Modakam : JEE special edition

 I am part of a laterite house “ Modakam”in a coastal village in Goa.  When I was cut out of my quarry in Ratnagiri I was promised a young family with lots of love and laughter. And so the narrative begins

Characters of the play

• Lady of the house - impulsive, helicopter mom
• Man of the house- compulsive solution provider, the solid anchor 
• Child- Zen Admiral by birth , toyed with stick-string-stone and read books to breathe 
• Boomer - An adorable tux wearing cocker spaniel , Oxford’s PhD in cuteness who begged for a living   
• Smokey- An adopted pariah, who traded his brains for his grand tail. His brains being unused fetched a higher value, so God threw in a musk gland to make the deal smell sweet.
• Other characters will be introduced as the story progresses 

All grew up - adults as parents, child into an adult , Boomer begged better and Smokey stole stealthier. Days, seasons were filled with joyous dramas 

Timeline

•  2020- Boards - A word often uttered, decibels doubled . He always read books , in the bath and bed . Now he  read off a small hand held flattened brick ( from now on it will be referred to as f&ck, acronym of first and last 2 alphabets of the 2words, I am a stone ; I don’t swear). Glasses were fitted on the boy’s face. 
• Virus-Someone I could not see but always spoken of with fear. Virus visited and the boy stopped going to school but the adults just went on about their business. He used different forms of f&ck ,more and more , every waking minute that my laterite pores sweated. 
• Mock tests- The results of these only caused melodrama followed by grief in ALL. The first reaction was to blame the things one can’t change- Indian education system, entrance exams ,coaching institutes ineptitude, bad teachers, tough syllabus, futility of all things academic . What even a stone could see the six senses of the humans failed to pick up. 
• September 2021-A father’s instinct finally spotted the ripples . Sleeping during classes, dropping grades . The f&ck causing the ripples was finally found . The process of anger, denial and acceptance still reverberates in my pores. The gore was too much even for a stone. The Zen Admiral was tried and executed at the altar of madness. 

The Drama unfolds

The lady wore her Mom “psychotic cape” , “blinding anger” goggles, “whimper to all about son “mouthpiece” and re hitched the boy with an umbilical cord, cut 17 years ago.

The F&ck was to be used only under supervision. American Uncle Sam (Sanket in this case)set up parental controls . The lady positioned a chair next to the boy’s and attended all classes on the F&ck. She was his bench mate now. Inseparable in time, place & person; mom son duo were a hot mess  

Priest to psychiatrist, grandparents to grand aunts, all were consulted to rid off the evil F&ck. 

Boomer was bribed egregiously for his speed dial connections with God. Smokey too got his share for his underworld connections 

Help came from all quarters. 

Twice removed cousin shined the beacon of JEE hope. She was first responder for JEE SOS which included- JEE ref books, difficult chapters, difficulty in chapters, bad shit topics, do not attempt topics …. 

A senior colleague gave a new perspective to the problem. If an adult can't stay off these dopamine rewarding f*ck devices, how the hell do hormone mangled teens fight off this temptation. This help rid the guilt and self flagellation that the lady would lapse into at the drop of a hat. 

Every morning all huddled into a car and came back at sundown. At night they slept in a tight huddle and fought for headspace, bed space , blankets . All rooms were stacked with books. The kitchen rarely lighted up but they devoured books on the dining table. The cars complained that happy conversations were replaced by calculus, organic chemistry, rotation and collisions. The kilometers to hospital and back were filled with online classes and chemistry theory. Even the cars were exhausted. Every waking moment the boy was buried in his books. They kept saying “catching up”.

I am engineered by an IITian to be earthquake resistant upto 4 Richters , but resistance to JEE turmoil was not factored in.

Most days were gloomy. I waited for a new year and some new hope 

2022-Things began to turn around .Guitar breaks filled Modakam with music. Laughter haltingly seeped in. My pores heaved a huge sigh of relief . 

The lady signed up for the Zen order. Enlisted as a Zen cadet, she crawled her way up to Zen lieutenant. The ranks were earned by keeping calm in the storm of bad mock tests results,  not rushing the Zen Admiral’s food and bath deliberations, calculation errors costing negative marks. From “bare and bite “ she progressed to “Breathe and bear” mantra. 

.

Some light moments…

Boomer- His ability to dig his snout in the worst stink earned him the organic chemistry Professor position 

Smokey - never missed a catch. His mechanics and kinematic knowledge conferred the title of Physics Professor. 

Rabbits- The only animals who are good at maths in the Modakam Menagerie because they could   'multiply '. 

