When Life Came A Full Circle!

" I thought about you a moment back", she said, her voice heavy with quiet happiness.
And, after a moment's pause, she blurted almost shyly "I was thinking that the books you read are quite qualitative....And, I felt proud of you"

My eyes suddenly blurred. And,my throat choked with emotion.

This was the mother who had introduced me to the pleasures of reading, much before I could even walk a straight line with my baby feet.

A student of literature and a voracious reader, Amma has had a life-long love affair with books.
A passion which she passed on to me.
With reverence and pride.
As a torch bearer would, his precious flame.

As I went through life devouring Austen, Dickens and the rest of their ilk, before progressing to more contemporary writers, Amma's roles as wife and mother ate into the time reserved for her beloved books. And, even as my love for books grew with each passing day, her passion waned into barely aglow embers.

Years passed by, and, I grew into adulthood.
Into a career, and, life in a big city far away from home.
But, I never stopped reading.

Despite the demands on my time, I read voraciously.
In cafeterias.
On the bus.
Over meals.
And, in bed late at night.

Maybe I was driven by a deep-rooted fear.
That if I slacked, I would loose my passion too.
Just as Amma did.

I came home on visits with bags bursting at the seams with books.
Which I would wave tantalisingly at her face as I danced circles around her in our huge kitchen.

But, Amma was made of sterner stuff.
And, never bit the bait.

Until my last visit home.
When I left Kakar's 'Mira and the Mahatma' behind.

A month later, I sent home some books for a cousin, who was to visit.

And now, this call.

As I struggled to recover my composure, my mother went on " Mira and the Mahatma was riveting. I enjoyed it tremendously. Even the Ice Candy Man looks interesting, so I thought I would read it before passing it on to your cousin. In any case, she is not due to visit in the immediate future"

" Sure Amma".
And then, crossing my fingers, I held my breath as I asked her the million dollar question " Shall I send you some more books from my collection?"

For a split second, she hesitated.
" Well, not immediately. But, maybe when you come home next."
" What kind of books will you get me? I am interested in good books...good language...strong storyline..."
Again, a pause
" I leave it to you to decide. Bring me what you think I will enjoy......"

And, then she was back to her impressions about Miraben and the Mahatma.

As she gushed excitedly, a voice from the past rang loud in my ears. Of Amma reading out to the wide eyed, baby me about the good king Richard or Richard Lion Heart as he was known, who went on a crusade leaving his kingdom in the hands of his evil brother John.

Sudhir Kakar may never know.
But, I will always remain in his debt.

For not just writing a book that closed the circle of life between a mother and daughter.
But, also for leveling the playing field between us.
Finally!!

The '3 Gen' Moment

The 'Three Generations' theme seems to be rather popular these days, especially, when it comes to photographic sittings.

I have seen very many of such shots, in the recent past.
In albums, photo frames, and, on networking sites.
But, today, was the first time I witnessed a genuine '3 Gen' moment, in real life.

I was at the local coffee shop, killing time, as I waited for my roast chicken sandwich to materialise.

The room was abuzz, and, my eyes roved around the room, drinking in the sights and sounds around me.
Children, with their noses pressed against the glass-case, gazing in wondrous covetousness at the pastries on display.
Adults, ordering cakes, in various shapes and sizes.
Love-birds, giggling, as they held hands, and, shared bites off each other's treat.

As I sat absorbed, a little lad of, perhaps, 5 or 6, tripped in merrily.
For some strange reason, he reminded of Red Riding Hood.
Albeit, a male version.
And, in a blue hood.

The little imp paused by my table, glanced back, and, beckoned urgently at the door.
And, then, with a smile, he skipped back.

Moments later, he was back, leading a frail, elderly gentleman towards the delicacies on display.

As I watched them weigh their choices, gesticulating, and, guffawing noisily, I was struck by the easy camaraderie they shared.

It was obvious that they were having fun.
That, fun was, their, way of life.
The open-hearted, uninhibited kind, that, one normally enjoys with peers and friends.
And, not, the kind of fun a young un, normally, has with his grandparent or parent or an figure of authorithy.

Occasionally, they would glance back, almost furtively, and, giggle afresh, conspiratorially.

I wondered why.
And, had to draw on my my last reserves of self-control, to not turn around and stare.

Thankfully, the suspense was short-lived.

The two-some at the counters, burst out into loud laughter, as a middle aged man in shorts, strode in.
Grinning broadly at the mischievous duo, he thumped them on their backs, demanding to be let into the joke.

