With love, from home

Last night a truck arrived from my home (Should I call it my parents’ home?), carrying a couple of bits of furniture I’d asked my mother for, the last time I visited her home. They have an old house full to the seams with old furniture, some are antiques (they have FOUR dining tables – can you believe that?!) and they have more than they know what to do with.

Anyhow, this time I was home Ma asked me if I wanted anything. I love the way my parents think. “This is your time to set up home and there’s no point my leaving you cupboards and teak consoles when I die, because by then you’d have set up home and will have no need for it. I would rather you take anything you want, right now while you are still young and have room for it” says Ma.

Now if I had my way I’d bring away the old four poster bed (it’s the kind you see in old Bengali films, with a little set of steps leading up to it) or my grandmother’s old carved cupboard with the Belgian mirror that reflects perfectly. But I don’t think they’d even come up the damn 14 floors and fit through the doorway into my apartment. So I picked wisely. Now that I am back to working almost full time from home, along with the OA, I picked the old escritoire and a simple book rack for the children’s room. And a painting by this gentleman, who stayed with a family friend in Allahabad and painted the ghat (riverside). At least I hope I found the right link.

A few nights ago Ma called and said they were loading up the truck and did I want anything else? I picked a simple triangular rack that goes perfectly in my dining room. I don’t know why I picked it, but that it is a piece of furniture that belongs not to my grandparents, but to my parents. They had it made 20 years ago in Munnar and everytime I look at it, it takes me back to the mist rolling into our home in the hills and Ma calling us for crepes at tea time. I know, I know I’m a whiny, soppy woman. Ignore me.

So anyway, the truck arrived last night and with it, came a little army. Men from my parents’ business, painter, polisher, helper. They were sent to buff up everything that might have got chipped on the way and anything else that I might want done. I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before and as I was soon to find out, there was a lot more than I had asked for.

The OA went down to collect the stuff and I generally hopped from foot to foot in excitement and finally unable to contain myself, woke the kids up to be part of the chaos (clearly I’m an idiot and a terrible mother!). The Bean slept on but the Brat who was dozing, jumped out of bed and joined in the fun gladly. I am so glad he got to be part of the general excitement of  -This way! you lift that corner! watch that wall! and so on. The furniture was unwrapped and I realised how much more they’d packed in. A day bed for the office that the OA and I will be sharing, the lovely old escritoire, the corner stand, the book rack… and paintings. And massive framed pieces of cross stitch, done by my mother’s hand. I cherish them so much more, now that she has a spondylitis problem and will probably never again undertake such massive pieces. She’s done a beautiful piece on The Last Supper and it graces their dining room at home.

Anyhow, what took my breath away, were the potted plants. She sent me at least 20 healthy well grown plants. They’d cost me a fortune if I attempted buying them in Delhi. And probably emptied a corner of her terrace. Isn’t that typical of a parent? To deny themselves, just to give you? As someone remarked when they walked out of the lift, straight into my plants – My God, it looks like a forest. One of my favourites is ten feet tall and I’ve got it at my door.  There’s a little story behind it.

I was home a couple of weeks ago (can I tell you a secret? I’ve been home thrice in one month!) and I was re-doing the house for them. I dragged this lovely plant down from their balcony and put it at their door like a sentinel. And as I was shifting things around I mentioned in an offhand remark that I wish I lived close enough to just carry it back home. And as the truck pulled away from the house, my father got them to stop and loaded up the plant. It’s heavy and it’s old and it might have got damaged but it’s reached me in perfect condition. Protected by their love, no doubt. I don’t believe my scatter brained father who doesn’t know how old I am, would remember an offhand remark of that sort.

Years ago, a friend in hostel would get parcels from home every couple of weeks. Those were early days when my very young parents were struggling to set up their business and they just about remembered to put my fees in the mail each month. I’d watch her parcel with a hint of envy – food, clothes, a little handbag, a box of bronzing pearls, nail polish remover, coffee… And I’d say – coffee? why would your mom send you a packet of coffee? And she’d smile and say, “Ma misses being a part of my life and it makes her happy to think that each morning when I sip my coffee, she’s had something to do with it. ”

Well, over the last few years, that has been the deal with my parents. And so as the truck was unloaded I found myself in possession of three beautiful old hand embroidered sarees, a suit and a blazer for the OA, planters for my pots, a little leather three legged stool from Sri Lanka for the kids’ room and so much more. I sat there digging into the crates with all the joy of a five year old, my eyes filling up with tears as I thought of my parents painstakingly making up this goody bag for me. The OA abused and cursed as he and the men carried up the furniture and he begged the building to make an exception and let us get the truck in against the building rules. It was an open truck and it looked like rain. In the midst of this though, apparently, he sent my mother an SMS, telling her that he loves her and dad. I was shocked to hear of it today. It’s so un-OA-like.

Anyway, the mad sibling, aka Tambi, is sitting in the US and cursing and frothing at the mouth – “What? Now you send people to polish her house every time she has guests coming?”  Who asked him to go live at the world’s end, I ask him rudely. If he lived closer, he’d have all of us to help with home and baby (ah ha, see, this is psychological warfare so that he moves back home). My dad, always happy to cause trouble, added – “You better come home if you want anything. She’s already walking off with the family silver.” Gah. I haven’t touched a piece of the old crockery and I can tell you they have some lovely stuff. It’s just pointless with the kids and the fact that the maids washing it are sure to smash something.

So the house is a mess today. But my plants are up, the memory-making-dining table is being stripped and re-polished and I’m running around like a headless chicken. My arms are scraped and bleeding from all the bougainvillea I shifted around. The maid who cooked and cleaned left because she said she had TB so I’ve got a house full of people to feed, paint and chemicals all over, two children running wild and stories to hand in (and oh, the water purifier has packed up so we have no water!). Thankfully it was the weekend and Cousin J was with me, helping with the babies and dragging them out from under chairs and tables and feeding them. The OA looked around in disbelief at how comfortable we both were with sitting in the mess, feeling very at home with the hammering and yammering. I grin and tell her – “A woman makes a home darling, and she is one who carries on tradition. It’s not the man’s family’s traditions that get carried on. So remember – wherever you go, may the chaos go with you.” We giggle and she solemnly answers – “I will, Tita. I do try to cause as much confusion as I can, wherever I go.” The OA rolls his eyes in disgust and gets back to lifting something heavy.

But this is what I remember of my home. Through my growing years my parents slogged to do up the house and give us a home and never stopped trying to make it better. Furniture shone, the floor was waxed, curtains were fresh, plants were tended to, and the sibling and I were given little pieces of sandpaper and told to sit down quietly next to the carpenter and not trouble. It was during those days that Tambi made me a set of furniture for my dolls. Real little wooden chairs and tables. Today as parents the OA and I spend time and energy reading to the kids, taking them to cultural events and doing all sorts – at times falling prey to that new age notion of ‘quality time’. And yet, some of my best memories come from just being present while my parents lived life. Being a part of their struggle, having no routine or schedule and learning to wing it. Some of my favourite life lessons were just from being a part of their life and not getting in the way and forcing them to stop and do something merely age appropriate. On the other hand, those were different days and times and they didn’t have the luxury of doing that.  Thankfully, today as the house was shined up, the children too, behaved brilliantly. They didn’t touch the chemicals, no little paws on the newly varnished furniture, they patiently waited until I gave them their very delayed lunch, lay down quietly and napped through the noise and didn’t complain when we were unable to take them down to play on the swings. I am sorry I ever doubted them.

Tucked into a corner of the bag I am digging around in, are the keys to the escritoire and as I hand them to the OA and say – ‘Happy new desk, baby,’ I’m full of a sense of contentment. This desk has been with our family for years and now the OA’s shiny little laptop sits atop it. The new and the old bound together. From an old family to a new one setting up home. Some bits new and earned through our hard work. Others, handed down as heirlooms, with love. I felt strangely grown up.

For no reason, the Brat wandered up to me just then and said – “Ma, there is magic in our house.”

I don’t know why he said it, but the OA looked at him and then at me, and we both grinned. Yes, there is.

PS: Don’t you guys get started on pictures. I’ll show you some when I’m good and ready. Patience is a virtue.

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113 thoughts on “With love, from home

  1. Ohh can I share something else. You know I sell on ebay right? So each Sat morning, I get up early and go garage saling/estate sale hunting. I generally do not bring the kids because the dealers who turn up to this events are the cut throat kind and the kids will hamper me. Anyways, yesterday I took a break and we all went out for breakfast(crepes stuffed with Nutella). After that, I told NK to drive past one estate sale, thinking the good stuff would have been gone.(It was late in the day)

    The kids were in the van with NK. I went to the house and it was pratically empty.I asked the owner whether I could bring my kids and she said yes. So the kids came and we sat down to dig through treasures. Then they got tired and went out in the backyard to play with the owner’s dog. The owner complimented on how well-behaved my monsters were. So yes while I would have loved to do “quality time” bringing them to a sale and showing them how I hunt for vintage/retro stuff was also quality time..

    I should stop writing novels on your blog

  2. “And yet, some of my best memories come from just being present while my parents lived life. Being a part of their struggle, having no routine or schedule and learning to wing it”

    The story of my life.. I guess the story of most people who grew up in the eighties and nineties.. Not finished reading yet.. U make it a point to make me all nostalgic on a lonely Sunday Afternoon with misty eyes 🙂 .. Lots of love to your parents..

  3. Just when i was going to beg for some pics – you go and spoil it. Nasty!!!

    LOVE this piece. It just shines with love.

    I too have this old beat up sofa set of my dad’s which is neither attractive nor especially comfortable – except for the fact that my grandmom designed it to be ‘modular/flat-ware’ – since my grandpa was in a transferable job and then so was my dad. This sofa has travelled more KM than most ppl. do in their lifetimes. Every time i see a new, nice looking, comfortable sofa – i think of getting rid of it – but i never can bring myself to. My dad and sis generously gave it to us when we were moving to bombay – so we wouldn’t have to spend on furniture when we were just starting off on our life. Going into all my sis gave me is a story by itself.

    These pieces of wood and your plants etc spell LOVE! cherish them!!!

  4. Heart touching post MM. I am all in tears..all over again. (Know why?)

    I have been in Europe for few mnths now and (though I return to India in next couple of mnths) I recently got a parcel from my parents. How can I describe, what all I got??

    It starts FROM

    few grocery items(they just can’t accept the fact that their dear daughter has to eat branded wheat flour when they enjoy soft chapatis from the authentic chakki aatta, 4kgs of just aatta?!), tulsi leaves from the kitchen garden – dried and powdered (because a couple of times they heard their grandson coughing while talking over the phone), same with the curry leaves from our garden, grated fresh coconut (frozen and zip locked), home made powdered spices even home grounded red chilly and turmeric powder (for a sec I was afraid that they want me to stay back here for years!!), a set of spoons from my ma’s kitchen collection (because once I mentioned I have very few in my so called furnished apt),
    small sets of the toys for my lil one – exactly the top priority items from his current wish list..

    TO

    a bunch of keys for their grandson to play with (can you imagin this?) who insists on playing with our working door and car keys these days (God knows when I happen to mention this to ma and baba. I am sure baba got the duplicate sets done from their not-so-imp key sets only because his grandsons likes it??!)
    And all this in the name of Diwali parcel – not to mention the diwali sweets and diyas and sandal soap and tiny bottle of fragrance oil too, to give us the feel for the festival in this cold world.

    It’s all so priceless. I was just sitting besides the box, all in tears when I opened the parcel. For the world it may look weird, but I can feel the love that knows no bounds and the endless concern behind every single thing. It was all so thoughtful. I can feel their touch and smell my home in it. Is it a feeling of security? May be..

    Please do not post it into the comments as I know this is a stupid read for a stranger but I can so relate to your post that I wanted to share this with you.

    • i’m sorry, i removed your name and let the comment go through because it made me cry. only a grandparent will make a set of keys for their grandson to play with. you know, the brat loves paratha, chicken fry and sipping water in between. each time my parents come, they carry foil wrapped parathas, chicken, and WATER! so that it is the exact same meal he gets in allahabad. i tell them they’re being idiots. and all they say is, well, this idiocy is what he’ll remember when he grows up, with fondness.

      • 🙂 Been through the post multiple times since morning and still I can’t have enough. I am reading between the lines and imagining things happening at your household and your parents smiling in content. It’s world for them when they are assured that we are happy, isn’t it?!

  5. This is such a lovely and warm post, MM. It had me smiling at many a places. I do have a lot of memories associated with the furniture at my parents place … Sigh ..
    Cant wait to see the pics!

      • for a good two years. to school! and as a 4 year old no less. Army truck commissioned as school bus for the chota log. Oh the rickety ladder. But well we survived it and the driver survived us. Ahh never knew I would reminisce about THAT time as the good ol’ days.

  6. Sigh. Sounds beautiful. I doubt I would be half as generous as my parents/in-laws are. Probably be griping about parting with my muffin pan if the kids so much as alluded to it 😉

    But I totally get the idea of just having the kids hang around and help with daily life as it gets by. Not half quite as creative as you, but I still get them to bake with me etc. Altho’ the favorite activity thus far is sorting out cupboards and squealing with delight when the oldest of shirts reveals itself from a dark corner.

