Mothers. Daughters. Trying Times.

This morning at a friend's home.

Friend holding forth on freedom for women:  Nonsense! Orange, did you watch that lawyer on TV blaming the poor girl. It's all about what women wear and what they did and what they said. It's all rubbish. We should go out and castrate them! All the men. What do you say?

Me: Um uh... even poor Himself? (Her husband)?

Himself looks up from his sausages and mashed potatoes to grins at us.

Friend: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That's what I have always loved about you; you have such a sense of humour.

Himself: From my point of view, it looks more like a sense of horror.

Friend: Chee chee, you keep quiet, we are having a serious discussion, aren't we, Orange?

I must tell you that this is an old friend, we have known each other from when we were babies and so we are both extremely accepting of each other's foibles. She accepts my lack of concern about everything, drags me for my haircuts, collects my clothes from the tailor, shouts at my maids when they take advantage of me and generally looks after me while I love her for her great big generous heart and listen to her discourses on her latest fad.

Himself (before I can retort): Sure. You’re discussing and she’s trying hard to be serious.

Friend: Ayyyyyyoooo, kadavule, kaapaathungooo!

In the midst of this, friend’s teenager hurtles down the stairs on her way out of the house. Friend undergoes a transformation into Ancient Volcano Goddess.

AVG erupts and spews molten lava:  What ARE you wearing? 

I can’t see anything wrong; she’s wearing jeans and a lovely black top.

Daughter: Ma, don’t start! Pa, is there anything wrong with what I’m wearing?

Himself, suddenly deaf buries his face in his mashed potatoes.

AVG: Turn around. I can see your butt. 

Daughter:  You can see my jeans, Ma! My butt is inside them.

AVG now erupts even more magnificently: GO AND CHANGE!

Daughter bursts into tears and runs up the stairs.

Himself: These are good mashed potatoes.

Halfway up the stairs to comfort Daughter, I stop and pour some ice cold water on AVG  She stops spewing but stands wreathed in smoke trails and muttering: Girls these days!

I'm not a parent, so I cannot presume to comment on the rights and wrongs of this.

But this I know - we must change. 

On a journey. Of my own. On my own.

I've been checking out quite a few posts on the 26/11 incident. While most of the ones I've read have espoused similar attitudes - shocked, angry, sorrowful etc - there are some who have a different take on it. These two started me thinking.

Where are the bluebirds flying over the mountains again?

Whatever

I know that it is going to take a long while before I work out my own feelings about the incident. And yes, it's going to take me a lot of introspection to understand my spontaneous reactions to the incident and all that happened surrounding it.

I hope I come across more such posts which guide me to paths down which my thoughts can wander in this search.

Darkday

Sunday afternoons were fun
Until the lake froze to glass
Not quite hiding memories
Beneath layers of happiness.
The shadows in my soul shine still.

Deathroad thoughts

The strangest thoughts ran through my head yesterday when I thought I was about to die. There I was, face down on an insanely busy Delhi road, being dragged along by a Tavera. There I was, quite definite that I was just seconds away from death. And there I was, thinking the strangest, most inexplicable thoughts.

"And I so wanted to read Mathew Reilly's latest book.

I hope someone finishes that bottle of wine in the fridge.

And the cutlets.

I promised Mac a game of real life scrabble when he comes down.

It's been a long time since I wore bangles.

Awwww, I'm going to miss Saturday night out.

And some unbloggable thoughts."

Unbloggable, mostly irrelevant and definitely strange.

Really.

Strange.

Sometimes I don't understand myself.

I don't pretend to, either.