As they laughed and joked, I, shamelessly, stared at the trio, from a distance, basking in the warmth and love they emanated.
There is something so very infectious about happy, loving people, isn't there?

Eventually, little Blue, and, his elderly friend, decided to find themselves a seat.
And, much to my delight, they headed towards the table next to mine.
Where, they were soon joined by the middle-aged man, who balanced three plates in his hand.

Setting the goodies on the table, the father tenderly removed the foil from around Blue's pastry, before, setting it in front of his son.
But, greedy little Blue had, already, impertinently, dug his spoon into his grand-father's treat, drawing mock protests from him.

Once again, I was staring unabashedly.
But, the three engrossed in their merry making, were, quite oblivious to those around them.
Rather fortunate for me, as, I was finding it difficult to repress my smile.

My delightful voyeuristic experience ended all too soon, and, rather rudely, when the waiter unceremoniously banged my packaged order, on the table, in front of me.

As I paid the bill, and, reluctantly, dragged my unwilling feet, and, heart, out of the cafe.
There was just one dominant thought echoing, over and over, in my mind.

Only....If only...One saw more of such '3 Gen' moments in real life, than on the reel ones!

The Waiting

She was number 58, in the queue.
And he, 59.

As a metallic voice solemnly intoned 'Token Number Twelve', they glanced at each other, distractedly.
And, settled down, for a long wait.

The clock ticked on.
The fans, above, whirred noisily.
But, the oppressive heat, still, weighed heavily on them.
Sweat beads glistened, on her nose.
And, his brow.

Shakira's Hips Don't Lie, suddenly, rends the air.
A cellphone!!

With a sigh, she leaned forward, for the day's Economic Times.
As did he.

Their hands met.
Two pairs of eyes, widened in surprise.
And, then, furtively, slanted towards the other.
Only, to stare straight, into each other's eyes.

Caught!

Their eyes fell.
On the square of paper, on the table, between them.
Two hands twitched, aching, to seize it.

Once more, they sneaked a glance, at the other.

Caught, again!

He harrumphed uneasily, as, people tend to,in moments of extreme awkwardness.

She leaned back, slowly.
The ET in hand.
Her eyes riveted on the table.
And, her hands, plucking at her sari in nervousness.

He, did not, move an inch.

Moments crawled by, in agonising slowness.

A young boy walking by, dropped his book, in front of them.
As he bent over, to pick it up, his gaze fell on the square, between them.

A wide, gleeful grin split his face.
With an exclamation, he swooped on it.

The man and the woman, looked up at him, thunderstruck.
And, then, at each other, in consternation.

The metallic voice announced Token Number Nineteen.

The boy, looked, once more, at the paper, in his hand, and, marched purposefully, towards the counter.
Still smiling.

He throws, a crumpled bit of paper, over his shoulder.
Which lands, between their feet.

The two, look at it, involuntarily.
Number 60, bold and black, stares back, mockingly.

With a deep sigh, they, settled down, once more.
For, a long wait.

My Personal New Year :) :)

" Already 2009...How time flies" mused Sunita, my newest friend on the block, as we drove back from dinner last evening.
" Its only 11:00..There is a good 60 minutes more to the New Year" chimed in another friend indignantly " You girls really need to learn to live in the moment, instead of racing ahead of time"
I could well understand his outrage.
The three of us had had a quiet evening, pigging to our heart's content on some incredible Cuban-Chinese food and were driving back to our cozy beds..Satiated, content and brimming with good-will towards the world at large.
And at this opportune moment, Sunita decided to go philosophical on us.
" I am not racing ahead...Was just saying that another year has past..." She clarified, a trace of wistfulness still lingering in her voice.
Our live-in-the-moment friend shot an exasperated glance first at her, and then towards the backseat, where I was sprawled like a spent python that had swallowed a bandicoot too large for its gut.
" And you in the backseat, why are you so silent? Saying Kaddish* for 2008?"
" Actually not...Jan 1 does not signify the end of an year for me" I mumbled sleepily " My New Year begins on June 27th,the day I hit this earth running..."
In the darkness, I could sense a glimmer of a smile light up Sunita's face.
" I like that...It certainly is a different way of looking at things" She chirped "This means that I have another 8 months to go before my New Year" She concluded happily, drawing unintelligible noises of assent from the back
Our martian friend however was unimpressed by our Venusian wisdom." How convenient"He sniffed "Trust a woman to turn things to her advantage..."
Yes indeed, how convenient!!!
* Evil Glinting Smile*



*Kaddish = Used to refer specifically to "The Mourners' Kaddish," said as part of the mourning rituals in Judaism in all prayer services as well as at funerals and memorials.

