Story of cycling and love

 Cycling is pure love at various levels-

love for the environment-reduces carbon footprint and all- Greta , the bully pulpit would approve

love for thyself-keeps one and ones heart shipshape

love for fresh air-still a reality in Goa

love for adventure-fixing punctures in machine and man keeps the adrenaline flowing

love mildly masochistic-why else do we sign up for 100kms cycling events

So this blog is about another well organised event by Xaxti riders. I did my maiden century with them a couple of years ago and this time they have outdone themselves in terms of participants, volunteers, route, arrangements, weather(wonder how they got that one so right with all the global warming...the nice nip in the air was so perfect ). Cycling perfectionistas

It would be safe to say this event is the Cycling Mecca for every cyclist. Cycling elixir

Like all pilgrimages we cyclists prepare, overprepare, and prepare till we can prepare no more. An adorable senior cyclist prepared an itinery which had first and second attempt poo provisions for  and variations thereof due to unearthly waking hours. After bike check, tyre check , light check, water check, 1 week prior practice cycling, 2 days prior mandatory rest days, hydration till bladder outer limits are tested, one last recheck tyres till it tires (nothing sucks more than a puncture unless fixing puncture is ones hobby...believe me I personally know puncturephiliac cyclists) we finally set out for the ride. Cycling prep paranoia

I had 3 centuries in my cycling CV. I even earned myself my Roadie -Moga for my past performances. She is a Polygon Roadie . Besides this I dont know much , much to the chagrin of machine loving male brain who constantly badger me about series, gear set, brakes, fork n what not. I know my cycle's soul and not some easily replaceable, materialistic external features. Moga ,I have got you together Girl. Cycling ignorance

At breakfast point ,which was 50 mts off the road I handed over my Moga to a random person who offered to care for her while I care for myself. I walked away gaily towards hot batata wadas. One bite into it and realisation washed over me . I had not even had a good look at the person. What if he was not even a voluteer. What if someone wanted to sabotage my race. A fellow cyclist teased me about a valet parking card ....When panic strikes reasing takes a backseat. Batata wadas notwithstanding I rushed back to find that the random stranger was indeed a well meaning volunteer. Cycling silly points 

In running and cycling , the older one gets the better they get at endurance. As I was a couple of years older from my first century , clearly I was the better rider this time. Just realised that the one who blew his 69 candles Bday cake was way older and hence way better than me. He is to cycling to what Gandhiji was to walking . While I struggled to crunch the last few kms, Mr Senior even had the generosity in his soul to give me gear changing and cadence advice , before pedalling away. Cycling Bonhomie .

The ride took us through the hilly forests of the Western Ghats. Towards completion , ie when the mind, body and soul gives up but the Kms are still formidable , villages are never ending . A particular Chandor place( at 80km mark) seemed to be the largest city in goa. A signboard that said 25 kms to finish city is such a lie because 30 minutes of gruelling pedalling later at the water point the volunteer says I am 27 kms from the finish line. When I start to throw a estrogenic tantrum a fellow cyclist lies cpmfortingly that I heard it wrong and it is only 17 kms ahead. Cycling Lies

Infact in this ride all had their cycling best stats...even me Cycling surprises

But Amol cycles for divine love (Divya means divine, for the uninitiated). He powers his rides by cursing me  and boy that works very well...100kms in sub 5 hours, supra 20kms/hour-Cycling Love 

Happy Valentines Honey

Adi comes of age

 Disclaimers

1. Amol and me are young and  first time parents. 

2 .Adi has always been a better child than we have been as parents.

Unlike most moms who gush over their child's milestones I have celebrated my "milestone"mom moments..........The first night I slept through in his infancy, the precise date from when toilet accidents stopped happening,the first Monday morning he stopped puking on my face after I stuffed him with idlis,  the first academic year school work was completed without my intervention, the first time that he made me a sandwich post a long day at work(I have outsourced so much of the cooking to him from then ).....the list could be endless because I have an elephants memory.

Cut to Act 2

If one thought being a teenager was bad : being a teenager's mom is the living eighth rung of hell...

