Sibling rambles

We have been planning to go on a family trip to Tirupati for quite some time now. Finally now that my nephew's exams are over and my sister is free ( pls note that it is SHE who is free after HIS exams!!!), we are finally able to fix on a date.

We found that online booking should ideally have been thought of some 3-5 months back, and that package tours might prove to be a bit too strenuous, especially for my Mom. So we had to find an alternate source of getting darshan tickets alone, so that we could plan our journey independently of tour operators.

Finally I managed to find a friend this week, who reverted within a day(!) and asked me for exact dates. Now here was the problem.
My sister stays in a sprawling old ancestral house.
Her FIL is aged and will not be accompanying us, but neither can he be left alone in the sprawling house.
So arrangements have to be made.
BIL is of the type who doesn't really care about this trip, but is coming along to indulge his wife and SIL.
Sis is of the type who will fret and fume, but can't/won't open her mouth for nuts, and leave alone rant and rave, won't even mumble at the people responsible for the fumes. ( I am diametrically opposite to my sister! She was good and no trouble; and I was bad and only trouble, in our growing up years)
Neither of them want to request BIL's siblings who land up every year at the ancestral house for the summer hols, to hold fort for two days while they pay their obeisances to the Lord and come back.

So it was left to the bad ol' me to get both Bil and Sis to buck up and get everybody else to buck up too, and decide on a date when the fort would be held secure while we were away. Buck up, because my friend had requested me for the dates urgently, and him being a pal I knew only through our ramblings on the net, I didn't want to be a bother to him to the extent that he might never again visit my blogs. Aaaaah! he was a valued friend.

So I called up my Sis and gave her the picture and asked her to revert back with a date by nightfall. This after Sis had been 'planning' for the better part of 3 weeks on how to go and when to go... Till the next morn' no news from my BIL and Sis. I shared my feelings with my significant other. Told him how I was worried that my friend might think me a pain in the whatever.. That I wished the the couple would revert...

Which is when he told me that I never come to the point, but ramble. !!!! ?????

He told me that both me and my Sis laugh over every single thing under the sun when on a call, and beat every bush in sight, and bitch and backbite and gossip about this and that, (isn't that generally what all women in the family do?) and generally NEVER, EVER straightaway come to the point.
And when finally, we do condescend to discuss the reason the call was made in the first place, we again, are never very clear about what it is that we want.
That we go on to discuss how, if this was not to be, and that was not to be, it would be very bad indeed. And how if only it could be like this, or like that, it would be very nice indeed.
Still not coming clean about what it is that we DO want.
And then at the end of it all, we complain that the other person is not doing anything or not doing what we want!

Amazes me that my significant other knows me and my Sis so well, when he hardly is bothered to listen to our conversations.

a new reason to smile

I read somewhere that friends are a reason to smile. Today a new friend visited my blog. Sunita. Thanks Sunita, for adding a smile to my day. Have just started reading her, and commenting too.

I found that quite a few of her earlier posts have no comments. Comforts me in my current commentless state. Maybe one day, when I too have around 300 posts to my name, I too will have a long list of commenters. Aand maybe one day someone will come along and enjoy my posts like I do Usha's now, some three years after she's posted her blogs...

Days of the Raj

I just finished a rambling blog on the moon. In it, I mentioned 'English' girls. Which made me remember this amusing comment.

I had entered Calicut Universtiy to master English Language and Literature. I did that to a certain extent. But filthy lucre stepped in between me and my mastering. I qualified in my MBA entrance exams. And so I switched courses in between.

Then, I fitted neither with the old, nor with the new. All my 'English' friends were preparing to bid farewell, and move on, while I had to stay back. My first semester, I was missing for most of my classes, as I was out with my 'English' friends. I was duly nicknamed 'Visiting Faculty' by my MBA classmates.

One day, I was in search of my English friends. I'd gone to all the places on campus that we used to frequent, but had drawn a blank. Finally, I asked a Phil. batchmate- Sivasankaran, whom I met on the crossroads whether he had seen the English people. He smiled and said no. I smiled back and we moved on. Then he added- I think they were last seen in 1947.

