Silly daddy!! Boobs are for babies.

Have you ever felt like a woman without breasts or like a man in the company of women? I have ! Couple of days ago, I was invited to the  birthday party of the cutest thing (ofcourse, I  mean a baby) ever.  Charlotte turned ‘one’, and I ended up feeling like a lady with a dick .

The birthday party was full of mums with infants, not many dad except Charlotte’s and one non – mommy apart from me, who I thought would be my company for the evening. But there is only so much you can talk to an university going girl and the dad who was busy making sandwiches and keeping away from the group of women (I did feel sorry for him, but he looked more comfortable than I was). The reason for my uncomfort was the kind of conversation the mums were having; completely alienating the non-mums in the room, as if the world revolves around them and their infants and that everybody cares to dicuss about breast-feeding.

While I was busy playing with an infant , tossing the kid up in the air and catching him ; suddenly I found myself in a circle of mums talking about breast-feeding. Apparently, breast-feeding involved a lot of tactics and is a natural way of synchronizing your boobs. One of the moms said that, because she used her left breast to feed her first infant, she realised that it was sagging; and in order to get both look properly in sync she has decided to feed her next infant with her right breast. All I could hear was she voluntarily wanted her right boob to sag?!! What a thing to wish!

Another mother informed that, because one of her nipples point downwards, she chose to feed her infant with the other one that points up straight at you; not just for convenience , but also to avoid choking the kid as the breast will fall on her face while she reached out for the nipples??!! That was hilarious, yet too much detail!! Now I have an image of her breasts in my head, and its not pleasant.

I always thought, if there is anything to discuss about nursing, it must be about the ease and the pain that comes along with it. Some mums find it painful, some don’t! And you would think, the ones who have it easy won’t have much to talk about but no, they do! You take the pain bit away , then comes the shape of their breasts and leanness of their nipples etc.

Although, it was very hilarious, a bit informative – left me with something to think about; yet I felt a bit out of place or a woman without breasts because I was so uncomfortable to stand there listening to boob talks in a very non glamorous way.  I left soon after that conversation took a different turn to talking about ex’s and bad relationships.

I am never ever going to an infants birthday party ever again. At least not on my own! But those mums are all my friends and I do appreciate them for what they are. Afterall, the essence of being a woman is in being a mum.

Backy Back

I can’t believe I am so terrible at updating my blog ever so often! But here I am, almost after a year, my  partners kids have grown heaps, I finally have a job interview lined up in London and for whatever fate may call it, my partner’s ex called for the first time in a years time (Not sure how I feel about that, better stay out of it at the moment).

Hey Ho!

Sigh!! Life!!

Because of joblessness and so much baby responsibilities, lack of quality time with my man etc I have become a bit of an emotional wreck I think, every tiny thing messes up my head. I suddenly, strangely find Slyvia Plath inspiring. I have even ordered her book ‘The Bell Jar’. 

 

But for now here’s a poem of hers… Since I am sitting by the candle light on my own ……

 

 

By Candlelight

This is winter, this is night, small love —
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you in my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.

This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.
At first the candle will not bloom at all —
It snuffs its bud to almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.

I hold my breath until you creak to life, 
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat 
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent as best he can

Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is all yours, the little brassy Atlas —
Poor heirloom, all you have
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five balls! Five bright brass balls!
To juggle with, my love when the sky falls.

 

Lung’s full of cough but Heart’s full of Love…

I don’t think I have written about any of my good experiences and fun stuff I have been upto ever since we moved down to Kent.

Living right in front of the ocean is a luxury, a drive away from the woods to climb the trees and run around without having some people stare at you, going on dates with your partner to a pub followed by a walk down to the sea front under the starlit sky and the pleasure of being unemployed that gives you a chance to be a home-maker, try to cook apetising food for everybody, watching films and tele and knowing the cost of every  mouthful of food that goes in; all of it has been a great experience, worth sharing but not enough time to.

Despite the time constraint and feeling insipid, I have pulled myself together to write something.

I have been ill with massive cold and cough since a week or more. Never paid so much attention because there are many other things that need attention in the house, and therefore it has kind of gotten worse or is getting worse. Yesterday, Ed was at home as he was ill (he actually was past two days – quite feverish ). Although he did go out to Herne Bay to do one of his interviews for the paper, he took me with him. Once home from Herne Bay, Ed has been super- sweet in taking over the house work, he did most of the chores and was full of cuddles and kisses. Exactly what you need when you feel down.

Not just that but last night he rubbed my back everytime I coughed (almost all night long). He barely slept. He wakes up at around 5ish every morning. And to my apologies in the morning all he had to say was ” Are you feeling better? snuggle into bed and have a good rest.”

Don’t want to sound all loved up but…I do feel really loved and happy with Ed. He is a sweetheart. Can’t thank him enough.

Too many mentally ill put in the cells

My very first splash. A big Thanks to Ed for sorting me out with a front page.