Adi grew taller than me ( there was not much to catch up anyway).....He questioned our authority as parents(he is the better child anyway, but still)....His voice changed.....wisps of downy hair on the cheeks n chin surfaced....we disagreed about everything.....my baby who crowned mom the queen thinks I fly the quidditch now. My Google search engine showed "how to be better parent"," 5 mistakes in bringing up teens" with all the data that Mr Pichai promised not collect n process n sell to the ad world

My boy had come of age and I wanted to shout from the roof tops the rite of passage......mostly out of happiness 

 Our western parent peers celebrate Sweet 16 and Quinceanera, Bar/Bat Mitzvah by the Jewish .Closer home in the South India we celebrate the girls menarche as Manjal Neeratru Vizha in Tamil Nadu, Peddamanishi Pandaga in Andhra Pradesh, Nishanth Tarannum  in Karnataka.

We did not have any template for boys in our vast mixed culture marriage . Amol would cringe everytime I mentioned I wanted to celebrate my boy's Testosterone bonanza but eventually gave in with precondition that I will not post pictures on social media with embarassing titles

My Tamil family played along...My brother (mama-maternal uncle) painstakingly gathered  theme specific Seeru Varisai - (gifts from the maternal home) The Goan side explained to their FnF that it is an exotic tradition .  A professional barber was called for Adi's first facial hair trim. We had a moustache cake, 16 gift wrapped goodies.A  feast (mutton biryani, boiled eggs, fried fish, prawn curry, mori mutton) was laid out for FnF. Prevailing days of bird flu scare forced me to drop out Adi's fave - chicken. I did not want to compete with Mugabe but my boy simply loves his meat . Veg readers dont judge me. All this is legally,  socially allowed to be consumed in our current  right leaning times .

With this coming of age I hope to handhold ADi to cross the threshold of adolescence n become an adult mom. Responsible child he always was........

I am waiting for a couple of more milestones  ...the first time he will wake up in the morning without me waking the entire neighbourhood. ...the first when I dont have to tiptoe to catch him doing something. But hey I am  an Indian  mom . We never really cut off the umbilical cord. Do we? Should we?

Kombdi tales

 I always thought dogs were the only pets. Dogs are furry and cute, come when called (ok mine comes only there is a treat in my hand), cuddle up with you (if you can ignore the bad breath).....and I own 2 of them. ....I was living my childhood dream of a beautiful house with 2 dogs at the hearth.My pet world was complete.Till I saw backyard hens at Amol's cousins place......Now I wouldnot rest till I owned a few.
Amol as usual came up with all the reasons not to have them....very reasonable ones too...but I badgered on unreasonably... and Voila
9 months later(gestation period from idea to a real coup full of chicks) I had 5 pet Chicks-1 boy  and 3+1 girls.The plus 1 was a Fancy breed of chick...shiny black plumage with a crown ...small and cute She was the avian equivalent of my cocker spaniel, Boomer. Others were of the Vanraj breed ,run of the mill ,birds next door, plain looks. Bird contemperory of my Pariah dog. For the business of egg laying .

 We did not name them just in case our poultry experiment failed then the neighbourhood "Friends Chicken Centre" facilitated final destinaion, Biryani would have to be their eventual fate.

They were 11 weeker chicks, shy,demure little birdies,happy to feed off my palms and live off my kitchen waste. My fledgling kitchen garden started to thrive on their little pellets.  I patted myself on the back. I was going to win the local best organic kitchen award.....well in my dreams
Weeks turned to months and same demure, shy chicks turned to a one rowdy rooster and 4 voracious indiscrimnate chlorophyll chomping hens.They churned out a lot of nitrogenous, nutrient rich chicken shit but I had no surviving plants. Just bare stumps stood till their eye level. Neem and aloe vera were not spared.Chicken proofing with thorny hedges had me nursing my curious, dumb dog's cut lips and paws.My google taught green fingers slowly burnt brown.I still had my trees, I consoled myself.

