The Evening the Vampires Came to Play

A Halloween birthday party. That's what my EO had been pestering me for, since January!! And each time he'd start pleading, I'd resolutely put my foot down; after all who knew about Halloween here, really? The EO knows about it from the stories The Bro and I've told him; thanks to those infernal cartoons on TV and most of all, because of this blasted book, "It's Halloween You Fraidy Mouse" (from the Geronimo Stilton series which he just adores and devours any chance he gets!)

When I saw how earnest he was about the whole idea I suggested a Monster's Ball and he LOVED the idea. And that's what we'd been planning for the past few months...or rather, he'd been fantasising his head over and sharing those daydreams with me while I distractedly nodded along to whatever he said!

And soon enough, it was two weeks minus D-Day! Yikes! Invites had to be sent out, costumes had to be made, games planned, return gifts bought, food ordered...!!! Yikes, yikes and yikes some more!

So I started with the planning and buying. I had this vision of a Treasure Hunt for the boys with clues that involved lots of thinking and writing -- hey!...when there's a gang of around twenty 5 to 10 year old boys involved, you have to think up creative ways to restrict the mayhem!

Everything was going according to plan and D-Day arrived soon enough. Like always, I had too much crammed on my job list...making the pasta, sausage stir fry and corn salad; wrapping the last few return gifts (I always buy extra...just in case); and putting the clues for the Treasure Hunt together.

As I was making the envelopes for the clues, the finicky, fussy avtaar of me started yelling in my head. She just wasn't cent percent happy with the clues. She felt they lacked something...and she was right, because I had been fussing about it for days. A link was needed to connect the clues and puzzles together and suddenly, the link appeared as if by magic in my head...I started writing small, funny poems to put along with the game/puzzles. The words started tumbling out of my ears and I scrambled to write them all down before I lost any.

The rush of creative energy felt wonderful, but I knew it meant putting me back a bit time-wise. Oh, well, I could just manage by the skin of my teeth. Sigh...why me? Why does inspiration always strike at the last minute.

So in-between writing clues and stirring pots-and-pans, things were falling into place...when something scary happened. Three hours before the hordes were due to descend, my FIL, who had been feverish for a few days, suddenly turned serious. It was frightening and I won't go into the details, but he had to be rushed to the ICU. Turned out that his sugar levels had crashed to 19!! I was all set to cancel the party, but my MIL very sweetly and very firmly told me that we should have the party as scheduled. The good news was, that my FIL had been admitted at the right time and he was already on the road to stabilising.

Unnerved, I went back to party prepping, but I felt unnerved and off-balance by what we had all witnessed and experience, but also grateful that things were not as fatal as we feared them to be.

The party was madness, mayhem, chaos and noise!! It took me three days to recover, but one little eight-year-old's happy face, made it all worthwhile :-)

The invite that went out, read like this:

Ghostly creatures, come one come all --

There's going to be a Monster's Ball!

I've got news that's pretty great --

'Our EO' is turning eight!

There are gory games in store for you,

Followed by gooey treats that you can chew!

So come on over in your scariest best;

It's a time for partying -- there'll be no rest!

And here are the clues for the Treasure Hunt; the boys were divided into four teams -- Team Vampire (red), Team Wizard (black), Team Ghost (white -- duh!) and Team Mummy (yellow)

1st CLUE :

Your first clue is really a riddle --

Discuss the answer in a monster huddle.

The answer to this question will take you to

An envelope holding clue number two!

"We're black and white

and we're called keys --

We don't open doors,

But we set music free!"

(The most common answer I got was iPad!!)

2nd CLUE :

Piano is right! That's very good!

Your heads are obviously not blocks of wood.

Clue number two I now present to thee --

Solve it quickly for clue number three!

If it takes you too long to solve the rhyme --

You just might run out of time!

After 5 minutes, ask the birthday boy's mother,

For hints that'll help take you along further!

(I wrote an 8 line poem with the last words blank. I wrote two lines in green, then two in black, two in blue and the last two in purple so that they would understand that those lines should rhyme. I knew this could provide tricky, so I had a list of clues set up just in case...I handed those out after they spent some time wracking their brains)

Gorby Ghost is really quite ________ (another word for crazy)

He just doesn't know how to be _______ (the opposite of good)

He has long blue hair growing out of his ________ (at the bottom of your face)

And he smells like he lives in the _______-____ (where you throw rubbish)

He is a friend to all the neighbourhood ________ (dog's enemies)

And together they like to chase down fat ________ (cousins of mice)

Rotten cherries and worms are his favourite ________ (Trick or ??)