Musings on the moon....

I am not a Sun person. No offence meant to the Sun, but he kind of makes me feel all hot and bothered, and in the last 10 years, makes me all red and blotchy and puffed-up and itchy all over. If any of you reading this is a dermatologist, you would immediately know that I was allergic to the sun, more specifically to the uv rays in sunlight.
But I am definitely a Moon person. Irrespective of the fact that she is just basking in reflected glory, I am a staunch fan of hers. I just looooooove gazing at her. The darker the night, the better. And the stars are just icing on the cake...

I wasn't born a Moon person. The first 20 years or so of my life, she was there, and I was there, and while I sometimes did think her exceptionally bright, making the nights softly luminous, that was it.

The romance took root during my PG days on the Calicut University campus. This was the first time I was staying away from home, and the first time, when nights were spent out in the lap of Nature. I was trying to master English Language and Literature, and was finally, after 5 years of mugging chemistry and physics and maths and biology... loving what I was learning. Finding the journey of learning unbelievably pleasurable. All those hours of reading and loving it made me appreciate my surroundings so much more than earlier...

The campus was about an hour's hourney from the nearest bright lights. A return from our frequent jaunts to the bright lights, always meant a walk up and down the hilly terrain of my campus, back to our hostel, which was situated at the farthest end of the campus, well away from the classes and offices and other establishments, and farthest from the Men's Hostel! Since the bright lights were far, the nights were inky black and perfumed with the scents of the night blooming flowers...All that was needed to complete the magic and make us think almost like an alternate Wordsworth was the magic of the moon.

She would be smiling down benignly on all our nocuturnal adventures and gigglings and tales concocted for the benefit of our Hostel Warden, as to why we were late. (A movie, a classmate's mother fallen sick, missed the bus... the excuses went along the usual lines, given to us by seniors as reasons accepted by her.) Every step of those walks on that sprawling campus, the Moon followed faithfully. And the romance came into bud. It was impossible, for me at least, to be indifferent to her charms. I fell, hook , line and sinker.

Our hostel at that time was unique in the sense that it had a sloping roof onto which the girls could get on from the terrace behind. All that was needed was a vault over a low wall, and Bingo, we were on an expanse of roof, from which we could view the countryside. Literally the Queens of all we surveyed. The favourite pastime of the 'English' girls was lying on the terrace, till mess time. The Chemistry, Physics, Maths girls had to study, you see, and prepare for the next day's classes. All the group prep of the English girls was done from there, and we loved every minute of it. This was the stage in my life when my relationship with the moon blossomed forth into a full blown affair.

I would eagerly await her coming. Count the days till her full glory was out on sight for the world to drink in. With the stars to give her company. I could see the moonrise from the windows of my room. The first half of the month, she would be palely luminiscent. Like freshly made butter which baby Krishna hankered after. The second half, the sky would have a yellow-orange glow to it. And the moon when she finally deigned to make her appearance would be like a piece of cheese- yellow, going on orange.

I was quite mad about her, and my friends indulged me my madness, for it cost them nothing. Except for one night. I remember the time when I showed them the moon one particularly radiant night, and all of them looked and agreed with me that she WAS beautiful that night, and we imbibed her beauty for some 5 minutes as we walked down... And then I got thrashed for my pains at trying to hone their sense of beauty. For it was Vinayaka Chathurthi that night! A night when to look on the moon is forbidden, as you will earn disrepute and slander. How we laughed that night! Fortunately, none of us got into disrepute that year. If we did in subsequent years, that is no fault of mine or the moon.