    Wishing you the best of memories with the new stuff!

  7. Wow!!! You are soo lucky!! Your parents are soo nice.

    PS: Please please post pictures, soo eager to see your beautiful home!!

  8. I loved the mess i saw at your place… and the plants… oh the plants….!!!!! My Ganga is still raving about the “Bon-aka forest”…lol…
    By the way , please call and ask the maids to come and get the plants…. or otherwise wait till when i get back and will send my driver to help as well.

      • yes, where are the PICTURES? sorry, MM, you shd know by now-disclaimers dont work for some of your readers!

        great post- oh! the unconditional love of parents/grandparents-. i miss it every single day being so far away from them.

        and its funny- the older i get, the more i miss their love……

  9. This sounds so damn cool and warm at the samt time. antiques tell such a story *sniff*. i so SO envy you.

    btw, mists and rolling hills and crepes at tea time – you paint quite a picture missy! and it’s a lovely lovely picture. i so SO envy you.

      • Fine read,so much from the heart.
        U live in an appt in Gurgaon and still not having enough house help.I’m about to shift to an appt from a massive,independent house solely çoz have been for years without help.Imagine giving up the gardens
        and everything I’ve nurtured as kids hoping I’ll finally at least get part-time help!Sorry for digressing..

  10. i love how similar grandparents are na :)be it south or north 😉

    my mom sends me to the US with a half a check in full of ayurvedic medicines that may not be available here…and for me some sambhar powder that i can feed an army with…damn it! i miss my mom now….

  11. how wonderful 🙂 i relate to this down to the last T. i have just moved to goa, and setting up a home of my own — a first time for me. the first time my parents visited me, they carted a load of items for me and my home. everything from old furniture that they were planning to give away, to home made sambar and rasam powders, organic honey for breakfast time, a coco nut scraper (just so i could make chutney just the way it is at home), clothes..and when they got here and found the husband and i living partly out of boxes and partly out of a pretty useless makeshift cupboard we bought, they went and surprised us with a brand new cupboard.

    what would we do without parents’ thoughtfulness? and for their being there for us when we need it the most?

    • i know 🙂 perhaps we Indian kids are spoilt in the way they constantly provide for us. I often ponder over it. They do things that parents in the West dont do – pay college fees, dowry, set up home.. all sorts.

  12. Happy Diwali MM. Though diwali is gone, this truck load of gift from parents feel like (more than) Diwali.

    few years back I brought kindi, kolambi, uruli..etc etc from my parents attic. it feels just right to have them around.

    God bless

  13. Making me cry, first thing at work. Will come back to write long comment, but for now, I will blame you solely, if I take up that Gurgaon job. I am telling you. Parents and grandparents – sigh. 🙂

    • please dont. i am telling you, its just not worth it. you can only take a liking to a place depending on your personality and the stage in life you are. you’ll hate it. now go have a good day at work

      • I have read this post many times over. Beautiful. I started to write and realised I am writing a whole post in the comments section. So deleted it. There is a beautiful grandfather’s clock at my Thatha paati’s place that I have eyed since I was 2! Its all mine, but I need to set up home, before I bring it home. Oh, and did I mention a writing table, a huge trunk-like thingie for groceries (like rice), an old hurricane lamp, my grandmother’s stash of old brass/ copper vessels and my Nani’s old chest of drawers? 🙂
        I am the mad grandchild that wants all their ‘old stuff’. And they are only too happy to hand it all over to me.
        Oh and you know the traditional south Indian ‘easy chair? Its no great piece of furniture, but I love it! I am saving the wooden frame of one of those chairs, so I can have one of those in my house too!

          • :D. That is all it takes? A grandfather clock? Dyamn, I should have known this much earlier! 😀

            Its not a mega sized grandfather clock (realised my description is slightly misleading). But its one of those long, rectangular, wall- mounted, solemnly tick- tock every half hour, clocks 🙂

  14. Your kids need to give my brat some lesson. At a birthday party yesterday, he drank down half a cup of the tattoo-artist’s paint-blacked water, mistaking it for Pepsi. Much drama ensue I made him drink half a litre of water and throw up.

  15. Awww…Am all senti this morning because brother was here for a surprise weekend visit and left last night, and then to read this when I’m limping reluctantly back to routine 🙂

    And yes, patience is a virtue, but I’ve never really been very virtuous.