The rowdy rooster turned out to be a threat by himself.My son addresses him aptly as The Terrorist. He attacks for no reason, without provocation,unannouced,across all species,age and gender and always succeeds in drawing blood.My maid is so scared that she has stopped using the backyard mori for washing. No one dares to walk in the backyard without adequate arms and ammunition.
One day he had me cornered,disarmed and severely traumatised. My squeals of terror had my neighbours worried for a couple of minutes.And now narrated for a lifetime as a cocktail anecdote, in different versions,depending on how nasty one intends to be. His terror reigns supreme.
To elaborate with an example
How does one get curry leaves from Modakam garden which is 10 feet from the kitchen door?
step 1. Refuse to do it. If she doesdnot want it that bad ,she will use a substitute.
step 2.Reluctantly amble towars the door. If the need is urgent, she will skip the step.
step 3.Open the door, scan from right to left, left to right, and again right to left. Terrorist can fly
step 4.Grab a stick, or pointed instrument that can withstand a 300 newton attack. He fluffs himself  3 times bigger during the aerial attack
step 5. Pluck the closest greens from the curry tree location. and run back for your life
step 6. Shut the door tight and refuse to do anything more for the day as level 6 task is already done
The  result-
My tadka is burnt 9/10 times.
I have sauteed with mogra leaves as the creeper was entwined in the curry leaf plant and was picked and cooked in a hurry
The curry leaf plant was cut in half once so that the task doesnot have to be repeated daily

Once Adi flung his slipper at him in self defence. The terrorist pooped on it in spite. He is there every morning at my kitchen door for his "hafta". After collecting his dues he shits in the middle of the doorway to reiterate that he is the One. I quietly clean after him......a silent victim of this domestic pet abuse. Well I wanted him in the first place

BUT the Terrorist sings a different tune with the other ONE
Besides crowing every morning at dawn. He crows when Amol gets back from work. He crows when Amol gets home late at night  after a hospital visit. . He crows when Amol get up for a midnight binge snacking. He attacks him but more of a playful loving peck .He follows Amol with his wives all around the garden. Typical English chicken farm scene in the morning every day
 Sometimes I suspect that Amol has this chip embedded in the rooster just to get back at us . Maybe I can sell this theory as a plot for a sci fi thriller


And finally our Fiesty Fancy. She is the typical dumb chick. She is small, cute and dumb. She is scared of her own footsteps.She runs straight into an open door and collides head on...always. She is always bullied by all and sundry. Even the lizard had her jump out of her skin.Once she jumped into the electrified security barricaded military zone. As much I reasoned with the Faujis I was not allowed access  to look for her. She found her way back home 2 hours late and stress laid an egg.
Somelitimes she just sticks herself flat by the wall that she looks like an airborne tattered black polythene bag
This is her on 300 days a year. Twice a year she develops strong maternal instincts.She grabs all the other girls eggs , gathers under her XS size wings and dares anyone to come next to her. She goes without food or water during this surrogacy driven frenzy.
Once we let her hatch a batch and out came 7 cute little baby chicks. They would climb all over us , have titibits off our dining table , much to Amol's chagrin. One busy day that we had left the chicks in the open and Smokey , my paraiah had a field day hunting all of them . Smokey was so proud of his hunt,smiling ear to ear, laid out his kill neatly like in Master Chef Australia. I cried out loud and so hard that day , that I swore to no more hatching .
Fancy did not hear  or care for my cries. She continues her madness. "A little black hen possessed by maternal insticts lifts a car" maybe a local daily headline. I wouldnot be surprised .
I will elaborate that with an example too
We had work happening in the garden. "Save garden from poultry" A truck full of tiles and barricades was being delivered. Fancy just sqwacked and flew real high. The CCTV did not add any more information.She was gone .Poof ...just like that. Like always we thought she would come back We assumed she had gone in the truck, feared that she made someones meal.After 5 days I had dropped from  intense grade mourning to background mourning ( the kind for all the chronic losses till now) and My Fiesty Fancy crawled from under a pile of stacked kadappa stones with just a feather bruised.
This time she stress poooped on my hands and it is the warmest thing I have experienced as a pet mom.

My girls and the crazy boy feathered pets have their own quirks but the joy of sitting with a bowl of grain and watching them peck around me is unparalleled. Worth all the winning titles in gardening and a garden full of greens and peace.