I fell in love. Shared several things in common with my husband-to-be. Introduced him to the non-common things. Got him also to appreciate, if not fall in love with my moon. I remember one letter of his, after we were apart for sometime, which had a line- 'I don't see the moon and I miss you, I see the moon and I miss you more... '

After we got married, my husband also has gotten into the habit of moongazing. Maybe not gazing, but noting definitely. And mentioning it when she is particularly note-worthy. Our son has inherited this love for the moon. But sadly for him, all he can appreciate is a moon that is overshadowed by the bright lights. I'd like to think that he is that stage when he and the moon exist, when he is struck by her beauty only when his parents exclaim at it. He has not yet seen her in all her glory. In a velvety black sky, with the intoxicating fragrance of the nightflowers wafting all around you, and only a silver luminosity to show you the path that is almost not there...When it lights up all your world brighter than the sun, measured by your feelings. That will come, in another 20 years..

Hits and misses in la langue francais

I have recently been enjoying ageless bondings with a student of French. It brought back memories of my days of learning French.

I had taken French as the second language for my Plus Two. Reason 1- you were supposed to score excellent marks in French. Reason 2- one scored pathetic marks in Hindi which was the other option. The most delightful reason, as we found out subsequently was - French was not taught in college. You had to have private tuitions, the benefit being that the French students got to laze around college during the language hour. I can't begin to describe here the joy of being able to be totally nonchalant when the Princi's spy came lurking on his rounds, to catch those students who were bunking class! Of legitimately roaming around the campus at a time when all classes were jampacked with students. Totally blissful those days and hours were!

But soon it came to be that every Jean, Marie and Pierre who cut classes used la langue francais as their excuse to be sunning in the open, instead of sleeping it out in class. And so the seniors, especially the non-Frenchies started taking the Frenchies to task. And so whenever anybody said that they were 'French students' the seniors started asking the freshers some questions in French to catch them out. If caught out, the juniors would have to sponsor bondas and tea at the friendly college canteen.

Now we were three friends then, and totally bindass we were about cutting classes in those heady days of college after emerging from a convent where you'd sooner be caught dead than cutting class. Unthinkable, unimaginable, mindboggling the very idea was- in school. And here was French showing us the way- a totally happening way! in our first year of college. We would bunk the hours immediately before/after French hour, so that we had two delicious hours of freedom. We never stayed in college during those hours, for we didn't want to get caught by our seniors. (we only wanted to buy ourselves bondas and tea, you see) We sauntered down deserted lanes and walked down railway tracks and waded into slushy fields for those elusive water lilies... We had LOADS of fun roaming the countryside by the campus, getting acquainted with the neighbours who never refused glasses of water to quench the thirst, and buckets of water to clean the feet, of the adventurers. Funnily enough we never went for movies! And we came back to college just in time to hear the bell break for the next hour.

One day while coming back from one of our jaunts a little early, we decided to while away the time in the reading room -where people did anything but read! Here you got to know all the latest college gossip- HOT and FRESH! Here the little romances budded and flourished! And here we were caught by our seniors whom we'd been giving the slip for quite some time now. We were cornered- 3 girls by 3 boys and the quizzing started, each boy concentrating on one girl.

My interrogator asked me what I was doing out of class.
I told him that French was my second language.
"Oh, so you're learning French, eh?"
"Yes," went I.
"What should you reply in French? "
"Oui," went I.
"Oui?!!"
"Oui, monsieur."
"Ah. "An approving nod here.
He asked me who my teacher was and I told him. He knew of her.
He asked me what I was studying currently. I told him something, I don't remember what, now. I knew he didn't follow that and so I knew he was a non-Frenchie.
Then came the French quiz. He asked me
"Comment t'appelle tu?" Which is French for 'what is your name'.
By now I was a bit flustered , and irritatedly told him "Bien!" with perfect nasal twang and all.
Which meant 'Fine'.
For I had mistaken the question and thought he was asking me 'how are you', which was 'comment allez-vous'? Our teacher had taught us respect, you see.
He was puzzled, I could see.
"Bien???" he repeated after me, with an assessing look
I thought he wanted me to be polite.
"Bien merci," I said. (Fine, thanks. Pronounced byienmussi-hope the phonetics is correct, if not, sorry, I have not learnt phonetics.)
He was even more zapped. There was this presentable girl, with a name like Bien merci??
He looked at me doubtfully. Was I having him on? A sterner look. Intended to make me quail.
I thought he wanted the whole sentence. I gave it to him.
"Je vais bien, merci", I told him. (zhevaybyienmussi- I'm fine, thank you.)
He quailed. This was beyond him. Which place named their girl children Zhevaybyienmussi, wondered the look on his face.
It was my turn to be puzzled. And by now mutinous. I looked him boldly in the eye.

