Maria's blog

I want the perfect house.
I want to be able to hang up a full blown up picture on one wall. I want to be able to chip a bathroom tile and not call up anybody and inform the damage. I want to grow creepers on my window grills without having to remove them in case we move again. In short, I am tired of being the ‘The Tenant’.
My wanderlust days are over. I want to settle. In a home with four walls to call my own. And a ceiling where I can fix fans, lights, or even commission Michelangelo to rise from the dead and paint up a ‘Sistine Chapel’.

 Ghosts are women with white saris and flowing hair.
The old caretaker at the house is called ‘Ramu Kaka’ and wears a red towel on his shoulders.
 
The couple only find the deserted temple AFTER they get completely drenched.
 

It appears to me that these days I walk in a state of semi-detachment from the world. I cross traffic-clogged roads dreamily without looking at either sides. I board and alight buses and trains with my eyes firmly lodged on my IPhone.What happened to me? You may wonder. Well nothing out of the ordinary. I am just being an NRI.

So after my brief stint here, I finally mastered the art of eating with chopsticks. Took a while though. My fingers which were used to direct contact with the food and my mouth and the occasional spoon and fork routine, yielded rather reluctantly to this new instrument. 
 

 
“A pair of sticks? Bah! A lot of good that will do!” my thumb probably said to the other fingers.
 

Disclaimer: This post was typed in a bout of jealousy. An unreasonable but inevitable pang of jealousy.
Its Sunday afternoon. I am trying to feed my baby cereal. He is being fussy, his tiny hands flailing about. Which is nothing new for 7-month olds who have just discovered the magic of their newly attained motor skills. But it does make the task of maneuvering that spoon with the glob of cereal into his mouth difficult.

“Are you sure this is ok? We are not supposed to wander.” the Little Brother asks.
“Come on, you silly. We haven’t seen them for ages. They won’t know. And they play the most fun games”, the Older Sister replies.”There. Can you hear them now?”
“Ring-a-ring-a-roses,
A pocket full of posies;
Hush! hush! hush! hush!
All fall down!”
 

The boy had started collecting stamps when he was seven years old. An uncle had gifted him with a stamp book for his 7th birthday. He had wished for a train or a G.I.Joe, but his uncle thought it was time the boy took up a hobby.
 His sister had helped him tear off his first stamp from their father’s envelope and place it in his new book. Soon, he learnt to cut them neatly with a scissor.

Tuesday
She walked down the milk aisle ,pausing in between. One carton fresh milk and one tub of strawberry yoghurt . It was always the same. Usually milk was picked up last, so I knew she would be heading to the cash counter next. She lingers at the ‘This Week’s Grabs’ section and then continues towards the counters.