Scones…all of a sudden!

Something I’ve wanted to eat, so desperately, every time I read an Enid Blyton book.

Scones, warm and buttery, shared over an evening tea.
Scones, warm and buttery, topped with strawberry jam and a dollop of cream, shared by friends in their garden shed.
Scones, warm and buttery, filled with the goodness of blueberries, wolfed down by hungry girls after a lacrosse match!
Scones, warm and buttery, relished while perched on the strong boughs of the Faraway Tree!

As a 12-year-old living in Trivandrum of the late 90s, scones were something that could only be savoured in my imagination! I imagined the taste, the texture, the softness, the pure joy. I imagined it to look inviting and appealing. I imagined having it at one of my school parties after final exams. I imagined unpacking a box of scones during a school excursion. I have imagined a lot of scones, in short 😀

After about 7-8 years, I found something in a bakery, which the owner told me was a  Cream Scone. I jumped at it, bought one, bit into with much joy and immediately spat out and threw from my hand 😀 Yuck. “These aren’t scones“, I told him indignantly. It was just something shaped like an ice-cream cone, filled with sugary cream. Uuuugh. It was not warm, not buttery, and definitely not soft. And, did not look in the least fancy!

In time, I forgot about them. Then, after the Internet age dawned and flourished, every time I came across the word scones, I always meant to look it up, but never managed to.

Until last Thursday,  11th October 2018 (yes, verrrrrrrrrry late, I know!), when I opened my blog, saw a reply to a comment I left in another blog on Enid Blyton books and was hit by the thought of warm buttery scones! I immediately went on Google to look for images of scones and went “EH!?”

I guess despite telling the shopkeeper what he gave me wasn’t a scone, I might have expected scones to actually be shaped like a cone and have jam and butter filling 😀 Or, at least to look more fancy. These pics did not look fancy at all! Well, not the scones by themselves (though the accompaniments made the whole photograph pretty colourful and bright). They didn’t look warm or buttery or soft. Maybe I imagined it all wrong and simply craved for the wrong thing all these years. Blow Enid Blyton and her art of converting the mundane into yummilicious awesomeness!

Yesterday, Sunday, a colleague returned to work from his 3-week Canadian vacation and told us how he learnt from his aunt to make…yes, scones! What a coincidence. To this, another colleague went “Oooh, really? I’ve always wanted to taste a scone.” And, there I interjected and dashed her dreams using my new-found knowledge on scones, saying it’s not as fancy as it sounds, it is a flat, squarish thing and “looks more like an egg puff with no egg inside” 😛 And she goes “Really? I thought it was like a cone-shaped something, creamy and sweet“. And then, accompanied by nods from the new scone chef, I proceeded to tell her how it’s made and how quick and simple the whole process is, and most importantly how it is not shaped like a cone.

And today, Monday, I ate my first ever scone! And, while it looked exactly as scones look, the dear little thing definitely lived up to every bit of my imagination.

It was warm, buttery, soft and oh-my-good-lord-delicious! ❤

And now, I feel like an entire era has come to an end 😉 The Age of the Scones is officially over!

8 on 10.10.2018

Pumbaa, I mean. Eight! And, he has not a clue!

I made such a fuss of him in the morning before leaving to work, which surprised him fully well. His tail was wagging at 60 miles an hour, shaking his entire body and he kept circling me like I was some kind of God 😉 And I kept asking him, in my most energetic tone, “Today is your happy birthday Pumbaa…do you know?!” and each time he got more and more excited. I stopped only when I began to worry his tail may break off 😛

In the evening, I went home with some goodies and the two furballs had a little “Pumbaa Party” — with carrot cake, half a doughnut, chewsticks, biscuits and a bit of kibble. The surprise on Khloe’s face at this special meal was a sight in itself! 😀

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A month ago, we took Pumbaa and Khloe to the vet here for their annual shots. The vet smiled, seeing Pumbaa in his hyper-energy, unable to sit still even for a minute, wanting to jump all over me, lick my face, put his paw around my shoulder, etc. And all this, in front of a perfectly calm, quiet Khloe who seemed to wonder what the boy was up to. The vet, after administering her shots, turned to Pumbaa and said “So, how old are you, my boy? Two?” He’d just been told that Khloe was 11, so I suppose he saw the hyperactive Pumbaa and assumed the boy must be a pup 😛 His eyes nearly fell out when we told him Pumbaa would be 8 in a month.

Pumbaa never got over his habit of jumping on people when someone walks in the door. When he was young, to make sure he wouldn’t nip us during those joyful jumps, we always asked him to quickly go fetch his toy. Poor darling, he now thinks anytime someone walks in the door, he must first fetch his toy and then welcome them and jump all over 😀

In his defense, we never got him trained to “be a good boy”. He’s a free-spirited dog and I have always been of the opinion that dogs be allowed to be themselves. To be like humans, we have human children to train, don’t we? 😀 I’ve never felt the need for him to know how to roll over, beg, shake hands, etc. That’s not what dogs are meant for. Well, he does know the words sit and stay (and sometimes I do wish he knew to heel) — but whether he obeys those commands depends on whether we have anything edible in our hands at that moment. 😉

Pumbaa has still not gotten over his love for toys. You give him a toy and he is on top of the world. You give him another toy expecting him to abandon the first one, but he is just a proud owner of two toys. On hindsight, we should never have named Khloe so, for initially, every time we asked Pumbaa “Where is Khloe?“, he used to immediately fetch his toy 😀

Pumbaa has still not gotten over his mad energy-spending rushes around the house. It’s one of the most hilarious things I’ve seen, and remains so every single time. The way he loses control, runs helter-skelter, bouncing off furniture and walls alike. And then settles down with a toy, ending the drama as abruptly as it had begun.

