Wednesday, May 22, 2013

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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.*

Saturday, May 18, 2013

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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!

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