Khatte Mithe Pal Jeevan ke, nostalgia, experiences, family, humour

In life, many times we realize that a task looking arduous is not actually that difficult, when started.  On the contrary, some tasks looking plain sailing prove to be strenuous, when started. All the wives would agree with me that the efforts put in by them in numerous small household chores, which keep them busy throughout the day, are underrated by their husbands. I realized it when my maid took one month sabbatical from work to visit her village. Though after so many years of marriage, I have become quite used to the preaching of my husband on everything I do, the situation seems to be intolerable when you are already trying to make up for some mishap like broken crockery or spilt milk and somebody starts lecturing  on how you should have been more careful. Yes, my husband helped me in household chores(by putting water in filter, cutting salad, setting the table etc.), but with the newly granted access in the kitchen, he also assumed  the noble charge of my self-appointed tutor

Happiness is a blessing, true, but there are some things you realize, only at the time of hardships. I always used to joke about how my husband helped me in the household chores. Whenever I asked him to make tea, he would go in the kitchen and scream from there,” where is sugar kept? Where is tea kept?” after answering two-three queries, I would say,” you come out of the kitchen. I will make the tea for both of us.” Like any other lady, I never minded being busy in small household chores like cooking, preparing tiffin for my daughter, etc. Like a typical mother, I had never imagined that the house could run without my contribution. But I was proved wrong last year, when I suffered from severe backache. The doctor, after preliminary examination, prescribed many tests, the results of which horrified me. When I went to the doctor with the reports, I was concerned,” would I be all right?” “Why not?” The doctor said, “But strictly follows my instructions.” I could have

On that cold and windy morning when even the Sun had decided not to show up, I was feeling like not leaving my quilt easily. But the unpleasant ring on my mobile forced me to open my eyes. The call was from an international number, but the caller said in a Punjabi accent ,” mubaraq ho ji! Main aap ki telephone company se bol  raha  hoon !Aapki pandrah lakh assi hazar ki lottery lagi hai hamari company ki taraf se! (Congratulations! I am calling from your telephone company! You have won a lottery from our telephone company amounting to Rs. Fifteen lakhs eighty thousands!)  On earlier such occasions, I used to disconnect the telephone, but this time I thought to have some entertainment in the otherwise boring morning,” Meri lottery! Badi khushi ki  baat hai! Main abhi aap ke office ja kar paise le  aati hoon ! ”(Wow! I won a lottery! I am so excited! I will just go to your company’s office and collect the money!) Now, either the man on the other end was too innocent or was too confid

As a child, I had an opportunity of staying at many places because my father had a transferrable job. But I was always fussed about the fact that he had a state government job, which meant he could never be posted out of the state. Those were the days when it was not common to go on vacations to hilly states or seabeahes like today, so our school vacations were spent in our grandfather’s house. I remember telling my parents that blessed would be the day, when I would see the world out of Madhya Pradesh. A central government job gave me opportunity to venture out of the state, but not much impact was felt during the time of probation, as the life was mostly limited to training institute only. So, when after probation I was posted to Shimla, it seemed like a complete change in my world climatically, socially and culturally. This posting was not totally unplanned, as by this time my marriage was fixed and my future husband was posted in Shimla, but it was the period from posti

“How was the pizza, beta?” I asked my daughter, to which she threw a counter question, licking her finger,” as delicious as ever mamma! Can it ever happen that you cook something and it is not great?”    Her statement brought a grin on my face, as I was driven down in my memory lane to remember what I call “ My cooking disasters ”. The most memorable incidence dates back to the time when I had joined Engineering College and as my father was posted at other city, I used to stay at my uncle’s home accompanied by my brother, who was two years senior to me in the same college. Though I used to help my  chachiji    in cooking and other household chores, like any other studious girl, I was not very expert at cooking which was proved when my  chachiji   went to her parental village nearby and could not return on the same day.    As eating in restaurants was not common those days and home delivery was not even heard of, this left the responsibility of cooking dinner for the family on mys

“Mom! It’s your marriage anniversary! “My daughter was bubbling with enthusiasm. “How should we celebrate it? I want to make it your most memorable anniversary!” She said. I smiled as I told her,” I appreciate your spirit, beta! But I don’t think you can break your own record by making it more memorable.” She looked puzzled as I started telling her how as a 4 month old; she had made our second marriage anniversary memorable. As I said, it was our 2 nd marriage anniversary. We (my husband and I) had decided to celebrate it privately with the new member of our family, who was the centre of our attention for the past four months. After taking a stroll at The Mall Road, Shimla, we chose a decent, budget restaurant on Mall Road to have dinner (That was the most we could afford before fifth pay commission pay hike). We entered the restaurant proudly carrying the cutest child on earth (as new parents we didn’t know that all the parents find their child the cutest).  My daughte

I was waiting eagerly with my son. The waiting hours seemed to be too long, but finally we had a sigh of relief. Our wait was over! My husband and daughter were proudly coming to us with their prized possessions in hands. Don’t get me wrong! They had not completed any marathon and returning with prizes! Actually they had been standing in the queue to buy the books for my daughter. The school had authorized only one shop to sell the books and there were many parents like us who had waited up to last day to buy the books and now paying the price by standing in the so called queues consisting of unruly crowds pushing each other in order to reach the counter. Standing in queue is a pain, but when your turn comes, you feel like a winner. As I recall my memories regarding queues, each of them leaves a smile on my face. ·         During my school and college days, buying movie tickets was a great achievement as multiplex culture had not come and online booking was not even imagined of.