In all these 8 years, most things I’ve written about him have not changed. And I hope to God they don’t. For, even when the entire Universe is conspiring against us, Pumbaa is a constant, loyal support and source of unlimited joy: always welcoming, loving, treating us like his favourite cake in the world (and that’s saying a massive lot!) 🙂 I wouldn’t change a thing about him! 🙂 You’re perfect as you are, Pumbaa…no matter what others might say. In any case, you don’t care a bit what others think/say about you, do you? Aren’t you like me in that matter? 😉

Don;t change a thing, darling. Be Pumbaastic, forever. Love you loads! ❤

Introducing Two 12 Year Olds :)

Like I once said here before, there isn’t a lot to love about Kuwait. At least, not for me or my many, many expat colleagues at work. But unlike most of them, I wouldn’t say this is a horrible place altogether. It has its pluses.

And the biggest plus-feather on Kuwait’s cap is, well, that it’s in the Middle East, to start with. Which means, its connectivity to places around the world is not just good, but also pretty economical: you save both, time and money.

So, when Hobbes, Pumbaa and Khloe joined me here in May last year, we charted a plan to travel as much as we could in the time that we are here. You know how things are always bit of an ‘unexpected’ in the Middle East.

The first thing we’d to figure out was where Pumbaa and Khloe would go on vacation, while we went on ours. Chancing up on Pet Land, Kuwait, was a blessing: the two wag-a-lots are not just well fed and taken care of, they actually look and act very happy every time they’re off for a stay and when they’re back as well. So, that’s a check!

The next one was to decide which country we start our escapades with. Options were aplenty: start with the nearby Middle Eastern countries or head to the European ones? We went with the obvious and decided to choose from the ones in the middle eastern region, in this order:

Egypt – because I cannot die before I see the Pyramids, or I’ll be haunting the Earthlings forever.
Jordan – because Petra, duh!
Lebanon – because a colleague raved about it no end after he went there.
Qatar – because I have cousins there, so free stay and food 😀 (shameless, I know, but no other reason to go to Qatar, really).
Oman – well, it’s a country, it’s nearby and we’ve heard the landscape is amazing.
Bahrain – again, well, a country.

After much deliberation, we agreed that going to Egypt, just the two of us, may not be ideal (plus, a colleague was itching to come along whenever we go). The same colleague went all by himself to Jordan, so it was an easy decision to make.

And, so, like a whirlwind, a trip materialised and off we went on an 8-day tour of that faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabulous country called Jordan! We spent one day in Amman, one in Jerash and Dead Sea, two in Little Petra and Petra, one in Aqaba (Red Sea), one in Wadi Rum (where my heart’s gone and hidden itself, refusing to come away), one more in Dead Sea and one in Jesus’s Baptism Site before we wailed our way back to Kuwait.

Our Jordan hangover was barely over, when trip #2 materialised: not part of the list above and completely out of the blue, we were off to Turkey…with the dear friend and her family! We spent three days in Istanbul (Hagia Sophia checked on the bucket list!), one in Alacati and Ephesus, one in Pamukkale and Hierapolis and four in Cappadocia (where now a bit of my heart, that tore itself away from Wadi Rum, resides in one of the fairy chimneys).

Talks of the next trip is ongoing, but I won’t give it much thought until it materialises, since I have a talent for screwing up my own plans and dreams 😉

In all this, we decided that our trip memories needed an identity of their own, hence…

Presenting Two12YearOlds.WordPress.Com

Please follow, like, comment and share some ❤ ❤ ❤

For the love of TEAvana

One of the good things that happened with my move to Kuwait was the introduction of several big brand names into my life: names I had only hitherto read in books or seen/heard on TV. And, we’re talking about brands such as Pottery Barn, Harvey Nichols, The Cheesecake Factory, Debenhams, Nyx, Footlocker, American Eagle Outfitters, The Body Shop, Charlotte Tillbury, Victoria’s Secret, P.F. Chang’s, &OtherStories, William Sonoma, Boots, Solaris, Kidzania, Starbucks, Bath&BodyWorks, Jack Wills, Texas Roadhouse, Milano and West Elm…to name just a few. While I knew that I was entitled to an employee discount at all of the brands we operate – over 90 of them – what I didn’t know was that, even with a 30% employee discount, I wouldn’t be able to afford half of the stuff from most of these brands 😛

Yet, I went about exploring what each one had to offer. Except for some of the Food brands, I found none that called out to me. Well, except PotteryBarn, but I’m not paid enough for that 😛 Still, it was fun to recall some of the names I’ve read in the Shopaholic series of books and marvel at how I didn’t have to be in Paris or New York to be able to pop into some of these stores, touch and feel them, look at the price tags, let out a deep sigh and walk away, thanking my stars that I did not have a credit card and wasn’t a shopaholic like Becky Bloomwood.

