Milk and me…

Crazy title? Not really, there are so many underlying emotions associated with "milk". Sic sic.

Err..I will stop being a shitty piece of melodramatic fur ball that I am and tell you why I hate milk ! Wait a minute, from the title, did you by any chance think that I love milk? No, not even in my dreams can I love milk.  And when I say milk, I refer to the white, frothy, plain, liquid source of the so called "very important calcium". 

It all started 27 years ago, (I will be 27 this August, wish me "Happy B'day", ok? *Rolls her eyes and thinks how much more lame can she get*) , when I was a baby. I don't remember if I hated milk then but my mommy tells me that I was a terror to be breastfed. I realise it is such a pain for the small babies to drink the same plain milk for months together. I would have preferred atleast flavored milk, or say, a pizza to munch along with it, but, I don't know why, mommy doesn't agree. Mommies, I say, are very stubborn.

The hatred grew stronger with age. My mom would run behind me with a glass of milk every single day. She tried to feed me plain milk, Complan, Horlicks, Bournvita, Boost, etc but I wouldn't budge. I cried, wailed, woke up the neighbours but I refused to drink milk. One day she asked me as to why I hated milk so much. I told her, "I can smell the cow/buffalo in the milk and it stinks so horribly that my nose wants to go hide somewhere at the sight of milk". Wait a minute, does nose see? Forget it, let me continue. So, according to her, the problem was the smell. Wrong. The problem was bigger. It was the smell, the taste and the texture. 

My mom couldn't cope up with the tantrum I threw on seeing milk. So, she decided to leave me and the milk alone so that we could bond over time. She was wrong. I was elated when she left me alone with the milk. I found so many new ways to dispose off the milk that my mom didn't know what method I would use next. When mom wasn't around, I would pour the milk in the sink, sometimes, in the bathroom. But she found out. I wasn't the one to give up. I found a new way to dispose it off. I would go feed the milk to our "Sapota/ Chikoo" tree. Believe me, I am responsible for the ever sweet, most tasty fruits we get every year from that tree. I fed it the nutrition it wanted, depriving myself of it. I am so proud of my sacrifice.

Mom stopped telling me to drink milk as I grew older. She started giving me curd, buttermilk, ice creams, milkshakes, flavoured milk as substitutes which I enjoyed. I hated only plain milk you see.  Only if she had thought of all this before, she would have freed herself from so much hassle. 

Present day situation is no different. They say "In life, opposites attract". It is true. My husband loves milk. I can't appreciate the fact for reasons you already know. But, he hates fruit. So, now we have found a way where both of us drink milk and eat fruit without cribbing - thanks to milkshake. I drink milkshake thinking it has fruits and my husband drinks milkshake thinking it has milk. It is all about perception you see.

P.S. : I have no idea why there is no connection between the various paragraphs of this post. *Realises that it is the same with all her posts and smirks.*

Nostalgia is evil !

Memories never fade, be it the memories of being a tiny girl in a tiny frock holding dad's little finger or be it mom running behind with a glass of milk which I would always find a place to dispose off when she wasn't around.

Memories of going to school and college, standing in the prayer hall, sharing lunch, competing with friends for marks, begging the teachers to give one more mark, falling down with bruises during the play hour, trying to be the teachers' favorite, being in our own "groups", cursing the university for the marks, remain fresh. 

Memories of joining my first job and leaving it in a couple of months to find something more appealing, waiting for months to find the right job, settling in the new job, trying to make a mark for self, loving the job and people around, loving the adrenaline rush the job brought every single day….I miss it.

Memories of seeing a guy and getting engaged to him within a few days of meeting him first, maintaining a long distance relationship for 5 months and then getting married and settling into a new life with new people, leaving mom and dad in a house I grew up in, still brings a happy-sad smile on my face. 

Memories of ma-in-law cooking delicious food, the ma-in-law/daughter-in-law bonding that happened over lunchtime, the doting dad-in-law's talk when he came back from office, the times I spent teasing my little sis-in-law, laughing with her, still lingers in the mind everyday.

Nostalgia, I say, surely, is evil!

Valentine…ahem!ahem!

Long, long, long ago…not so long ago, I never had a valentine. Today, I have one - my brand new husband! 

I was thinking of all the years gone by when I was single and lonesome on Valentine's Day ( I make myself sound like a secluded soul, don't I? Ah…old habits die hard. A shitty piece of melodramatic fur ball I am I say and God, am I not proud of the fact :p). Those were the days when looking at those "completely in love" couples was an eyesore. To top it, the hype surrounding the day used to be a reminder to us singles that another year was going to pass with only ourselves for company. 

Why all this now? Well…I was thinking of "love" and the hype surrounding the whole existence of "love". I also have been a sheep in the herd when it came to "love"…maybe my definition of love was also superficial sometime ago or maybe it was not. I think the meaning of love changes at every stage in life, it evolves, it changes. I don't know if love is constant but I know change is constant. 

But, yes, this year I had my valentine with me and am completely in love with him. Currently he is my definition of love and it now feels love is also constant. 

I have no idea how I wanted to structure this post. So, I leave this post abruptly for I don't know what I initially intended to convey. Strange…sometimes a lot gets unsaid and you still feel a lot lighter in the head than from the time you started. 

Before I end a post which I have no idea why I started, just a random thought, I think love is more of "a feeling of security". I will let you and me ponder over it for a while…. 

Back to square one...

I, hereby, pompously declare that I am now entitled to the most coveted position of womanhood -  “Wife”.  I, also declare that I will use the same cliché line when I enter motherhood. Thank You.

Coming back to being a “wife”..well, it all happened just a few days back. The details, though no one’s business, might help me compose a couple of posts when I have nothing to write. Mind you…a couple of posts in my terms might be >10 posts in layman terms.

Being a girl entitles you to be melodramatic from the time you are born. Being a “wife” just accentuates the fact. I can see my husband nodding his head in affirmation when he reads this post (Will he read? That’s the biggest question haunting me currently. No worries..I have the tissues ready. Right girls?). Infact, I can see all husbands nodding their heads, affirming the fact. So, now that am entitled to being a wife and naturally more melodramatic owing to this new bit of position I have earned, I rightfully want to use the opportunity to start off my nautanki  once again, something that I stopped abruptly in my previous blog.

This is what happened previously…A quick recap!

Writing is my passion. Sic sic. Well, this is what I thought when I started my first blog “Thoughtless Ramifications…” about 2 years ago. I did update it, well, not so regularly, till May this year and then I got engaged. Ahh…my first chance to blame my then-fiancé and my now-husband on my blog. I was told that the first rule of wifedom is “Blame your husband irrespective of him being involved in the matter” and am just sticking to the rules of wifedom.  Before I forget, I also had one other blog, or rather have, by the name “BowTie :)” which is currently in the graveyard mode and might be in the same mode for another, err, couple of years until Blogger forcefully kicks it out to make some space for “the like useful junk”.

I am hoping to be third time lucky and hence this new space…”Melodrama Private Ltd.”

I cribbed and cribbed more to choose an apt name for this blog of mine. I even gnawed at the husband’s brain for the same. Woah…not even a month into marriage and I seem to be getting a good hold of being a typical “wife”:p

Like all my other blogs..this is also going to be an extension of myself. A little bit me and a little bit of my perspective about things not me. Hope I can manage to keep this blog alive and actually be third time lucky !

This is what I wrote more than a month ago. But, dude, I am a girl. I change my clothes and my mind more frequently than a chameleon changes its colour. So, now I feel like continuing this blog of mine and deleting the third one. So, guys...watch out for my thoughtless ramifications here...

Thanks for the co-operation..