Sunday, March 25

Growing up Vinci

Bringing up a dog is fun. People who have dogs and children both say there’s isn’t much difference. Maybe except one…your dog never really grows up. A dog may grow in size but his mind defies age and he remains " childish' for ever.

Vinci, my Labrador, is perhaps as close as I would get to motherhood. He brings out the mother ( if there is one) in me. My life for the last two years , ever since his tail swished into my home, has been defined around him.  Vinci's food. Vinci's bath. Vinci's mood. My mother despite her pedantic ways couldnt impose an early morning schedule on me. Successive bosses were indulgent enough to reschedule early morning meetings with me. However a half witted boy with paws and tail made me an early morning person cause he wanted to go pee.
I remember how tentative I was in having a dog at home but a little confidence building from friends and family ( I just have a bunch of impractical folks around me) egged me to go meet this lady whose Labrador had a litter. I don't know what took over but here I was huddled with two friends in a car to meet Vinci. Its important to share that I loved dogs all my life but in a firm practical sort of way rather than a mushy spoilt love. I thought that would be my safety valve in picking up a puppy.
I COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG.
They were six of them. Wide eyes. lunatic love. Swishing tails and totally earnest. And they tugged at more than the edge of my flared jeans.
Vinci got selected  being the only male in the litter. I would have a female dog later but that's saved for another blog. At that moment the practical me was not very confident of  a dame chumming over the floor and going through successive pregnancies.(  thank gawd my parents thought differently when I was born, I said a silent prayer for their confidence and upbringing)
The next few days were about familiarizing on dog's life and waiting for my bundle of joy arriving from Kolkatta. K, my driver and I waited at the airport with waited breath for my new guest. We were told that the flight had landed and we rushed to the cargo.

Nothing had really prepared us for what happened next.  Our little dog was barking at the top of his guts. For those who are not familiar with the ways of the exceptional Labradors, it would have been easy to assume that I had gotten a bull mastiff from Kolkatta. Anyways I brought Vinci home. He took to me so naturally. ( Nothing to do with me, labs always do)

In his 3rd month, Vinci was chewing away to glory. Only he thought everyone and everything was edible. I lost many shoes to his teething. Chew balls are passe'.  Vinci was into real things.I ran out of T- shirts because IT would poke holes into whatever I wore, I had to be  proud of his strong teeth.

A work colleague looked shocked at the number of teeth marks I had on my hand. " Domestic violence", I quipped with a wicked grin.

The funniest thing about Vinci was how he would discover things and people around this period. For example a friend of mine had tad too many drink and kababs at my place. And we were having this very quiet moment on my balcony under a lovely yellow light. She had a bit of a problem with her digestion and she farted loudly. ( if you are reading I am really sorry, but this is not about you, this is about vinci). That was Vinci's first experience with a fart. No sooner had it happened, my four month labrador jumped and stood behind her wagging his tail while the rest of us died rolling with laughter.

Vinci had this other quirk. He would love to roll over and sleep on the bed ,  a habit all dog behavior therapist had warned me against. I was to throw this lump of love from the bed everytime he jumped on it. I was to act tough love. Tough love is who I have been all my life. But I just couldnt push him off when he curled in the bed. And after many many nights of power struggle, my dog and I woke up in the morning, on the opposite sides in the bed, I feeling foolish that those soulful eyes once again managed to tell me just how vulnerable is motherhood and he sheepish at having won.

My next move was to buy a bigger bed if I had any hope of getting any sleep.

More on Vinci later. Suffice to say that I will be vulnerable and raw about him for ever and ever. That's what love makes you. Vulnerable and edgy.



Friday, March 23

Resurrected

This blog is getting resurrected

Thursday, March 22

UP elections

Scribbled while swapping a yawning remote, that was year before last I guess, only CHANGE is Mulayam found his vote bank.

BJP is in need of an ideology.
which is not saffron in color.
Mulayam is in need of a vote bank.
which is not green in color.
Rahul is in need of "something to say"
which sounds more than, "my dady"
also the TRP politics on television channel
Ashabhi could help, or could uncle amitabh ?)
Mayawati is in need of a dash of color
in her wardrobe
a course in humility
a ppt on "way forward" in UP
UP is in need of respite
also a better leader

swap

Saturday, March 17

JLT

It has been an entire year of lacking inspiration to write on something.

My 9 to 6 whirlwind existence in a financial services firm ( yeah I still work) renders me ineffective for most things. Gone are the dreams of setting up a kitchen with a oh la la ! inbuilt oven and a sexy red kitchen aid. I have jettisoned dreams of  me ( svelte figure of course) baking muffins in a feminine sarong putting 50 years of Nigella Lawson to shame.

Gone are the happy thoughts of  me sitting near the fire with stacks and stacks of books , a gin in one hand and a pen in another. In this dream, I am 40, I am still svelte and  I am writing witty poems that the world cant get enough of.

1 minute commercial - As i try blogging today with a sweet banana face mask for my extra sensitive skin, my dogs get literary. Vinci  my Labrador has put his chin on the keyboard and the screen is so full of 0000000000000000000. May be he wants me to write a Bond story. ( Men in my life always push me to commercial success over critical acclaim).My pug saki finally decides that banana face mask is edible. As I ward both of them off I lose the tenuous thought I was holding to.

Today my life revolves around managing work ( which has a propensity to become unmanageable) catch up with FB. With FB, my residual feelings of guilt towards friends for not calling them or meeting them have gone. C'mon, they even know what I ate today and I know if they have lost weight or gained it depending on how old their FB snap is ( the older the snap, the more weight they have put on recently !) I wish all my friends well and like someone said  - May your life be as great as you demonstrate it on FB. I was discussing this ( interestingly again on FB ) that all psychometric profiling on preference, personality and extraneous aspects of it must must have questions about FB. If you don't have an FB account that's serious serious angularity. Its almost like you don't have a relationship with yourself.

I read Candence Bushnell last year, she is the goddess of shall we say chick lit ( do not squirm, I also read Mckinsey reports on Future of Insurance Industry and I need to balance the gruesome with  a little something, you get the drift right, I hate it when people spoil my confessions with their judgements. not convinced yet ? Let me fling this one on  you. One of the most successful banker in  Corporate India and an inspiration to generation of women also reads Mills and Boons once in a while. ( Its all about balance)

So coming back to Bushnell who makes me fall in love with myself like fifteen years back ( svelte figure, cathartic shoes, bleary eyed and read Bimal Jalan ). I read " Sex and the City" which I prefer watching than reading and then I read On Fifth Avenue. And I felt a bit like Mindy Gooch. Our circumstances are different , our issues are different but I so related to her fatigue. She was fatigued with being successful yet being a failure deep inside. She was tired of being not so affluent in an affluent set up, tired of work that did not satisfy her deeply, tired of the trade offs she made, the man she married, or the one she didn't. Tired that she couldn't hang her boots when she wanted to. Tired of being the one who has to take care of everything, tired of being strong. If Bushnell can create Mindy or for that matter Miranda, she is more much much more than a chick lit writer.

I want to write a lot more, may be even chick lit story ( I tremendously liked Advaita Kala's Simply Single.) but its my gym time. My personal chick moment.