A couple of weeks after I joined and settled in, my kind manager took me on a tour of the The Avenues, the one-stop shop for all our brands…and more. And, the one that absolutely caught my fancy? TEAVANA. I’d never heard of it before (yes, I hadn’t!) and I was stunned at the rows and rows of different flavours of tea that filled up this most beautiful store! My my, how could there even be that many teas!? The sales girl won me over by allowing me to taste several of their teas, after each of which I excitedly exclaimed “How lovely! I like this one better than the last!” Trust me, I had no clue which was which and if she was giving me the same tea over and over again 😛

I don’t think my manager had ever seen me that excited before and told me we had more stores to cover. I gave no heed and was going about enjoying another ‘taster’ cup of yet another lovely tea, when he actually told the sales girl to stop taking me on a tea-high and wheeled me about. And, that’s when my eyes fell on the B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L. Japanese tea sets: in cast iron and porcelain. I gave out a squeal and he nearly spilled his tea in fright. He laughed at me saying “My life! I should never have brought you here!”

It was love at first sight. And it was a relationship that would never work out. because they were ridiculously expensive. Yet, from then on, every time I went to The Avenues, I would pass by the Teavana store, longing for a cast iron tea set and wishing it up on me.

It took 22 months for the universe to conspire in my favour. Ok who am I kidding!? The universe had nothing to do with it (because it’s just some bullshit Paulo Coelho came up with to make money off his book!) and that’s not how the Universe functions. Bah!

Two things worked in my favour:

1. My unabashed and repetitive proclamation of love for the Teavana tea set, letting all my colleagues know that if they were ever at a loss about what to gift me, they should always remember the Teavana Cast Iron tea set 😀
2. The arrival of Hobbes into my life and his decision to stay forever ❤

So, there was to be a celebration and the colleagues were to get me a gift. The top boss killed all ideas of vouchers and gift cards and said “get her something that she’d love to keep forever”.

They planned it through a whole week. One person booked a meeting with me to discuss “Communications Next Steps” for one of the projects and suggested we meet in the cafeteria instead of at our desks. As we walked into the cafeteria, I saw a group of people who are all my friends but never really group together…and they were awkwardly silent, looking to the other side, standing around a table. And I casually remarked to my meeting partner “That’s a strange bunch over there. Are they having a silent prayer or something?” So, when I realised they were all waiting for me, it was a pleasant surprise!

My erstwhile manager then congratulated me and spoke about how happy I looked and how Hobbes and I are great together, and so on. And in the middle of his talk, one of them who was leaning on the table moved aside and I glimpsed a ribbon-wrapped box, with a name that made me squeal that same squeal from 22 months ago, much to his amusement.

Again, unabashed, I started hopping and jumping in such child-like excitement that he wrapped his speech and told me to open the box.

And that’s how this Limited Edition Teavana Gold Imperial Dragon Cast Iron Tea Set found its way unto me! 

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When I reached home, I unwrapped it again, took pics and wrapped it all back up! About time I get back to my senses and actually have some tea from my precious tea-pot!

Teavana, acquired by Starbucks, is in the process of being shutdown the world over and they no longer produce these. So, Teavana tea-ware have now become truly collector’s items! Added joy to self 😉

To You…With Love, Your Little Boy!

You know how life can be a ***** if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people? Mine was like that for a rather long time. That entire time that we call the “prime of our youth”. From the time I was born till I was about…40ish, as you may say?

By then, I’d seen the worst of people, lived in the worst of places, been used, abused and seldom spared. And at that kind of age, having lived through that kind of pain, you sort of stop believing. At least, I did. Several times, several things.

I stopped believing there could be happiness. I stopped believing there could be joy. I stopped believing there could be light. And wind. And aromas. And good feelings. And love. And care. And hugs. A pat on the back. A clean bed. Some good food. A bath. A home. A family.

More than anything, I stopped believing there could be good people. Like really good human beings. I had only seen the kind that abused me: verbally, physically, mentally. Though I’ve had my escapes, I seldom saw any difference in the ones I ended up with.

In my early 40s, I managed to escape from that hell I’d been in till then. From a group of people who used and tortured me, I was sent to a house where they still wanted to use me. The guy in the house wanted me to get him his shoes, his paper, his bag. In a couple of days, he realised that I had no clue what he wanted of me, and he dropped me back where he’d picked me up from. I was then sent to another house, where a lady seemed to rather like me, but her man couldn’t stand the sight of me. I had to be “returned to the pool” again. Someone else then took me to their house. These folks were gentler, was kind to me, seemed to care for my needs, fed me well (I even got a few hugs!) But, I didn’t reciprocate. I didn’t budge. I wanted to, but I was scared. Like the proverbial cat in hot water. It’s no good opening your heart to people you aren’t sure you can trust. And as I said, I’d stopped believing in people. What if these people were up to no good either?