Where The Mind Is With Fear

" Do you know how many call girls I can get with just a phone call?" he asked in exasperated amusement...

" Very many I know" she replied.....

...And she wondered if she would ever dare say the same with such casual confidence?
Even to he who was the love of her life and her closest confidante?
Would any woman dare?.....

So much for women's liberation.....

Show Me The Money, Honey!!!

It was a nightmare come true...The difference being that in real life I was, much to my relief, the spectator on the edge of the rink than the one embroiled in the action.
We had spent most of our evening at the half prize sale of our favourite book store, Landmark. Although we walked out happily with our steals, the browsing had exhausted us and so, we decided to refuel at a popular and almost authentic Mediterranean restaurant. Being aficionados of Arab and Mediterranean food, our evening at Cedars promised to provide the perfect ending to a pleasant evening.... Or so we thought.

Our hopes of enjoying a quiet, delicious meal vapourised when we walked into the jam-packed restaurant which, to all outward appearances, seemed to be grossly understaffed. Fortunately, we were recognised and quickly ushered into a corner table. A deferential waiter took our orders with alacrity and before long, our meal was in front of us.
We had barely swallowed the first few morsels, when in marched a young, fashionably dressed bunch of twenty-somethings accessorised with the latest gadgets and imitation accents and made themselves comfortable at the table next to ours. They were loud, noisy and clearly in the mood for raucous merry making...So much so that Dsk and I were eventually forced to abandon all efforts at conversation and give ourselves to the unabashed enjoyment of the entertainment on hand.
Shrill voices rapped out orders and before long, the table was groaning under the weight of various delicacies which they grabbed and gobbled without much ceremony. Fresh orders were issued to the hapless waiter who was now scuttling around like a demented crab, trying to ensure a steady supply of food into the hungry mouths without neglecting his other customers. Much to his obvious relief, it was soon time for dessert.

But, it seemed that the satisfaction of hunger pangs had only rendered the brats' taste buds more sensitive. The group noisily debated the choices before them in their assumed American accents, seeking to see how best they could customise it to their individual tastes.
" Can you bring me the chocolate biscuit roll with chocolate sauce instead of the strawberry sauce...and with a scoop of chocolate ice cream as well?"
" But sir, it would be too chocolaty....the strawberry sauce offsets the taste of chocolate.."
" But I want chocolate...."
" Sir, may I just get you some ice cream with chocolate sauce....the biscuit roll dessert does not have ice cream in it"
" I don't want ice cream with sauce...I want the biscuit dessert with sauce and ice cream"
As the waiter rolled his eyes in despair, another voice pipped
" Will the bread pudding stuffing in the pancake be cold?"
" no madam...it will be served at room temperature"
" Can you chill it for me"
" But madam, it would take a lot of time and besides, the stuffing will not be cold since the pancake has to be fried"
" But you can try, Na?"
After much argument, the waiter was able to talk them into ordering dessert as listed on the menu card. Lots of accented chatter and squeals later, the meal came to an end and the bill was presented. A young lady in black & yellow presented her card with a flourish.
A few minutes later, the diffident waiter returned.
" Madam, this card has been declined"
" Impossible!!!...Please try again"
The clock ticked on and before long, he was back
" Madam, I am sorry but it is not going through..We seem to be having a problem connecting with the bank's server"
The Queen Bee turned an interesting shade of puce...
" This is insane..Why can't you keep proper machines....What do you expect me to do now???" " Madam, would you pay by cash?"
" I don't have cash"
" Errr, there is an ATM next door..." He suggested helpfully
" This card does not work in an ATM"
Oh wow, a Diva Card which would not deign to work in a lowly Indian ATM!!!
But the poor man was obviously not very amused......
" Madam, what do you want to do?"
" What do you mean by that? I don't have money....That's that"
My heart went out to the waiter in a quandary but like every other diner in the restaurant, I held my breath in anticipation of his response. Would he march her off to the kitchens to wash and dry a stack of greasy dishes? Would he demand all the bling on her body as collateral? Or would he just make her wait until someone went to get the money?
" Why can't we come back and pay tomorrow?"
The entire restaurant gaped at a puny boy in the group who had offered the suggestion. For many moments, neither the waiter nor the bee lady spoke as each turned the idea over in their heads. The rest of us poked at our plates with our ears tuned into the drama unfolding behind our backs.
" Yeah, that seems sensible....We can come back and pay cash tomorrow....After all it is your fault that I cannot use my card now..."
She had recovered and launched attack, even before the waiter had finished composing his thoughts.
" I don't know madam.....I think.."
" It doesn't matter what you think or feel...Please go and check with your manager...."
Smarting from the sting, her victim meekly vanished into the depths of the kitchen. And reappeared 15 minutes later with a notepad which he deposited before her.
" Madam, please give us your address...we will collect it from your residence tomorrow"
For the first time since she walked in this evening, the young lady hesitated. As she contemplated her next move, her knight in the shining armour once again came to her rescue
" I will give you my address...you can come over and collect it from me..."
He placed a protective arm around the damsel in distress and then proceeded to scribble in the notepad.