He looked away uneasily. Nudged his pals. Said let's go. And they went. Leaving us three to compare notes.
Which was when realisation dawned. Initially I was chagrined to think that I could have misunderstood him so. What would he/they be thinking of me, of my Francais? But then, the humour of the situation struck us all. And we lolled about on the benches with tears of laughter streaming down our cheeks.

Whatever else, I'm sure he would remember the girl named Zhevaybyienmussi with respect!

Of course later, we met up again in the course of our respective wanderings, and we smiled and laughed at the misunderstanding and exchanged real names. But the zhevaybyienmussi will always remain a laughing memory.

Getting to know the family

In the course of his introduction to the Hindu Pantheon, I had recently introduced Sonny boy to Chottanikkara Bhagawati, and her chant-
Amme Narayana
Devi Narayana
Lakshmi Narayana
Bhadre Narayana.

He pronounces Devi as Baby, and this was what had led to his last query on the whereabouts of Baby Rama(he's only seen pics of Baby Krishna).He is particularly fond of 'Baby' Narayana, and I guess the fondness will last for at least as long as he continues to pronounce Devi as Baby. (I hope the fondness lasts lifelong )

Today I was telling him that She is the Mother Godess. I told him that She was like me- Amma- and he could go to Her with any grouse and She would take care of it if possible.Not wanting the Gods to feel left out, I also told him that the other male Gods were like Achcha, and they would also do likewise.

Up came the second query which had me stumped for a while- Amma, where is Muthashsh?

Unfortunately, Brahma has been cursed not to be worshipped in any temple. So I do not have the picture of the Creator to show him. But I suppose I CAN tell him that Brahma is the father of all the Gods and Godesses and hence the Muthasshan (grandfather) of my dear little son?

I eagerly await the next question that emerges out of Sonny boy's experiments with prayer and Gods and Godesses

Yaayyyyy! Finally I have comments on my blogs. Feels so nice to read what other people think too. Well, I hope the interaction continues and my circle of friends grows and flourishes. thank you, hip g'Mom, Shanti and Usha

Concerns of the jobless.

I have been feeling irritated for quite some days over the furore created in media recently over 3 issues.
a) Sachin cuttting a tricolor cake.
b) Narayanmurty playing the instrumental jana gana mana for his phoren guests
c) Gere kissing Shetty. Nope, sorry, the issue was not with him kising her, but with Shetty not objecting to Gere's kisses.


a) Maybe Sachin COULD have chosen a better image for his cake than that of our flag, to cut into little pieces. But has anybody who is complaining made countrymen feel as proud of their country as Sachin did once upon a time?
Just because the poor guy is rather down on his luck and India's bowed out (been kicked unceremoniously out would be more like it) of the World Cup does not mean that he has to ask other people before having his cake and cutting it and eating it.
We have umpteen little flags being sold at signals and adorning our vehicles some days before Republic/Independence Day. What happens to all these trocolours after D-Day? Most of us dump it, give it to our kids to do what they please with it or whatever.... I should think that hardly anybody reverently stores it in their puja room till the next D Day !!!


