every nukkad but here it takes two train changes and loads and loads of walking to eat just one of these. The frustration grew so much that I was ultimately on the verge of actually making it…… you have no idea what amount of frustration caused it especially because I don’t like cooking and for God’s sake……. who makes samosas at home and that too for two people???? you just pop into a halwai and get two of them.

I even tried the local eateries here which sell everything from frog legs to everything……. I have been quite terrified of these places lest I would end up eating something like frog leg pakoda or cockroach/grasshopper fritters!!!!! ultimately hubbzzzz tired of the pining changed the trains and did the walking and got me the whole assortment from sarvanna bhavan. I also got two dabbas of rasgolla and gulab jamun. But the interim period was crazy……. I could visualise samosas everywhere. I haven’t yet got the jalebi and chaat but the craving has gone!!!

The people here are very health conscious that’s really good but kya kare I cant drink unsweetened and unflavored soy milk and need my dose of sugar and boiled CTC tea. The sugar here is not sweet and when i first came here i used four packs of earl grey tea and six satches of sugar for one cup of tea….. phir bhi no taste…… and the coffee……. kya batau……. allah!!!! khud samaj jao. I went off the coffee and the tea for a whole month until i finally found my cherished red label CTC tea.

My cousin who drinks only Darjeeling and green tea says that CTC is the worst kind of tea and tea should not be boiled……. boiling makes it acidic and bad for health. I tried her version of tea and believe me I would rather go off it that have that pitiable concoction of flavoured hot water.

Coming back to the only IF…… Ma had the annual Akshay tritiya function and as usual I missed it. My whole family and mum dad’s friends were there. A gala affair. At times such as these I wish I had wings so I could go home just for the moment and then come back to my life. Just another Only IF……….. The feeling is so great sometimes that I think that if I just move my arms I will start flying…….

People say the mind can travel places and people can actually see happenings of far away places….. Maaannn ki ankhen. I can think of a lot of jokes on this one. I wonder whether something like this can actually happen…… maybe that is the next best alternative……. after all I cant grow wings…… tooo late……. maybe next time!!!! but after having seen these beauties close upfront…… I honestly wish I was a flamingo…….. but they have very bad voices…….. screeching, shrill very ear piercing voices BUT they have wings!!!! lovely pink wings!!!……… I should stick to the mannn ki ankhen!!!!!

Nari tera jawab nahi!!!!

What is it with women????? Of late the women I have been meeting are all the Mere Pati mere bachche…… to the extent that I feel as though I am the judge in a Pativrata: Mera Pati Parmeshwar contest. Only the degree of Pativrataness varies. One lady comes up with “woh kitne thak jate hai sara din kaam karte hai”. “Aaj unhone yeh kiya” etc etc. I cant help it but I just HAVE to roll my eyes.

Considering all these men work 9 to 5, white collared jobs. I dont know what the thakan is about. It is not that they have been working in the mines or something. I also know that these men at work have been involved in meetings where they sit and half sleep. The women go on and on and on about the travails of their husbands as if they have been to war and not to a plush air conditioned office. A simple statement of “Aaj Sharmji ne mujhe cabin me bulaya” is met with a with stunned expression as if he has been nominated for the next nobel prize.

As for the kids the standard expression is: “Aajkal kitna kam khata hai” to a fat child again calls for eye-rolling. Bengali women are never satisfied with the amount their kids eat and then when the doc reprimands them for the obese kids they say “pata nahi kaise mota hota hai…… yeh to kuch khata hi nahi”

Another sect is of underplaying the kid’s achievements, “Yeh to padta hi nahi phir bhi first ata hai”. More often after that there is a war of all the women present underplaying their husbands and kids and proclaiming them as pargons and prodigies.

I have no idea why I am at the receiving end of these stuff considering I am not the gharelu kinds. Probably they think that they will be able to transform me into their kin. In such cases I usually stay quiet and smile, hoping it will pass away. This also makes me misfit no 1 in these gatherings. I usually smile and bear and in the track mode play judge to the pativrata contest.

Women really put their husbands and children on a pedestal and worship them. That is fine with me……. no hassles. The only hassle I have is when I have to bear the brunt of their worship. There is another class of women who get really explicit about their husbands. Glorifying their husbands in the process. Those are the times when I dont know where to look. I get scandalised by people washing their dirty linnen in front of me with all kinds of washing powders……. Yuck!!!

I know all about the love for husband and children and all the facts about they being your whole life and career put together but why try to convince me of that. You know it…… your hubby (better) knows it…. your kids know it……. that is all that should matter right???? Apreciation should come from those quarters right???

The agony is more after the results of the kid’s exams. Then there is a detailed statistical report of all the kids of the kid’s class and why they did the way they did with detailed analysis of the type of education imparted to them thereby justifying their own child’s sucess/failure. The part I dont understand is this thaka hua husband who has spent his whole day with Sharmaji and not been able to do anything after coming home from work actually gets all the credit for the child’s success and the failure the ladies usually take upon themselves. Who are you trying to convince???? ME ???? WHY???

All I can say is that these women should all get into PR they will make bandar chap kala dant manjan an international and most sought after brand.

