Life with Phinnaeus is eventful ,always expect the unexpected .He is two and half years old and trouble is his middle name.
Dalton John Junior,his Papa, never bends his knees before anyone .But Little Phinnu has his Papa twisted around his little fingers and crawling for deliverance and mercy.
Phinnu needs to be dropped at his crèche at 8.30 am .He wakes up around 6 and I have to leave by 7.30 a.m .Yesterday morning as usual he got up ,had his morning bowl of cereals .I was about to leave and he suddenly felt like having his favourite fried sausages.He settled for his Papa making those for him since I had to leave.His Papa got ready with his aprons and frying pan giving me I will –handle –it –don’t –you –worry look and his little assistant Phinnu on the kitchen platform supervising.Phinnu loves to watch me cooking and he always gives me company handing me the spices from the cabinet.
Everything started off just fine .He instructed how to chop the sausages just the perfect round
size for his fork.The sausages started sizzling and his Papap was about to take them out when Phinnu said
“ Not like that …mama puts this …” and smartly handed over turmeric powder first.My husband got puzzled but eventually he had to add chilly powder, cumin seeds ,thyme and little tomato sauce.Phinnu appreciaited his Papa’s handiwork ,took a bite “Dirty..you eat “ that was his verdict and his Papa had to savour the whole sausage bits.
Well ,I am sure he would never try his hand at cooking for Phinnu ever again.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Fathers day
If tomorrow never comes…by Ronan Keating is one of my favourite songs.It says…. if tomorrow never comes ,will she know how much I love her..
Lately on Fathers Day I made my son tell his Papa how much he means to him.He wrote down his thoughts and this is how it came ..
THIS IS YOUR DAY PAPA, FATHERS DAY
I WISH TO TELL, YOU MEAN THE WORLD TO ME
OUR MOCK FIGHTS AND ELEPHANT RIDES
YOU TAUGHT ME TENNIS, TOOK ME TO MOVIES
YOU TAUGHT ME TO BE ON MY OWN
PRESS MY CLOTHES, POLISH MY SHOES
AND ALSO TIE MY SHOELACE
LATELY, WHEN I BROKE MY GLASSES BEING THE GOAL KEEPER,
YOU GAVE ME TIPS TO GUARD MY PEEPS AND SAVE A GOAL
EVERYDAY I LEARN FROM YOU
SOMEDAY I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU
YOU ARE MY HERO
HAPPY FATHERS DAY
It brought tears to his Papas eyes and mine too when I saw the pair of them ..father and son in a tight embrace.
My son recited it in his school assembly and his rendition was so poignant that he made each and every one of the children remember their fathers for a moment.Later a kid from std Iv was found weeping thinking of his father whom he never got to know.
It is never late to let anyone whom you love know how much you love them and how much they mean to you.Or when you lose them that thought is going to wring your heart for ever.
So go ahead do it right now…
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Raindrops are falling.....
Rain ..at last.I stood at the balconywith my eyes closed and let the spray caress my face.(I would have preferred standing outside but discretion got the better of me ..the thought of the strange spectacle I would make with my arms outstretched and eyes closed…)
There isn’t anything I love much as the first shower of monsoon.It is one of the moments that invokes all the senses..a moment of heightened ecstasy.The musky scent of the damp earth,the taste of the raindrops that trickle down to the corner of your mouth,the pealing laughter of the raindrops on the rough ground and the touch of the rain on your skin….
Rain makes me sing all the those lovely songs that I can remember.
It had been always like that.The three of us-me and my sisters we used to place ourselves near the window and used to sing loudly ,the rain playing the background score.I feel nostalgic.
I took my boys along with me to feel the rain and I believe they must have enjoyed it too in their own way as much as I did.
Who wouldn’t?Which living soul can resist the magic of rain when she is in her gentle glory and not her ravaging vengeant self.
I say guys enjoy the monsoon,every drop of it.
There isn’t anything I love much as the first shower of monsoon.It is one of the moments that invokes all the senses..a moment of heightened ecstasy.The musky scent of the damp earth,the taste of the raindrops that trickle down to the corner of your mouth,the pealing laughter of the raindrops on the rough ground and the touch of the rain on your skin….
Rain makes me sing all the those lovely songs that I can remember.
It had been always like that.The three of us-me and my sisters we used to place ourselves near the window and used to sing loudly ,the rain playing the background score.I feel nostalgic.