For some reason, the silence of the bee seemed to mollify the waiter. Perhaps, he assumed that he had bested her. I really don't know but we could all sense a mellow note in his voice as he addressed her male companion.
" Will you definitely come and pay the cash tomorrow?"
" Of course..what do you think we are?...either you can send someone or we will come and pay cash"
" Okay sir, in that case, please make sure you pay the money tomorrow itself"
" Why don't you keep the card with you? I will collect it when I come to give you the cash..."
His voice trailed into silence as our diva and the waiter both looked at him in shock.....Directing a nasty glare at him, she grabbed her card and sailed regally out of the restaurant with her cohorts and the miserable knight in tow.
I was sorely tempted to stand up and applaud. But the warning glance my better half shot me brought home the fact that this was no dinner theatre we were attending and therefore, my applause may not be well received by either performer. And so I devoted myself to dessert as the restaurant once again buzzed with life. As I dug my spoon into the brownie with its Kahlua cream topping, I couldn't stop my lips from curving in a smile of glee..... Oh no, it wasn't the endomorphins from the chocolate....
I just realised that the dark spirits now had one less nightmare to plague me with!!!
* Big Toothy Grin*

America Ho!

This morning, my domestic help informed me that she wants to go abroad.To America.The land of milk and honey, where the footpaths are paved with gold and money plants are made of real green bucks. I suspect her sudden migration plans may have a lot to do with the tongue lashing she received yesterday, when a leisurely tour of the house yielded several strategically located cobwebs, a battalion of wide eyed spiders and even, a few red millipedes undercover..It appeared that we had foiled an Arthropod coup in the nick of time.
Needless to say, my maid was not too pleased when I trained my guns on her right after. So in she stomped today, mumbling under her breath as she went about her chores, occasionally threatening to vapourise me with her glares. Just as I was settling down to work, she wiped the self-congratulatory smirk off my face with her announcement.

For many moments, I did not know what to say. I knew Destination America had become a national obsession, but not even in my wildest dreams had I imagined that the dollar dream could permeate down to the grassroots level. Visions of my swarthy maid with her oil slicked hair in jeans, over-sized glares and a pile of US tagged bags at her feet floated before my eyes. When I came to, I found her staring at me with a little more hesitancy and a lot less defiance about her.
' Why do you want to go to America? ..how will you survive there?.....How much have you studied?'
" Akka (sister), I have not studied much but can't I do house work there also?...I have heard that servants are not easy to find there and that I can earn good money there..."
" How do think you are going to America? I mean the air tickets are expensive...And it is very very difficult to get permission to even visit there...."
" I thought I could go with some family...I mean some Indian family who wants an servant from home...I can cook, wash clothes, wash dishes, sweep and swab....and even take care of children. You know I do good work..."
Words failed me. I was in shock!!! It would seem that my maid had conveniently forgotten the dust, cobwebs and critters the house had accumulated while I had been travelling on work. Or the fact that she had broken so many of our glassware and trinkets, that Dsk and I had no alternative but to bubble wrap what was left of our treasures and stash them away in the larder. Not to mention the odd hair clips, scrunchies and other such decorative trifles of mine, which would appear on her person at periodic intervals!!!
" Its not as easy as you think...You are unable to satisfy us with your work and you think you can manage in America? Nobody there will stand for bad work. And besides, they use a lot of gadgets there for work...You don't understand English...Even if you wanted to learn, how would you manage?"
"Just like we talk to each other...you don't know Tamil and I don't know English but I still understand you...especially when you scold me"
The nerve of the woman!!! For months, she mulishly refuses to make an effort to understand English, Hindi or even my pidgin Tamil, and now she says we converse???
" If you find someone in America who wants an Indian servant, you can teach me English daily till it is time for me to go.....And, I can also join a English speaking course if necessary..."
As I gape moronically at her, she simpers.....and, swoops in for the kill.
" Akka, would you be able to find me a family in America?.."
*eye brows vanish into my hairline*
Talk about having the cake and the bakery as well!!!

