On June 17 every year, this family goes through a private ritual – they photograph themselves to stop for a fleeting moment the arrow of time passing by. The result: We can in one page see their family and its members growing (not to mention, notice the changing fashion each year). The page you are going to view will take ten seconds and more to download, but it is worth the wait – Click Here.
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As part of becoming a father, there are some anniversaries I have to keep in mind. While I have forgotten most, here are the ones I remember.
In this post, the dates have been changed so that nobody lands up in court after our kid becomes famous and claims to be his/her mother!
DD1/MM1/YY – First time we knew Rekha was pregnant.
DD2/MM1/YY – First time we went to the medical lab for our child
DD3/MM1/YY – First time we visited the gynecologist
DD4/MM2/YY – First time we had the ultra sound scan
DD5/MM2/YY – First time the three of us went to a movie
DD6/MM2/YY – First time the three of us went to a drive-in theatre
DD7/MM3/YY – First time the three of us traveled in a train
DD8/MM3/YY – First time the three of us visited Madurai
DD9/MM4/YY – First time the three of us went for a walk
DD10/MM4/YY – First time the three of us had ice-cream from a single cone
DD11/MM4/YY – First time we slept under the sky
DD12/MM5/YY – First time the three of us went to a marriage
DD13/MM5/YY – First time we went to ECR at 12 midnight
DD14/MM5/YY – First time we felt the baby kick from inside the stomach
Like how Kingfisher is the King of Good times, I now call Rekha the Queen of first times. For everything there is a ‘first time`. So much so, the other day I called Rekha “beti” (in Hindi that means daughter) she relied:
“This is the first time you are calling me a beti, after I became pregnant.”
“Cool. Isn`t it?” When your wife is pregnant you have to act excited so that she is always in high spirits.
Just in case you haven`t already received Rekha`s mail which was dispatched to 5,439,87,902 friends all over the World, 13th of November shall hence forth be known as the day our baby first kicked Rekha in the stomach. Needless to say, Rekha is pretty kicked!
 
In the last few months we have been talking babies almost every day. I am so psyched by all this baby talk that as soon as my wife starts off “Our baby….,” I start the baby talk myself “Gaa ..Baa…Raa …Gaa …Gaa.”
Apparently, three of her best friends – only women can have three best friends – are pregnant. My wife said:Â said: “Three of my best friends are also pregnant. Our delivery dates fall within a month.”
“Great…but why you looking at me like that? Are you suspecting me of something?”
If you have been married and have delivered a young mammal you probably understand how important it is to maintain secrecy in the first three months. Rekha and I did manage to maintain the secrecy – at last count only 300 of the outside circle of friends and relatives know. But it is really difficult to maintain a secret with a wife who pukes this bad and sports a stomach the size of a traffic constable.
Here is what happened during our second visit to the gynecologist. Even as we waited, I saw the name board “Amudha Hari” and wondered why such doctors were known as Gynecologists.
Once inside, I piped Rekha to the post and asked the doctor: “Why are you called a gynecologist?”
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“I am a woman`s doctor and ‘gynaik` in Greek means ‘woman`.”
“Are you sure that`s the origin? Because I thought earlier gynecologists treated injured ‘guy`s necks` and that`s why even to this day they are referred to as Gynecs.”
“Guy`s necks?”
“Yes, in the olden days, the war soldiers used to wear an amour on their torso, a metal helmet on their head and the only portion left unattended was their neck.”
“OK…and?”
“And Gynecologists were the medical practitioners who attended to their neck injures. After the wars dwindled and the soldiers started losing their lives in peace keeping operations, gynecologists moved to the next lucrative business – baby producing.”
At this, the doctor looked at my wife, who stood up for me and said I was just fine. Rekha assured the doctor that it was the pressure of suddenly being thrust into fatherhood.
I heard the doctor say “If you insist” before she started going through the lab reports again.
I was terribly upset. I had cut a sorry figure in front of the doctor I will be seeing for the next six months. I had to make amends and I had to make it now.
“Doctor, my wife has been puking a lot. Anything I can do to stop that?”
“The puking is because a foreign body had nested itself inside your wife and her body needs time to adjust.”
Her answer confused me. Was she saying that I will get a foreigner as a child? If it was going to be a foreigner…how did the doctor know? Will it be white? Or will it be Afro-American?
“Doctor.. are you saying that we will not have an Indian baby but a foreign baby?”
At this Rekha kept her hand over mine and stopped me. In years of marriage one understands such messages. She then apologized to the doctor. She said: “I am sorry doc, my husband has had a lot to handle lately.”