I took my boys along with me to feel the rain and I believe they must have enjoyed it too in their own way as much as I did.
Who wouldn’t?Which living soul can resist the magic of rain when she is in her gentle glory and not her ravaging vengeant self.
I say guys enjoy the monsoon,every drop of it.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Something about a Smile
A smile ,born from the lips of a child ,a feathery touch that would melt your heart,a toothless grin that lets your spirit soar,a pealing laughter, like light shower ona barren land.
A smile, gracing the lips of a lovely woman,entincing,that evinces beauty,conveys assurance,signals romance.
A smile that proclaims triumph.
A smile that flashes fulfillment.
A smile that blooms on seeing someone you love.
A smile that you fake for someone you don’t really care about.
A smile or a laughter that assays a joke.
A smile, lecherous, pronouncing indecent thoughts
A smile, sheepish, when your secret is unraveled.
A smile,lopsided,from someone teasing you.
A smile secretive,on recollecting some private joke.
A smile ,awkward ,after an embarrassing moment.
A smile, meaningful,that says I know something about you.
A smile can be all this and much more than that.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Back to Where I belong
My life has entered yet another phase.After a sabbatical of two years ,I will be resuming my role as a teacher from the first of April.
I donned the mantle of a teacher on account of my dad.I had a very strong inclination towards literature but my dad wanted me to pursue science.I had to opt from Physics and Chemistry and I chose the latter.I didn’t have any particular like or dislike for the subject till I reached the final year of my graduation
Pro:.K.C Mani ,I would speak of him as the best teacher that I ever had.I wouldn’t realize how the other wise annoying one hour lecture would zoom away while he used to be on the elevated platform.Earlier my library visits were only for reading novels and then I found myself devouring references on Chemical Equilibrium and Le Chateliers Principle.Chemistry is supposed to be a volatile subject but whatever I learned under his guidance is still imprinted in my brain in bold alphabets . Still my life was without a definite goal.
It was Prof :John Kuruvilla who revealed the wonderful world of Forensic Science.He was my class teacher and taught us Organic Chemistry.I marvelled his capability to recollect the numerous name reactions which I still find untenable.I pursued Analytical Chemistry for my Post Graduation ,aspiring to be a Forensic Analyst.But my dad didn’t consider it as the right career choice for a girl and in the end I had to bury my dreams and go in for a Bachelor of Education degree.
It was like an arranged marriage .It took two years for me to fall in love with teaching. I cherish many proud moments in my seven years as a teacher.Each time I succeed in passing on a difficult and confusing concept it gives an unexplainable joy.I would compare it to what a mother feels when she perceives the face of her new born after the travails of birth she had gone through.
I love being a teacher. I believe a teacher can make or break the future of a child.There is this particular moment from the movie ‘ Mr Holland’s Opus ‘ which would be the dream of every teacher.On the day of retirement,standing before all those students whom you have influenced and guided to become a somebody in their lives.
And that is my dream too.
I donned the mantle of a teacher on account of my dad.I had a very strong inclination towards literature but my dad wanted me to pursue science.I had to opt from Physics and Chemistry and I chose the latter.I didn’t have any particular like or dislike for the subject till I reached the final year of my graduation
Pro:.K.C Mani ,I would speak of him as the best teacher that I ever had.I wouldn’t realize how the other wise annoying one hour lecture would zoom away while he used to be on the elevated platform.Earlier my library visits were only for reading novels and then I found myself devouring references on Chemical Equilibrium and Le Chateliers Principle.Chemistry is supposed to be a volatile subject but whatever I learned under his guidance is still imprinted in my brain in bold alphabets . Still my life was without a definite goal.
It was Prof :John Kuruvilla who revealed the wonderful world of Forensic Science.He was my class teacher and taught us Organic Chemistry.I marvelled his capability to recollect the numerous name reactions which I still find untenable.I pursued Analytical Chemistry for my Post Graduation ,aspiring to be a Forensic Analyst.But my dad didn’t consider it as the right career choice for a girl and in the end I had to bury my dreams and go in for a Bachelor of Education degree.
It was like an arranged marriage .It took two years for me to fall in love with teaching. I cherish many proud moments in my seven years as a teacher.Each time I succeed in passing on a difficult and confusing concept it gives an unexplainable joy.I would compare it to what a mother feels when she perceives the face of her new born after the travails of birth she had gone through.