Love's Labour Lost

I was right!!!
Don C has proven to be a bounder and a rogue to boot. I am absolutely delighted at having been proved right and I haven't been able to restrain myself from crowing over the hapless Ging since this morning. To my credit, I haven't as yet traipsed about performing my incredibly annoying victory dance!!!
I had been so engrossed in mollifying Ging over the past couple of days, that my otherwise sharp E.S.P had not had much of a chance to pick up the changed vibes around the moggie household. True to form, Ging and DSK seem to have sworn a feline oath of silence to keep me in the dark. But Don C who was not privy to the moggie oath, proved to be the weak link in their deception.
This morning as I was clattering about clumsily in the kitchen while Ging went about her daily morning patrolling of our back yard, Don C put in an appearance. Instead of settling himself on the back-yard wall as was his practice, he bristled at poor Ging and, before I could train the dirtiest of my glares at him, lunged at her. Not in a fit of passion as I first imagined. But in sheer aggression. And much to my surprise, Ging turned tail and ran in for cover.
Perhaps if Don C had not sighted me emerging from the kitchen, brandishing my ladle with obvious intent of smacking his rump, I would have been able to catch the final outcome of this rather surprising chase. But see me he did. And that was reason enough for him to rethink. And retreat.
I found Ging cowering behind my french crystal, trying to put a brave face on things. But the cat was out of the bag & love's labour lost!!!! *tsk* *tsk*

Moments of Magic

There is something so incredibly magical about watching the rain come down in torrents from the dark cloudy skies that echo with the sounds of thunder. Every now and then, silver-white-blue streaks of lighting snake across the darkness and break my reverie. Perhaps, it was on one such dark evening that a wise man, drunk on the beauty of the elements, came up with the adage about the silver lining in the dark cloud. I sit snug in my favourite chair on the porch with a cup 0f steaming hot masala chai and my cuddle bunny, Ging, in my lap. She hates the lightening, the water which drums on the grill and gently splatters us every now and then , and she absolutely abhors the roll of thunder. I am quite sure Ging would have been cowering in some dark nook of the house, probably under our bed, it had not been for my dogged determination to watch the heavens above go about their task of washing the world around me. Her sacrifice overwhelms me and my heart wells up with an indescribable sensation of love for my little kitty.
I am so glad that she is with me because in that moment in time, she completes my picture...Reinforcing my belief that sometimes in life, the forces around you conspire to add that magic master stroke on to your canvas to transform a special moment of contentment into one of pure unadulterated bliss.

Peek-A-Boo

Sunday, 6 a.m.
My eyes lazily flutter as the first rays of the sun filter into our bedroom... Its a new day & the voices in my head resume their verbal duelling all over again.. .
* wakey wakey lazy bumm...u need to get breakfast going...remember?*
That's the voice of my conscience, ever ready to dole out unwanted advice and prod me into action. But my baser instincts rebel...
* Nooo...DSK can fix himself a bowl of cereal for once...God knows he has enough packs of those lying around*
* What? That's not fair..just becos he doesn't complain does not mean that you can take him for granted...Wake Up...He's going to be up in a bit...So, get cracking...Make him something nice to eat..husbands like it when their wives fix them good breakfasts and see them off to work*
Ok, now why does my conscience's voice sound suspiciously like my mother??
I struggle to open my eyes and make a feeble, half-hearted attempt to shake away the dense fog that has encased my brains. But, realisation strikes in the nick of time! Its Sunday - the day of rest!!!...Yippppeee...Dsk can afford to wait a bit for his breakfast today...And with that, the voice of conscience is gagged and muffled as I snuggle back under my warm blankets to snooze some more.
Just as I am drifting off into the land of nod, I hear a loud scary thump and an even scarier mmmiaorrrwww which set my heart racing at a frenetic pace..as if a dozen tribal drums were simultaneously being thumped at super sonic speed. I open my eyes in trepidation, half expecting to find the evil snake-beastie from my nightmares, hovering over my jugular with its poisonous fangs bared. And who do I see there instead? The heathen kitty Ging, her great black eyes twinkling with un-repressed mirth and sporting a goofy grin..Her face is a study in unholy glee....She can barely stand still with the excitement of having scared the living daylights out of me!!!
My supposedly expressive face must have betrayed my intentions. Because as I struggled to get over the shock and compose my thoughts [just so I could give her a very large piece of my mind], Ging went into damage control mode. Arranging her face into her irresistibly adorable " Oh, the cute canary can safely tango in my mouth' expression which is a sure fire way of containing my ire. She then frantically starts licking me all over, her beady eyes darting all over my supine form in search of bare 'lickable' skin. The grooming which lasted for all of 5 minutes came to an end when she quickly dove between my feet and huddled down with firmly shut eyes, leaving me quite bereft of words.
As much as I hate to admit it, I was outwitted. There was nothing much I could do other than laugh at Ging's antics and go back to sleep. As I snuggled in enjoying the warmth of the rumbling bundle on my feet, the cheeky voice in my head chirps " You should have listened to me..oh well, sometimes its fun to be to be taken for a moggie ride, isn't it?"
Yes indeed, it is...

