tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36610800372442490662024-03-13T05:44:34.547-07:00Sangeeta's Blogsangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-11268127527707961922018-09-15T01:50:00.001-07:002018-09-15T01:50:34.711-07:00What the work-life balance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: medium;">There I am. That's me. Sitting on the bench.. looking at my kids playing..</span><br />
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And there she is..another mom.. sitting on another bench... looking at her kids playing..</div>
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"So, what are you thinking hmmm?" she mutters.</div>
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I gaze at her face and say "I am thinking what should I be thinking about next.."</div>
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She does not think I am crazy.</div>
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She gets it.</div>
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"Me too" she says..</div>
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And we both gaze at each other waiting to see who goes first because once it starts it's going to be like two trains speedily heading towards the same exact destination which is called "work life balance" in the corporate world. The world once we were part of. </div>
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I happen to think "work life balance" is a really fashionable word used in the offices by people. Like it's a fashion amongst kids to walk their pets. When time comes to clean the "you know what", it's suddenly someone else's responsibility.</div>
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I go to grocery stores. I go to parks. I go to doctor appointments. I go to parties(to drop off and pick up that is...I got you there.. didn't I?) . I go to school events. I meet moms. And I get it. I get that we are all in the same ship. We have a very busy morning, followed by a downtime of few hours and then a very busy evening. Either that or we have a very busy morning, then a commute, a good fulfilling career (mostly) and then again very short but chaotic time with kids before they go to bed. I have now experienced both sides. And I certainly think if we all put our minds together, may be in a couple of decades, picture will change..very convincing...I know...</div>
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The other day someone told me "moms are more suitable for the operational jobs" and let's just say I do not want to tell you what happened next. Just which part of a mom's work is "operational" ? None of it.. if moms can handle all what they are doing then they can handle any unknown and stressful situation at work even if they have little to no domain knowledge. Talk about patience at work place. They got it. Talk about stress. Should I even start? Talk about being creative. We got it!! Talk about being fearless and bold..hell ya! Talk about hard work, Roger that!!! Talk about being a good listener..I see all fingers pointing at us!! Talk about being good at talking? Drum roll please!! Talk about being fast learnens? Oh yeah! We are so fast, so fast, we become just from being g "just us" to "us and kid and diapers and homework and dishes and fight resolving machines and most loving mentors" in a matter of seconds! So, I don't see anything operational in what we do! We would kill (no pun) any project if we put our mind to it! </div>
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That's only if we use our most productive hours and marry them with our passion and our thirst to learn and achieve and our tenacity to take things to the end no matter what the outcome is. All we need is to find the right opportunity.</div>
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Corporate world, do you have jobs for this hidden talent? Do you have opportunities for this amazing work force waiting to jump in and prove that they matter, they can make a difference and not at the cost of loosing their valuable time with their family..</div>
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-8982202868241887522018-06-21T06:49:00.003-07:002018-06-21T06:49:40.983-07:00Beginning never ends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Another year has passed me by in a jiffy and it is time to turn off those alarms. The alarms to wake up to make the school lunches, the alarms for the late pick ups from the school, the reminders for the concerts, to pay for the yearbooks and the ones to send in popcorn for a party...and yet I know everyone will be awake bright and early tomorrow even before the alarm would have rung... because, hey...who doesn't want to get up really really early on the first day of your hard earned summer vacation? I will see an almost teenager boy with a ball in his hand running up and down the stairs at 6 AM with "I am starving" written all over his face followed by a girl with curly hair blissfully walking down the stairs with a book in her hand!! And this is the same boy who showed me "will wake up in two minutes" by raising two fingers and then one minute and then thirty seconds right from under his sheets just until yesterday...<br />
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The beginning of the school year just feels like yesterday to me. I guess it's true that when things come to an end the beginning feels really close by but when you are in the midst of it all, it feels like every day is spread far and wide.</div>
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Soon there will be fights and yelling...fights for the same chair to sit on..fights for the same laptop to be used followed with complaints about who has gotten more electronic time and who is mom's favorite..soon there will be complaints about same food at lunch, dinner and breakfast. There will be a dozen shoes at the door, junk food wrappers on the floor... lemonade in the fridge and bug bites on the legs...</div>
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Just yesterday I was a mom who struggled to put two kids in the car seats and admired that toothless grin and waited to have meaningful conversations with them and today I am a mom who knows time is fleeting and if I have to create a zillion points on my graph, I better work hard and I better work fast. Today I am a mom who yells and the one who is in total disbelief that I can yell this much in this short time. And today I am also a mom who knows it's okay to yell. It is okay to behave like an imperfect human being. It is okay to have a messy house but playful kids. It is okay to be in those photos even when I think I look like a mess. </div>
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Soon there will be a time when I will be in the passenger seat. Soon I will witness that shy smile with the braces on. Soon I will see them go in their rooms and chat with their friends behind the closed doors... Soon there will be no more mess on the table. Soon things will be used as they are meant to be and they will be in the places they were supposed to be..Soon it will be 6 AM and there would be me hating the eerie silence because I can actually hear the clock ticking..</div>
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Here is to another summer of making memories and realizing that growing never has to stop..Cheers!!</div>
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-65290482855089526752017-08-14T20:22:00.001-07:002017-08-14T20:28:13.794-07:00The Secret School<div align="left"><p dir="ltr"><br>
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I recently read a book - The Secret School - suggested as summer reading for sixth grade. After reading it I so wanted to be the main character in the story - Ida Bidson - a vivacious and smart fourteen years old going to school with her seven year old brother. In 1925, her school in the valley of poor sheep farmers is nothing but a small room. There are eight students of different ages taught by only one teacher. <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Ida and her best friend Tom are passionate about completing their seventh grade so they can attend high school in another city. Everything depends on financial situation at home but passion to become a teacher drives Ida to finish all the chores bright and early in the morning every day and look forward to her studies..until one day all students get a bad news. Their teacher has to leave to take care of her sick mother and the township won't find replacement for her and that means the school will be closed for the rest of the term. Ida can't contain her disappointment and her mind is unsettled about her future as a teacher ..until Tom blurts out something weird, and now she can't stop thinking....what if Ida becomes their next teacher secretly so they all can continue their quest for knowledge and Ida can persue her dream??? Can Ida do this all?? She is just fourteen after all.. Can she be a good helper at home, study her own grade lessons and be a teacher to seven other students? Ida decides to take the plunge and along the way faces challenges from both students and their parents..<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">One fine day when her mom finds her otherwise bright face rather glum, Ida confesses that it's too much too handle and is worried that one unhappy parent is going to complain to the school board..her mom says the most incredible thing to her.. she says "Ida, people aren't bad. They are unhappy and unhappy people do unhappy things." <br></p>
<p dir="ltr">What an incredible thing to ponder on.. Unhappy people do unhappy things which in turn makes other people unhappy..what if one of them understands this and purposely stops himself or herself from taking any unhappy action on it?<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">Ida and Tom are a good team and would never give up on each other's dreams..Ida makes her case in front of board of education members along with her seven disciples and continues to teach and continues to learn from her students..Along the way she somehow finds how to be a girl who is just fourteen, a daughter who helps her family take care of farm, a sister who guides her brother aim high, a friend who understands passion and a teacher who learns by just listening..<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">It's exam time for Ida and her students..this is The One shot she will get at her bright future..will they all pass their exams? Will Ida continue her persuit?<br></p>
<p dir="ltr">I would say ...library is just a few steps away from your heart...so..go for it...<br>
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-30847517842020400572016-08-11T01:24:00.000-07:002016-08-11T01:24:05.200-07:00Circle Of Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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J and N fight a lot - which by popular belief means they
love each other a lot. But after the fight is over does the love go up or down?