b) Now coming to NRN.
I very strongly feel that he had no need to be so very accomodating to his foreign guests. That they would have given respect to our national anthem if they were told that it was such. I have not read the actual news snippet, so I have no idea what the occasion was when NRN committed his gaffe. Whether it merited the playing of the national anthem. But that is for NRN to decide...
Infosys and I have existed, and will continue to co-exist peacfully, me caring as much for what goes on iside Infosys, as Infosys cares for what goes on inside my house.
But whatever that may be, I certainly am of the opinion that NRN certainly has commited no disrespect to the nation by playing the instrumental version of the national anthem. It is a lovely bit of music heard with the lyrics, and it is a lovely bit of music when bands blare out the instrumental version on certain occasions. NRN may have felt that his guests would appreciate the music part of the national anthem better when listening to the instrumental version of it.
The same argument that I put forward for Sachin holds good here too...
This man has brought the face of India prominently on the global map. More so than many other politicians and leaders. And infinitely more so than the rabble raising crowd who raise their voice against his non-patriotism and disrespect to the nation.
He, more than any other Indian ( to my knowledge) has done a world of good for the Indian youth. He has given them employment.
He has given them confidence to hold their heads high, to go out into the world ably equipped to deliver and even to compete, with any Tom,Dick and Harry- from any part of the world.
His brainchild, Infosys, has contributed to the coffers of the nation not a little.
He has given to the world at large an image of India, which is other than that of fakirs and snakecharmers and destitute mothers and children.
He has earned for India the respect of stalwarts in the global IT industry.
With all this he remains a humble man at heart, who flaunts neither his riches nor his achievements. Who holds traditions close to his heart.
Let us not make mountains out of molehills. It is hard to believe that a man like this could ever mean disrespect to the nation, by any action of his. And if even if there were a lapse of judgement, he has apologised to the entire nation for it. What more does the patriotic Indian want?
Probably they want him to just shout at every little injustice, wearing pristine, well starched khadar clothes, sitting on his fat arse and generally doing nothing?


c) Next is Shilpa Shetty.
Why o WHY on earth cannot the media let her live her life in peace? There are umpteen young women I know who are getting hugged and kissed by men Indian and foreign , in public places-malls and crowded streets. Who's to complain about their behaviour? And what's there to complain? So long as it is a mere display of affection and not hormones raging out totally of control, I see nothing objectionable in it.
C'mon, Gere gave her a peck on her cheek, It was not a smooch! A kiss is a mode of greeting for Gere, most probably, a gesture of bonhomie. And it was in front of an audience, so obviously it was not done with lecherous intentions. Unless Richard Gere is a pervert who gets his kicks out of people watching him 'perform'.
Shilpa may not have found anything objectionable in the kiss. Even if she did take objection to the friendly peck, she may not have wanted to blow the whole incident out of proportion and detract from the greater cause for which she and Gere had gathered. But again our narrow minded, jobless, select(for I should not generalise) Indian public has created a Mt. Everest out of a pimple.
More than with the kiss they are upset that Shilpa has not objected. Maybe she should have slapped Gere on his cheek and screamed, "Mr. Gere, I'm an Indian nari, How dare you take such liberties as kissing an Indian nari's cheek in front of an audience, Mr Gere? Don't you know that it is entirely the privilege of Bollywood heroes to do all that- and more in front of the camera? So that a million other lecherous, covetuous Indians can feast their voyeuristic eyes on it?"
It will be wholly due to the greatness of his heart if Mr. Gere continues with his campaign against AIDS in India, after all the furore created over a peck on the cheek.

There! I feel much better for putting down my frustrations. Folks, pls feel free to comment and add your little bits

Get down to it!- ONLY at that time of the year

Sex education in schools has recently come out into the open. Which brings me to my take on schools and family planning -in B’lore, at least! Read on , folks, and you will understand, and I’m sure, empathise!

Family planning acquired new dimensions for my husband and me since Nov 2005. Our son completed two years in Feb 06. We had heard from parents that if you wanted to put in your child into a reputed school, you had better apply from the time he was around two. So wanting to do well by our one and only child, and Oct/Nov being the time when you get application forms from the schools, we dutifully did that in Nov 05. We approached 3 Montessori schools around our area. Only to be turned away from all doors.

He is too young, he has to be between 2.6 and 3 in Jun, the authorities at various schools replied, to our anxious enquiries. We shook our heads at all the eager-beaver parents who had sparked off this start-at-two-years story, put him into a nice playschool nearby, and waited for Oct/Nov 2006. We knocked on the doors of the Montessori school nearest to us. Only to be turned away again. This time we were disillusioned and severely irritated/worried.