Sleepy tales


Sleeping is my favorite occupation…… the most precious thing in the whole world……. yeh aur baat hai that I never get much of it these days. Earlier as a kid I used to sneak in books under the blanket and later had to catch up on the sleep, much to my ma’s wrath. So much that there are times when I thought that my ma was my precious sleep’s worst dushman (enemy sound very subtle).

I was renowned for my sleep so much that I would cancel appointments with friends just to sleep. They would think me rude but I was past caring. My oldest sister called it escapist attitude and she was forever after me to get into something or the other all of which required that I wake up early. All my college life till she got married she saw to it that I left home to catch the 6:30 local. In school ma used to wake me at 5:00 in the morning during school days to practice music and since then I am an expert at sleeping on all surfaces tanpura, harmonium, tabla etc etc….. those were the days. In college I also earned the title of sleeping beauty because my sister’s students always came home and found me sleeping.

Back during school summer holidays all my friends used to trek the hills surrounding and around the vicinity of our home. All my friends went……. Me, I never ever woke up even once so much that they never even bothered after sometime. I have never ever seen the rising sun….. I make up for the loss by watching it setting after all it looks the same rising or setting . I know this for a fact because insomnia caught up with me and these days there are whole nights when i dont sleep.

I could sleep round the clock and anytime at the drop of the hat. I can even sleep through earthquakes and lightnings. Ofcourse there are many who claim to be better than me but my idol is a person who I know who used to started sleeping on friday after work then slept round the clock on saturday and sunday waking only to eat and then monday morning asked around “what day is it ?” mechanically dressed up to go to work……. reached the society gate then said “Man I am so sleepy” and then called in sick and went back to sleep all through Monday as well. This was his routine weekend plans. Now I cant beat that, I do have limitations and honestly I dont have the luxury either.

I cant sleep in trains unlike few people who start sleeping as soon as the train starts. I once had this person sleeping in front of me in the local and when the train jerked to a stop he actually fell down and rolled down under my seat and kept sleeping until people around woke him. There are even people in the local who sleep standing. I know of one person who missed the last train in Kurla when he kept sleeping on the platform bench while waiting for the last train and whole big train came honked and went away and he kept sleeping only to wake and find the lights off and then he had to go home by bus.

In my younger days I had ma at my back all the time screaming “wake up…. wake up” but these days when I go home she lets me sleep through (one advantage of marriage) but then I wake up feeling guilty that she has to wait on me hand and foot….. “ce la vie”. She wasnt that good when I was younger. She used to put me through extreme third degree literally……. she used to throw water on me, irritate me by putting things in my mouth like chillies and threatened other bad things as well. She threw a cockroach on me once during the exam. Actually I sleep more when I am tensed. So during my boards, and then hsc boards, during university exams, and postgraduation exam……. all through if ma hadnt tortured me my exams wouldnt go well….. kind of an omen. You wont believe me but she even beat me with a jhadu during my tenth exam in front of my friend Saroj because I kept sleeping and sleeping and sleeping. I dont remember what was more hurting the beating or the humiliation of getting beaten in front of my friend…… the latter I guess. Same things happened in my hsc exams but this time she only had to threaten me. I was an average student and never had any illusions that I would stand first in class or something but I wouldnt have been where I am today had she not persisted but yeah I learnt to wipe my face after the water attack and go back to sleep. It was amazing to see a full technicolor movie in your sleep and very disturbing to wake up in the middle of the climax so i used to do whatever it takes and go back right there.

There was this time in college when I had boy problems and told everyone at home that I would not step out of the house. I kept to that for a week eating and sleeping and not stepping out of the house…… that was the only time I had dad step in and wake me from sleep and throw me out of the house telling me I would remain uneducated because of some guys. Earlier hubzzz used to work nights and I would be so deep in sleep when he came back that I would sleep walk open the door and go back to sleep irrespective of who entered…… ultimately hubzz started carrying the spare key.

I am also very jealous of people who sleep peacefully. I remember I made my sister eat mustard seeds in her sleep telling her it was nachni (one fact about sleeping people is that they do anything to go back to sleep…. so had I put her through any other thing other than mustard she would have that as well….. the point is: “let me go back to sleep to the dream sequence”). Most of my creative endeavours actually find voice when I see someone sleep peacefully. Like face and body painting and new hair styles. I would love to show you some of my still art work but I think my family will disown me especially my sisterS (yes plural) who have more than once borne the brunt of it not to mention hubzzz who these days takes it for granted that when he will wake up he will look different. Continuing my art I have passed it on to both my nieces who diligently practice it on their fathers and tired-from-the-whole-week-mothers on saturday afternoons and keep pics to show to me. The victims are used to waking looking like a rainbow or in some cases peacock or even parrot. Incase your wondering I only use vegetable colors since that time I had to go to the hardware store to buy turpentine oil.

Coming back to sleep……………. these days it has really come down, after that one depression some months back almost a year. I even wake up early in the morning and cook unlike the times when hubby had to wake me. But seen both sides of grassy patch, I can tell you one thing very confidently….. sleep is really important. To have a peaceful and deep sleep is the best thing because an insomniac is grouchy and hateful and loses interest in life and is very very negative……. been there and I truly believe that the body heals in the sleep both emotionally and physically who cares about a little art work in the process.

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