West Delhi Plus

West Delhi Plus is a weekly supplement that we get along with Times of India. In honour of Mother's Day today, it invited readers to send in tributes to their mothers and tell the world what makes their relationship so special.

I quickly typed in a few sentences..

If I ever had to make a list of those who know me inside out, my mother's name would feature first. No thought, emotion or expression of mine if hidden from her. I do it not because its a compulsion, but because its truly such a joy.

Perhaps the best part about my mother would be her calm mind. I thank my stars for blessing me with someone who does not scream at the drop of a hat. She has given me the liberty to lead life by my own terms and does not question my decisions.

It would be such a cliche to say "my mother faced many hardships in life" - because who doesn't? What matters is whether you are able to emerge victorious. Today, my mother stands tall. I have learnt to live life through her successes as well as her mistakes.

Mummy, you're a treat.

I was sleeping soundly today morning when my brother ran in, "You're in the newspaper! You're in the newspaper!"

It was published!

(of course it was edited a bit)

Something New, Something Old

I got my first salary today.

:) Is this how I feel?

:D Or this?

There isnt anything better, so I would rather be :DDDDDDDDDD

After all, it isnt about the money (not yet!), but more about being told by the world "YES! You're worth something out here."

I havent really figured out what I'll do with the money. But the local gurudwara is surely going to see a rare visitor today. Why? I dont bother going there. Never ever. But today, the place just calls out to me. Plus my Badimummy (nani) is here, so she would have forced me to go there anyway.

I was out yesterday evening at the local market.

"Lakme ka naya collection aya?"

"Abhi nahi madam"

Grr. I could really do with some brand new makeup. Like Sophie Kinsella says in her novel, 'The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic' -

"As I walk into Smith's I feel my whole body expand in relief. There's a thrill about walking into a shop - any shop - which you can't beat. It's partly the anticipation, partly the buzzy, welcoming atmosphere, partly just the lovely newness of everything. Shiny new magazines, shiny new pencils, shiny new protractors. Not that I've needed a protractor since I was eleven - but don't they look nice, all clean and unscratched in their packets?"

Not that I am comparing myself to Rebecca Bloomwood, the rambling Financial Journalist (and protagonist of the series) who cannot even manage her own money. But just the sight of a creamy lipgloss or powdery blusher or shimmering nailpolish makes me go weak in the knees.

I roamed around a bit more. With no luck at the beauty supply store, I settled for the next best alternative - books. The local market doesnt have a bookstore, but there is plenty of choice as far as second-hand books are concerned. A few years ago, I would have turned up my nose at the sight of used books. But with age, stupidity gives way to humility.

My eyes feasted on the withered covers and crumbling pages. Every book seemed to have a story to tell. I picked up one without realising what it was and dropped it immediately. "What to Expect when you're Expecting".

"Wo chahye kya madam?"

Suddenly a handsome young man came and stood next to me. What features! I was actually taken aback by his presence. Such boys arent ever seen near dusty books. Anyway, I was there to look at books and not ogle at men and miss my beloved. I peeled my tired eyes and grabbed a paperback with a fawn coloured labrador pup embossed on the cover - "Marley and Me". I expected it to be yet another teach-your-dog-to-do-back-flips kind of a book. I flipped through.

"Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog"

"He's the only dog I've ever known to get expelled from obedience school."

"Marley quickly grew into an uncontrollable ninety-seven pound steamroller of a Labrador retriever... even the tranquillisers prescribed by the vet couldn't stop him."

Of course, I had to get this book.

Plus Freud's "Interpretation of Dreams". Dear Freud, if only you were alive today!