I think that depends on the kind of fight they have just had. I happen to think
there are three kinds of fights – a bad fight, a really bad fight and a really
really bad fight. A really really
bad fight is when both parties involved do not know what they are fighting
about and it can go on and on…Man..really really bad fights are scary and
boring…this word "really really bad fight" is giving me a squiggly line which
makes me think it is grammatically incorrect. May be back when the grammar was
invented J and N were not fighting. Which makes me think may be it’s time
someone should rewrite the grammar and why not? Things improve over time so why
not grammar? Which makes me think I should be the one who should be re-writing
the grammar because why not..which makes me think writing grammar should be a pretty
big task and it will make me do work. I distinctly remember I explain to a lot
of people these days that I do not have
time to do anything these days and if I had time I would just sit on the couch
and do nothing…..doing nothing …. Which makes me think doing nothing may be
very close – very very close – to doing meditation. Which makes me think if
doing nothing also means doing something, then why would that even be my goal?
Goals…now this makes me think..really really think..there are 2 schools of
thought going on here..some people say it’s a must to have goals and stick with
them no matter what..and some people say it’s good to have goals but we should be
flexible about them..like for example, if my goal was to have a nap on a weekend
and then on Sunday I realize oh my god, no nap?? Then I should remind myself,
it is good to have goals, but I should be flexible. Which makes me think why
would I not even take a nap on a weekend…hmmmm…could it be a bad fight? A really
bad fight? Or may be a really really bad fight??? <o:p></o:p></div>
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-85761082536818852262016-05-04T07:28:00.001-07:002016-05-04T07:28:49.436-07:00IZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-40700966053546614672016-04-18T01:43:00.002-07:002016-04-18T01:43:46.967-07:00An Indian American Mom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear kids,<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am writing this here because I want you to read this when
you grow up. I am not happy writing this blog today. I am deeply disturbed,
saddened and feel extremely responsible. Recently you were part of a very
disturbing incident and I want to write about it. First, I will write the way
it happened and then I will explain my thoughts about it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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On a typical Friday evening, I took two of you and some of
your friends to a common play area so you can run around and have a good time
playing. You guys immediately started running around and playing. There was a
guy sitting with another guy near a table in the corner. He noticed you
playing. He asked you to stop making noise - twice. He was not polite. I saw
some of you getting uncomfortable. After a minute of two, he shouted at you and
said “Shhh….keep it down..will you??”. His voice was loud and the tone was very
rude. All of you immediately felt something is wrong. I walked to the person
and told him politely “The kids are playing here. I don’t think they can keep
it down.” The person banged his fist on the table and pointed his finger at me
and said very loudly “You listen to me. If they want to play here, they better
to keep it quiet or else I will call security on you. This is a meeting place..”
I told him firmly he can go ahead and call security. At this point, I saw fear
in 14 little innocent eyes looking at us. The room got very quiet as the person
walked outside to call the security guy. I told you guys to not be scared as we
have not done anything wrong and it is not okay to be rude like this and I will
talk to the security guy. You guys moved to the ping pong table anxiously waiting
to see what will happen next. The security guys walked in and told us to be
respectful of others. I told him you guys are playing since this is a game
room. He asked me if we can move the kids to some corner and I said that would
be possible but the person in question is being very rude and that is not acceptable.
At this time, the person who had complained about us walked fast towards me and
put his face right in front of my face and pointed his finger at my face and
shouted “You are a bad mom. You are letting you kids run around and be all
noisy.” I told him “You cannot talk to me like that.” and turned towards
security guy and told him “He is being very rude to me. This is not the way to
talk”. The person put his face against my face again and told all of us “If you
want to play like this, go back to India.” I turned to the security guy and
told him “He is being racist. There was no need to bring up this in the
conversation. I want to talk to manager and complain about this right now.” At
this point all of you kids were scared. I could see fear settling in your eyes
and some of you wanted to go and play in some other area. I tried to comfort
you and messaged all the moms I knew about what was happening and told them I
am going to complain. <o:p></o:p></div>
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India. My county. My Love.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The United States of America. My Country. My Love.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am part of the generation of immigrants who came here to
exhibit our skills and expertise and have settled here…some by their own choice
and some for many different reasons. When I came here, I faced lot of
challenges. I had no family. All my close friends were scattered. I was making
my own living. And I felt no sense of belonging. But the sense of belonging is
built by you slowly and gradually. I have gone all “When in Rome” on myself and
the people I interacted with have helped me build trust and respect for what I
do in this country and what this beautiful country has offered me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But I am still an Indian. I am an Indian American. I am an
Asian American. I work very hard to make a living. I pay my taxes and I abide
by the laws. And let me tell you, this is how I have always been. My parents
taught me not to litter. They taught me to be respectful. They gave me great
education. This is not something I learned new when I landed in this country. Sure,
these things were polished and put to use more often but they were there. No
matter how much I change myself, I can’t change how I look. No matter how grammatically
correct I speak, I will never speak in American accent. I am an Indian and I am
proud of that. I am also aware of all the unlawful things going on in India and
I feel huge sense of responsibility that I am not contributing to make anything
better there. I am not one of those people who hang around in a corner in a
party with beer in their hands and talk relentlessly about corruption and dowry.