Cat Mommy's Prayer

Our Father, who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy Name,
Thy kingdom come,
Thy will be done, in our humble home..

Give me patience and strength to see this day through,
And forgive me my trespasses against my husband & cat,
As I forgive their trespasses against me.
And, please please lead me not into the temptation of throttling either,
but deliver me from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,
And the power, and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen.



PS: 24 hrs later, Devidas shows no signs of flagging....AAARRRRGGGHHH.....Someone give me a Prozac!!!

Treasures & Trophies

This morning, the calm in the Moggie household was shattered by our domestic help who, in a moment of sheer negligence, brought down a glass stand and destroyed most of the trinkets on it.

The din jolted both, Gingerbread and me, who were, until then, sleepily ambling around in circles.
Ging wasn't too concerned about the broken trinkets. But, the sight of my precious treasures, reduced to a pile of shards, was a little too much for me to handle so early in the morning.
In my defense, it was even before I had my first caffeine fix of the day.

As I vented at the maid, in my broken, pidgin Tamil, Ging sat by patiently, waiting for her crazy mommie to get a grip on herself.

But, much to her surprise, the tirade took a more violent turn, when, in midst of my scolding I suddenly caught sight of my favourite green & gold hair clip, glinting at me from the dark tresses of our maid's head. I had been searching for this particular clip, for quite sometime, & had reluctantly resigned myself, to the bitter truth of having lost it.

Recovering from the shock of the opportune reappearance of the clip, I continued to berate the maid with renewed energy, when Ging decided to take matters into her paws.

In my fury, I didn't notice her strolling out nonchalantly and was still sniffing indignantly, when she reappeared several minutes later, bearing what seemed like a mouse in her mouth.

All thoughts of the broken trinkets fled, in the wake of awful memories of Ging's last present to us..A decapitated squirrel.

As I braced myself for another bloody and gruesome offering, Ging opened her mouth, to drop a teeny weeny, and much to my shock, a whole, quivering squirrel, at my feet, with one of her famous ' Now, Quit Cribbing Woman' looks.

Crushed by the sight of the immobile little form at my feet, I directed my dirtiest glare at a rather nonplussed Gingy, who seemed to expect me to break into an ecstatic jig of joy.

However, when the force of my glare didn't abate, enlightenment hit our little kitty and sensing disaster, the convoluted whorls of her mind, began to desperately devise ways, and means, of salvaging the situation.

Finally, deciding on the lightening strike approach, she made a quick frantic grab at the squirrel, all set to scamper with her prize. She would have, in all probability, succeeded if the little squirrel, hitherto paralysed by fear, had not, also, decided to muster all his nerve and make a bid to save his life.

What ensued was utter chaos with the squirrel trying to clamber up my leg, Ging diving for my feet, me hopping around, oblivious to a bewildered caller on the phone, and the maid brandishing her broom at me, ostensibly to sweep away the squirrel, but, managing to land a few well aimed whacks at me.

The melee ultimately came to an end when I managed to haul the squirrel to the garden and set it free under kitty's ever watchful eyes.

After this, I was dying for a shot of something much stronger than caffeine, to recover from the morning's trauma, but, had to settle for several mugs of ultra strong coffee, brewed in the presence of a ultra sulky kitty !!!.

As the caffeine coursed through my system, I glanced over at kitty's creased brow as she furiously did some serious rethinking on her apportionment policy. But of course, it remains to be seen whether her new resolutions will withstand another one of mommie's meltdowns...

Aaah, the pleasures of being the Alpha in the house!!!