Kitty Party

While browing a recent family photo album I came across pictures of a recent Kitty party at home. I think my sister had clicked them.

What is a Kitty party?

I am not sure why it is called Kitty party.

I have never been in one.

But I know that is a ladies-only affair. And its supposed to be their afternoon/evening of indulgence.

I tried to think of what exactly happens. Here is my understanding:

A group of women and their other women friends - okay lets call them aunties - get bored.

So they decide to have fun.

They pool in money and every month or every 3 weeks (depending on how fast they get bored), they group together in one of the ladies' homes.

Usually they meet around 3pm when they are done with lunch and when the men of the house are (thankfully) away at work.

They come dressed in sarees. Some in beautiful salwars.

Usually each one is trying to out-do the other.

Aunties bring their daughters if they are old enough to play games, but young enough to not understand complicated gossip. Aunties that brought their sons are considered losers.

The host of the party prepares a host of snacks and sweets. Pun intended!

Or just orders them from the nearby shop.

The goal of each host is to out-do the previous host.

Typically the menu would include: khara (hot condiments), sweets, sharbat, poha, upma, rava idli.

If Nita and Tina Ambani had their kitty parties, probably the menu would include: low-fat-high protein-medium carbo-high oxygen-i-love-ipl-grass-n-leaves....
to something more healthier such as.....chocolate-dressed-brownie-laced-with-sugar-syrup-soaked-in-dont-make-me-cry-anymore-marmalade!

They play games. The games usually consist of:

# Using their nose, ears,elbows and whatever else they can (except their hands) to pick vessels from a basket and place them on the carpet. The aunty who picks the most, gets a prize. The prize is usually one of the vessels. The winner immediately thinks about what she can cook in it the next day.

# Musical chairs:

Hi-tech host aunties beam songs from their ipods. 

The low-tech ones create music by banging spoons on plates. This scares the little babies who have complimentary passes to attend the kitty party. As a result there is more noise and more music.

This is the only time u will find lazy aunties running and trying to grab a chair.
Something brings out the child in a woman when she plays musical chairs. The winner of the game usually has her "Miss World" moment, and almost decides to write her name on the chair.

# Lemon spoon:

20 aunties race with a spoon in their mouth and a lemon on the spoon.

They run as if an Olympic medal is waiting at the other end of the living room.

Half the aunties reach the finishing line without the lemon.

Some aunties cheat and hide the lemons in their ears.

Some really brave aunties swallow the lemons -- good luck with that!

#Antakshari:

Half the aunties dont watch films.

The young aunties use this to make a statement.

In the end it becomes a case of gen 'X' versus Gen 'V also exist'.

The little girls, the daughters, take over and sing in elan.

Nice!

As the party goes on, the host doles out gifts to all the ladies.

These range from obscure shaped trinkets to butterfly shaped hair bands.

Fruits, and stuff are also exchanged.
Kids in the house are given toffees that will further spoil their teeth.
Babies in the house are given a cheek-punch, which is basically all other women pulling the babies's cheeks out of affection. Thankfully the babies dont know whats going on. More importantly, they survive the ordeal.

Most aunties keep gossiping as the games go on. Their gossip would typically revolve around:

# How their daughters got 1st place in the fancy-dress competition by dressing up like Sheela ki Jawani.

# How their servant maids never sweep the floor properly

# How the neighbouring lady got angry when they watered their plants in front of her door.

# How they recently learnt a new recipe from The Great Himalayan Continental Mexican Maple Safari Cooking Challenge on Doordarshan.

# Which tailor stitched the dress they were wearing, and what the color of his sewing machine was.

# How their daughter-in-law taught their son a lesson in cleanliness, and how their son taught their daughter-in-law to cook upma (if the daughter-in-law is also at the kitty party, then effort is made to forget about the upma)

The party stops on time if the host and guests are very punctual.

Or when the husband of the host rings the door bell and smiles as he greets woman power in the living room.

Or when the husband of one of the guests rings the door bell and makes an angry face that he doesnt have the keys to his house.

3 Bills and Masala Dosa

Last weekend at the Indian grocery store, there was a rather hilarious sight.

I purchased my stuff and stood in the line.

A lady two places ahead of me was at the counter, and I saw that her bill was $20.19

Not sure why I registered that in my brain.

But next in line was a grumpy old gentleman. He had a cap over his white sloppy hair. He wore spectacles. He looked like a Delhi-ite.

He began arguing with the cashier, a Gujarati lady, about the price of the tomatoes. Apparently he wanted it to be $2.7 and not $2.5.

Oh ok!

He haggled over a few more items, until finally he agreed to pay the bill.

The cash display showed it to be $20.20

By this time there was this wierd feeling in my head, as the lady began scanning my items.

I didnt want to jump the gun but I waited and watched.

And yes, I didnt haggle like the gentleman in front of me.

With bated breath I watched...and lo! My bill was $20.21.

I paused the song on my ipod and smiled as I took out my card to pay.

"Did you see that? The last 3 bills were all one after another. What a coincidence right?", I asked the Gujarati girl in Hindi.

She gave me a stare that is normally associated with angry grandmothers.

"Sign here sir", she bluntly tossed the receipt and a pen.

And kept looking at the pen.

I signed it and picked my stuff and went.

I tried to put on a brave face and act honourable, though I was feeling disgusted at her rather acrimoniously dumb response.

I went to a small indian restaurant to eat dosa.

I ordered a masala dosa.

When my dosa arrived, I realised I can plan my dinner too.

I took a take-home box and took out all the aloo sabji from the dosa and packed it for my dinner.

And then ate the masala-less masala dosa with sambar and chutney.

Why do we call it Masala dosa?

Should it not be called Aloo dosa?

All that they do is add aloo sabji inside the dosa.

I finished the dosa.

As I was about to leave, I went to the lady who was taking orders.

"Excuse me! Why do you call these Masala Dosa? You dont add masala right? You only add Aloo sabzi. I think you should call it Potato Dosa", I took a stand hoping to hear something interesting.

"Sir! do u want to order something else sir? If not, thank you sir", she replied in Hindi+English.

"Oh sorry. Thanks", I said and took my things and ran away.

My God! Whatever happened to people's sense of humour?!!

Boni

Years ago as an Engineering student, when I was camping in Bangalore for a few days, I needed to go to Avenue Road and pick up a couple of text-books. It was urgent and I needed it the first thing next day.

There was an exam 2 days hence and I had realised that sharing text-books does not work out when it comes to preparing for exams.

So I left home early to make sure I can get the book so that I will have time to catch my train out of Bangalore later in the day.

I figured it would be easier to grab an auto-rickshaw and get to Avenue Road soon.

Well it was not!

Firstly as soon as I stood at the auto-rickshaw stand, one auto-driver approached me and insisted that I ride with him.

"How much?", I asked.

"70 Rs Sir", he replied.

"70? that is too much. I will give 40"

" Hogi sir! Boni hatti beku Sir. Yenri Sir neevu. Beligge Beligge (Get lost Sir! I am yet to make my first sale for the day and you are already bargaining)", he retorted back as if I had insulted his family.

"Whatever man!", I said to him as I continued looking for another auto.

Strangely, I could find no auto-driver who commanded a price in the range I asked for.

But it was worse: None of the auto-drivers wanted me to bargain first thing in the morning.

Damn it! "Your boni is your problem!", I told one driver.

Finally I just took the bus and got to Avenue Road

Every city in India has a street that is the textbooks hub for generations in the family.

Hyderabad has Koti.

Bangalore has Avenue Road.

Avenue Road is known for 2nd hand,3rd hand,4th hand textbooks.

Sellers and vendors set up their stalls and tables to sell 2nd hand books alongside the street, even as slightly bigger shops advertise the newer books and other school and college material.

It is a student's haven, and young college-goers' hangout.

So I went to this old lady setting up her stockpile of books on a table on the footpath.

"C R Kumar- Mathematics - 3rd year BE- VTU. 2nd hand?", I told her.

She pulled it out from her stockpile

"How much?", I asked

"52 Rupees", she snapped back.

"I will give 35 Rupees. Ok?", I asked instinctively. I think this is part of every Indian's psychology. Atleast every Indian on Avenue Road.

"Aye!! Beligge beligge....innu boni hathilla......sumne hogo illinda (Aye fellow. Its early morning, and I have still not made my first sale. Get lost)", she replied with such dirty eyes and threatening looks that I felt she was going to shoot me live.

I dropped the book and ran away.

I walked into a slightly bigger shop, thinking there would be more sanity there.

I asked the shop owner who was sitting grimly reading a newspaper.

It was 9 am.

"C R Kumar- Mathematics - 3rd year BE- VTU. 2nd hand?", I asked.

He made signs to an assistant.

That assistant made signs to another assistant sitting in the shop attic.

Soon a couple of books fell from the ceiling onto his hands and he brought it to me.

I checked the right book.

"How much?", I asked.

"60 Rs", the shop owner replied looking between the newspaper and his spectacles.

"I think you can give this for 40 Rs. 2nd hand right?

The shop owner continued reading the newspaper.

"Hello?", I persisted.

"Oye! Useless fellow! Boni hathilla innu. Take it or leave it", he shouted at the top of his voice as his spectacles fell down.

Goodness!

Whatever happened to Avenue Road! Whats with this obsession with "Boni"?

Is this the way to to business?

I left the book there, shaken!

I was getting late.

At the next few shops and vendors, I first checked to see their face.