By Ed Targett And Sushi Chatterjee

TOO many mentally ill people are being locked up in Canterbury police cells, say government inspectors.

They say police cells should be used to detain people with mental health problems only in “exceptional” circumstances.

The warning comes after a joint investigation of Kent’s police cells by HM Inspectorates of Prisons and Constabularies.

The findings left mental health workers outraged. Lisa Morley of charity Rethink Mental Illness said: “Mentally ill people need help; their place of safety should be a hospital, not a prison cell.”

But a police spokesman said: “A police station is used only as a last resort. Examples may include if the individual is drunk and/or violent and not fit to be taken to a designated NHS facility.”

Police officers are allowed to remove someone from a public place and take them to a “place of safety” under Section 136 of the Mental Health Act. The place of safety can include a “hospital, police station, mental nursing home or any other suitable place.”

But inspectors, led by HM Inspectorate of Prisons’ Sean Sullivan, found that the number of detentions was rising. And they warned that the area’s services for the mentally ill seemed to be struggling.

The report, published on the Ministry of Justice website on April 5, said: “Policy between the police, the mental health trust and Kent County Council did not appear to operate smoothly in the east of Kent covered by the Canterbury Section 136 suite.

“This resulted in police custody being used as a place of safety more often than was necessary. In the six months to September 2010, there had been 61 admissions under the Mental Health Act with an average detention time of eight and a half hours.”

The review is the latest in a list of negative reports on Kent’s mental health services.

The Care Quality Commission recently slammed the Kent and Medway Social Care Partnership Trust for failing to meet essential standards, forcing it to defer application for NHS foundation trust status..

Peter Smallridge, the chairman of the mental health trust, said in an open letter on the trust’s website: “I would like to reiterate that the Board is still committed to its objective of obtaining Foundation Trust status.”

Sticky Fingers

I have taken ill after a really long time and  for the first time I have been living with my partner’s kids. Knowing that the world outside is bright and shinny and is running perfectly ok without me stepping out just makes me feel even worse. Yes I like the idea of people going manic if I don’t turn up at work, if the day was grey and gloomy and raining….I’d love to have a devil’s laughter muhahaha!!

I wanted to write something for my blog today because I have the peace and quiet at home. Kids are at the kindergarten and E’s at work. But just as I started typing I found my fingers really sticky. Now that made me think of kids. Although my fingers are sticky from the honey I was trying to lick off my fingers, when you are living with a four year old and a two year old you will always find your fingers, clothes, the 53rd page of your book,  and your keypad sticky. And nothing to be amazed if you find a nose bogie on the fth character on your laptop’s keyboard.

Dare you get disgusted at the bogies when those tiny little fingers that picked the nose and swirled it around to get the bogie out points at you just inches away from your temple. Yes its time for you to get the bogie out of their fingers! Yes it is your job because it is their bogies! That’s the only reasonable reason! After three exclamations I will add one more sentence full of nothing to add another exclamation!

It is amusing, sometimes painfully though, how the little ones assign and distribute the responsibilities of taking care of them to their parents respectively. For instance yesterday, Irene wanted to go to the loo. I was in the kitchen while she was upstairs doing something with her daddy. Yet she came all the way down to the kitchen “tuti tuti tuti (she means sushi )..pooooo”. I rushed her to the toilet and the moment I put her on the toilet seat I asked her, “Irene, why didnt you ask your daddy to take you to the loo. He was with you and he could have easily taken you to the toilet upstairs?”

She just looked at me with a combined expression of constipation and confusion saying something like ,”What the fuck is your problem?” . I realized it’s probably best to shut up and hold your breath before the smells hits you and you swallow it.

Absolute-ness

Almost haven’t written anything this year…lots been happening, but too engaged to mention…

So he has two kids, we are exchanging rings of promise, we want to spend the rest of our lives together, we have seen eachother cry so many times that it’s not even embarrassing anymore.

7 months, moving in together, absolutely shattered with responsibilities, debts and poverty.

Nights with broken sleep, trying to work from home can be a nightmare, a peaceful hug in his arms seems optimistic, ciggis and wine have become regular…

 

But you know what? Smiling throughout!

For all those 10 minutes strolls after supper, crazy driving lessons with his face going pale as I always almost bump his car into something, morning cuppa by a 4 year old and a plaster on an injured finger by a 2 year old…

It all comes together at the end of the day, doesn’t it?

FAMILY.

 

P.S:  For E…

 

You need a man out of the blue….

 

I have been very busy since almost a month or more, either working or plowing through some emotions withing me. Anyhow, I am reading Henry Miller’s Sexus and would like to share bits from it. I have just started reading it, think first 30 pages are not a justified number to pass a comment yet, might review it later.

