Monthly Archives: March 2018

Today’s discovery

I almost missed this gossamer thing when I was sweeping my yard this morning.


A baby snake had moulted in my yard last night.  It must’ve been a tiny thing, considering the size of the skin it shed – just a little bigger than a neem leaf lying next to it.


Summer’s here

The uncomfortable feeling of oppressive heat has begun in this part of the world.  This would go on and on until by September, we are at our wits end and beg for the sun god and the rain god to show mercy on us.  My father tells me that America is the reason it is going to be a hotter summer than usual this year – he usually blames anything bad on America, but this time, I wonder if he could be right.

I am getting terribly irritated with the fashion world these days.  See, the most comfortable daily wear for this part of the world, especially for a forty-something year old, hypersensitive-to-stimulus woman, is cotton “salwar kameez”.  It is a dress made of loose, draw string pants (like pajamas) and a kurtha, or shirt, that is loose, and reaches the knee or a little below or above as the choice may be.  The entire dress, especially, as it becomes old, worn and faded, is extremely comfortable, lets air circulation in, and wicks out the barrels of persp that bedews the form.  But, the most critical part of the kurtha that decides my mental health is the sleeve size.  The best situation is when the sleeve drops a bit below the shoulder, thus, not quite being sleeve-less, but more of a “is-it-there-isn’t-it-there” piece of cloth.  The fashion world however ignores gobblefunkist’s preference and throws in a sleeve that goes from here to Kilimanjaro, or in the very least, below the elbow.  Yes, the in-house tailor in garment shops would chop it down to your size, if you so request, but that would mean waiting at the retail outlet for an hour, until the tailor is spotted, advised and gets to work like a beaver, and a moment in the retail shop more than shopping demands is time off the purgatory.

I am currently wearing an extremely soft and light cotton kurtha, bought from a shop where the tailor had temporarily disappeared.  My focus of consciousness is constantly in the region between the shoulder and elbow, covered by unnecessary fabric, and is driving me crazy.

Another sensation that’s bugging me is the constant feeling of dehydration, no matter how many bottles of aqua I consume.  The psych wants something sweeter, say juice, or,  paanagam (jaggery water spiced with ginger).  Yet, I know that the moment I stock up on these calorie high items, I’d swim in them, and tax my metabolism.  Oh well, to heck with metabolism, I see a cauldron of paanagam with my name on it.

On a different note, this veranda you see below, that opens into the yard with the huge mango tree that hosts monkeys, has become my office room – I don’t get much done.




When the house becomes a home

The soil in the yard is one hundred percent clay.  And has not been tended to in a long time. I dug four holes to plant four plants in it, and my spinal cord may have snapped in a few strategic locations.  Still, no pain, no gain.  I have made a start, and given my lack of green indices, it would be a very long time before my yard would look like it does in my mind, if at all.

A sneak peak at the living room:


Monday and monkeys

A new week begins in the new house, which is now habitable.  I think the whole settling thing is asymptotic – it never quite touches the finishing line.  The curtains and frills will arrive today, I have one cushion to order for the guest room, and of course, the yard is barren and it will take me a fairly long time before I can populate it.


Meanwhile, backlog work is growing, and I need to get to it.

And I’ve made a friend in the new neighbourhood as I sew door mats out of old gunny bags and jute twine.


Have a good week, folks.

Settling in

Moving is not as easy as it used to be in the past.  When we moved from a tiny two room shack to our next level of residence, eleven years ago, we could fit all our earthly possessions into a fish-cart and be done with the move in one hour.  A decade later, the next move took an era, with multiple trips of the truck to and fro to move the mountainous materialistic possessions that we have accumulated – pretty disgusting, I tell you.  I dread to think of a possible next move.  We’d probably need a giant space ship or something.

The new house is, as I mentioned before, beautiful.  After initial hiccups, we have finally settled in.  Stuff has been unpacked, new furniture bought (Gosh, more stuff ), and measurements taken for curtains and frills, which will be fitted in a couple of days.  The purse is considerably lighter but I suspect the expenses have been well worth it.

I have a lovely kitchen now – most people know that the kitchen in my old house was my cross to bear – it was small, had open shelves and generally messy all the time because, well, open shelves does that;  entering the kitchen would put me in bad mood.  This new one is marginally larger, but has sufficient, closed storage space, and therefore, I suspect, would be far less messy than before.

The yard is huge, and my friend, G, who dropped in said “wow, you can hold a wedding in here”.  I don’t have a green thumb, but that has never stopped me from struggling with plants, has it?

The best part of the house in my opinion is a cement bench in the front yard, under a ginormous canopy of a mango tree.  It is bang at the center of a natural tunnel caused by adjacent buildings, and the channel-wind throughout the day is amazing.   I sat a few times in solitude on the bench and it was most conducive to meditation, except that the bench is also a monkey track, and there are periodic march past of primates as I sit in silence – they ignore me, and I, them.  I look forward to more such moments.

Those are the good parts.  The not-so-good part is that moving is stressful, and tiresome, and it shows.  The family is on the edge, ready to pounce on each other – I even lost my temper once and yelled, which is very rare for me.  This too, hopefully, will pass and relative peace would return soon.

So, that’s why I have been AWOL.


Three super good news

  1.  The tender mango season is here.  I made a first small batch of pickle last week and it is ready for consumption.
  2. We got the house we had applied for.  We hadn’t, initially, but for some reason (I am curious why), the people who were allotted the house, didn’t take it.  I suspect it’s because it is a duplex town house and people we talk to seem to not like having to climb stairs inside the house.  The new house is nice, lest I start waxing eloquently. We are in the thick of planning the move and would have migrated by the weekend.
  3. This is a small story-of-sorts, bear with me. I live in a wooded neighbourhood, which is a natural habitat for monkeys. We must keep our homes well caged, and make sure there are no visible display of edible stuff to attract them.  Things aren’t simple all the time.  Yesterday, my maid left a bag of millets given to her by someone else in the ledge in our verandah, which is insulated from outside by a grill gate.  A visitor to our home inadvertently left the grill gate open, and a tribe of monkeys walked in, tore the packet of millet, scattered the grains all over the floor and front steps and after a gala party, left.  I had to transfer a large box of stuff to my visitor’s car parked outside, and stepped on the sloping step, with the box in hand. I slipped on the millets, dropped the box, fell backwards, landed on my back, and hit the back of my head hard against the cement floor.  For a moment I blacked out, and I could hear my visitor call out my name from a distance.  I thought that was it for gobblefunkist.  Now why is this good news?  Twenty four hours hence, I am typing this post.

Life’s good.


Check list

Take siestas – check

Glowing screen break – check

Potter about the garden – check

Read book – check

Deep clean kitchen – check

Gym –  must resume

Summer wardrobe makeover (as fancy as that sounds – 3 salwar sets) – tomorrow perhaps?

Backlog editing work – groan.  Not for another couple of days at least.