If it was nice and sober, I approached them.

And then asked them "Boni hattidiya ivattu nimmege?"

I got either despaired looks, or surprised glances, or confused faces who thought I was a fellow vendor on Avenue Street trying to set up a Union for all the guys out there.

Finally, an hour later, I managed to buy my book for 45 Rupees.

It wasn't the deal I had expected.

But I had to rush back to catch my train later in the day.

Else I would be without 'Boni' myself!

Fan-Cleaning

Whenever i am at home, my mom reserves a day for cleaning the ceiling fans.

She is short enough to reach anywhere near the fans, and I am tall enough to reach them with a short stool.

So we start.

First we make sure no-one is at home.

Coz otherwise we have to trouble everyone.

Mom gets 2 buckets.

One is filled with soap water. One is filled with plain water.

I climb a stool and reach for the fan in the living room. 

Mom tosses a cloth soaked with the soap water.

And I start cleaning the blades of the fan.

Mom starts yelling that I should do it nicely.

I cheat her by changing the fan blades to the next one while she is dipping the cloth in the water.

I want to get done with this fast.

Mom wants to spend the whole day in this job.

Then we go to the next room.

There is a bed in the room.

So I stand on the stool placed on the bed and reach the fan.

We have placed a cloth over the bed so that dust does not fall.

Suddenly I fall from the stool and onto the bed.

Mom is scared and panicks.

I laugh saying that the bed is soft and she need not worry.

I enjoy the few minutes of rest I can get on the bed as an excuse.

Now mom feels guilty and decides she would clean the fans herself, and starts climbing the stool on the bed.

So then I feel guilty and prevent her from doing so.

She argues and decides she can.

I argue and laugh and tell her that I will continue.

And so I climb the stool again and finish the fan for her.

Then we go to the dining hall.

There we have to first cover the table with newspapers to allow easy cleaning.

As my mom starts setting up the newspapers on the table, i start reading those newspapers.

I get lost in some obscure speech made by Manmohan Singh and then some stupid advertisement for body massage.

Mom alerts me that time is running out and I should finish the cleaning fast.

So I place the stool on the table and clean the fan.

I realise there is a cricket match going on on TV.

I try to bend my head and catch the latest score.

Laxman batting, 121 not out.

In that excitement, the cloth drops from my hand and splashes on the bucket.

The bucket spills on the floor, and mom comes running from the other room.

"What happened", she asks.

"Laxman century. Hit a six"

"So? so what happened?"

"So bucket fell"

Now mom is upset.

Poor ladies. How much work they do at home?

And why arent we guys sensitive to their plight?

I clean up the mess on the floor.

Meanwhile Laxman is clean bowled.

Serves me right.

Finally last room.

Mom has prepared everything for this room.

Except that in this room, the fan has some silly design on its blades.

The design distracts me.

So I ask mom what was there for lunch.

She says "not yet made"

"Still not made? Ma???"

"Ok made. But first u clean"

"What have u made"

"Vaangi Baath"

"Ok i am cleaning everything very fast now"

Siggu Leda?

When I was studying in my class 11/12 in Andhra Pradesh, it was a new experience from the seasoned CBSE to the more intense State boards. The high school/junior college that I joined was far removed from the Hindi/English drama associated with CBSE schools. Here it was 'free for all' Telugu.

All your classmates spoke Telugu.

And even the faculty.

When the faculty spoke, students had to listen to them with rapt attention.

Else they would get a "Eh Ra! Neeku Goda Meda Ekkesta" (I will hang you up on the wall (omg!))

The back-benchers would care less. They were already doing it. Kind of.

The front benchers would giggle and make sure they dont laugh.

People like me would just note the phrase in their minds and analyse it on the way back home.

And get to know the meaning a few days later.

When I once turned up late to the class, the school administrator stopped me at the school gate and told me "Siggu leda?"

I didnt understand and blurted "I drank tea and came"

She was perplexed.

Changing to chaste English she asked "whaat aar you telling I say? Who asked about yuvar tea?"

I said 'Sorry!" and then went to the class.

Later I got to know that "Siggu leda" meant "Dont you have shame?"

I had heard it as "Sigulade" and it sounded like "Lemonade" and I thought she was selling lemonades at the gate.

I got used to Telugu though.

Soon I could understand everything. It helps ofcourse that your mother tongue Kannada is similar to Telugu in many ways. And soon I was able to converse in decent but simple Telugu.

Telugu classmates never watched "movies". They never watched "films".

They only watched "Cinemas".

"Cinema choodyan ra"

"Eeh cinema ra?"

"Pavan Kalyan ra. Sooper kottad ra"

"Pavan gadu unnada?"

All I would understand from such banter was that there was a movie in town that that had 2 names:

"Pavan Kalyan ra. Sooper kottad ra"

and

"Pavan gadu unnada?"