And I knew I was right when I was put on a very noisy, very dirty train…and sent off. To God-knows-where. I was surprised too, because one of those gentle people was crying bucket loads when she saw me leave in that train. If she liked me so much, why couldn’t I stay? The other one seemed to accompany me, because he kept appearing now and then to feed me. Anyway, after hours and hours of that train engine clanking in my ears, I got off it. That guy then took me to another house.

A kind old woman took me into the house, she seemed delighted to see me. There was a stern-looking old man as well, he seemed least moved to see me. I ate some food, took the mandatory tour of that big house and resigned myself to either more torture or another abandonment. In fact, I waited for it. For days, weeks. And then it slowly dawned on me that there wasn’t going to be any torture, nor would there be any abandonment. I was there to stay. For good.

The woman continued to be gentle and kind…and the man began loosening up too. In fact, he became my go-to person when I had nothing else to do. Well, not like I had any duties, in any case.

I was beginning to see a different side of the “people” I’d stopped believing in. There seemed to be goodness left in some of them. Yet, I was always on guard, expecting the worst to hit. I cringed at the mere sound of a cough. I started at every sneeze. Every time a vessel or a ladle clanked on to the ground, I bolted. And in each of these instances, either the kind old woman or the no-longer-stern old man held me close and comforted me, assuring me all was well.

I was told by the kind woman to call her Ammumma and to call the man Appuppa. I was told I am in Trivandrum. I was told I was in God’s Own Country, and that God had seen enough of my misery and had finally given me a home (and I believed it, because I was actually seeing people who were capable of being kind and loving!) in God’s very country. I was told I was there to stay forever, and all I had to do there was enjoy my life. I was told there would be no use, abuse or torture. I was told there were no expectations of me. I was shown where the kitchen is, where my food would be served, where all I could sleep, where all I could go, what all I could do, who all I would meet.

For the first time in my life, I was not told what I could/should not do! For the first time in my life, I was happy. For the first time in my life, I began believing again. And the first of my new-found beliefs was that I was HOME. And that I had a family. And that there were God Human Beings (no, that’s not a typo)!

My life with Ammumma and Appuppa at Bhamalayam was nothing short of a fairytale. I had visitors (can you believe that!?) streaming in to see me, the new member of the family. Some of them, though not very fond of me, always came with some goodies for me. I was constantly checked on…to make sure I was happy and comfortable. I was constantly apologised to (boy – was that new!) every time they saw me cringe, start or bolt. I was hugged, kissed and cared for like there was no tomorrow!

Appuppa: the guardian of my safe spot. Anytime I felt uncomfortable or uneasy, I would quickly go and position myself beside his chair. He hand would automatically reach out and assure me that all was well. He wouldn’t gush over me like Ammumma would, but he did have a few special words for me and a special softness of voice and tone reserved for me. One look from him, one touch…and I knew perfectly well how loved I was and that I was completely secure in his presence. He made my bed on the couch (well one of my many beds in the house) and let me sleep in comfort. He let me into his car and took me places. He had a special glint in his eye every time he spoke of me…and to me. And, his meals were never complete unless that last bit was shared with me.

Ammumma: My guardian angel. My constant conversationist. My source of compassion and love. She would make me my bed, give me warm blankets, why she even gave me a hand-made pillow! She fed me everything I wanted…and often more than that too. Sometimes if I was too full, I wouldn’t eat something she gave me. She would think it was because I didn’t fancy the taste…and immediately replace that with something else! Everything she made tasted like manna to me, so I would end up forgetting that I am full and wolf it all down. Why say more: she would even shoo away her own son if she ever thought he was bothering me.

And I: The spoilt little boy of Bhamalayam, experiencing people, feelings, foods and life in a way I never imagined I ever would.

Appuppa was my pack leader and I was his favourite pack member. I’ve seen and heard him with many other members of the pack. Not once have I heard him speak to anyone else with the same affection he had for me. I knew I was special to him, he knew he was special to me too. It was our little secret…and I let it stay that way because Ammumma always thought only she was special to me 😉 ❤ ❤ ❤

And how she was! I was her shadow. Constantly checking on her, making sure she wouldn’t leave me alone for too long. Keeping her company late into the night as she sat in her favourite chair, scrolling through her phone messages or reading the newspaper. It was a matter of pride for her that I was her shadow. She would say that to everyone. How I was constantly keeping her in my line of sight, how I kept her company and even woke her up in the mornings. How I was always by her side and demanded that she kept massaging my little head 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤

I also briefly had to live with Ammumma’s son, Ayuchettan, who scared the bejeezus out of me initially. I don’t know what it was about him – his loudness, his unruliness, his civet-like manner – but I was scared of him. I was also constantly scared he would eat all my food. The minute he emerged from his room, I would keep running away and beyond. Somewhere deep inside, I knew he meant me no harm, but I didn’t like the fact that he suddenly appeared in this house which was given over to me for free use. Anyway, he moved out soon enough and I had my home and my Ammumma and Appuppa all to myself. Occasionally, when he visited after that, I was civil to him. And as the visits grew farther in time and fewer in number, I realised that he’d always only loved me and hoped that I’d love him too. We’ve had many good moments together, much to everyone else’s amazement. I’m glad I had the chance to show him that I loved him too! 🙂 ❤