The boy offered his obeisance to the animal professors before mocks and exams for success  in the respective subjects

The boy scored a whooping 100 percentile in one exam and they attributed it to Smokey. The madness ran deep

Business models developed during dull days

1. Boomer dating services-Girls are few in engg colleges

Girls like dogs

Girls will bring treats for the dog. All biscuits above the Parle G genre will be equally shared between B & A

Boys walking dogs will instantly win girls attention and will lead to a conversation and maybe end in a date. The compensation will be paid by doing chores for Adi

Boomer with his bags packed, tux worn, sprayed his best stink and was ready to go to the hostel from the day the business model was discussed with him

2. Rahu & Ketu dosha relief services 

Feeding a black dog relives one of R& K doshas. We will liaison with the shelter houses and feed black dogs for a small convenience fee

3. Shani alias Sade sati relief services 

On the same lines as described above.

Feed black cows on Saturdays

 The only difference being all the plastic eating stray highway black cows now will now get good food 

4 Cute coins

A crypto currency similar to Bitcoins. The details have to be worked out as they still did not know how the system works.

Some poetic moments 

Late into a night , deep in the JEE merde the boy lilted, 

The paper is like my mind;

Empty and cluttered at the same time 

Some enlightening moments

If  help is asked; then you get what you ask for 

If help is perceived and then provided, then that help crushes the helped

 The concerned parents trying to help teenager and not knowing where to stop , churned these pearls of wisdom 

JEE joke

A Maths teacher who talks too much - hyperbola . Only JEE aspirants and their moms would find this funny 

Red carpet rolled out for Bleu Cordon- 

The hundred folds of a toque represent 100 ways to cook an egg -The only respite from books for the boy was his culinary skills with eggs. The fowl friends not tolerating this foul play with the poor kid, kept up the steady supply of eggs and the boy was on his way to the blue ribbon 

Most days were good but some days….

The F&ck raised it’s ugly head with every new update . Guilt and fury curry served no one good 

They studied for the wrong Board exam and. almost missed answering one. Frantic phone calls to unsuspecting friends to confirm exams timetable was really stupid even for a stone to watch

They overlooked mock tests dates and 1 day the boy answered 4 exams stretching straight to 12 hours in a 24 hour period-10:30an-1:30pm;2:30-5:30pm; 8-11pm ;11:30pm -2:30am. It felt like the Battlenight of Pavan Khind. The boy like Sardar Baji Prabhu Deshpande, fought the long lonely fight with the questions with his pentonic pen late into the night (Disclosure-no paid collaboration here). But he stood his ground and held fort and lived to tell the tale.

The man watched all “JEE” click bits . Study  Plans were drawn, redrawn , revised , readdressed . Bad English speaking super teachers dramatic vocalisations of “ Dear shstudents”  resounded in the Modakam- special JEE edition walls. 

The lady always searched for “ how to get better at calculus/conics/complex numbers and so on….” Quora feeds ran crazy

Neighbours , friends, villagers , fellow colleagues brought in pooja prasad and blessings for the boy and the family’s success in exams 

Time, patience, practice, prayers did bring in the results. 

I am a stone and have no feelings . The above narrative is a complete unmodified account as witnessed by a weathered wised up stone.

Yours truly,

Laterite row 19 ,NE wall

Modakam

Happy Father’s Day-Today n Everyday

 Amol was a week shy of 27 years when he became a Dad.Between a post Partum depression riddled wife and warring cross cultural grandparents Amol had to hold fort. And boy ! He trumped it by doing what he does best ie Nothing at all. His principle in life- this too shall pass. 

A 100 days later the still crazy wife wanted to join work , partly to keep the term of postgraduation and largely because she realised that oxytocin driven happiness of motherhood  is so overrated 

The result-

Our man, new Daddy had to ferry expressed breast milk across a river , hills and valleys (GMC -Mapusa)twice a day . I have stretch marks and a cesarean scar to show and collect parenting brownie points. Amol never complained or got compensated for this task. He made everything look so easy. I never once asked him how bad his combo parenting - postgraduation deal was, all the while unrelentingly complaining about mine. 

A year later we had to move cities to get further qualified with a toddler and a know nothing about homemaking us. Teething troubles ranged from apnoeic spells turning Adi cyanosed to green diarrhoea that lasted forever and a temperamental help, Amol kept us anchored - His bulk helping 

Besides the 2.5 year old, he had the 25 year old to nurture. My career dreams ignited , fanned and finally fired landed us in Trivandrum. My DM voyage in the ISRO city was like a missile.. too much heat, hype and hmmph but so worth it ( at least for me) I took off and Amol bore the brunt   He sang cartoon songs to get food into the preschooler , toilet trained him ,packed my tiffin in the mornings and thousands of things which I didn’t notice and now not remember . Along the way he became a nephrologist too.