I know if I can’t contribute, I can’t
complain. I am proud of my country. I am proud of my values. And I will never
change anything that makes me an Indian just to be part of something big,
exciting or different. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But I am also an American. I lived all my adulthood here. I
love the infrastructure and the laws. I enjoy the freedom of speech. I love
that people here are very social and accepting and respectful. I love that what
makes America great is this mix of cultures and diversity. I am humble that I
am part of this country and I teach you kids the same every single day. </div>
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But the truth is whether I am an Indian or American, I am
just a human being and I feel that I am being bullied on several levels in this
incident.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I think nobody can ever say to anyone that you are a bad mom
or bad dad. Period. We human beings have taken it upon ourselves to be judgmental.
That is so uncalled for. I feel like often moms are the worst target. I am a
great mom. Sure, I need to improve but I am doing my job right. I want my kids
to play. I NEED my kids to play. I want my kids to not put their face against
some electronic device and get lost in virtual world that leads them to depression
and leaves them with no real social skills to survive. I know when I take my
kids out to play, I am supervising them from a distance. I want them to resolve
some things on their own but then I also get involved when there is a need for
it. I believe I am bringing up smart human beings. And if some guy is shouting
at me because my kids are being noisy, I take it seriously. I will not let this
go. My kids are going to play. Of course I will reach an agreement if someone
is politely talking to me about taking them to a corner, but I will not
tolerate rude behavior. And lastly, I am
being bullied for being an Indian. I can be from any part of this world; but no
one can bully me about it. Period. No one can ever label me. We should not
tolerate this and turn deaf ear towards it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Lastly, what I am going to write in this paragraph is very
important for you and me. Whenever someone is exhibiting aggressive and racist
behavior when you did nothing wrong, it makes me think. Why would someone do it?
It is a chance for me to reflect on my own behavior. When I look at someone,
what do I notice? Do I notice skin color, accent, how costly his or her attire
could be or am I really looking at his or her eyes and listening to what they
are saying? Why would someone hate me so much and call me names because I was
born in some other country? There is always a big picture and a big story
behind it and as a part of this big society I feel responsible for it. I feel
sad that human beings are labeled. I feel sad that many of us are unknowingly
hurting others. I feel sad that many of us do not get outlet for some
frustrations or setbacks in our lives and then we are destined to host hateful
feelings about other religion, other country, other cast. <o:p></o:p></div>
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We are all just human beings in the end. I just want to be
myself. I want you to be yourself. Whenever you feel the urge to call someone
names, I want you to stop and say to yourself “I do not have a right to say
that because it is just plain wrong” When someone is bullying you, do not
tolerate it but at the same time, try to think about the big picture and find
out how we can make this better. Be humble that we are alive. We may be born in India, we may be born in
America, but aren’t we all part of the same big world - the same world where we
bring up our beautiful next generation and treasure the old generation?<o:p></o:p></div>
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-22968866988822943782016-03-11T09:22:00.001-08:002016-03-11T09:37:01.558-08:00यूँ ही<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
यूँ ही एक मुस्कुराहट कल<br />
चेहरे पे आ रुकी थी<br />
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रास्ते थे जब धुंदले धुंदले<br />
सांस थी जब धीमी धीमी<br />
सपनो से खेलते खेलते<br />
पलकों में वो बसी थी<br />
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थामा जो तूने हात था<br />
गाया जो तूने गीत था<br />
चाहतों की गलियों से<br />
मेरे दिल से वो जुडी थी<br />
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तेरी यादों से घिरी<br />
तेरी दमन से लिपटी<br />
ईक फूल बनके जैसे<br />
मेरा साज बन गयी थी<br />
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तेरे शहर को छोड़े<br />
ज़माना हो गया था<br />
फिर सीने के दरिया से<br />
क्यू दीवानगी हो रही थी<br />
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यूँ ही एक मुस्कुराहट कल<br />
चेहरे पे आ रुकी थी<br />
एक अफ़साना बनके<br />
फिर आंसू से जा मिली थी<br />
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sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-19477344540739173612016-03-07T03:30:00.002-08:002016-03-07T03:38:52.695-08:00Word Mole<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Behind all the pretenses and smiles, we all have our story.
Real Story. That’s such an Oxymoron. Real. Story. We adults have THE STORY OF
OUR LIVES. It could be “I know a lot of things but I am good at nothing” or “I
am good at this but will never be good at that. EVER”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we are kids we have many stories of life. They are
rather innocent and short lived. It could be “they don’t include me in their
group” or “mom always favors her” or “gee my math used to be awesome but whatever
the heck happened?”. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come to realize that may be around we reach double digit
birthdays, our stories might start to feel real. They slowly start to become
who we are and how we think people will see us eventually. Even if there is any
small positive story that comes in our mind, we always have the big sad story
pity party going on along the side which always wins. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stories need to be talked. They need to be dissolved like
the ones in the Word Mole game. The moment they form, I want them to vanish and
we get rewarded for creating it and saying bye to them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today is a beginning of a new tomorrow..Let’s play Word Mole
with our kids and make up Real Stories and say goodbye to them….</div>
</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-31233106694076739022015-12-21T00:46:00.000-08:002015-12-21T00:46:22.119-08:00 जादुगार<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
प्रिय आई ,<br />
<br />
मला अस वाटत आई आणि मुलीने नेहमीच जवळ रहाव<br />
मला अस वाटत आई आणि मुलीने नेहमीच जवळ रहाव<br />
दिवसभर असते मी मुलांची आई<br />
काही क्षण का होईना मी रोज फक्त माझ्या आईच मुल व्हाव ...<br />
<br />
आई, मग तुला तहान लागली कि मी पाणी आणून द्याव<br />
ते हि तू न सांगता<br />
मग एक फक्कड चहा करावा फक्त तुझ्या आणि तुझ्या साठीच<br />
दुध जराही न सांडता<br />
<br />
आणि मग मात्र मी आळशी माणसा सारख<br />
सोफ्यावर बसून रहाव मस्त<br />
कारण मी कस वागायचं तुझ्याशी ह्याचे नियम<br />
मीच बनवते ना फक्त<br />
<br />
आई, मग मी TV बघत असताना<br />
"आ …… ई भू …क " म्हणायच्या आधीच तू प्रकट व्हावस<br />
हातातली तांदुळाची भाकरी भरवून<br />
तू प्रेमाने बघावास<br />
<br />
तहान लागलीये म्हणायच्या आधीच<br />