When one is trying to do something beyond his known powers it is useless to seek the approval of friends. Friends are at their best in moments of defeat – at least that is my experience. Then they either fail you utterly or they surpass themselves. Sorrow is the great link – sorrow and misfortune.But when you are testing your powers, when you are trying to do something new, the best friend is apt to prove a traitor. The very way he wishes you luck, when you broach your chimerical idea, is enough to dishearten you. He believes in you only in so far as he knows you; the possibility that you are greater than you seem is disturbing, for friendship is founded on mutuality. It is almost a law that when a man embarks on a great adventure, he must cut all ties. He must take himself to the wilderness, and when he has wrestled it out with himself, he must return and choose a disciple. It doesn’t matter how poor in quality the disciple maybe : it matters only that he believes implicitly. For a germ to sprout, some other person, some one individual out of the crowd, has to show faith. Artists, like great religious leaders, show amazing perspicacity in this respect. They never pick the likely one for their purpose, but always some obscure, frequently ridiculous person.

Why all the above caught my interest was because at some level I could relate to it.  We are surrounded by people who are either fake admirers or envious denigrators as Henry further explains. If we follow the law mentioned above the first job would be to find someone who will believe in you implicitly and that ofcourse can’t be your lover or loved ones for they are so close to you that they hardly seem to be any different than you. Their judgement sometimes don’t count. For instance, a mother will always find their kids beautiful. When I go shopping with mom, I never take her opinion for all dresses suit me according to her.

So basically, if it’s not someone you already know, love or befriend..it has to be someone completely out of your viscous circle …a man out of the blue. I think it is best explained by Henry Miller.

The book seems interesting but what keeps me going is the fact that the book was banned in America and Britain for twenty years before it was first published in 1949. The book, you can call it is, Henry Miller’s sexcapade, if you will. The cover page attracts a lot of attention in public no – doubt, but my mission is to find out what is so illicit about this book to have been banned.

The Fresh Outlook

After a hiatus, it feels good to write a new post which will link everyone to my published article in a Cardiff based publication called The Fresh Outlook.

Past couple of days have been very adventurous for me. Went on shoot with the BBC’s Countryfile team for their strand JCI – John Craven Investigates. The story was about The Emperor of Exmoor - UK’s biggest stag that has been allegedly killed.

After that investigation, we went on to film a video for The Children in Need.

All of the above mentioned will be broadcasted on 21st of November, 2010 on BBC One at 7.30pm

It was amazing to have worked with our presenter John Craven, whose stardom I didn’t realise until and before I met him. Very down to earth, friendly and experienced personality. Almost a National Treasure as BBC likes to call him.

Got back home tired and was refreshed to see my article being published on the Editorial page of the Fresh Outlook. For those who didn’t click on the hyperlink above, here’s a straighforward link to the article..please scroll to find my article on Failed Asylum Seekers. Contents are from my previous blogpost, but with some additions

http://www.thefreshoutlook.com/index.php?action=newspaper&subaction=article&toDo=region&job=show&regionID=214&categoryID=24

Holidays are for Happy People!

Festival – a time to celebrate with family and close ones. Every festival has a history but today it is just another reason for family, friends and close-ones to get together and have a nice time.

So it was Diwali yesterday, a festival of light which is supposed to bring health, wealth and much more to the family. Light being the symbol of luck every household lights lanterns and candles called ‘diyas’ in their house. There is fireworks all around making the sky dress up in red, green, blue.

Sweets, food and gifts are exchanged with neighbors and everyone.  School and offices are closed, infact it is a public holiday in India. What a great happy day!

But what when you are far away from your motherland; working your ass off all day trying to research on Fish Farming and taxidermy? You leave the office and it is awfully raining, making you wet for your next shift at the restaurant.

You ask someone from the restaurant to pick you up and realize he is smashed, and is acting strangely making you feel uncomfortable. Restaurant is emply, very quiet because it is also co-incidently Guy Fawkes Night. Why would anyone want to come to the restaurant to eat? Wonder why we were open anyways!

The only good part is when you know someone you’ve been longing to see is coming to pick you up. But unfortunately, that certain someone is also going through some odd mood.

You go home to realise that your housemates are going out to party, but you are not in the mood to join them. You are so drained that all you want to do is sit in your room, turn off the lights and read or listen to music before you eventually go to bed. But instead you end up feeling a little homesick (which is against your nature), end up thinking about your dad who is no more, think about everyone you have lost over the years and worry about the present and future.

At 1 am phone starts ringing. You know people who are calling you are drunk and just want to talk shit. It makes you think? What has life come to…why is this World full of such idiotic people who find fun in making joke about dead people, who like to get disappointed by the same girl who has refused them time and again and then there are some who for reason they know best think they qualify to even try their luck with certain people who are beyond their league!!

3.24 am was the last phone call to decide to actually shut it off and go to sleep.

Featival of Light…SO much for health, wealth and luck!!

Happy In England

One of my all time favourite books has finally arrived from home. Bless mom for having packed it so well it felt like unwrapping a gift. (which I love doing). It is basically a poetry compilation of Keats and Shelley’s work.

I am late for work so I would quickly post a poem by John Keats from the book which I’d like to share..

Happy is England! I could be content

To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough their simple loveliness for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
And float with them about the summer waters.