I love being a teacher. I believe a teacher can make or break the future of a child.There is this particular moment from the movie ‘ Mr Holland’s Opus ‘ which would be the dream of every teacher.On the day of retirement,standing before all those students whom you have influenced and guided to become a somebody in their lives.
And that is my dream too.
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Three Men In My Life
I live with three men. Before you raise your eyebrows let me tell you my relationship with them. I am married to one and the rest two are the fruits of my womb, my handsome children.
Well, living with them is a rollercoaster ride. Do I love it? It is quite an adventure that I didn’t bargain for .Mostly delightful but there are times when I have thrown up my arms in desperation and have threatened to run away from home.
I don’t have words which would sketch them perfectly, but a hybrid of three musketeers and three meddlers would be apt for the time being.
They are mirror images of each other and I blame it on my recessive genes .Looks, likes dislikes, tastes and even certain gestures, all declares the Veliparamban lineage.
The one advantage of living with these men is that I get pampered occasionally and that includes foot massages, bone crushing bear hugs,and kisses which would sometimes leave on my face traces of saliva that I wipe off with their own T-shirts.It is quite flattering actually and I admit that it is one of those moments when my heart skips so many beats and I thank Almighty for the three blessings that he has showered on me.
Sometimes they go into a lazy mode and make me feel like a servant-cum –slave..That is when I isuue my threats of running away .But they cry in unison ,”No !!!!!!! we will find you out and stand below your window and cry and howl till you agree to come back..”
They know how to make me smile, afterall I cannot feign anger when I see three pairs of besseching eyes in which I can still behold all those mischiefs that is in stock for me.
The bottom line is benefits of having these men in my life overrules all drawbacks that might co-exist.
I love adventures..
Thursday, March 19, 2009
To Dad On HIs Birthday
My Dad turned 67 yesterday.I called him in the morning to wish him and as I heard him laughing over the phone it brought certain memories .
My Dad , a retired police officer,never wore his feelings on his sleeve.He was always the extremely strict tyrant at home.The moment we hear his Police Jeep screeching on the graveled courtyard,we used to run to our study rooms dutifully studying .He expected silence at home .I hated him then and longed to breakfree .
I never used to talk to him or he to me until unless it us absolutely necessary and I haven’t figured out why or when this strange and uncomfortable distance creeped between us.
The last memory of our closeness is when I was in my third standard .
He sowed in me the love for books.He brought me books ever since I started reading.He didn’t care even if I were having my exams ,he would still buy me books for relaxed reading after studies.And I remember him teasing me by holding the book high and me jumping up and swinging on his arms in a desperate attempt to snatch it .Thereafter I remember him only as the strict Dad.
I started seeing him in a new light after my marriage.He was against my choice and he tried to convince me logically first and then force me out of it .That was the first time when I looked him in his eyes with defiance .He gave in and that was a moment of reform both for me and for him since by that approval little did he know that he is bringing in someone who doesn’t hesitate to express emotions in public.
It took a little while for the ice to thaw and the son –in –law became no less than his first born and smile made appearance on his face often .My husband succeeded in invading those deepest arenas of his heart which he dared not allow entry to anyone even my mom.I saw a new dad ,a reborn dad.The smiles became laughter when he set his eyes upon his grand son with his very same birthmark .Now that smiles are there to stay and we talk often and discuss matters and I am with this conviction which I never had before …My dad loves me ..he loved me always even though he never disclosed it .
He is still little reserved but he doesn’t hesitate to show his care or to laugh and play with his grandchildren and I am so proud and happy to be his daughter.
I love you Dad.
My Dad , a retired police officer,never wore his feelings on his sleeve.He was always the extremely strict tyrant at home.The moment we hear his Police Jeep screeching on the graveled courtyard,we used to run to our study rooms dutifully studying .He expected silence at home .I hated him then and longed to breakfree .
I never used to talk to him or he to me until unless it us absolutely necessary and I haven’t figured out why or when this strange and uncomfortable distance creeped between us.
The last memory of our closeness is when I was in my third standard .
He sowed in me the love for books.He brought me books ever since I started reading.He didn’t care even if I were having my exams ,he would still buy me books for relaxed reading after studies.And I remember him teasing me by holding the book high and me jumping up and swinging on his arms in a desperate attempt to snatch it .Thereafter I remember him only as the strict Dad.