पाणी समोर याव<br />
अशी किमया फक्त तुलाच येते आई<br />
कुणी जादूच्या प्रयोगांना कशाला जाव<br />
<br />
<br />
मी तुझ्याकडे कोकम च सरबत मागताना<br />
तू माझ्या वर्षातून एकदा बनवलेल्या चहाच कौतुक करावस<br />
रात्री जेवणात हे करू का ते करू विचारताना<br />
मी हे पण कर आणि ते पण कर म्हंटल्यावर तू हळूच हसावस<br />
<br />
मुलगी बनता बनता मी मग<br />
आई बनायला शिकते<br />
आणि आई बनता बनता<br />
माझ्यातल्या मुलीला बिलगून राहते<br />
<br />
माझ्या डोळ्यातलं confusion मग<br />
तुलाच अचूक कळत<br />
एका छान मिठीमध्ये मग<br />
एक गुपित उलगडत …<br />
<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-42602279483011615152015-10-09T06:54:00.000-07:002015-10-09T06:54:12.843-07:00The Fourth Grade has happened...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Universe,<br />
<br />
The fourth grade has happened and the boy is in total shock of disbelief!!<br />
<br />
Discipline and responsibility are not just words in dictionary or spelling test, they are actually something you do in you real life???<br />
<br />
you see, when someone breaks your heart, we have this fear and sadness and anxiety in our eyes and the boy has all that when he goes through what homework he has to finish every day! His soft munchkin heart is all broken so to speak...<br />
<br />
Needless to say I have been promoted from "mean mommy" to "the most mean-est mommy on the face of this galaxy" It's high time I get promoted..Better late than never.<br />
<br />
I often think about what I can do for him right now so he becomes a pretty sensible person as a teenager. Fortunately "N" has been training me on how to deal with teenagers. My fourth grade started when she started her second year ...They both train themselves well on how to become a fully functional teenager.<br />
<br />
1> They can slam the doors.<br />
2> They can slam the doors. Very frequenty. Like all the time. ALL THE TIME.<br />
3> They can sit at the dinner table looking extremely sad and pathetic.<br />
4> They sigh when I come home from office.<br />
5> They skip eating lunch in order to do something called "chatting" with their friends.<br />
6> In any situation, and I mean "ANY", they can find a way to blame it on parents.<br />
7> They also use pharases like "all seven years of my life" or "having a hard day" or "hurting feelings" or "you do not understand". (I especially like "all years of my life". Here is how you use it - I have been eating food all nine years of my life. If you want me to grow you better feed me.)<br />
8> They can very effectively roll their eyes.<br />
9> They can also use hand gestures to show us "quotation marks" around important words.<br />
10> They stop recognizing us when we enter elevators.<br />
<br />
Pretty impressive, huh?<br />
<br />
P.S: I used to find the purpose of my life. But not anymore. I know now that I was sent upon this earth to be brought up by "J" and "N". It was just yesterday "N" taught me how to count....tenteen, eleventeen, twelveteen......The fourth grade has happened and the mom is in total shock of disbelief!!</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-78134495856573543522015-09-29T08:07:00.003-07:002015-09-29T08:11:19.537-07:00Magic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Magic...My honest attempt to write a story based on something real and something fictional..<br />
<br />
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
Little Miss. N tossed and turned several times in bed before her tiny hand reached for her mom.<br />
<br />
"Mom" she whispered..<br />
"hmmm?"<br />
"My throat hurts"<br />
"oh"<br />
"I don't feel good"<br />
"oh"<br />
<br />
Her mom gave her some water and sat by her. N's eyes were looking for something different. She stared in the dark as her mom went into other room. She wondered what will happen next. When mom came back, her sweet little eyes sparkled. She saw the tiny bottle in her mom's hand. It was given to her by her grandma. N believed it was magical. It had the most tiny-est cute white little pills of medicine in it. When mom opened it, N felt like a princess standing in front of her fairy god mother waiting for her glass slippers. She felt GRAND!!! Music played in her ears through the thick of the night when she saw mom giving her two of those pills. Ummmm....is that the smell of joy?? It sure is..As she put the pills in her mouth, N felt better. Her throat still hurt but she felt something was better. She could not really pinpoint what..She remembered her grandma's hands, her hair, her warm hugs and her sweet voice..<br />
<br />
"You know when you get medicine, there is something you need to do" mom said<br />
"What?" N asked<br />
"in the next 24 hours, you need to do a good deed for someone else" <br />
"but why ?"<br />
"well, someone is helping you through this medicine and you need to return this goodness to someone else so this continues forever" mom whispered in dark and smiled softly.<br />
"hmmmm..what will I do then?" <br />
"Don't worry, you will figure it out soon.." mom said as N gently folded her arms around her mom's neck and hugged her..<br />
<br />
She stood quietly in the line to go to the gym when other kids were making noise and pulling each other. Her curious eyes were looking for something today. Will I find it? What if I do not? Will the magic vanish? Will I know when I find it? What will mom say?<br />
<br />
Soon enough, it was lunch time and there she was quietly chewing her sandwich all engrossed in her <br />
thoughts. <br />
<br />
"What is God grandma ?"<br />
"What do u think N?"<br />
<br />
She was startled by a noise of someone laughing and she turned sideways. She saw a bunch of them laughing and staring at a fallen water bottle. It had fallen from table on someone's lap and then on the ground. What a mess!! She thought. And suddenly she saw a face all red and eyes filled with tears and anger and sadness all at the same time. <br />
<br />
"Have you seen God? Does he hear you when you talk to him? Is God a she or a he Grandma?"<br />
"God lives in everyone. When you listen to someone with all your heart, you can make magic happen."<br />
"Really? You are so so magical grandma.."<br />
<br />
N suddenly got up and walked to her and said "It's okay. Let's go to the teacher." N firmly held her hand and ushered her out of the lunch room. <br />
<br />
As they walked together out of the lunch room, she felt GRAND!! Music played in her ears in the middle of all the noise!! N smiled softly and whispered in her friend's ears <br />
<br />
"Listen, I have to tell you a secret!!"<br />
"Really? What??"<br />
"Yeah, I know how to find God."<br />
"What?? Can you tell me how?"<br />
"Yes of course, it's easy. You just need to listen and help"<br />
<br />
She smiled. Her throat still hurt but she felt something was better. She could not really pinpoint what..She remembered her grandma's hands, her hair, her warm hugs and her sweet voice..<br />
<br />
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-65026785987413441952015-07-24T23:59:00.000-07:002015-07-24T23:59:43.807-07:00एक<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
एक सायंकाळ हवीये<br />
झुरायला <br />
एक पाऊस हवाय<br />
भिजायला<br />
<br />
एक घर हवाय<br />
सजवायला<br />
एक पायवाट हवीये<br />
हरवायला<br />
<br />
एक चुटका हवाय<br />
हसायला<br />
एक कारण हवय<br />
रुसायला<br />
<br />
एक साज हवाय<br />
छेडायला<br />