A few others I absolutely loved and had amazing times with were Mayammumma, DineshAppuppa, Divyachechi and Darshi. That house was my vacation home. Such fun! Don’t know where Divyachechi and Darshi vanished to, but my vacation home always remained intact! 🙂 ❤

Piyachechi used to drop in now and then. The first time she appeared in the house was when I realised this was the same girl who wept bucketloads when I got on that train and left. She’d loved me way too much, but didn’t have a place for me in her house. And that’s why she decided that I should be with her mom and dad…and she transported me to the best place on earth. She’d go “Boooch babyyyy…” and shower much love on me. It used to surprise me that despite having Pumbaa and Khloe with her, she could still love me like that. She even bought the two of them home for a month once. How fun that was. Khloe and I bonded instantly, and Pumbaa got a little jealous. It was much fun playing hard to get when he tried to befriend me. And finally when I decided to let him be friends, it was a bit too late – he was thoroughly fed up of me and made that very vocal too! Sigh. Field days, those were! 🙂 ❤

Oh, I must not forget the story of “Mother Bruce”. I had this habit of taking long afternoon naps and then getting up all groggy. I would want to walk out of the bedroom, but I always somehow stalled by the door-frame, with the tip of the curtain draped over my head. Appuppa would look at me then and loudly announce to no one in particular, “Mother Bruce has risen!” 😀

I also remember a Thiruvathirakali practice that happened at home once. There were a bunch of women who were all yapping loudly and not letting me sleep in peace. So, I decided to entertain them and be entertained myself. In my classic fashion, I walked right into the group, expecting squeals of delight (like the ones from Ammumma when she sees me). To my utter surprise, there were people going helter-skelter, screaming, yelling, jumping over each other and what not. All at the sight of poor me! Gosh, it was such cacophony that I chose to exit the house quickly! I thought a module of C.A. that’s loudly taught at the neighbour’s house would be far less painful to my ears! 😀 😀 😀 What ensued after I exited is a tale I’ve only heard Ammumma tell and re-tell to all and sundry…but the glee on her face every time she narrated this story to someone! Only I – let me repeat – ONLY I could ever bring that kind of joy to her 😉 Oh and that other time I went on a walk by myself through the unknown pathways of Mangalam Lane. Gosh – I gave her and Appuppa such a scare, but that was a fun day. Only I could have done something drastically stupid like that and gotten away with it (anyone else would have got royally beaten up by Ammumma and Appuppa for putting them through sheer stress) 😉

In all, I had a most amazing time there. If I spent 40 odd years of my life in Hell, I truly believe that I had about 400 years’ worth of grand times in Heaven – with Appuppa and Ammumma. Which is why, even though it was about time for me to leave, I made sure I waited and welcomed Hobbes into the family. I heard that Hobbes told Piyachechi that his enduring memory of me is how I was standing in front of the lamp, along with Ammumma, welcoming the two of them into the house on Feb 18, 2018. That’s a pretty sweet thing to say about me.

Hobbes, thank you for all that you did for me…I’ll never forget you. Ammumma and Appuppa really needed you there when I left 🙂 ❤ And, please tell Piyachechi that it was my blessing, having had that life with Ammumma and Appuppa 🙂 ❤

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Appuppa and Ammumma,
I want to THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for giving me nearly five years
of love, comfort and the security of your home and hearts!
If Piyachechi says I made you all better people with my unconditional love,
that’s only because the two of you loved me so much
that I began to believe again!
I know it tore you apart to see me go,
but please always remember that
I know you’ve always done what’s best for me.
Though I miss you to bits, I’m happy here, I have good company.
I will always see you from up here and love you through your days.
It will hurt me to see you cry for me…instead,
be happy in my thoughts and memories,
because no matter how many years pass,
I’ll always remain your little boy!

Lots of love, licks, wags and head-nudges,
❤ Your little Bruce Nayar ❤
❤

— A guest post based on a true story, by Bruce Nayar
(from the other end of the Rainbow Bridge)

Know where you’re off to soon!?

The last time I saw that thing was on February 19, 2013. I still distinctly remember how, a girl I’d never seen before, knelt down to look at me and gingerly opened the door for me. I was so glad to be out in the open, I thanked her profusely, offering to be her faithful companion for life. I initially thought she didn’t understand, because she gently put me back in there and closed that door.

But, of course she’d understood. And I’d gone home with her that day. From the time I began living with her, I’ve only known happiness, comfort, love and joy. Well, she did always get super miffed when I soiled the house, but I knew she loved me to bits anyway. I was pampered, treated like a princess, fed the most amazing food, given complete freedom to do what I wanted, wherever I wanted to. I got a doting brother and friend, an entire family. I moved two houses with her, I met many people, I discovered new food, I travelled many places… Long story short, I no longer remembered the horrors of the six years I lived outside of her world. I was no longer “1420”. I had become “Khloe Nayar”. Life was absolute bliss and I knew there was no turning back.