I started seeing him in a new light after my marriage.He was against my choice and he tried to convince me logically first and then force me out of it .That was the first time when I looked him in his eyes with defiance .He gave in and that was a moment of reform both for me and for him since by that approval little did he know that he is bringing in someone who doesn’t hesitate to express emotions in public.
It took a little while for the ice to thaw and the son –in –law became no less than his first born and smile made appearance on his face often .My husband succeeded in invading those deepest arenas of his heart which he dared not allow entry to anyone even my mom.I saw a new dad ,a reborn dad.The smiles became laughter when he set his eyes upon his grand son with his very same birthmark .Now that smiles are there to stay and we talk often and discuss matters and I am with this conviction which I never had before …My dad loves me ..he loved me always even though he never disclosed it .
He is still little reserved but he doesn’t hesitate to show his care or to laugh and play with his grandchildren and I am so proud and happy to be his daughter.
I love you Dad.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Why I love being In love
I happened to read a note by one of my friends about why he hates love. I couldn’t help but agree with a couple of his thoughts .It made me think how I feel about love. This is
what I feel .I love being in love ,being surrounded by love .
I love to see the one I love beside me the first thing in the morning.
I love to hear my baby calling Mom with his arms extended asking me to lift him up.
I love to feel loving arms around me ,my husband ,my kids ,my mom,sisters,friends…..
I love waking my husband up with a sweet peck or by tickling his feet.
I love standing beside him in the front of the mirror and admiring the picturesque pair we portray.
I love my husband and kids fighting for occupying space on my either side .
I love it when they come back to bestow upon me the forgotten goodbye kiss.
I love hearing his voice over the phone even if it is just for “Hello..What are you doing there ?” sort of enquiries.
I love to see his face lighting up at the sight of his favoured food on the table.
I love when he says that I completes him and he would be lost without me.
I love the knowledge that I am loved even when I look plain .
I love the heartwarming feeling that we would have the comfort of each others arms when troubles come our way.
I love when he listens to my silly talk and gossip.
I love waiting to hear the door bell ring and seeing him standing outside the door through the peep hole.
I love when he asks me to edit his creative musings even though he knows that they don’t need editing.
I love it when they rave over my cooking at every single chance they get.
I love to see many pairs of eyes gazing up at me with love .
Few times we have caused immense pain to each other .But I believe true love is capable of forgiving and each occasion has only made our love more lustrous and flawless.
Pain is the substantiation of love. Love doesn’t certify as love till you perceive the wring and the agony that walks along with it.Love doesn’t become sublime till you feel its stings and the way it wrenches your heart.
Love is life itself.You haven’t lived till you have loved and have seasoned by the contentment and the throes of love.
Love brings hope and anguish .Without love everything is hollow.
what I feel .I love being in love ,being surrounded by love .
I love to see the one I love beside me the first thing in the morning.
I love to hear my baby calling Mom with his arms extended asking me to lift him up.
I love to feel loving arms around me ,my husband ,my kids ,my mom,sisters,friends…..
I love waking my husband up with a sweet peck or by tickling his feet.
I love standing beside him in the front of the mirror and admiring the picturesque pair we portray.
I love my husband and kids fighting for occupying space on my either side .
I love it when they come back to bestow upon me the forgotten goodbye kiss.
I love hearing his voice over the phone even if it is just for “Hello..What are you doing there ?” sort of enquiries.
I love to see his face lighting up at the sight of his favoured food on the table.
I love when he says that I completes him and he would be lost without me.
I love the knowledge that I am loved even when I look plain .
I love the heartwarming feeling that we would have the comfort of each others arms when troubles come our way.
I love when he listens to my silly talk and gossip.
I love waiting to hear the door bell ring and seeing him standing outside the door through the peep hole.
I love when he asks me to edit his creative musings even though he knows that they don’t need editing.
I love it when they rave over my cooking at every single chance they get.
I love to see many pairs of eyes gazing up at me with love .
Few times we have caused immense pain to each other .But I believe true love is capable of forgiving and each occasion has only made our love more lustrous and flawless.
Pain is the substantiation of love. Love doesn’t certify as love till you perceive the wring and the agony that walks along with it.Love doesn’t become sublime till you feel its stings and the way it wrenches your heart.
Love is life itself.You haven’t lived till you have loved and have seasoned by the contentment and the throes of love.
Love brings hope and anguish .Without love everything is hollow.
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