एक गाणं हवय<br />
गुणगुणायला<br />
<br />
एक गुपित हवय<br />
कुजबुजायला<br />
एक विश्वास हवाय<br />
ठेवायला<br />
<br />
एक हसू हवय<br />
स्मरायला<br />
एक आसू हवाय<br />
पुसायला<br />
<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-33649320816806563422015-07-24T23:57:00.001-07:002015-07-24T23:57:48.341-07:00I walk with you...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
life with you<br />life with you bro is...<br />pretty messy ..</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
a fight with you<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />a fight with you bro is...<br />pretty crazy ..</span></div>
<div class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
Fight we might<br />but Love we will<br />Kick we might<br />but hold hands we will</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
ours is the friendship in the making<br />oh my silly friend...<br />Even my shadow will follow you<br />forever till the end..</div>
</div>
</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-58424563255828469522015-05-31T12:21:00.000-07:002015-05-31T12:21:00.558-07:00America has got talent???<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am one proud mom that my firstborn wrote a poem about the most magical and talked about subject for a 9 year old boy..and I am pretty sure, pretty damn sure, I am not the only one..<br />
<br />
Original song-<br />
<br />
Star light, star bright<br />
first star I see tonight<br />
I wish I may, I wish I might<br />
I wish my wish comes true tonight..<br />
<br />
but, try this one now in the same tune-<br />
<br />
fart star, fart star<br />
first fart I smell tonight<br />
you fart your fart, I pee my pee<br />
you can fart, all night with me<br />
<br />
--------------<br />
I actually laughed so much at this that I had tears in my eyes. Is that good?? then again..who cares??</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-55350867180044846312015-03-19T07:07:00.000-07:002015-03-19T07:07:12.251-07:00Horse Poop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few years back we brought J to NYC in December so he can enjoy the Rockefeller Center Xmas tree. I was actually more excited just imagining how excited he will be to see such a huge tree with so many colorful lights. He came and he saw it. On our way back he saw a few NYC police men riding horses. And then he spotted one of horses doing the most exciting thing in the world on NYC street right in front of him..he pooped. Are u kidding me?? Horse poop on NYC street?? Jays eyes said to me..We had to see this because it’s exciting..interesting..awesome..<br /><br />Flash forward to today..a person living with me apparently wanted me to be excited about new exciting features in asp.net and mvc new version and forwarded me a link to read..but I did not find my horse poop there..it was all Xmsy and glittery but No.Horse.Poop for me..<br /><br />Flash back to long long ago when I was young.. I used to think I am a bright and smart person. I still believe in it - like one day out of 365 days..but other days I find myself scared of Xmas trees and <br />looking for something exciting..is it just me or does anyone else think being in IT is becoming more and more difficult these days? I think I am good at all things but great at nothing. One geek-o-gods suggested I should read like there is no tomorrow after homework cooking cleaning putting kids to bed preparing for tomorrow and possibly brushing my own teeth..but I see no point because what I read today is going to change tomorrow anyways..<br /><br />Why are we inventing all these things? And still trying to catch divide by zero exceptions? May I please forgive myself once in a while for not using dependency injection? May I just be happy for one entire day about my work? The streets are leading somewhere..wind is blowing..it’s cold..Xmas tree is glittery..people are cheerful. But I seem to get lost still looking for my horse poop..</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-47050473585111144622015-01-05T13:18:00.002-08:002015-01-05T13:18:47.612-08:00विड्याचे पान <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">एका संध्याकाळी Indian restaurant मधून विडा विकत घेतला आणि घरी येउन fridge मधे ठेवून दिला. दोन तीन दिवस तिथे फिरकले पण नाही. तिसऱ्या दिवशी अचानक नजर गेली आणि चटकन हातात घेतला. चंदेरी foil मध्ये लपेटलेला तो विडा मी नाकाजवळ नेला आणि एक दीर्घ श्वास घेतला. तो सुगंध घेतला आणि नजरे समोरून तीन चेहरे सरकन तरळून गेले. माझे तीन मामा . तीन तीन मामा होते माला . माझी आई त्यांची लाडकी बहिण. खरोखरच लाडकी. मामा लोकांना पान खायला आवडायचं . <br /><br />तीनही मामा म्हणजे मूर्तिमंत प्रेम. लाड कसे करायचे हे कोणी त्यांच्या कडून शिकवे. किती करायचे त्याला काहीही मर्यादा नव्हती कधिच. काही लोकांना आठवल कि कश्या काही भावना जागृत होतात तसे मामा आठवले कि उब वाटते. प्रेमळ लाघवी बोलणे आठवते. मिठास …. मिठास म्हणतात त्याला … नसानसात इतके प्रेम कि डोळ्यातून पण तेच दिसायचे. आम्हा भाचे लोकांना ते लाडाची नावे ठेवायचे. लाडाची नावे आणि प्रेम हे इतक डोक्यात जावून बसलं न लहानपणी कि कुणी जर लाडच नाव ठेवलं नाही तर प्रेमच नाही असच equation बसलं घर करून मनात… गम्मत असते न …. शब्द कित्ती महत्त्वाचे असतात . मामा लोकांनी इतके लाडावले कि आम्ही म्हणजे जणू प्रेमाच्या पाकात मुरलेले गुलाब जाम झालो… <br /><br />दिवाळी ची सुट्टी सुरु झाली कि आई ला उत्साह यायचा. भाउ बिजेच्या दिवशी भल्या पहाटे उठून ती बासुंदी चा घाट घालायची . तीनही मामांना बासुंदी प्रिय. अर्थात इतक्या गोड माणसांना आणखीन काय आवडणार म्हणा … तिघे जेव्हा मनसोक्त बासुंदी प्यायचे तेव्हा आईच्या चेहऱ्यावरचा आनंद ओसंडून वाहायचा जणू . सुंदर माणसे आणि तितकेच सुंदर नाते … छोट्या गोष्टी पण तितकेच मोठे प्रेम … <br /><br />जेव्हा एकेका मामला गमावलं तेव्हा बालपणाला हळूहळू रामराम म्हटलं … एक अतुट नात , एक अद्वैत प्रेम , अनेक प्रेमळ सव्वाद , खूप काही राहिलेल्या अपूर्ण गोष्टी एका गाठोड्यात बांधून मनाच्या कोपऱ्यात ठेउन दिल्या… त्या सगळ्या ह्या एका विड्याच्या पानामुळे धुवाधार पावसागत कोसळून गेल्या … आणि राहिला फक्त एक सुगंध …. <br /></span></span></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-59153450516149547282015-01-02T06:45:00.000-08:002015-01-02T06:45:20.053-08:00Halloween in January<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
New Jersey..<br />Jan 2nd<br />2:14 A.M<br />Note: EnD whispers when room is dark. Even if it means she has to speak same sentence 10 times..<br /><br />EnD: Maaaami, I need to go to the restroom...<br />EsD: {No kid, you need to wait until you see light outside} go..<br /><br />few seconds later..<br />EnD re-appears in the bedroom (please multiple the horror by at least 10 times since....remember?? EnD whispers when the room is dark even if it means she has to speak the same sentense 10 times...)<br /><br />EsD: what happened??<br />EnD: maaami...<br />EsD: Yes???<br />EnD: maaami, I need to tell you something...<br /><br /><br />Note2: Its 2 AM and each sentence can begin with "I need to tell you something" and then a pause<br />Note3: remember...she whispers..remember.<br /><br /><br />EsD: what is it??<br />EnD: maaaaaami....remember, the light switch?? the one we had in the bathroom??<br />EsD: Yes<br />EnD: maaaaami, I need to tell you something..<br />EsD: what??<br />EnD: The light switch in the bathroom is not there..maaaami..the light switch is gone..<br /><br />EsD: {really?? heeeee heeeeee..}<br /><br />Note4: You can laugh at almost-six-year old only when it is dark because apparently some almost-six-year-olds from NJ with curly hair and cute button nose have a bad temper when you smile at something like this..