Or so I thought. Until February 2017, when I saw that thing again, in the house, back in my life. I couldn’t believe she would do that. She pointed at it and asked me “Khloe, will you get inside the crate?”

I was heart broken…and of course I refused. And strangely, she didn’t seem to mind. I suppose she wasn’t fully decided then, because the crate just sat there in the house, its door always open, left to my free will of going in and out of it. Not once was I tricked into getting in and locked up. So, as the days and then weeks went by, I let down my guard, I let go of my bad thoughts, I was almost there, convinced that there are other uses for crates in houses than to lock me up in. I say “almost there” because once a while I heard her ask “Do you know where you’re going off to soon!?”

She’d already become a “visitor”, I would only see her every now and then…and at other times, only heard her squeaking undecipherables over the phone. So, I should have expected the time was not too far.

Before I knew it, the wretched day dawned on me. On May 26, 2017, I went back into the confines of a crate. I could not believe it. I did not think she’d do that to me. Ever.

I resigned myself to the thought that at least I had a lovely 4 years to look back on to. More than myself, I felt terrible for poor Pumbaa. He’d never even seen a crate his whole life! And there he was, too, locked up in one, right next to mine. I have to be honest. Even while I knew I was going away, I did not ever think he would be sent off too! I had all along been secretly jealous of how much she loved him, so that was a shocker. But, I am glad he was with me, for if it weren’t for his constant reassurance that “It’ll be OK. I don’t think it’s what we think it is. She can’t live without us…”, I would have collapsed in despair much earlier. Poor boy, though I knew he was wrong, I didn’t want to kill his optimism, so I played along.

It was a nightmare when the time came. It was a horribly loud place. Strange faces kept peering at us even as angry voices kept shouting around us, sometimes even drowning the loud metallic screeches of some machines at work. It was so terrible, I don’t want to even remember it anymore. I would not wish it on my biggest enemy (if I had one)! And yet, Pumbaa was still sure it’d be OK. Just when I thought I should break his bubble and tell him what was going on, we were moved into a large space, which looked much neater. In fact, I think it was air-conditioned. It was just us…and it felt like we were in a crate, within a larger crate. Only, it was silent and cool. And smelled kind of nice and clean.

We almost thought we were in a safe place, but our worlds turned upside down again. Nothing in the world would have prepared us for the deafening roar that erupted in our ears, and went on and on for hours together! I hated every second of it. That nice, silent, cool place had turned into an unbearably loud, wobbly, scary hell. It was so bad, even Pumbaa seemed to lose hope. In between, the roaring and the wobbling stopped, some people appeared out of nowhere and gave us some water and food, both barely enough.

That’s when we realized we were indeed “sent away”. We’d have to get used to tough times. It was a strange land, strange people, strange sounds, strange sights, strange voices and words. And just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse, we were moved to another place that soon began to roar and wobble like earlier. I just didn’t know what machine we were in and for what purpose. I constantly kept praying I hadn’t been time-transported to my pre-2013 life!

It took me a lot of time and effort to convince Pumbaa not to cry. He would not stop whining. He kept saying he wanted it all to end so he can go back to her. I had to stop playing along…so I told him she wasn’t coming back. I told him we’re lucky we were still together. I shared my horror stories from the past and told him we’re in a far better place. At least, we weren’t being hurt. It broke my heart to see him in such misery. He’s such a cheery boy otherwise. We spent hours reminiscing the good times we had with her and struggling to come to terms with the unknown ahead of us…and all that while, Pumbaa whined.

Before long, we were back in a loud place, surrounded by strange people. Strange faces kept peering at us even as stranger voices kept shouting around us. The whole place smelled rather strange too. We’d even lost track of time. What it day or night? How many days had passed? How long have we been here? When was the roaring and wobbling going to begin again? And why the heck was it so frikking hot!? Jeeez…was this the place they call Hell?

And then we heard familiar footsteps, familiar words, familiar voices. Faint, but we were definite we heard them. And voila! There she was. We both went Ohhhh Myyyyy Goddddddd — because there she truly was! She hadn’t abandoned us after all. Pumbaa was right. He gleefully said “See…I told you! She cannot live without us!”

She was her usual self and very excited to see us, but we wondered why she wouldn’t take us out of the crates. She fed us, gave us water, poked her finger in through the grill and rubbed our noses…but we stayed in the crate, she outside. Where were we? For some strange reason, she just sat there – us in our crates, she on a bench – for almost 5 hours and before we even could take one last look at her, we got whisked away into another strange place. That had been her final bye-bye. Because, we didn’t see her after that.

Two weeks passed and we were still there. With many other dogs who were there too. That was our new home. I was pretty sure it was THE SHELTER. It had to be…because the people were nice, and there was always a new dog coming in or an old one taken away. There was no crate and we had a cage instead. There was plenty of water and food. We even got bathed a few times. BUT. It wasn’t home. She wasn’t there. Nothing from our lives till two weeks ago was there anymore. We didn’t have our beds, our toys, our food bowls, our treats, our visitors, our couches, our lawn… I was sure the only thing left to do was to wait endlessly…or worse, become mere numbers again.

