So P got his first ever certificate yesterday. He has been attending Kumon maths for the past couple of months. His dad and I were surprised when the teacher told us couple of weeks back that P would be taking his current level test. A test? After just 7 weeks? Oh well, we thought, nice experience.
Imagine our pride when he aced the test! Woo-hoo! So yesterday, he got his ‘Achievement Certificate’ and got his picture taken with it. It was hilarious watching him play to the camera. Now that …

My Baby is 6 today! I know, I cannot believe it! I keep looking at him, looking just the same as he did yesterday and the day before and today, suddenly, he is a year older. How surreal is this? Where was the red-faced, wrinkled, squalling baby I held seconds after he was born? When did he go and become this child-person who talks cohesively? What the hell have I done with the years?Already, he is concerned that he is becoming older (!) and that in a few years his …

Premalatha tagged me to put baby (ish!) pix of self and the Hubby. I wondered for a while at the sanity of such an act. Then I thought ‘what the heck!’ and decided to give in.
The babe in brand new undies is me. I must’ve been 2-3 months old at that time. Check out the hair!

This innocent (ish) looking child is the Hubby. No clue how old he was at that time – 6 months or thereabouts, I guess.

And this is P, when he was 4 months old.

Now, who …

Yesterday, I heard my not yet 6 year old son emphatically tell me:
“I am not going to get married – not to a girl, not to a boy, not to an old woman. No. I am not. Ok?”
Ok, my boy. Whatever you want.
A little later, a request to make him put his shoes on before setting foot outside the door got his dad the comment: “whatever!” And I thought I had to wait at least till he hit 10 before hearing a “whatever!”. Is 6 like the new 10 / …

Who am I? This is a question I have often posed myself since I could formulate those words. Not because I had amnesia like Jackie Chan in that god-awful flick but when I was old enough to differentiate between dialects and accents, I figured the dad’s side of the family in the Village spoke totally differently to us folks in Madras. And this was before taking Madras baashai into account.
One of my earliest memories of visiting the paternal relatives in the Village was sitting down for lunch with …

Music – it is about feelings and emotions, right? My choice of music came under much (friendly, of course) ribbing and I shudder to think what kind of comment this post might attract but I can’t help it.
I heard this song after a long, long time today. And with the first bar, it took me back to the time I heard it on my walkman, while on the train back to Madras from Bombay. It carries with it that gentle sway of motion, the sweet ache of parting and a …

Summertime in Chennai used to be the days of mangoes (raw and ripe) and vadams. Those were the days when the 3 weeks of kathiri veyyil were the only time the sun beat down on the good people mercilessly. Rest of the time, the folks of Chennai were just left to perspire freely and go about their daily business. But most of May was ruled by the dreaded kathiri and children were generally kept under lock and key.
These kathiri days were ideal for the maami past-time of making vadams and …

Every night, as he prepares to go to bed, P and I have a routine. After a story, I generally make him lie down on my lap and he’ll moan ‘can I go to my bed now?’ Off we’d go and I’d lie down with him for a while, wish him good night and slink away. Last night, I got a rude shock. As I started the ole song and dance, P went ‘can I go to my bed by myself now?’
I was shocked! ‘Why?’, spluttered I.
‘Cos I am a …

One of the best things about growing up in Chennai, IMHO, is the accessibility to one of the best hangouts in the world, Elliot’s Beach. All through my school and college life, this beach was the ultimate cool hangout. There was a hierarchy to the place and one picked up on it pretty soon.
The layout of the beach is such that, there was a low-lying parapet wall, running alongside the bike park area and sat on this would be the sight-seers of various age, shape and size. Where you sit …

Maami, Maami, Golu vecha sundal,
Illatti kindal!
I remember getting dressed in my pattu pavadai (silk skirts) and walking up and down our streets with my group of friends during Navrathri. Our job was to go to every house that had kept a golu, stand outside their gates and recite the above-mentioned chant. It normally resulted in the lady of the house coming out with a grin and inviting us in for that Navrathri staple. If the oldies of the house were present, then we were urged to earn the sundal …