<br />Note5: EsD is big fan of Harry Potter and she can hear Harry Potter music almost instantaneously when situation like this arises.<br /><br />So, Hermoine Dixit wore a big black hat and had a magic wand in her hand and walked with EnD in dark and entered the restroom and said "Vingardium Leviosa!!!!!!!!!!!" and voila...the light switch magically re-appeared..<br /><br />Hugs and kissess..hugs and kisses...from EnD to EsD...<br /><br />Thank you dear God for special magical powers and almost six-year-olds and almost nine-year-olds ..<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-89923069730893380872014-12-23T11:59:00.000-08:002014-12-23T11:59:22.227-08:00Santa...I need you to be real...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was on my way back from the gym walking through an underground passage. It was just 2 days shy of Christmas and NYC was glowing. People walking with co-workers happily sharing stories of their plans on how to spend holidays with family was all I could see and hear until I spotted a man. He was sitting near the door of a pharmacy store. His son - I assumed - was on his lap. He had a board next to him "For the love of god, please help me". For a person who has commuted to NYC for over 10 years, this sight is not unusual. <br /><br />I stopped for a second and looked at his son's face. He was wearing a jacket and a cap and his eyes were closed. The man was holding him with both hands and trying to not disturb his sleep. His eyes looked full of love for his son.<br /><br />I went back to my office. Hundreds of advertisements of toys, clothes and food flashed around in front of my eyes. I walked back speedily as if I wanted to run away from these thoughts. necklaces, rings, balls, apple pie, Santa, elves, elf of the shelf, Mrs. Clause, temperature below freezing, family get together, parties, drinks, food, dance, drinking, smoking, kids, accidents, babies, smiles, tears all circled around me until I reached my desk. I frantically searched my wallet and found 15 dollars. I grabbed all the chocolates I had and ran back to the elevator. Never help a person who is begging for money, they say. You can help them once and then what will happen next? What will happen next, Sangeeta? I do not know. Do you? The elevator was on the lobby level and I had to get out. What if this guy goes somewhere else and I can't find him? I need to run because I need to talk to him. I need to talk to him and look into his eyes. I ran down the escalator to the concourse level. Is Santa real? Jay asked me. What do you think, Jay? I asked him. I don't know mommy..He said. What is real is this. What is real is people are dying, starving, shivering, crying and people are laughing, eating, drinking, driving when drunk. What is real is people like me who want to help are not helping somehow. I spotted him again. There was some money in the bag next to him now. some one dollar bills, some change. I reached close to him and sat down on the ground. My nose was all red and voice shivered as I said hi to him. Is this your son? I asked. Yes, he said. How old is he? I asked. Four, he said. I looked at his face and then I looked at his son's face and reached out my hand to shake hand with him. How is he feeling? I asked. He is fine. He said. I handed him over 15 dollars and chocolates. Thank you and may god bless you, he said. Please take care, I said. We both smiled at each other and I left.<br /><br />Santa, this Christmas, I want you to be real and explain me what gift is. Santa, this Christmas, I want you to guide me in finding out how am I a gift to others in this world..Santa, this year, I want your help to find out how can I make a difference in someone else's life...Santa, I need you to be real..<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-16954913475171936132014-11-22T06:17:00.000-08:002014-11-22T06:17:12.182-08:00Basmati Developer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One day long long ago yesterday when I was far far away from home 2 minutes into my driving, the phone rang and it was Nina on the other side. <br /><br />N: We aaa oooo?<br />M: what?<br />N: we aaa oooo?<br />M: what?<br />N: aa nee ooo<br />M: heh??<br />N: aaaaa neeeeee ooooooooooooooo<br /><br />At first I thought my gifted child is beginning to deliver some message from a parallel universe and it was..She introduced me to Shira. Shira is a highly expressive responsive open source language created by Nina. Shira is a highly vagabond-ish and attitude-ish language with severe need of an interpreter. So I came with up with the name of interpreter - Basmati. The interpreter will come next. But name is most important thing these days. You see the theme going on here, don't you? So Shira can be vaguely interpreted by Basmati right now as follows-<br /><br />1> The key words in Shira are never spoken fully. For example - need as neee, where as we<br />2> The key words in Shira are sometimes not spoken at all. It's entirely interpreter's job to figure that out and Basmati is smart at that. for example: <br />3> The words should all flow together. For example:<br />
heneeooo is He needs you. AaaaaneeeOOOooooo is I need you. Do you see the explosion of harmony going on there? Simply breathtaking!!<br />4> Shira ignores questions asked and can continue to give same answers in incresingly annoying tone of voice. For example: <br /><br />aaa neee foooo ( I need food)<br />what's that Nina?<br />aaaaaaaaa [pause and eye roll] neeeeeeeeeeee fooooooooooo ( [woman], I need food)<br /><br />5> sometimes in Shira one word or sentence can be heard as totally another word or sentence and it is left to listner to face the consequences. For example- <br /><br />aa neeeeeeeeeeeee taaaaaaaa (I need that)<br />Who is Anita?<br />aaaaaaaaa neeeeeeeee taaaaaaaaaa (I need that)<br />you have a new friend called Anita??<br /><br />6> Basmati needs help from smart brains as Shira gets more and more complex. So I call out to anyone who can demonstrate true courage to the daily scrum meeting at 12 AM. <br /><br />PS: Nina is almost 18, and can speak better than her mom and dad and is in no need to speak Shira, but hey, it's Nina!! </div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-85091192922432725632014-09-22T12:22:00.004-07:002014-09-22T12:32:09.567-07:00Thodasa Forrest Gump ho jaye...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
People like me get fed up with the routine almost hundred time during a given day. People who live with people like me give up on people like me..They sort of let them wander around and about and then go crazy. Have you noticed crazy people are always looking around..and since I am one of them, I can tell you for sure, they are looking around to see if they can spot someone like them..<br />
<br />
On one of such routinely boring day when my crazy mind was tired of thinking nothing in particular, the phone rang and "N" on the other side asked me a question to participate in an event. My mind said to me "hey there Sango, thodasa forrest gump ho jaye??" and just like that I became part of the sensational dance group.<br />
<br />
Sensational dance group is created by "R". As I got to meet her and the other ladies and later knew about this name, I thought sensational is an understatement. A bunch of souls full of life are set out to find happiness in dancing here. It's a place where crazy is normal. Crazy is wonderful. Crazy is wanted. So my type. <br />