And eggs that smell like dirty, smelly _______ (what we use to walk with)

(After each team gave me the completed rhyme, I handed them the next envelope)

3rd CLUE:

You've solved the rhyme! Oh yippee yaaay!

You've all made me so happy today!

It's now time for a little mystery;

Solve the secret code -- go on! Do it quickly!

If you can't figure it out, you might need some clues --

I'll help you a bit and chase away those blues.

(The code was a series of numbered blanks, which when solved would read -- "The next clue is with the birthday vampire's aunt." The code was a simple 1=a, 2=b, 3=c... I didn't tell them that; I wanted to see how many would figure it out on their own. Two teams did! We told the other two teams how to go about it.)

4th CLUE:

Oh me! Oh my! You've cracked the code!

I think I feel like kissing a toad!

But no, I won't, because that's really quite yucky!

I'll give you a clue instead --wow! Aren't you lucky?

It is time now, my friends, for story-time ---

But whoa! It's all mixed up! Can you make it fine?

(I wrote a short paragraph and cut them up at various points, which they had to set in order.)

• Once upon a time, in a far away land, you've never heard of
• there lived a gross, stinky and very fat
• Princess.
• Her name was Pukerella!
• All day long she did disgusting things!
• I can't even tell you because you'll faint and then wake up with your brains all scrambled!

(From the clues so far, you can see that I've been catering to the mirth and merriment of young boys, right? Well, once they had the story in order, I handed them the next envelope)

5th CLUE:

You've sorted the story! My aren't you clever?

Can you unjumble these words and make them sound better?

GNORAD _ _ _ _ _ _ Dragon

REPAMVI _ _ _ _ _ _ _ vAmpire

DRIZWA _ _ _ _ _ _ wizardD

The next clue is with the birthday boy's _ _ _ (DAD -- those three letters were circled and numbered. So once the team handed the MIM their solved word jumbles, he gave them their last clue along with a roll of toilet paper)

6th CLUE:

You're nearing the end!

Oh wow! I'm impressed!

It's now time for you

To get one of your own all dressed.

Let's go back to the land of ancient Egypt;

That they liked their mummies is no big secret!

Gather the things that you will need --

To make a mummy at top speed!!

(Considering that I abhor waste and am a big fan of recycling, my original idea was to use strips of newspaper, but unfortunately, I didn't have the time to make them. So it had to be small rolls of toilet paper...one per team. Turned out, there wasn't enough to wrap the little bubs up with, so I had to modify it to an arm and a leg).

TEAM MUMMY won the Treasure Hunt. The reason they did so well was the objective behind the whole exercise -- TEAMWORK! They were brilliant together. The Nephew happened to be in the Team Mummy, but I promise, there wasn't any nepotism involved ;-p They won on their own steam and merit.

The next activity was a Quiz in six rounds. I kept the teams the same and TEAM GHOST won this. The EO, who was in Team Vampire, was crushed because quizzing is really his thing -- he couldn't answer the Sport's Round and that's where they lost. He struggled to fight back tears (yes, he still has to learn to control his temper and his emotions) and said that he needed to have some serious sport-based chats with his dad!

After this, there was a quick game of Passing the Parcel, followed by the cake cutting and then FOOOOOOD! There were two other games I had planned on doing, but for one, the Nerf guns weren't working properly, and the other involved the mothers of which there were only three, so...

But all in all, it was a fun party...which left me partially deaf, totally exhausted and extremely grateful that these things come round only once a year! :-)

Happy 8th Birthday, EO!

My darling EO,

Ah! My darling boy! Another year has passed and as I sit down to write my yearly letter to you, I wonder, just like in that good song, where do I begin?

Well, since I've begun with a line from a song, I may as well start off with music and you. Last year, your Dida gave you a guitar for your birthday and it's been a year since you've started taking lessons. I have blogged about your latent musical talents before, and this passing year has only scratched the surface of what I believe to be a reservoir of creative energy and spirit. Your enthusiasm in all things musical is manna to my soul. Your taste is eclectic...you still love Jon Bon Jovi and Michael Jackson; a good Prem Joshua or Bickram Ghosh number will have you listening to it on endless loop, and you have some patent favourites from Kabiguru's treasure trove as well. There were times I wondered whether you really had 'music in you' or whether it was something of rote that we were forcing upon you. Well, a few months ago, you unknowingly put that doubt to rest; we were in Shantiniketan and we'd carried your guitar along so that you could practice. Well, during one of your practice sessions in the evening, the lights went out, but that didn't stop you...you just continued playing. That's when I knew... Of course you sealed the deal when you wanted to try making up original tunes and when you declared that you wanted to start a rock group when you grew up. You'd even thought of the name -- Vampire Rock! As long as it's not related to death metal and goth, I think I can live with that name :-)Your guitar teacher thinks you are very talented and says it every chance he gets. I just smile, but inside my heart starts beating like a hummingbird on a high!