    • did he tell you how he travelled with my uncle and aunt and they ended up realising they had me in common? best part is that i spoke to him twice without knowing it was him. he kept updating me on how late the train was. and then suddenly called back to say hey.. its me!

  16. Im so amazed at the thoughtfulness of the parents of your anon commentor! Imagine sending over a set of keys for their grandchild all the way to Europe! How how how sweet is that….priceless.

    Yohaan loves to cook. So everytime someone is coming from India from delhi or varanasi, my parents sedd him some kind kitchen set and some of his fav homemade snacks like mathri, ghujiyas etc and always home made aam ka achaar for me….and linen…my dad and brother go all over the world looking for different kinds of kitchen toys just for yohaan, parcel it and send it across. Your parents sound outof this world….soooo incredibly generous…and i also think oa and your sil are lucky to have them as in laws too…what a beautiful post…am going to read it many times….

    misty eyed
    h
    dubai

    • 🙂 they do it for my sil and brother too. so everywhere they go, they bring back a set of stuff – one for me, one for sil. so that whenever someone goes to the US or they visit, there is a little aligarhi suit piece, bangles from ferozabad, a little pair of dutch clogs, i mean any place they go to, you realise they thought of you there. i find that sweet. the OA used to find it very strange when we got married and i insisted on picking up a tiny something from every place. a lot of it was so commonplace, but hey – it just says, i was thinking of you.

      you love aam ka achaar and mathri? me too!

  17. “Last night a truck arrived from my home (Should I call it my parents’ home?)”

    No. Call it your home. It will always be your parents’, yours and your brother’s.

    That’s the way families work.

  18. Lovely post!

    I feel inspired to now go and set up my home. I dont do anything that a good mother / wife should do – cook, clean or keep a tidy home. Maybe my family is missing out and they would all secretly love a well done up home!

  19. Such a wonderful read MM- I got excited simply reading the post and imagining you going through the crates and digging out the treasures 🙂 Your parents are soooooooo generous and kind – simply amazing… enjoy all the goodies and can’t wait to see the pics

  20. this reminds me that I should pass such love on. i mean, pay it forward. my mum would do such things for me (not on this scale, of course), yes, she would.

    awesome post MM!

  21. show show show!! 😀 This trip, I made my grandpa write down all the stories and poems he ever taught me as a child and now I’m taking a large sheaf of memories and love written in my awesome old grandpa’s lovely colonial handwriting! Heritage is such a lovely thing!

  22. It all sounds so fantastic MM. Pics please 🙂 My dad sent me 2 packets of kashmiri chillies and some masala’s and some stuff for my hubby (ofcourse!) cos I was complaining that I dont get them here…I was just venting stuff but he went ahead and posted them for me. It was so nice to recieve that unexpected parcel 🙂

  23. Wow – what a post MM! Really made me choke with tears towards the end. I am so glad its not just you but your kids notice the magic in your home too. Family is such a beautiful thing 🙂

  24. Sigh. MM. Everytime I read any and every one of your posts – I so, so, so want to believe. In love, happiness, and happily ever afters…

    God Bless You and Yours…

  25. Amazing! Simply superb, soulful.
    Could relate to the whole ambience and emotions. We have spent our entire childhood soaking in this feeling that u r talking about. Setting up home, chaos, fights, tiredness, tea sessions wid aachar and mathri, guests dropping in just at the most inapropriate time (read wen the chaos is at peak and our untidy-ness too). Feels happy that ur kids have so much to cherish.

    We three siblings not married yet, but yes staying away from home for our jobs. And our parents make sure they pack the whole house wenever we leave. Even though i go home every weekend, my mom, without fail, among all other endless things, prepares lunch for all my office friends and then my PG roommates on Monday morning, as per their liking. It’s just a small gesture, but too big an emotional bond. So, so, so loved ur post. Teary eyed now, as have just returned from home today, after spending a week with my complete family. (complete as in my sis works in chennai and comes home only once or twice a year).

    Sorry, emotions made the comment so long… Strangely, my job is to edit, ha ha, working at a newspaper desk hardly come handy during emotional outpouring. Hope u understand.
    wid love and hugs.

  26. I read on and on mesmerized, hoping for a pic, finally thought will ask for some, but the last line was a killer…so much for patience 😦
    Would wait for the same nonetheless…

  27. MM….you are this short from making me cry.
    And yet, some of my best memories come from just being present while my parents lived life. God, how this speaks to me and touches me. I know a lot has changed now, but I don’t see why this magic cannot continue for our kids in our modern day households as well. Actually, it already does. There is that magic in your house, you see. 🙂

    Please please please don’t test our patience with the pics…..I have none left! So stat!