<br />
Here is an ode to my wonderful new friends whom I will admire for the rest of my life. Your tenacity and affection humbles me....<br />
<br />
<br />
Thodasa Neeti ho jaye<br />
Eak pyarasa smile diya jaye<br />
apne eak friend ke liye<br />
thodasa unresonable hi ho jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa Rashmi ho jaye<br />
Eak sundar sa dance bhithaya jaye<br />
raat ke andhere me <br />
eak lamba chauda email hi kuon na likha jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa sa Mugdha ho jaye<br />
Photo me eak silly sa smile diya jaye<br />
headache hai to koi baat nahi yaar<br />
eak kadak chay hi piliyi jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa Shalini ho jaye<br />
Eak warm so hug diya jaye<br />
hindi windi marathi warathi kya yaar<br />
thodisi pyaar ki bhasha hi boli jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa Minal ho jaye<br />
bahut sara skype bhi ho jaye<br />
steps weps kya cheej hai yaar<br />
life hi eak beautiful dance ho jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa Sangeeta ho jaye<br />
eak apna vacation bhi ho jaye<br />
aate hi yaaro vapas<br />
thodasa practice bhi ho jaye..<br />
<br />
Thodasa Archana ho jaye<br />
aur understudy bana jaye<br />
eak raat ko achanak<br />
main role bhi accept kiya jaye..<br />
<br />
oye thodasa rumani ho jaye<br />
aur thoda crazy ho jaye<br />
kaal kisne dekha yaaro<br />
aaj to thoda sensational ho jaye...</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-32929926281968906422014-08-05T12:54:00.000-07:002014-08-05T12:54:26.796-07:00Life happens here...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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NYC intersections are more like classrooms....a
maze..everything and nothing all at once..I especially like the one right next
to the port authority. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is huge. It is crowded and windy there. The signals are
rattling and the life is bustling..As people reach the middle of the avenue or
the street, they start guessing if there is a stop single or go signal or there
is a flashing stop/go signal. Some speed up in anticipation and some slow down.
For some, it does not really matter.</div>
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<br /></div>
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As people reach intersection, something magical starts
happening. The intersection starts talking to people. It says, slow down.. It
says..hey, slow down buddy. It says, make a choice..Some people speed up and
make it to the other end. Others slow down and wait. There is something about
that place when they wait. I can't exactly tell what it is..But when we wait,
we suddenly start existing in our own world. Some take a sip of coffee. A
mother carrying her little chubby son or daughter kisses him or her. A dad
pushing a stroller looks at his son or daughter lovingly and sighs. Two people
in love hold their arms and pull each other a little closer and whisper “I love
you”s… A young man listening to some nice song starts dancing. Some look at the
billboards and give a silly smile..ummm...life..life smells sweet there..life...life
stands still there... until the signal starts beckoning us again, we make a
little sweet spot for ourselves in this huge world and breathe..just breathe..</div>
</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-79624988027335888772014-07-16T08:54:00.000-07:002014-07-18T13:09:46.176-07:00Mommy Brain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since this planet is blessed for almost 40 years with my presence, I wonder that did I contribute and what I am supposed to be doing or contributing. <br />
<br />
Flashback to long long ago...<br />
Long long ago when some man (Yes!! man) had nothing and I mean NOTHING to do on his plate for months after months and years after years, one day he woke up and bam!!! He thought to himself..well may be I am supposed to think about - what am I doing here? and the philosophy was born..<br />
<br />
Some people (like the one I live with) do not buy into all this C.R.A.P and they put their shoes on and put one foot in front of other and say "Hell with what I am supposed to do here..I am just doing to go do it.." But some people like me buy into the C.R.A.P and when they wake up in the middle of the night, they say to themselves..well..what am I supposed to do? Then when they are waiting for the bus, they say..well..what is my purpose of living?? then when they are looking at people in the meeting, they say..why was I brought into this world??<br />
Is my purpose of living -<br />
1> Pack three pairs of shoes for Nina so she can have a good day at school?<br />
2> Keep extra water bottle for Jay because he is going on a field trip?<br />
3> Provide no help to mom who is here to visit and ask her to bring me water?<br />
<br />
You see..it's a boradway show everyday..I am the stage director..I am mostly working behind the scenes..I take care of lights, sound, dialogues, wardrobe. I prompt ..I dance as an extra when 2 kids are doing their main part..and when the show is over, and everyone is in the limelight, I say to myself..well?? Is the job well done?? And the answer is - The job is done for today. But could be done better may be tomorrow..<br />
<br />
flashback to a week back..<br />
A mom dropping her twins off at the bus stop for summer camp..She seems all happy and content and talking to me and suddenly all the colors on the face fade off..oh no..she was supposed to make her kids wear socks today because they are going roller skating..off she goes to get the socks and before she comes, the bus is gone with the kids in it..Her show was ruined..She ruined her show all by herself..She could see herself standing a few feet from her and say "You...missy..you totally messed up your kid's day today..You should be punished.."<br />
<br />
When a mom goes to sleep, we should catch the things happening in her mind..It would be totally funny and scary. In fact why is the science not yet advanced so we can explore this yet? May be that is what I SHOULD be doing..<br />
<br />
Anyways..so..back to mom's world when she appears to be sleeping..Here is what goes on in there-<br />
I wish I had become an actress..software is so not for me..wait..isn't Nina supposed to have a show-and-tell about sports tomorrow? Show-and-tell tomorrow..show-and-tell tomorrow..Why can't I still try to become an actress? or a teacher? They say it's never too late..why is it always that they say "they say"? Who were they? Jay has to return library book..library book..library book..in case I miss a 7:26 I still have a 7:40 bus and then I can still make to the meeting tomorrow..summer camp admission..<br />
<br />
and so on...and so forth...<br />
<br />