Your son is over-age. He has to be between 2.6 and 3 in Jun of the academic year, parroted the authorities. What do the hapless parents do, whose children are born in the wrong half of the year? Keep their children at home? We were told that we could try putting him into the first standard. What is the guarantee that in the first standard, my child will get admitted over all those other little ones who have passed out from Montessori1, 2 and 3 of the same school? His current Montessori playschool (Mitrajyoti) is perfectly nice, and I am more than happy for him to continue there, but unfortunately, it does not go beyond M3. (the third year of Montessori ) So I have to perforce remove my child from there and put him into another school where he can continue uninterrupted till his Plus 2 (hopefully). But that is something easier written than done!

So now whenever I talk to my newly married friends who tell me they are 'planning', I advise them to most importantly, get down to IT and do it so that the kid is born in that half of the year which makes him/her "between 2.6 and 3 yrs in Jun of the academic year’! Do it thus and ONLY thus! Will save you a lot of headache three years down the line. This is also for all my unmarried readers out in the blogosphere who would like to put their children into Montessori schools...

Any of you parents out there who have gone thru similar 'pleasant' experiences, pls feel free to comment.

20 sovereigns of gold and a vehicle

My maid is my lifeline. Literally. She looks after my baby responsibly and conscientiously while I am out at work from 10 to 7. She's been with us a year now. And I am very happy with her. (Maybe the fact that my neighbours would be even happier with her contributes not a little to the happiness). She comes in between 7 and 7.30 and stays on till around the same time in the evening, till either my Hubs or I get back from work. She works from 7.30 to 10, sweeping, swabbing, cleaning vessels. And then from 10.30 to 1pm , now that school's closed, she looks after my lil version of Dennis the Menace. She sleeps (when he does) from 2 to 5, then again plays with him till we return. She is clean, responsible, hardworking, always smiling faced, doesn't shirk work... (she has her irritating ways, but that's not the subject of this post)

The last month, she came in late for 3 days consecutively. The first day, I didn't bother. The second day, I took notice, but let it go. The third day, I reprimanded her. The fourth day, when she came in at 8.45 (I have to leave by 9.30) I lost my cool and gave her a talking to. Which was when she said that she was sorry, but she would be late tomorrow too! I was taken aback. Not at all like her to talk back like that. I enquired into matters.

Apparently, they were looking for a groom for her. I knew this because she had earlier taken some vrath where she would eat nothing the whole day, for a whole month, I think(!), to negate some dosham she had in her stars.. And this running late was on account of the groom's mother(the family were some far relatives ) having come to stay at her house to 'see' her. My maid stays with her sister who's married and who has the extended family of her husband staying with her, but all the same, I was a bit taken aback at the prospective MIL staying in her prospective DIL's house to 'assess' her suitability for her son.

That day I reported to Hubs that matters were not good. I mean, I am all for young women getting married and having families of their own. I especially liked my maid and was sure that she would be a excellent home-maker to whoever married her. All our best wishes are with her , for her to live happily with a man from somewhere close to our place so that she can continue in our employ. But this was worrying, unsettling.. The guy was from Salem or somewhere thereabouts and would definitely whisk her off after the wedding, leaving us high and dry..

The next day found me anxiously waiting for my maid. She arrived late again. I smiled at her, 'MIL gone?' I asked.
She nodded and said, 'Yeah, finally'.
Something about that did not bode very well. 'How did it go...?' I asked. 'you liked him?'
She said that she had not seen the guy. That he hadn't come.
Oh! Anticlimax. I mean, which MIL would stay a week(?) with distant relatives, without having the boy and girl even meet? 'So what did MIL do all this week,' I asked.
'They were negotiating money,' she said.

I paused in my work and looked at her. 'You mean.., you have to pay dowry?' I asked. At her nod, I continued, 'What do they want?'
'20 sovereigns of gold and a vehicle,' she said.