It puzzled me how a movie could have 2 names.

At that point the Chemistry lecturer would come to the class, and the class would fall silent.

He would first turn to the girls.

These schools had all the boys sit on one side of the class, and all the girls on the other side.

I think they were the first to implement the women's reservation bill in our country even before Parliament passed it.

"Yellag unnavamma?(how are you girl?)", the lecturer would ask a tiny girl who always sat in the 3rd seat of the first row of the class. She would say something which only he would be able to hear.

If she said something nice, the lecturer would be in good mood.

Else he would be angry about something.

Then he would turn to the girl sitting exactly behind her.

"Baaga unnavamma?" (are you doing good girl?)

Then he would blush.

And start the class.

First he would ask "Homework chesara? Yavar cheyledu, stand up" (have you all done your homework? Who has not, stand up!)

Some honest guys and girls would stand up.

Some like me were always in a fix. We would have only done part of the homework, so we would never know what to do.

He would go up to each student.

"Enduku cheyiledu ra (why didnt you do it man)?", he would ask a guy standing.

"Sir! Unt lo baaga ledu Sir" ("I was not well Sir")

"Gappal chepaku (stop giving me excuses)!", and he would slap him.

We would be stunned.

Some of us would quickly finish off the homework while he was scolding the others.

"Nuvve enduku cheyiledamma (why didnt you do it girl)?", he would ask a girl standing.

"Sir! Unt lo baaga ledu Sir (i am not feeling well sir)", she would reply

"Oh! Em aindamma. Perugu tinnava nuvvu. Bhojanam tinnava. Tablets teeskunnava?" (What happened girl? Did you eat curd? Did you have food? Did u take tablets?)

"Ownu sir" (Yes sir)

"Ore loafer. Oka kobrakai neerlu teeskonra tondraga" (you loafer! go and get a coconut water quickly), he would yell at one of the other fellows who had not done his homework and was thus standing.

That guy would immediately run out.

Lucky fellow!

"Sare.. kuchoamma kucho" (Ok! Sit girl. sit)

And he would move on to the next student.

Finally he would start the day's chemistry class.

He would write the equation on the blackboard:

2Na+Cl2 = 2NaCl

And then he would draw the electrons and protons and neutrons for both Na and Cl

And then start explaining with his mono-act, talking to himself about his characters:

"Hello Chlorine!!! Yella unnavu?? Baag unnava??" (hello chlorine! how are you doing? are you good?)

"Baag unnanu Sodium. Nuvvu?" (i am fine sodium. you?)

"He he..nenu baag unnanu. Neeku oka maata cheppali" (i am good. I have to tell u something)

"Yenti Sodium! Cheppu cheppu" (what is it sodium? tell me tell me)

"Naku..neetoh prema aiyindi. Iddaru kalisi salt autama?" (i have fallen in love with you. shall we both become salt together?)

The Cinema gadu sitting beside me would never like it- "Salt aa?? yenti tragic love story ra!".

The girls would laugh as if sodium had proposed to them.

The lecturer would continue his act:

"Sare!!! Nenu ready Sodium!!!" (Ok sodium! I am ready)

"Chlorine!! I love you. Ra!" (he would do a Brahmanandam expression, and all the students would burst out laughing)

"Adi yenti Sodium. Nee tamudu kuda unnadu??" (What is that sodium? your brother also has come?)

"Avanu amma! Maa idarikki nuvve kawali" (yes dear. We both want you) 

This lecturer had lost it! The girls had puzzled looks on their faces. The guys were listening in rapt attention. This might well be the answer to the common problem in all their minds - how to deal with a love triangle.

The lecturer continued

"Yellag ra Sodium. Chudu naku inte electrons unnai??" (How sodium? See I have only these many electrons?)

Goodness. This was becoming a biology class about family planning laced with very intricate 'chemistry'.

By this time he would have drawn arrows explaining how the 2 sodium atoms would combine with 1 chlorine atom.

"Illage (this way)!!!!", and he would point to "2NaCl" written on the board.

For the sake of maintaining sanity and also remembering our chemistry for the exams, we heaved a sigh of relief that our hero completed his movie!

The class was almost over.

And that guy would enter with his coconut water.

"Baboi! Nuvve entra! Inta late ga vacchavu. Siggu leda?"  (Oh fellow! you have come so late. Trying to cheat me? No shame?)

"Sir! Kobrakai lo neerle ledu sir" (Sir there was no water in the coconut)

"Champestan ra malli cheste" (I will kill you if you do this again)

"Sorry sir"

"Ammai ki ivvu adi" (Give it to that girl)

"Nuvvu tagisi amma (You drink this girl)", he would say pointing to the girl.

That girl would suppress her laughter and say "Yes sir. Thank you sir!

And the bell would ring.

And the class would be over