Mommy brains are tough cookies. If I tell my brain this is all what I am supposed to do, may be half of the brain cells would agree just out of sympathy and other half would look straight at me and say "Really? think woman..think.." Isn't thinking brain's responsibility and not mine? Or has my brain out sourced thinking to some other agency that I need to get in touch with? I think mommy brain has pockets of cells which contradict with other bunch of cells in a weird way. Majority of them point out to you with enthusiasm that you are a bad mommy. Some group of cells there insists that they think by simply thinking you are a bad mommy, you are actually a good mommy. And some other bunch of cells indicate that you are observing this bad mommy and good mommy conversation between your brain cells and you actually know you are a good mommy, but you would rather prefer to be called a bad mommy anyways..<br />
<br />
Do not worry of you do not get any of this, because, frankly, I don't get it either..but, oh well..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-54804771956531402482014-06-01T10:52:00.001-07:002014-06-01T10:52:59.926-07:00The First Day Of Kindergarten - by Jay DixitJay Jay wrote a book for Nina to prepare her for her first day of Kindergarten... here goes the story..<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bwnIrzex-S8/U4tnd1VHOWI/AAAAAAAADWk/nSjhkoPGbBg/s1600/title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bwnIrzex-S8/U4tnd1VHOWI/AAAAAAAADWk/nSjhkoPGbBg/s1600/title.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div><br />
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</div>sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-83205939424735638272014-05-29T12:21:00.000-07:002014-05-29T12:21:57.190-07:00March of Sangeeta...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Behold...I am about to turn 40. I have almost made it..I
have been pondering on how to venture all "Sangeeta Style" into this
very especial year of my life ..and boy have to admit Sangeeta Style is
confusing. So then I took a deep deep deep breath and thought about something
wonderful. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From now until my birthday, I am going to do 40 things for
others. 40 things that involve someone else's benefit. 40 little/medium/big
acts of selflessness..40 things to inspire the human being inside me. 40 things
that have nothing to do with me. Then I stopped..this is not true. Everything I
do or will do will give me something in return. It will help me find myself in
return. The part of me which may be I lost while growing up each year of my
life. 40 things will teach me hundreds of things I used to have as a baby and
how I gave up on those things when I grow up to be this Sangeeta I am..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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The big big big issue is I do not know those 40 things. The
awesome awesome awesome issue is I do not know those 40 things. I know I need
to start small and I need to keep my eyes and heart open. I am certainly not
expecting you to expect big things from me. It could be just a simple act of
opening a door for a mom carrying a kid and a heavy stroller or asking a
co-worker how he or she is and really LISTENING. Small is Big - for me. Small
is good - for me. Small is everything I am looking for. Small counts when I do it purposely and wholeheartedly... </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I am asking your help my virtual friends. Close your eyes
and pray for me that when Sangeeta starts her day she has a burning desire to
find a cause and when she sleeps she has a smile - well - on most days..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Sangeeta has what it takes, Sangeeta will come back to
her blog and blog her journey. small step..one step at a time..slow and
steady..</div>
</div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3661080037244249066.post-56320720399140875152014-05-08T12:16:00.001-07:002014-05-08T12:23:23.547-07:00remembering you...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dear S,<br />
<br />
It's been years I wanted to write to you since we can't talk now. The more I waited , the more the guilt I felt and then I waited some more. <br />
<br />
I remember my first day in a new company and I felt like a country mouse lost in the city. Amongst a bunch of new co-workers, I was somehow able to make it till lunch time and that's when I ran into you. I noticed your bright white teeth and big happy eyes. They invited me right away. As I walked towards you, you did the same. I noticed you limping a bit. As we stood close, I noticed your smile was perfect. Warm and simple and inviting. We hit it off right away. From that day on, you became the only constant in my changing professional world. A place to rest. A person to talk to. A friend to share with. I waited for lunch times so I could see you and talk to you for a few minutes. I wanted to know how was your day when I came to office. I missed you when you took days off. All this while I wondered if I should ask you about your leg. <br />
<br />
One day as we were out for a walk and taking escalator, I asked you. You grinned and said you had a visitor in past. The big "C". He is all gone now with this tiny itty bitty thing left behind as a sign. You shook your head and looked at me. I knew you what you were saying to me. You were just you. You were not someone who has something or had something. You are your usual jolly self. I never brought it up. <br />
<br />
A year later you stood next to me in cafeteria while I picked strawberries to fill my plate and waited patiently. You nodded and said "Ignore people waiting. You crave for it. You get it." A few months later, you called me in hospital to wish me luck as I started motherhood. As I got all wrapped up in work and home, you kept calling and I kept being busy. A few months later, I caught you near the exit door. For the first time, you looked lost. But then you smiled and told me they no longer want you here. As I wrapped up my busy days, I thought I should call and check on you every day. <br />
<br />
A few months later, I got a call from you. You sounded tired but still happy and content. You said I need your help. Suddenly, all the work I needed to get done flashed in front of my eyes and I said to myself, now what? You said the big has "C" visited you once more and this time its brutal. My eyes welled up and voice choked. My words were frozen and I looked at myself with pity. You needed help from me to fill your official work. <br />
<br />
A few weeks later, as I sat all tired in bus going back home, you called me and said you were still fighting. Fighting with all your might. And your kids are suffering. I sat there shaken. thinking about my kid and your kids. I told you I will come and help you.<br />
<br />
A few days later, I felt I need to talk to you right away. I need to meet you right away. I missed you badly. The bad feeling surrounded me whole day in it's own busy way. I emailed you. I called you to get your voicemail. I sent email to your friend asking where were you. Why are you not responding. I refreshed my email often to see if I got any word from you. <br />
<br />
A few days later, your friend emailed me back saying you are no more. <br />
<br />
My friend, I missed talking to you before you left merely because I thought I was too busy. I postponed calling you because I thought nothing can happen today. I failed at being a good friend because I thought I was already too good. You taught me such a big lesson without saying a single word. <br />
<br />
This is for you "S" - so sorry...<br />
<br /></div>
sangeetahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18314222135458932116noreply@blogger.com0