I dress up as a Punjabi girl

One of my aunts called Sumathy was born in Punjab and she ended being quite a fighter. As not a fighter pilot, but with an opinion of her own. So much so, she thinks that I look better in brown than in pink….I mean, shouldn’t I be the one that knows what I look good in?

Anyway, so when I got a chance to dress up as a Punjabi girl for a Lohri song in my school Delhi Public School, Pre-Nursery in Gurgaon….I jumped at the opportunity. Mind you…it was my first group dance performance.

The misers that my parents are, they went in for hiring the Punjabi girls attire. I requested them and finally pleaded too….to buy me my own pair of Punjabi clothes….but they just wouldn’t listen.

Anyway, on the day I went to school in hired colthes and ended up being the best dancer during the Lohri dance. Want to see my video? I am post that tomorrow. For now, why don’t you just try the pics given below:

I am more sophisticated than my parents

They say I have sophistication….something that both my parents don’t have. But we can’t really blame my parents. After all, their parents weren’t as ‘exposed to the outside world’ as mine are.

Just in case you didn’t know my father touched a fork for the first time when he was planting a sapling. Surprised? Yes, he was planting a sampling in the backyard of their Madurai house and his spade sounded like it hit a metal. He dug deeper dreaming of untold treasures only to find that it was a rusted fork.

Though when he was selected as one of the 24 Indian youth to represent India in the Indo-Canada Youth Exchange Program 1997 the NCC officers trained him in usage of fork and spoon…he was no good. In fact, he lost out on one of his girl friends because he didn’t know how to eat noodles with fork. You can read his documentation of the story here.

My mother is no good too. When she uses her fork, it seems as if a crane is lifting soil to fill a pit.

I in turn, by some quirk and some good observation skills have ended up becoming a sophisticated eater. And I am only three and a half…which means, I can get better with my table manners.

Don’t believe me? Check a video of me eating lunch one day.

My first stage performance

Technically, I am not somebody expected to have stage fright. My mothers grand parents were kathakali & drama artists and my father’s grand parents were actors too – they could smile & hide their day-long plight on the rock-hard Kamuthi soil (Kamudhi is a place in Tamil Nadu, with dry lands) while tilling their lands or grazing their cattle.

Coming from such a classy ‘performers’ family, I can assure you that I don’t have stage fright. What happened in Delhi Public School, Pre-Nursery in Gurgaon on August 10, 2010 is a totally different story.

See the video before reading further:

In the video you will notice that I am crying even as the whole of my pre-nursery class is singing a patriotic song. Let me assure you that I was as surprised as my teachers & my parents at my performance that day. And then I began to wonder – why did somebody who performed so well during practice sessions, why did somebody who would correct the rest of the kids when they went wrong….why did such a kid start crying the moment the singing began?

And then in struck me – I had wanted to sing this song onstage alone…but my teachers had included all the other students against my wishes. This was not what I wanted. And that’s why I had started crying the moment the song began.

Don’t believe me? Well, I am sticking to my story. My father has taught me…if it’s a lie, stick to it till it becomes the truth.

My favourite place in my house

I have found my favourite place in my house, its a quite little corner inside the TV stand. Whenever my parents are busy watching TV and are not giving any attention to me….this is where I sit.

This way, my parents just can’t ignore me. Pretty soon, they are forced to switch off the TV and play with me.

Guess, innocence still works in this world. Wonder if by the time I am 18, I will be able to work it on my boy friends….

Here is my fav place:

Father thinks I might marry the ice-man

Though my father believes that I will end up marrying an ice cream seller, he is wrong. My father doesn’t understand that the survival instincts in a woman get better as she ages and matures…and hence I am more likely to marry an ice cream factory owner.

I love my ice creams and ice sticks.

His beliefs aside, my father is cool. Everyday in the evening he goes to the ice cream wala just outside our house and buys Orange, Mango, and Chocolate ice sticks for us. My house is funny…everybody loves their own flavours – I love Orange, my mother loves chocolate and my father loves Mango. Since my father ‘thinks’ he is a foodie, and he should experiment with food…he also brings kesar and pista flavours from time to time. If you know my father, please don’t burst his bubble…he will feel very bad. All his beliefs aside, I still love him.

When my father is home early, he takes me along to buy the ice sticks….and on such days I get a bonus – he gives me one orange stick to eat on our way back. And since we hide this fact from my mother, she gives me one more when we reach home.

Though…sometimes I do wonder if my mom pretends to not know. How could some one miss the orange lips I get after I have had an orange ice stick?

Just in case you didn’t know how much I love the stick ice, take a look at the video below: