Like most families, we do gifts during Christmas and especially focus on the kids.  I know that my husband and boys go shopping without me under some false pretext or more commonly lose me at the mall.  Their plan usually does not go unnoticed by me, but I feign ignorance and let them be excited about pulling the surprise on me.  It is hard not to notice the whispers and the giggles uncommon to teenage boys.  However, this year was a true surprise as my husband had asked me what I wanted for Christmas and in some insane moment of rationality unbecoming of me, I had said nothing repeatedly.  I had said I would let him know if I wanted something.  So on Christmas day, I was engrossed in opening the gifts my friends had given me that I almost missed a small box under the tree.  Imagine my surprise when I find a box beautifully wrapped in red and tied with a black ribbon, with my name written on it and the husband says it is from me.  My OCD prevents me from ripping the wrapping paper, so it took a lot of patience to unwrap the gift even though I had this overpowering urge to tear the paper.  I knew what it was because the writing on the ribbon was distinct and unmistakable.  The box contained something I had wanted for a long time.  A pen from Montblanc!

My husband knew that I write every day and would never buy it for myself, so he had decided to get it for me.  Anyway, I promptly wrote something Christmas night.

Now don’t ask me whether it was the husband’s thoughtfulness, the magic of Christmas, or the Montblanc itself that prompted me to write but I did.  The topic is definitely different than what I usually write.  I have found that I do like to write poetry and can express myself in a few simple words when sentences become hard.  So here is something in a poetry format trying to give an expression to my thoughts 🙂

Winter Warmth

The chill in the air,
Frost glazing the window pane,
I peek through the crystal lattice,
My breath fogging over the frame

My glance moves to the fireplace,
The light calling me softly,
Flames flirting with the bricks,
Embers crackling quietly

My heart beating slower than time,
Watching the fire in my lover’s eyes,
Blanketing me in a warm embrace,
The desire engulfs me

Let me bask in the glow,
A moment of joy and peace,
For this is my winter warmth,
My world is complete

Random-Musings © 2016

I try to write something every night,  but in recent days I have found myself falling asleep due to sheer exhaustion before jotting down a single thought.  Today seems to be different and I am inclined to think it may be attributed to the extra sugar from the piece of chocolate mousse cake I imbibed in.  It has been extremely hectic last few weeks for me with the semester ending.  I start out every semester thinking and planning the weeks, but somehow as Thanksgiving rolls around I seem to get embroiled in this chaotic phenomenon called “semester ending”.  The last assignments are being turned in and then there are term papers to grade, student projects, and exams.  All these high pressure activities packed in the last two weeks of school.  This is also the time when students request for extensions on their work as they didn’t plan their academic activities properly or they have emergencies.  As a faculty, I try my best not to become jaded and show my disbelief at the number of emergencies and tragedies that could happen in one student’s life over a 16 week semester, but you would be surprised.

I could actually write a book on just the excuses that students can come up with to get extensions on their work or make-up their work.  In my fourteen years of teaching, the range of excuses have included some bizarre events and in one particular case the student stated that she had to fly to Somalia to pay ransom for her brother who had been kidnapped by mercenaries, which actually turned out to be true by the way as I received an email from the US Consulate trying to confirm the students enrollment status! Then there are the common reasons such as a grandparent dying.  Nothing irks me more than a student lying about a grandparent’s death.  If the person truly passes, then my deepest sympathies remain with the student but it happens so often that I have seriously begun to doubt it.  I do mention to the students on the first day of class that they are allowed only one tragedy per semester.  Also included is a plea to think twice before stating that the grandparent had died as grandparents do love their grandkids unconditionally.  Just my hope of instilling some amount of guilt where there may be none.  These actions are the direct result of me finding out one time that a student had lied to me stating his grandfather had died and sent out an email to another faculty stating his grandmother had passed.  Sorry about making a morbid joke out of it, but if you plan to lie to your professor and kill your grandparent in the process, at least confirm who is going first!

And then there was today, where I had to play multiple roles from an instructor to a therapist as the student started bawling at my door saying she couldn’t handle the pressure.  Now what can you do about this situation, as we live in stressful times and “semester ending” is tough for students with all deadlines and work expected.  So I did what anyone would do, I gently sat the student down, offered her my box of tissues I keep handy for such occasions and then heard her story and provided reassurance.  I did offer some advice to the best of my ability and directed the student towards the counseling center where she could receive the support she needed.  All in the day’s work of a professor I guess.

