Well, what do you know?!!

No sooner do I void mom's aspirations on a public domain that she receives a phone call from an old friend, entirely out of the blue, asking if she would be interested in ahem, ahem, helping her proof and edit documents and develop her fledgling freelance business.

Not only has mom not heard from her friend in awhile, but the woman left her country and a remodeling business to settle down under the Alpine sun for a slower pace of life.

You could’ve knocked us down with a feather when we heard from Karen. Now, if that’s not a sign that the universe is rearranging itself for mom, I don’t know what is.

Although mom isn't about to quit her day job yet, the fact that an opportunity presented itself is enough to make her smile and believe in the power of the law of attraction.

And as if that's not precious enough, she made a virtual friend in the bargain - a skilful raconteuse who spins tangled yarns with mere words.

Not to piss any naysayers off, but at this rate, the art of positive thinking is threatening to take over mom’s world.

Angels & Demons

Usually, mom does her best to stay as far away as possible from exhibition-cum-sales at private homes. She has no intention of buying, and finds it rather embarrassing to look-see and walk away, thus wasting her time and the eager seller’s.

Last weekend, despite her vociferous protests and better judgment, mom allowed herself to be dragged to one such exhibition at an acquaintance's house. She expected to find the usual mishmash of jewelry and saris and sterling silver religious items, but was bowled over by the seller’s artistic abilities. The girl’s a budding designer with an eclectic taste and a keen eye for style. Mom could only stare open-mouthed at the tasteful jewelry she had designed and the clothes she embroiders and sews on her sewing machine.

Not only is the girl highly talented and extremely smart, she’s also very attractive and particularly pleasant. Try as she might, mom couldn’t find anything to hate about her, and jealousy was quickly replaced by admiration.

As she joined her friends and oohed and aahed at the girl’s creations, discreetly eyeing the price tags all the while, mom wrestled with her inner angel and demon, weighing her wants and needs versus the “simplify my life" theory she has recently espoused.

Demon: “Look at that gorgeous maroon sari! It will look so good on you. Go on, touch it, you know you want to.”

Angel: “Do you really need another sari? You barely use the ones you have.”

Demon: “Come on, your friends have seen all your saris. You need a serious wardrobe update, honey.”

Angel: “Think about it. If you buy the sari, you’ll be tempted to buy that gorgeous semi-precious set that matches it. And the next occasion to wear a sari is Diwali, a long way away.”

Demon: “Bah, you can create an occasion! Throw a party and invite all your girlfriends and tell them to dress up. You can show off; they can show off; everybody will be happy!”

Angel: “Aren’t you running late? We should leave now. The children must be getting antsy and you still haven’t made lunch.”

Demon: “Oh, come on! The sari’s calling out to you. Hey, you can get a halter neck blouse to go with it … like Rani Mukherjee’s blouse in that song from Hum Tum.”

Angel: “Right! How are you going to get a halter neck blouse past your parents? They frown at even sleeveless clothes.”

Demon: “Why do you care about what your parents think?!! You guys don’t even live on the same continent, for crying out loud! You really need to grow up.”

Angel: “Be practical. Do you really want to plunk down hard-earned money for a sari and jewelry that will sleep in your closet until the next wedding in the family, whenever that is?”

Demon: “Hey, you can afford it. Go ahead, you deserve it!”

Angel: “Don’t you think you should run this past dad before you decide? I don’t think you can return purchases.”

Demon: “Oh, and what will dad say? No? When does he ever say, ‘No?’ And how can you walk out empty-handed now that you’re here? That would be downright embarrassing.”

Angel: “You should never have come. Think about it, do you really need it or do you want it?”

Demon: “Now, there’s no need to get all philosophical about clothes and jewelry. It’s not a major life decision – it’s just stuff. What’s wrong with wanting pretty things?”

Angel: “All right, I’ve said my piece. But I think you should get only one item. Pick either the sari or the jewelry, not both.”

Demon: “I think you should buy a third item. What about this pretty lehenga? Kuki would look like a doll in it.”

Angel: “Suit yourself, but before you make a final decision, tell me … do you think you’ll make a greater impression on dad when (a.) You’re decked in an exquisite sari and heavy jewelry or (b.) When you’re wearing absolutely nothing, yes, I mean nothing, but a smile?”

Her priorities firmly in place, mom rushed out of the sale empty-handed.

Chinna Chinna Aasai

It’s amazing how many naysayers mom’s surrounded by. In fact, she was one of them for the longest time - until she decided, a few weeks ago, to stop existing and start living.

You see, mom has finally figured out what she wants to do. She’s going to listen to her inner voice and dust off that dream, buried in some shady recess of her mind, beneath all the negativity and insecurity.

No, mom doesn’t want to become an astronaut and fly to the moon; she doesn’t want to be on the cover of Playboy or become a politician or a talk show host; and she certainly does not want to be the next CEO of her company. In fact, mom’s pretty certain that she wants out of the corporate rat race. The perks are enjoyable and the salary’s sweet, but she doesn’t foresee fulfillment in being tethered to a desk, attending meetings and responding to e-mail all day.

So, what does she want to do, then?

As she watches her Outlook inbox fill with inane projects and feels her hips swell from a languid, sedentary lifestyle, mom shuts her eyes when she dares and goes to her secret garden. She's in a lush, green pasture doing what she really enjoys - soaking in the sun, feeling the breeze ruffle her hair, curling up in an armchair with a good book, watching her children tumble on the grass, and mothering a menagerie of domestic animals.

In her ideal world, work would be a small aspect of her daily activities - not the all-encompassing undertaking it is now. Her life would revolve around gentle creatures, such as a retired donkey and a cow, a prancing lamb or two, a porky pink pig, birds chirping in the trees, and dogs with room galore to run.

Mother realizes that her petting zoo would require finances. Which is why, in her spare time, she will edit manuscripts for a leading publishing house. Editing is one aspect of her daily job that she's passionate about and cannot give up, to the point where she edits billboards as she drives, cringes at poor sentence structure in fliers and takes pleasure in turning syntactic garbage into veritable works of art.

Most people who hear about mom’s un-ambition have not hesitated to laugh in her face. “Get real,” they sneer. “Garden of Eden fantasy indeed!”

The only person who hasn’t mocked her is dad. A firm believer of keeping his opinions to himself, dad, who is not an animal person, quietly listens to mom’s excited chatter and lets her dream aloud, even when she derides his desires.

Some people decide very early on what they want in life. It took mom about three decades to find out.

And some people think big and want to change the world. Clearly, mom isn't one of them - she only wants to make a difference in her small world for now.

Legally Brown

On the way home yesterday:

Mom: “Kuki, would you like Emma to come over and play with you Saturday?”

Kuki: “OK. We’ll go to my room and put makeup on and I’ll brush her hair.”

Mom (thinking, “How cute!”): “Oh, yeah? How come you want to brush her hair?”

Kuki: “Because Emma’s hair is long and beautiful.”

Mom: “So is your hair. See? It’s longer than mine and so soft.”

Kuki (softly shaking her head): “But my hair’s black.”

Stunned speechless for a moment, mom’s imagination speedily kicked into overdrive.

Mom (thinking): “I can’t believe she just said that! Did she just say what I thought she did? Should I ask her again? Maybe I should just ignore it. If I ask her she might think it’s a big deal. But if I ignore the issue, she might go through life thinking black is less desirable ....

Where did she get this from? Those $%^#* Disney princess movies? For crying out loud, color’s not even an issue in our house! Kuki doesn’t even know what “fair” and “dark” mean ... Or does she? ....

Should I start pointing out dark objects to her and celebrate their beauty, like the black car next door or that black cat sitting on the wall? Maybe we should get a black dog ....

I wonder if Anu has any color issues ....

Where did I go wrong as a parent? This has to be my fault. No, wait, why is everything my fault? I’m doing the best I can ....

By the way, kiddo, your hair’s not black! As grandma’s fond of pointing out to me, your hair’s a dull brown because I never oil it ....

Hmmm, I thought my baby wanted to look like me. Isn’t that why she wears my shoes and steals my nail polish? Obviously, she doesn’t think I’m pretty anymore ....

Sigh! I've been sidelined by a three-year-old blonde!”

Dime-Wise, Dollar-Foolish

I never thought this would happen in my lifetime – mom hasn’t shopped for herself in more than two months! (OK, this is not counting the half-dozen macadamia nut cookies she bought at the mall last weekend and consumed in the short walk between Sears and Macy’s.)

The spoilt pampered hedonist, who had formerly buried her spiritual side under layers of blubber, has suddenly had a light bulb moment where she feels that she has enough to be grateful for. The woman has suddenly started counting her blessings.