You LOVE the spotlight! You are born to entertain. The stage is pretty much your most favourite place in the world and you are very, very comfortable on it. Last year, soon after your birthday, you made your debut in the  pada'r natok'er stage (neighbourhood play) for Durga Pujo. It was a dramatised rendition of one of Tagore's well-known, much-loved, epic poems -- "Birpurush". And you my son, were Birpurush. You enthralled everyone...including me. You remembered cues, didn't lose balance when others goofed up, delivered your lines in loud, clear tones and you covered every inch of the stage while acting. You took my breath away and I had to blink back tears of pride when the cheers and thunderous clapping started. That's why I started you off in an after school theatre class run by a good friend of mine. Thankfully, you are loving it and they are loving you. This year, Durga Pujo is two weeks away and rehearsals are on in full swing.  The play...a dramatised production of one of Kobiguru's short stories, "Ichchaapuron" (yes, the same genius again...seriously, where would we be without the man? Well, that's a debate I look forward to having with you in the near future). Now, while you do have one of the leads, I have to remind you every now and then to not get too ahead of yourself, to not direct/correct your peers, to not be so full of yourself. So even though you are doing a wonderful job, I don't say it to you too often, because the last thing I want is for you to grow a swollen head. Vanity is such an unattractive quality...

When you grow up, you'll probably look back on your childhood and think that I was a Tiger Mom of the Amy Chua variety...well, maybe not that demonic, but somewhere in her vicinity. I know I'm kind of hard on you and your brother, but it's mainly where discipline and food are concerned. I hate the very thought of food being wasted (the thought of starving children just numbs me to the core) which is why I prefer you taking smaller helpings and not throwing anything away, rather than piling food onto your plate in heaps and then throwing away half of it. And good manners...yes, I'm a bit of a monster in that department, I'm afraid. The thing is, I hate indiscipline. A friend of mine even called me out on it when we went dining out. "You expect a lot [of good behaviour] from your boys, don't you?" I unapologetically said yes. But later I felt guilty...am I too hard on you two? But then, whenever someone compliments me on how delightful you two are, or how well-behaved, or what lovely manners you have, or how well I've brought you up...my god, I just swell up with immeasurable pride! I need no greater validation or certification. Now I know these words may well come back to bite me in the butt, but right now, as of this moment, I have to say it -- you are quite the little gemtleman!

You're quite the gourmand, my child! You love experimenting with your palate and are game for new restaurants, new cuisines and new dishes. You still love my pasta to the point that you would rather have that than go out for a meal, but I love the way you enjoy new tastes and experiences. You are eager to help me around the kitchen and sometimes, you even think that you'll be a chef when you grow up.

Books are a firm love. You would rather read than go out in the evenings and kick a football around. Mythology is your favourite genre, but right now, you are also hooked on the Geronimo Stilton series. You read extensively and that's why your vocabulary and language skills are more than pretty darn good. You won 1st place in the inter-class English Elocution competition and I was ready to distribute laddoos! You ask me the meanings of big words and try to use them in sentences which I think is very good, but I also hope it doesn't make you seem precocious to other adults and a show-off to your peers. Sigh...it's sad, but that is the way that some people will see you and it breaks my heart.

You've discovered a new passion for quizzing and thanks to your bookwormish nature, GK seems to be a subject you're pretty good at. The recently concluded inter-house competition also bears testimony to that.

Of course, it's not all sunshine and laughter with you. You have some flaws which you really need to work on. You can dish it out, but you can't take it. You're a terribly sore loser and you really, really need to learn what the sporting spirit is all about. You have to learn how to play fair and you can't always get your way.

I'm there to guide you into becoming the very best that you can be. You have such a sunshiney spirit and sensitive soul, that I would hate to see you be disliked or unpopular because of your bullish streak. I also worry, very often, that you might be a loner, because I've seen you quite content in your own company. You hear the songs and whispers of hidden voices and I see you lost in your own thoughts, often playing by yourself even when in a playground or room full of your friends, because you have a head full of characters and conversations that have your time and attention. I've been there most of my life sweetheart, and loneliness is a crippling feeling. Embrace life, embrace the people around you, embrace the world...but never let go of your unique individuality. I love your poetic soul and nature...it speaks directly to my own soul, from where I dreamed you up and breathed life into you!