I do want to state that this is the time when I feel the most rewarded for doing my job as a professor.  The thank you cards and the holiday wishes could put the Hallmark commercials to shame and a little bit of chocolate doesn’t hurt anyone except add a few inches to my waist line.  There is no happier or prouder moment for me than when I see the students graduating and moving on to jobs and internships and chasing their dreams and nothing warms my heart more than receiving notes from students wanting to keep in touch.  So it is all worth it in the end.  Anyway, I am hoping to finish my grading in the next few days so I can cook to my heart’s content and spend time with my family.  So thank you for taking the time to read this ramble and I wish you all the best of holiday season!

This Thanksgiving I want to be thankful for all my blessings in life small and big, health of my family, my friends and all the love that surrounds me.  But I want to dedicate this post to my mother to thank her.  My mother is my rock..my role model in everything I consider an ideal woman.  She might as well have written an encyclopedia on strength, patience, care and unconditional love.  A wife of an army officer, she basically raised me and my brother alone while her husband was away protecting his country.  She has an indelible mark in everything I do and have done in my life.  From the rompers she stitched for me as a baby to the little frocks I wore as a child to every single saree I wear today has her imprint on them.  Not a seamstress by profession but she even whipped out bloomers with frills I had to wear thanks to the Catholic school I attended.  Her two children are her world and in her devotion to me as her first-born I remain the best.. no one can be smarter than me or prettier than me and you can’t even dare to argue with her on that point.  My mother is and remains my die-hard fan.  A fabulous cook, her love of cooking and appreciating good food was ingrained in me at a young age and the yellowed dog-eared pages of the recipes she wrote for me over twenty years ago are a testament to the fact.  She always has my back whether I am right or wrong and whether I want it or not..her strength and support are my lifeline.

The devotion and love doubled when the grandkids came along.  From the receiving blankets she stitched for my boys when they were born to the porridge she cooked up for them.  From the infant massages to the stories she narrated to them as they grew older, and she never needed a book to read from as it was all in her memory.  Every stitch in the fabric of our lives has been created by her and it blankets us in a cloak of love and warmth.  Luckily for us, she is just a phone call away thanks to technology and being the mother she is, she has learnt to Skype before her daughter, send Whatsapp messages and then there is always Facetime.  So here I am waiting to talk with my mother again and the conversation could easily range anywhere from her giving me a new recipe for chicken that came out “amazing” even though she has been a life-long vegetarian to discussing the American Presidency.  All I hope is that I can take a chapter from her book and do half good a job she did with me..

So here I am already struggling with what would be my first blog post.  Too much pressure on myself I think..why did I have to tell the whole world that I was starting a blog? I posted it on Facebook and now there are a hundred likes and fifty comments wishing me well.  Did I think it was going to be easy? Yes in my confident (highly over-confident) state of mind I did think just that.  Firstly thinking I could blog, after all how hard could it get? I got my doctorate recently and that gave me ability to write extempore and reflect my thoughts to the whole world I guess.  Well, that’s what I thought for sure and so much for over-confidence!

Secondly, I have all this time on my hands now.  I have been an empty nester since August.  For twenty years I have been in the “mom of two boys” mode and life seems to have passed me by and remains a blur.  I forgot my life before the kids came along.  I went from changing diapers to baseball practices to soccer practices and sometimes both together, and I have no idea how I did that.  Dropping one kid off and then picking the other or vice-versa and it was a good day if I didn’t forget to pick a kid up.  So I was ecstatic when they both decided to do lacrosse and I couldn’t believe my luck!!  Their whole time on earth had been spent on doing things poles apart as the younger one did not want to do the same things as his older brother.  They both played different sports, played different instruments and even had different temperaments.  Heck apart from their genes, there was not much in common between the two boys.  So imagine my surprise when they decided to play lacrosse and I welcomed what seemed like a major step in their relationship.  That happiness lasted a short while when I realized one played junior varsity and other played varsity which meant I was on the field for 6 hours sometimes 50 miles away from home.  Just my luck!

So when the younger one went to college, I went from being a busy mom who was always cooking, playing driver, counselor, homework helper and even disciplinarian to almost nothing.  The cooking reduced immensely and there was no one to drive around and communication became limited to texts and Facetime.  Well don’t get me wrong, my whole life did not revolve around my kids and after they left for college, my work still consumed a huge part of my day.  I continue to run and hike and fill my time doing projects, but there is still a vacuum and time that seems to linger around.  So in an attempt to fill up my time I decided to write and here I am blogging in hopes that I will spend my time productively 🙂

After years of mulling over the idea to blog or not, I have taken the plunge. Take a chance on me for a little positive fun.  This will be a creative space for me and my passion for a lot of activities that range from cooking to hiking and from running to writing.  Of course writing! Otherwise why would I be here or you be here? Anyway, welcome and take a peek into the randomness I call my life..