  28. You should send this piece in to some publication MM….it doesnt even need editing….the cadence, the thoughts, the presentation, everything is perfect. It’s so evident that that you were supremely touched at history coming home for a new future.
    Needless to say, I will checking and rechecking for pics like a nervous twitch now.
    Thanks for making me cry. Good God I needed it. Enjoy and salam and duas for your folks.

  29. Wow! Lovely post MM. Read it again & again. Brought back memories. My mom used to finish cooking by 4 am & dad used to bring me lunch to my hostel – a 4 hr bus ride, twice a month. Causes me a heartache when I think about it now…
    Now, everytime I visit India, both parents & inlaws are very generous in giving me anything I like to do up my home.
    Hope I make such nice memories for my daughter to cherish later.
    And, Please!Please!Please!Pictures Please!

      • Actually, somedays it would take longer if he can’t get a direct bus 🙂 I always feel infinitely blessed & grateful for my parents & brother. Thanks for the great post!

  30. MM,

    a very touchy post indeed.

    PICTURES, PICTURES, PICTURES, PICTURES, PICTURES, PICTURES……….MORE PICTURES

    can’t wait anymore. 🙂

  31. Funny you should mention your memories of hostel. The first thought that came to my mind when I read of the little army of polishers/buffers was that this was a perfect “washed apples” moment. Years ago, my hostel BFF used to get care packages from home. One package was labelled “washed apples”. Only a parent….

    This post deserves to be savored. I’m off to make my cuppa…be back in a bit!

    XO,
    G

      • My thatha made his first foray into the kitchen, when he accidentally realised his granddaughter loved steamed apples :). He would painstakingly steam them.
        Many times as a child, when we lived in Madras, when my grandfather would arrive, unannounced. Reason? He spotted our favorite fish at the market, got them home, fried/ got a meen kozhambu made, made the 3 hrs trip to Madras to hand this over to us and return the same day! Given what a food- crazy family we are, food parcels and packages are our most preferred way of saying, ‘I thought of you’.
        Do you even know just how many, many memories this post of your brought to so many of your readers? This is your best non- baby post, in all the many years that I have been reading you. 🙂

  32. Aaaw! Now u dont know me but me a regular here.. I just love reading ur posts… N this is a topping on cake!

    N Trust me ur trust on life… The joy of simplicity… The promise that rich life need not be synonymous with money is given me so much hope n promise as I lead mine!

    Thank U 🙂

  33. Lovely post, MM. You do your magic with words. I remember during my hostel days, when my dad visited me he would bring mom’s idlis and tomato chutney for the entire gang. They do so much for us.
    Can’t wait for the pics 🙂

  34. Lovely post MM! Tell Tambi he can get stuff too. My parents do the same and routinely request us if we’d like to take some wonderful antique pieces they own. With all siblings living outside the country, we just ship the stuff as and when we visit, while we stay away from the special few they still have and cherish 🙂

  35. Are all dads like that?Dont remember their kids age? My dad is a maths teacher.He can say all the formula, theorems even if you wake him up in the night 🙂 But would think for a good 2 mins if you ask my age 🙂

    Yes, he promised a reward for my daughter, and surprised everyone by getting it the same day 🙂

  36. tchah – i’m feeling all neglected and all. mere posts ko kabhi respond hi nahi karti.

    *sits in a corner all alone, ignored, sniff sniff*

    😀

  37. Hi,
    As usual.. I am too busy / lazy to check out blogs (not even my favorite ones!) and my daughter Aanchal forwarded me yours. I am speechless… and for me, thats quite a feat! Ask anyone. From amongst my family and friends:)
    You have an exceptional family! And exceptionalthinking processes!
    Its uncanny really.. its like finding one’s twin in the world.. in this case, ones “twin-family”. Reading your story brought tears into my eyes. Cos I know the reason my daughter forwarded me this post. I know that for she (and her sibling) – this was like a trip down memory lane. And they found the parallel from their and our lives in your words. And that makes me feel so complete. As it must have made your mom and dad feel too.

  38. I know what you mean about old furniture. We have one of those old cupboards with a Belgian mirror too and recently when we were renovating my house, my brother and me demanded that ever piece of furniture be polished to match the wood, but refused to give it up.

    It’s just a little piece of history to hold on to, I guess.

  39. Pingback: A room of my own | The Mad Momma

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