I stopped my work. '20 sovereigns of gold and a vehicle!' I exclaimed.

My maid is a very presentable young Tamilian lady of about 23-25 years, she earns 2100/- a month, and is quite accomplished in all the household arts. It is my take on the matter, that she would be an asset to whichever man got her. (She gives me a complex sometimes at the way she manages to keep an eye on everything going on in my home, better than I do.)
But wait. Maybe the guy was an equal gem, a splendid 'catch'. 'What does he do?' I asked. That he was a farmer or kept a grain shop or something like that, was what I gauged from her reply. Apparently he would earn about 300/- per day. My maid earns 70/- per day. Did the disparity merit 20 sovereigns and a vehicle? And was it all about the money?

I come from a community in N. Kerala where dowry in taboo. The girl's father decks his darling up in jewels, and conducts the wedding with pomp, as per his budget, but that is it. No sovereign tallying, no vehicle, no bank balance, no land, no negotiation, nothing! After my initial indignation, I kept quiet. It was not wise to interfere in matters I could do nothing about. After all, I knew this system was till prevalent, despite laws passed against it....

A few weeks down the line, I enquire into further developments...? She said her sister had negotiated the amount down to 12 sovereigns and utensils. No vehicle. ( they'd wanted a two wheeler) No news of them after that, till date.

I hope my maid gets married to a good guy, who can afford to buy a two wheeler on his own, to take his wife round to see the sights. And - hopefully, if a little selfishly, to someone close to my house , for above mentioned reasons.

ooh aah ouch!

Hubs has had surgery this weekend.. He actually had root canal treatment the weekend before last- he couldn't stand the pain. he said. But post this surgery, he says he'd prefer to do 100 root canals anyday-to THIS!! $%#@&*

THIS $%#@&* - is removal of his wisdom tooth- that didn't have space to come out and was embedded in his gums. So the docs (two, able, muscular guys) delved into poor Hubs' mouth, and first gave him local anaesthesia. Then they cut his gums and drilled his jaw bone and tried yanking the tooth out. It came out, but broke off in between, so they had to do some further manipulation. Then they found that the root had gone under another healthy tooth, so they had to 'ad'venture deeper and further- all the while 'irrigating' and 'draining'...Poor poor Hubs. By the end of the first hour, Hubs was prone, towards the end of the second, all he wanted was to get away alive, by the third, he was more dead than alive, at the end, he had to be told that he was alive and one day would be able to smile as of olden days. Wisdom sure comes at a price, folks.

When he came out, it looked as if he had been in one of those boxing bouts- his mouth open and lips swollen and speech fuzzy and eyes glazed... uh oh....OUCH! Sure felt sorry for him! (And dreaded my visit to the dentist more than ever!btw, my wisdom tooth hasn't come out either, and since I haven't been to the doc, dunno if I too have the same problem. omigawd, I sure hope I don't!)

Hubs told me that he had been thinking of me at the start of his ordeal. I was charmed, to say the least. My spouse loved me SO much? Then the whole story came out-
During my pregnancy, I had heard horror stories of my aunts and cousins and sis..., while I was having my contractions for Sonny boy, during the initial spasms, I kept thinking that this was nothing, worse was to come ( as per the stories)....., and I grinned and bore it, telling Mom and Sis that things were ok...., until finally I walked up to the nurse and said that I thought it was time to be taken inside...., she took a look and shrieked- what on earth were you doing lying there till now, girl? the baby's almost out!... and within half an hour of my going into the theatre, Mum was handed over my bunch of joy!

So that was why Hubs had been thinking of me- hoping that like me, his fears would prove greater than the actuality... But Hubs dear forgot to take the most important thing into account- which was that at the end of my 'ordeal' I had my lovely little baby handed into my arms, which made me think everything worth it. Whereas Hubs came back home sans tooth, and a load of drugs to be taken 3 times a day, before food, after food etc. And the pain has not ended. It continues.
Hopefully by the weekend, he will be perfectly alright.