She’s making enough money (wait, is it even possible to feel that way? Should I be worrying about her already delicate mental state?); she has enough clothes and shoes in her closet (at least for this season); too many unread books lining her shelves; excessive cell phone, digital camera, Game Boy chargers cluttering the kitchen counter; innumerable remote controls for technology she rarely uses; and an overstock of Ambika applams in her pantry dating back to 1998.

Just as she uses less than 15 percent of her brain on most days, mom barely uses even half of the possessions she has amassed over the years. Some of her saris and jewelry haven’t seen daylight since her wedding ceremony; Cottage Emporium knickknacks adorn her suitcases and drawers instead of the walls; greeting cards from a decade ago are stored in shoe boxes; and hair products she was conned into buying on annual visits to the salon mock her from the bathroom shelf.

A few weeks ago, when mom attended another FranklinCovey class, she chanced upon a phrase by a man named Lin Yutang in one of the manuals. “The wisdom of life consists in the elimination of nonessentials,” she read, momentarily distracted from her chocolate doughnut. Struck by its profundity, mom highlighted the phrase. She pondered for a moment, licking her sugary lips, and concluded that the saying would make an excellent fortune cookie filler.

“I learned something today,” she mentioned to dad at the dinner table that night. “I’ve come to the conclusion that we need to simplify our lives.”

Dad played it safe and nodded absently.

“Let’s start by canceling all your magazine subscriptions,” declared mom, pointing to a leaning tower of unopened National Geographic, Motor Trend, Plane & Pilot, Consumer Reports and Wine Spectator magazines piled on the kitchen countertop. “And let’s throw away all the CDs we have as well. We’ve downloaded all the songs we really like, so why do we need this clutter? Come to think of it, we don’t really use that La-Z-Boy upstairs, either. Maybe we should leave it out on garbage day.”

“Here’s an idea,” countered dad. “Why don’t you start by rearranging your stuff? Why do you need all this junk?” he asked, pointing to mom’s extensive Pepperidge Farm cookie collection in the pantry.

Even though the conversation did not produce the desired effect, mom was determined to not allow a slight setback to deter her. She threw a garage sale the following week and hung up dupattas and wall hangings for sale in our driveway.

“You did what?!!” exclaimed grandma, when mom proudly told her that she had managed to rid her cupboard of the assorted blouse pieces she had collected over the years.

“If you didn’t want them, you should have set them aside,” declared grandma. “I could have given them away with vettalai-paaku.”

“But you forced me to bring them here in the first place,” said mom. “I told you I’d never use them.”

“Well, call some of your girl friends home on a Friday and give the blouse pieces away with fruit and betel leaves. Make haldi-kumkum packets, buy some coconuts and put everything in a nice gift bag,” said grandma, clearly missing the logic of spending more money than the blouse pieces were worth.

Mom smartly withheld the fact that the abstract Ganesha wall hanging she never liked but hung out of guilt, was also sold. As were the cookbooks without photos, curtains and dhurries from her first India trip, tie-dye dupattas from her college days and footpath jewelry that she hadn’t used in a decade.

“I feel so much better,” thought mom, bagging the unsold items and storing them away for next year’s garage sale. “It’s almost a cathartic experience,” she concluded to dad sagely.

The following Saturday, before mom even awoke, dad stepped out and bought himself a shiny, new convertible.

Summer Buzz

Look, stop taking my picture, all right? I don't like being photographed.

I said stop following me! Or I'll tell my mommy.

Nope, I'm not going to look at the camera. Don't make me.

You really don't want to know what I think of you.

Biology Can Wait

Anu: “I don’t get it. How can a baby look like its father?”

Mom: “What do you mean? Who else will a baby look like?”

Anu: “No, see? A baby can look like its mother because it grows in her tummy, but why does it look like the father sometimes?”

Mom: “What in the world are you talking about? Go wash your hands and come to dinner.”

Anu: “See, Amma, why does a baby resemble its father when it doesn’t grow in his tummy? Why doesn’t it just look like some random guy; like some guy in a store maybe? I don’t get it.”

Dad pretended he didn't hear, while mom busied herself in the kitchen and suppressed a smile. "My baby's still innocent," she silently thanked the gods. The idiot box and his peers haven't corrupted his eight-year-old innocence yet.

So, did she answer his question?

Of course not.

In typical mom fashion she was more concerned about the rotis going cold.