Adi n Amol returned to Goa 18 months before I could. Amol now had a dual dad  role to play. A real dad and a dad who reports to the hypercritical hyperventilating mom . Probably the toughest . Amol hardly got any credit for this tough job 

I joined them and we lived and grew together as parents and partners like most . On most days I pull feminism card, mom card, “abla nari “ card to get things going at home. Amol has zilch in his arsenal. Just the good old solid Dad. He believes most things will sort out if we kept wet towels off the bed and put the shoes away. Such is the Daddy faith ha!

I even added pets ranging from bunnies, ducks (destroys all vegetation lovingly cultivated) turtle ( that eats all the fishes) fish ( that are added in vain hope) gate jumping dogs - (a motorised gate made useless) murderous rooster -(attacks all creatures moving)to our menagerie . I am the animal lover but our eccentric furry , feathered n finned creatures exasperate me but Amol plays a loving Dad to all creatures. Walk through the gates of Modakam and there is a Dad who will love you to the end of the earth 

Dads have traditionally evolved from grunts and shoulder nudges . And they don’t have hormones to stir up the parenting emotions And  yet in current times with changing social dynamics of career and home gender equality with no past examples Amol has done so well .

This Father’s Day , Amol, I want to sit up and take notice, complain less and appreciate more what a wonderful job you are doing 

My Malum Malus

 Malum malus transliterates to "forbidden fruit". Biblically the apple, in Modakam it is the Mango.

My love for mangoes runs in my genes, even my red blood cells in the mango season must be transforming from the red biconcave shaped discs to a beautiful mango hued and shaped discs

When we bought land to build our home, I envisioned more of a mango orchard than a brick n mortar thingy. But reality of high land prices and hence smaller land parcel, with the myth busted about gardening is relaxing, I secured place for 2 mango trees. On one of our road trips across the border when mango fruit laden trees arched over the highways, I wanted to make a small detour to buy a mango graft from Regional fruit research station 'https://dbskkv.org/Research/Research_Stations_&_Organogram.html'

The detour became a wild goose chase quickly , me intoxicated with the mango viusals failed to see my incensed husband. After going round in circles ( real men don't ask for directions) and Google maps giving up, we finally stopped a couple to ask for directions. They had no clue about this Trip advisor recommended 5 star rating research station. Amol had reached his tipping point and referred to me as a "bin dok" to the couple, who BTW later took the turn right across the creeper camouflaged  gate of the research station. Maybe he took the liberty because I don't know Marathi, or he was really tired after a day long drive , I was a woman scorned and hell no, I did not spare any fury on that journey. We did end up at the gates of the research station 3 minutes later and 5 minutes before it closed and bought 2 "mancurad" mango grafts .

Eager to make up, Amol signed up for ,"OK I will do anything to just end this misery". My mother in law always promoted Amol as the son with the green fingers. I thought it was time to get this fact checked. So 2 days after the "bin dok" incident, we were in our garden with the pick axe and shovel to plant our precarious procurement . Now when my in laws do things as a team they are a picture of love , respect for each other, harmony etc...one can even hear violins play in the background. My father in law will adjust, readjust, do, undo, and again adjust and readjust without a gruff at my mother in laws behest. Either I have not yet picked up the art of asking husband , or the "do not grudge the wife" gene did not get passed down from my father in law, I can't put my finger on our problem. From the moment the axe hit the ground, Amol must have not raked up as much earth as much he must have cursed me. I soldiered on bravely as I believe in we can settle scores later as long as task at hand is completed successfully.

I left the other sapling for another day of disagreement. My in laws eager to rescue their son, planted it without breaking a sweat and yes, with the fiddles playing in the background.

3 years later

cursed sapling- It grew haltingly, grudgingly, survived mouldy attacks                                                      rescued sapling - Grew rapidly green, Got uprooted one stormy night and could not be further rescued

5 years later

The research station and my internet research promised fruits of my labour in 5 years time. I had my eyes set on our tree, every year (what if mine was a plant prodigy and an early bloomer) from the first day I heard the cuckoo sing, signaling the mango flowering season to the onset of monsoon, end of fruiting season. Nothing happened.

 Old aunts asked us to threaten the plant . Apparently the plant will get scared and give fruits. But our plant was born into abuse.  Verbal and physical abuse(Adi made deep gashes on it's trunk to force it to fruit)  had no effect on it. Waving a burning torch only left 'burnol' degree burns on my palm but the tree stood its ground.

I tried to set it up against competition...our neighbour's plant, 2 years younger than you has flowered. What are you waiting for?