The doctor gave me a compassionate smile and then I saw her lips move. She had turned towards Rekha and was now whispering: “I understand your husband`s situation. No, issues.”
At this I had jumped up and asked: “No issues? I thought you just confirmed the pregnancy!” After that I don`t know what hit me, I just blacked out.
Relevant Reads
Tips for men – Washing clothes & sins
Tips for men – How to cope with domestic violence
Why can`t I pee properly?
Traditions for dummies
If you drive with your wife IN your car, you have probably experienced this. If you drive with your wife ON your car, you are probably a happy man by now. God bless her.
Yesterday, for the millionth time I got scolded for being a careless driver. The only thing I ever did was rip the right arm of a pedestrian. For a while I thought that man was an Olympic champion or something…he was running that fast along my car. Only when he tripped and fell did I realize that his hand had got caught in my rear view mirror. Later, when I parked the car in my parking slot, the hand fell down. Now, I have my grandfather`s eyes and an unknown pedestrian`s right hand.
Getting back to the journey, as soon as the man fell down, Rekha started her gyan on how to drive in Chennai. I wouldn`t really mind if she had been a Micahel Schumacher who couldn`t make it to Formula 1 because her father didn`t want her to. But she is no Schumy. She doesn`t even have a two-wheeler driving license. She has had three learner`s licenses and on 19 ocassions called me to rescue her from a spot after hitting somebody.
She continues to ride a TVS Scooty and if you see a lady in the middle of a commotion, with a green Scooty that`s been pushed to the roadside…it could well be Rekha. To check if she is indeed Rekha, get on top of omebody`s car and shout: http://ouchmytoe.com. If the lady is indeed Rekha, she will turn back.Â
Anyway, that`s besides the point.
I came across this relevant joke on elaughs.blogspot.com.
– X- X – X –
A wife was making a breakfast of fried eggs for her husband.
Suddenly her husband burst into the kitchen.
“Careful …! Put in some more butter! Oh my GOD! You’re cooking
too many at once. TOO MANY! Turn them!
TURN THEM NOW! We need more butter. Oh my GOD! WHERE are we going to get MORE BUTTER?
They’re going to STICK! Careful…… CAREFUL!
I said be CAREFUL! You NEVER listen to me when you’re cooking!
Never! Turn them! Hurry up! Are you CRAZY?
Have you LOST your mind? Don’t forget to salt them. You know you always forget to salt them. Use the salt. USE THE SALT!
The wife stared at him.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You think I don’t know how to fry a couple of eggs?”
The husband calmly replied, “I wanted to show you what it feels like
when I am driving with you in the car.”
– X – X – X-
One of these days I am going to do this to Rekha.
Car Car(e)Â Articles
You probably think I am an evil in’car’nate
Walking the distance alone
I have no ense of direction
Lessons from road traffic
Now I have the license to kill, literally
Categories
Why you shouldn’t work late
On Friday, I reached office at 10 a.m. and left at 3 a.m. the next day. In a single day, I transitioned from a hardly working, to a hard working employee.
Earlier in the day, my boss had asked me to work late and I remember putting up stiff resistance.
I entered a conference room, and closed the glass door.
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I then pushed the conference table against the wall and piled up all the chairs over it. When my boss tried to reach me on the speaker phone, I cut the cable with my mouth and stood staring at her. As a last resort she started displaying cards with messages for me. Here are some of the display cards she showed me through the glass walls of the conference room – “Give up!” “There is no place to hide” “We have surrounded you on all sides”. I didn`t see the other messages because I closed my eyes after a while.
I guess it was the wrong thing to do, for when I wasn`t looking she roped in the security guys in the office who then entered through the only window in the conference room and pinned me down. Eventually, I was forced to accept the task.
If you have never stayed in office beyond the actual hours, you will probably not know that they wear a deserted look after 6.30 p.m.Â
In my case, the whole office was empty by seven. I was all alone. I played music to ease my fear. My speakers started blaring –
Little ghost, little ghost
One I’m scared of the most
Can you scare me up a little bit of love?
I’m the only one that sees you,
And I can’t do much to please you
And it’s not yet time to meet the lord above
I looked at the Winamp and the song playing was titled “Little Ghost” from an album called “Get Behind Me Satan”. I muted the speakers immediately.
Even as I was contemplating what to do next, the security guy who had earlier pinned me down started switching off all the lights.
“Can you leave the lights on please?” I pleaded.
“Sorry sir, my instructions. I have been asked to switch off all lights except the one right above you head.”