To end with a line from another song, you beautiful boy...you make my heart sing!

I love you endlessly!

Happy birthday, my big boy!

Mamma

BlogAdda's Book Review Program: Musings of a Wanderer

I signed up for the BlogAdda book reviews program when I saw that this book was up for grabs -- "Musings of a Wanderer" by Shreya Chatterjee.

No, we're not related even though we do share a surname. And no, I didn't choose this book because we share that surname.

I chose it because it's a book of poetry. And I love poetry.

But truth be told, I did not love Shreya's poetry. Not all of it.

Shreya's poetry is mostly an outpouring of her feelings. Now I am all for offerings of these outpourings, because I believe that it is quite central to good poetry. However, having said that, much of Shreya’s work seems to be like a first draft; the feelings that must have gushed within and found an expression in words must have been hurriedly caught and put down on paper before disappearing altogether, for we know how ephemeral a thought can be. But once the thought has been captured, it must be prodded, teased, fretted over and had hair-torn-out-in-clumps until perfection is attained. I know how easy it is to get too close to one's own work and that chopping a word here or slicing a verse there feels like we are butchering a small part of ourselves, but this kind of attachment does not make for good writing. It makes us too sensitive and it makes us stupidly stubborn.

Yes, I identified with many of her thoughts and feelings, after all, poetry is universal and that's what binds us. Some of her insights into the world around us as well as into her own soul are poignant and thought-provoking. You understand what she is trying to say and where she is coming from and you can’t help but smile a little wistfully. What I loved most about this collection is the little foot-notes that she added to some of her poems, giving us a peek into the inspiration behind the poem. Poetry is, after all, very personal, so it's a privilege to be given an insight into what thought, word, picture or moment gave birth to the idea of a poem.

That Shreya has a giant love for poetry is obvious. Unfortunately, that is not enough. She needs to nurture it like a mother nurtures her child and she can't give into it's stubborn, wilful tantrums. She must deal with her poems with a firm but loving hand and do what's best for them. So if words and whole verses need to be dropped, scratched and rewritten, then so it must be, for only then will the end results make us cry with pride.

Shreya has a long way to go, but she has started upon the journey bravely and boldly. Some of the poems written by this Wanderer do show remarkable promise, there’s no denying that. Had she worked on her craft a bit more and had her work fallen into the hands of an editor who understands the craft of poetry, and, more importantly, cares about poetry, this collection would have been far more impressive.

This review is a part of the "http://blog.blogadda.com/2011/05/04/indian-bloggers-book-reviews". Book Reviews Program at "http://www.blogadda.com" Participate now to get free books!

And so I succumbed...

I just couldn't stand the multiplying strands of white on my head anymore. They had made their appearance quietly enough a few years ago, adding to their numbers slowly and surreptitiously; never meriting more than a second glance or a half-sigh.

They were just waiting.

Last year, Hell's own gift to me, saw me go grey faster than you could say "Boo! Surprise!" Overnight, they attacked and I realised I was on the losing side. But I stubbornly held on, refusing to let them and the Higher Power they answered to, called Vanity, win.

The remarks I received over the past 18 months at my apparently apathetic behaviour towards my appearance ranged from shock to disgust to shattering. What nobody realised was that I was still grieving and while I hated the sad, fat and greying person who stared back at me from the mirror -- sometimes dispassionately, sometimes disconsolately and very often disgustedly -- I was also adamant about not giving in. Not giving in to popular culture's perceptions about beauty; not giving in to what the magazines say; not giving in to my friends's rebukes; not giving in to peer pressure.

I've always known that I'd have to hit the bottle (errr, the bottle of dye) sooner or later and I just wanted it to be later.

But yesterday, I just couldn't take it anymore and so I succumbed.

But it wasn't the bottle I turned to for comfort. It was mehendi.

Sigh...so strike one up for Vanity.

Frogs and Snails

He stood there in front of me. My seven-year-old son in a pair of worn-out, once-upon-a-time white Crocs, three-quarter pants, an oldish yet very comfy-looking t-shirt, a huge smile on his face revealing an over-sized front tooth next to a gap where it's partner should've been, and a huge bandage above his left eye, shielding his three stitches from the dirt, dust and grime of the world. In his hands, was my iPod; in his ears, were the head-phones.