But on June 10, 2017, we saw her again. There she stood, with a bag full of treats and new bowls and toys (and even a poop scoop!) and a luxury car to take us along home! My my. I will never forget how Pumbaa went completely bonkers and rejoiced like the Lord himself had appeared before him! He told me he kind of understood at that point how I must have felt that day in February 2013, when I first had her arms around me!

She hadn’t abandoned us after all!. We later learnt that the crate was something she was forced to use, that she’d put us both on a plane with a Dubai stop-over (which explained all that roaring and wobbling and strange people) — and taken us across the seas, all the way to Kuwait (where she had to leave us at the fancy IVH boarding for 14 days)!

Simply because…Pumbaa was right: she just could not live without us! ❤

— A guest post based on a true story, by Khloe J Nayar (now a happy, settled-in NRI Beagle)

365 days in Kuwait

It was on 18 March, 2016, that I got on a Kuwait Airways flight, bidding goodbye to the few things I held dear to me in Bangalore. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t miss Bangalore much.

And I was right. All I missed of Bangalore (and how!) were my two tail-wagging angels, one whose angel I was, the dear brother and the lush-lush greens and lovely colours of my lovely (rented) house garden. Trust me, nothing more. I’ll get to that later.

Though I say these were all I missed, these were the very essence of my life, and leaving them behind was not easy. Uprooting yourselves from a place you’ve called ‘home’ for  over 8 years–and a country you’ve lived your entire life until then–to move to a new place for a new job and a new way of life can’t ever be easy.

It was not. Especially not in a place like Kuwait.

What can I say about Kuwait? Well, perhaps the same thing I keep telling people who ask me how I like it. That it’s not a bad place at all. That in fact, it is quite nice (contrary to the many stories I was ‘warned’ with, prior to my accepting the offer and moving over).

Just that it isn’t a place you want to be alone in. So, what’s there to like?

1. Well to start with, there is a beach around almost every corner. How many times have I gone to one in the past 365 days? Once.
2. This is a foodie’s paradise. Name any cuisine and you have authentic and spurious versions of both, across all price ranges. How many have I tried? Well, very few (those too, only as part of my job).
3. This is a fashion lover’s heaven. Brands I’ve only read of in books/seen in movies, I see all over the place here. Clothes, shoes, bags, accessories… How many have I walked into? Very few, and for obvious reasons.
4. There are quite a few “places to see”, which can keep you busy for at least a month, if you were to do one every day. How many have I done? Perhaps five.

These obvious stuff apart, if you have the will and the time, there is A LOT that Kuwait offers to keep you occupied and interested.

There’s theatre, there’s music, there’s art, there’s all kinds of community clubs and events, there’s a variety of sports, there are many museums, there are frequent concerts, there are shows and cultural/food festivals…there’s  just a lot one can do. And for the travel lover, great connectivity (and affordable travel) to a plethora of places, especially to several that are on top of my list!

Yet, so far, I’ve only done the music. Because while time is all I’ve had aplenty, I have not yet had the will. Don’t ask me why.

I spent a good part of the past year deliberating on whether or not I’m here to stay. Well, when I decided to move here, I’d come with a three-year plan. But within a few weeks of being here, I was very tempted to covert the 3-year to a 3-month plan 😀 But now, all that’s about to change. And for the good, I hope. The three-year plan is back…and is probably now a 5-year one.

And that will mark the end of my “life” in Bangalore, leaving me with absolutely nothing to miss about Bangalore anymore. Not the traffic; not the pollution; not the roads; not the fiery lakes; not (some of) the most horrible people I’ve come across in life. It was a place I first saw around the turn of the Y2K (anyone even remember that whole end-of-the-world is here phase? :P) It was a place I then went back to in 2005 and realised I was still in love with. It was a place I permanently moved to in 2007 and then hated for the next few years…and then when all else seemed lost, started liking again in 2012. It’s a place that I began looking at sadly as a classic example of “how to destroy an awesome city.”

It will always be a familiar place…a place where some of the best and worst things of my life happened. I hope, with Kuwait, that order reverses. I started off here in the wake of the worst year of my life 😛 About time it all became the best, and with no turning back.

About time I saw Kuwait with a whole new pair of eyes and a whole new heart! Oh, and two very happy tails!

Can’t wait! ❤

 

It’s snowing in here!!!

I love December. What’s not there to like? It’s the Friday of months! 🙂

I love the nip in the air. What’s not there to like? It’s that time when you’re not so cold that you need warm clothes, but you’re cold enough to want to hug yourself when you walk in the open.

I love the whole ‘end of year’ and ‘holiday’ season feel. What’s not there to like? Work pressure is less, people are always discussing upcoming holidays and there is generally talk of gifts, parties, presents and much friends-and-family love!

I love the colour, glitter and joy of the Christmas-y feel all around. What’s not there to like of all the reds-and-whites-and-greens around; the sparkly, beauteous gift boxes in every shop window; the sight of Santas and reindeers and lovely, snow-sprinkled Christmas trees decorated like a dream; the winter coats and woollen hats and happy scarves.

I love the Secret Santa games. What’s not there to like? It’s fun, it’s knowing someone just a little better, and all the guessing and wailing and cheering!