“Do you accept bribes? I promise, I don`t have a hidden camera,” I said. I didn`t tell him that I am scared of the dark. Neither did I tell him that when I went to watch the Hindi movie “Bhoot” in Satyam theatre in Chennai, I insisted they keep the lights on.
“Lights will have to go. I am sorry, Sir. By the way, if you are staying late you will have to enter your details in this register.”
He handed me a register. The register had columns for Name, Employee ID, Project, Address & Contact number in came of emergency.
“Why do you need a contact number for emergencies?” I was getting nervous.
“I am not to reveal this, Sir, but some weak employees have died while over working. The contact numbers help us get in touch with the relatives.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes sir. But you needn`t worry. The office doesn`t charge for the cab that delivers the body home.”
After the lights were all switched off the AC was also unplugged. My breathlessness increased. What if all the carbon monoxide I had rejected and exhaled took revenge by poisoning me?
At 3 a.m. on Saturday I finished and sent the ‘work completed` mail. Since I was too tired, I spread some newspapers in the conference room where I was pinned down and went to sleep.
At seven in the morning, I got up to the sounds of a vacuum cleaner sucking at the carpet. Sometimes, work can be like a vacuum cleaner.
Of Ghosts & Offices
Ghosts can`t be seen in the mirror
Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead
Buffet dinner with ex-colleagues
Conversation: Osama vs Batman
Today morning I read an article which said by 2048 we won`t have any sea food left to eat. Scary thought, because I would be 73 years old then and would definitely love to have fish on my dinning table to build my muscles.
Don`t believe me? Read the article
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“My grandma`s little brownie ass,” said a friend trying to control his anger.
“What?” I expressed my shock as much with the way I uttered the word, as with my contorted facial expression.
My friend would later explain that in order to be regarded as a gentleman in the office he had stopped swearing. Whenever he couldn`t control his impulses, he would come up with funny yet meaningful phrases. Whenever he wanted to say “What the F$#@?” he would end up saying “My grandma`s little brownie ass.”
I have taken to the habit and regularly use the word “fudge.” Need I tell you my favourite swear word?
Sitting between eight lady colleagues (five of them unmarried) adds to the problem. Mind you I was given that place, I didn`t pick it. Interestingly, when I was allotted this place there were only two girls around me…but in the last one year the crowd has grown to eight. So much so, the guys in my office hate me and don`t invite me to the men-only parties….thinking I will share their secrets. Some Victoria`s Secrets, they must be.
My favorite swear sentence is: “I am going to kick the f*&^ing shit out of you, till you start blowing snot bubbles, you little piece of dog shit.”
Two of my Canadian friends – Jaron Rovensky and Justin Hughes – taught me the sentence in 1997. After they had helped me memorize the line, I had to practice the delivery in front of the mirror. I felt like Amitabh Bachchan practicing the Mere Paas Maa Hain line in the Hindi movie Deewar. The last time I used the line in public, Rekha had to take leave and stay with me in Malar Hospital in Chennai for a week.
While in college, “ass” used to be my favorite swear word. That is, till I used it on my phonetics professor. He was scolding me for scoring badly in phonetics (all those who failed that class turned out to be better writers) and I muttered “What an ass?!”
My professor was mighty upset. He wouldn`t let me go, till I had pronounced the word “ass” right three times in a row. He then went on to tell me that ass wasn`t the right word to be used in class…and gave me other synonyms I could use (backside, behind, seat, tail end, hind quarters, rear end, posterior etc).
My next brush with an anti-swear person was when I met Father Francis. He was an innocent man who believed in the ways of God. Once I was dropping Father Francis, who was clad in his whites, on my bike. Just before we reached the church…another biker splashed muddy water (I forgot to tell you, it had rained the previous day) over his whites. It was nice to see the calm exterior which the father displayed and said: “Go multiply!”
After the sermon was over, I asked the Father, “Why did you say ‘Go multiply`?
“My son, I can`t afford to use the words you use….so I have coined my own. I use ‘Go multiply` whenever I have to say ‘Go, F*$# yourself!”
While talking of swearing, how can I miss out on this old uncle of mine, who happens to be a true Gandhi fan. Inspired by the Mahatma, he had given up lies and swearing when he was only 10. While he went on to join politics and make it big…he never became a minister. The reason: He hated the swearing in ceremonies.
I swear these are good reads
The receptionist was a lady and IÂ swear she gave me a smirk
I can swear in any court against my wife
When I mistook somebody to be my college friend
My wife is really selfish