I tried emotional blackmailing...we will all get diabetic and cannot eat your fruits. What is even the point of your bounty then?

I tried the sibling love trick...Adi Bhaiya will go to college ...whom will you share your fruits with?

I am an Indian mother of a teenager. I stop at nothing 

saam daam dhand bhed.....

every trick tried

and lo behold 

early in the morning while chopping feed for my menagerie , I caught sight of  mango flowers filtering in the sunrays. An imaginary cuckoo sang gaily in the background for effect. The moment was ethereal. I ran inside the house to share this new discovery akin to Archimedes ( he ran naked, I ran in clothes covered in chicken shit).

I bang down the bathroom door with  excitement.

The "bin dok" moment returns

Amol answers with a thud. He slipped while getting the door. He barks a few expletives at me. My face falls. I called my mango tree the evil spawn

My mango tree is really cursed

From birth  to ground, from ground to flowering. Wonder what the fruits would bring ...Malum Mangus definitely. will follow it up with another m-log

2 decades into marriage gives us ample opportunities to rant, but I have always been proud of the variety of subjects we agree to disagree upon. Yin and Yang. Of curses and kisses.

malum mangus has set the 2022 prevalentine prelude ........hopefully hint enough 

Bin Dokly Yours

Mango Maniac "Manaivi"

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.

A fervent plea

Dear Mother Earth,
When I was a child I loved Cadbury Dairy milk chocolates.  So much that I wanted to marry into the family that made the chocolates, hence ensuring a regular and infinite supply of my faves. My little head did not know it was easier to ask for just a  regular and infinite supply and  the means are irrelevant.
Now that I am an adult, my wish is fulfilled (regular and infinite supply bit, not the marrying Cadbury Jr bit). But freak of nature, I have turned into this fitness loving adult. Now Even before the chocolate has melted down my throat, Guilt raises its ugly hydra head from within . I  make mental calculations of the meals I have to skip or the longer I have to run to burn the dreaded silken sinful calories.
Moral of the story- Not all we wish for ,comes true....and even if it does, it is not always good for us.

Dear Ma 
You wished to reset yourself 
So you unleash this virus on us. 
Apparently you are shut down for repairs.
Let me explain why this is not the best for you

so I am 0.00000000013 th of the people who inhabit you. Why would my plea move you?
it is because it is an earnest one.
Agreed we people had no regard for you and we rampantly abused you and your resources. 
It has been 3 weeks in my 0.00000000013 part of the world. We have cleaned our homes...corners that were never visited have been sanitised...ditto the food, clothes, roads. Have learned to work without maids. A Japanese perpendicular bow respect for them. Our families have become "Maid for each other" Sick of snacking, hate all those dumb indoor workouts. Even insta feeds of our Bollywooders is in pajamas and night suits. 
even the meme makers are done with this
Clapped and lit lamps for the cops, sanitary workers... I will come to the health care workers in a bit. 
You are so beautiful . You need to be appreciated and that can be done only outdoors.
Internet has bailed everyone from a child to the stuck indoors grans . Reconnected with high school friends ,checked up on old and forgotten aunts and uncles.Tech challenged oldies now can make video calls and digital payments. You taught an old dog new tricks. We also are no 1 trick ponies. Talent permitting we have tried baking, sewing, learning foreign language.
Got out the bard, singer, dancer etc in us
You have sucked the joy out of binge watching, bunking work, making up dumb excuses to shirk that annoying bit ....Social distancing has made it all legal....how does that even work
humans are social beings....this is the anti thesis of our existence
we have done it all 
now lets us just get back to work
you r a mom 
you can take some bit of pollution, here n there
such pure air does no good to anyone
n it is a long time to heal yourself...after wolfing up so many of our bretheren …overwhelming our health care and pride.....inspite of our best efforts
and a virus is your weapon...seriously … a real low or small should I say
  

 For my bit I have always switched off every fan and light when I left the room. Took public transport even when inconvenient so as to decrease my carbon foot print Carried cloth bags and avoided plastics, compost my waste,always supported local produce.....All so that you don't get chocked that 0.00000000013 bit. I am a right leaning environmentalist....I occasionally indulge in air travel, a tub bath, eat Austrian cold cuts in Goa, retail therapy etc

As a Doctor I can speak for myself. I have trained for 11.5 years to prevent, diagnose and treat ailments. It is my job. I can live without the bouquets or the brickbats. Much like the chocolate soldier of George Bernard Shaw play. I want to carry chocolates.......Cadbury Dairy Milk ones
Spare us
Get rid of this virus.... he is no friend
let us be.... a little carefree....and breathe free