He was giving me that huge, disarming smile of his because he'd just noticed me standing and watching him jump about while loudly and discordantly singing Jon Bon Jovi's "Shot Through the Heart."

He was the very picture of a boy.

Frogs and snails, indeed.

It's,

frogs and snails

and bruises and stitches.

It's

puppy dog tails

and insects and itches.

It's

dirty hands

and skinned knees.

It's

messed-up paintings

and the summer breeze.

It's

those pretend-to-be-brave voices

in the middle of the night.

It's

those cuddles and snuggles

as you're calming away a fright.

It's

those lullabys they ask for,

those cookies they beg for;

those stories they wait for,

those goodies they crave for.

It's

those gap-toothed smiles

and those sparkly, bright eyes --
equivalent to
the cherry on top of the cake.

It's

when those faces crumble
and those tears flow like rivers,
that you can physically
feel your poor heart break.

It's

lots of lovin' and huggin'

and sticky kisses galore.

It's

these things that make their mamma's hearts

greedy for more.

Little Boys Love Their Mammas

Totally let down by a movie that I had gargantuan expectations from and reeling from a sudden and totally unexpected fight that escalated to a barrage of rude SMSes, I felt the picture of depression. I must have looked it too, with my drooped shoulders, smarting eyes and hunched back.

I walked in, looking like this, to a room filled with 'strange' women. My MIL was having a meeting of her ladies' association at home. I knew, of course, since she had asked me if I would please make the dessert. In fact, I was rushing home to put the finishing touches on it, but I didn't count on them already being there.

Before I could straighten myself up, shake the blues off, put on a mask and a fake smile, something happened that drenched my insides and left me a gooey pile of love.

My little one, screaming "MAMMA! MAMMA! MAMMMMMAAAAA!!!" appeared out of thin air and faster than Superman came hurtling towards me, throwing himself at me and wrapping his arms around my legs, his face looking straight into my face, his eyes shining with that heart-melting mixture of love and happiness. Not once caring that he had an audience, he held on tightly and wouldn't let go. Of course, since the audience was comprised of women in the Grandmother Zone, they all melted into a pool of mush.

The tight, (teddy) bear hug probably lasted for ten-fisteen seconds and as soon as he got my big, slurpy kisses, he was gone as quick as he came, like a flash of lightening.

A few seconds, that's all it was, but the consequence of those few moments was so blissful, so uplifting, so rejuvenating.

It's this love of this little boy for his mamma, that keeps me going.

Boys Will Be Boys and Thus Give Their Moms Heart Attacks

Children. They're supposed to keep one young.

At least that's what I'd heard.

Mine seen hell-bent on running me old and ragged.

Once again, due to the antics of a certain almost-eight-year-old, I have aged considerably over the past few hours.

Well, to be fair, it wasn't really his fault. It happened at school and it was a total accident. He was watching a Beyblade match when his cousin ran over, wanting to show him something and excitedly yanked him by the collar. My boy tripped over the tangle of feet underfoot, tried to maintain balance, failed and smacked his forehead on the cement flooring -- leaving a big, deep gash half-an-inch above his eye.

The Nephew was absolutely horrified and traumatised. It was SIL's day to pick up the boys and by the time she went, she found her nephew missing and her son an incoherent, blubbering mess who just kept repeating his cousin's name and showing his mother his bloody handkerchief with which he had tried to mop up the blood.

She called me from the car and I fell off my chair. I called the MIM and he rushed home. We waited for the SIL's call to tell us she was close to the hospital near our home and we rushed there.

It was the Nephew who was a mess; the poor boy's face was red and his eyes were swollen from crying non-stop. And the EO? What can I say? He was a trooper. Still jabbering away, nineteen-to-the-dozen, giving us a full action replay as to what happened along with running commentary. When he heard that he needed stitches, well, that's when the cookie crumbled. Having been the recipient of four stitches on the sole of his foot a couple of years ago, he absolutely had no desire to go through the experience again. I didn't either, of course.

But, go through it he did. There were tears and screams while half his eyebrow was being shaved off, while the anasthesia was being injected around the wound and of course when he got a glimpse of the curved needle and thread. But when the actual stitching started and he realised that he couldn't feel a thing, he was back to his normal, chatty self.

Sigh. He's been in perfectly good humour since he's come back. He's enjoying the attention and the cuddles. He's fast asleep now and I've promised to bring him into my bed tonight.

He's fast asleep.

Me. I'm greyer and wrinklier than I woke up this morning.