I love the carols that automatically start wafting out of every third house on the street. What’s not there to like? It’s the happiest kind of music, and it doesn’t matter if you’re not following that certain religion!

❤ Most of all, I LOVE THAT IT SNOWS on my blog! ❤
It brings me such joy, I cannot explain it. I went YAY the first December of this blog on WordPress – that was 8 years ago. Since then, every year in December, I’ve gone YAY when I logged in here. Till I went on a hiatus and completely forgot about it. Today, I logged in (purely force of habit formed in the past 30 days :P) and went “Whoaaaa snowwww! YAY it’s first of December on WordPress!” A colleague, totally bemused, pointed out that it was December 1 in most parts of the world, not just on my blog. Pfffft. What does she know! 🙂

In my current state of happiness, let me leave you with this…one I learnt of recently, thanks to my carols practice sessions 😉

It really is the most wonderful time of the year!

 

AND, TODAY IS A TOTALLY HAPPY DAY FOR ME! Yay, yay, yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!
*Mental somersaults, mental high-fives, mental jigs, and full-on hop-skip-and-jump joy*

Day 30: You’ve not lived today until…

You’ve not lived today until you have done something
for someone who can never repay you!
– John Bunyan

I found the words tremendously meaningful…
…because, we can never say for sure someone can never repay us (not even after either of our times is up, because the impact of some good things are felt long after it is done) and that means we continue trying to do something to that effect for as long as we live. How better can then your life be, if you persist to do something amazing everyday? 🙂

…and the image immensely touching
because, it speaks not just a thousand words, but a million emotions as well!
❤

I am glad I came across this today,
to be able to make this my closing post for NaBloPoMo 2016!
.

THANK YOU
Swaram.
And all the lovely ladies, for a month of amazing reads.
This was fabulous!

Day 25: Why “Kinder” is the funniest word!

As I read the word “Yemble” on this post from Shail, I laughed out loud, both at the hilarity of the word and at a similar one from my ‘family’ vocabulary.

Both sides of my family — Amma’s and Achan’s — are huge. My dad is the eldest of seven kids and my mom the fifth of seven kids. So, counting the two sevens plus their spouses and kids would come up to — ermmm…just doing some calculations here, give me a moment — 27 on the dad’s side and 29 on mom’s. That’s a whopping 56 of us. We can be declared as qualifying to be a tiny village! 😀 And there have been times when a majority of this big number got together. Weddings, some Onams, some  New Year eves…

One such time was, when I was about three, on a trip we made to Ahmedabad, where my dad’s second sister lived. Some folks from mom’s side came along too. Frankly, I don’t recall the trip at all: the only visuals are from fading photographs in old albums I’ve seen many hundred times, and this particular incident is from the tale having been told and retold by many in the family, much to the chagrin of my aunt (though she’s gotten over it well enough to remind me every time we speak, that it happened) 😛

Oh, and I forgot to say: we’re a very boisterous group. The 56 together, as well as the 27 and 29 separately as well. Yes, this point is critical to the story 😛

So, I was the youngest of the crowd, with just one kiddo below me, who was too much of a toddler (or so I like to think, though he was only 5 months younger). The elders were all in the big living room, making merry. The kids (if I recall right, about six of them) were probably making more merry in the other room or the dining area. I was sitting in my aunt’s room, in one corner, playing with something-I-obviously-don’t-recall. So, when everyone decided to go out and my aunt came into the room to change, she didn’t notice me sitting in that corner…at least, not until she was midway changing into a salwar-kameez from a housecoat. And then she thought, “She’s a tiny tot, what harm can there be?” Little did she know, when she opened the door a minute later, what was in store (for near eternity).

I shot out of the room, thrilled with my discovery, yelling at the top of my voice, loud enough to be heard in a boisterous crowd of over 20 people: “Njaan Amba Ammai-de bown kinder kandeeee!”

There was absolute silence for a couple seconds, before the entire household dissolved into laughter, making my aunt nearly float out of her room in utter embarrassment. For I’d just screamed out to everyone that I’d seen her brown panties! This was way back in 1987-88, when mentioning anything about innerwear in front of people of the opposite sex was a big no-no. And here I was, declaring it out loud for all the men (and women alike) in the room to hear,  complete with colour! 😛 I’d run out of the room yelling “I saw Amba Aunty’s brown underwear!”

As I mentioned at the start, I don’t know how, when or by whom this was coined, but in my mom’s side of the family, the word ‘kinder‘ meant underwear! And once she became part of my dad’s family, it got accepted that side too.

Which is probably why, for a long time, every time I heard the word Kindergarten, I would go Aiyyyeeee and Hihihihi for a while! The first time of that being when I asked my parents what the expansion of LKG/UKG was 😛 And well, when Kinder Joy came out with their advertisement on TV first — boy, it was kinder joy for us indeed! We laughed for hours! And the most curious cat of the family even bought one immediately, just to see what it looks like, though not wanting to ever eat it 😛 OK, that was me! 😀

The good part being, among family members, we can discuss ‘kinder’ matters in public without having to ever be embarrassed because no one knows what it is. Ooops…unless one of you readers happen to be in close vicinity 😀