Under The Influence

H and I saved, scraped, and bought ourselves a new car last December (with a little help from a Chennai brother).

People do buy cars everyday of the week, but buying your first car with your hard-earned money is a sweet experience. Because of the traffic and parking problems, we preferred our trusty bike for work and mainly used the car on Sundays and at night. So the car must have clocked a mere 500 kms even after 4 months.

Anywhichway, this post is about the lousy luck we have with the car.

Barely a month into ownership, we took it out on a Sunday night in January to visit family. We were rounding the corner at Sikulpuikawn, towards Khatla, when a white, hardtopped speeding Gypsy, driving on the wrong lane, hit the side of our car. The Gypsy did not stop for a second. I clambered out of the car, pregnant and all, but it was almost out of view already. We couldn't get the license number, and had only a broken part of its muddy bumper, and a nasty dent on our bumper and along the back door. We were advised by the police and other people not to claim insurance so we spent Rs 6,000/- to get it fixed. We could only assume the driver of the gypsy to be a drunk kid driving his dad's jeep. For days, we eyed all white-topped Gypsy's with suspicion, and looked for missing parts of their bumper. But with time, we got over our first mishap.

Last night, we were on our way to meet some people from work, when a Karizma bike came rounding the corner on the wrong lane. .H braked, the bike swerved, but he managed to hit the driver side of the car door. The biker was drunk, head lolling and speech slurring. H got out of the car but he didn't see the dent immediately. The taxi which had stopped behind the bike pointed out the dent on the car door, at which the biker immediately sped off again. You can see the dent for yourself.

We noted down the Licence plate number this time, and we are going to talk to the owner this time. I am sick and tired of being other people's casualty, especially drunk drivers. We didn't get hurt, but most people in road traffic accidents are either victims of drunk drivers, or are drunk themselves. So, overwhelmed by this impotent rage, here I am blogging about it to let off steam.

I had always thought getting a life membership (of Bible Society of India) on cars and other inanimate objects was frivolous and unnecessary. But after so many mishaps (many, considering the number of times the car's been on the road; and unwarranted, because we were never speeding, or on the wrong side), I am considering the idea of getting a life membership for the car. ..atleast The Society will be using the money to spread the Good Word!

Picture post

This is going to be a jumble of a post.

First, a picture of the newborn star. She looks good even with the tube in her nose.

A more recent picture of her, after gaining around 800gm more. Check out the chubby cheeks.

Last sunday, my cousin brought her daughter, born just 22 days before Ruatfeli. Look at the size difference though. Her head is almost twice the size of Ruatfeli's :( It's a small consolation Ruatfeli was supposed to be born 2 months after her cousin.

A shot of my naughty nephew, Rinzuala.

His older sister, Hruaizeli. She's a really sweet kid, bears her brother's punches silently.. till she loses her temper and just as silently pinches him!

Another naughty nephew, Lawmsanga/Mapuia. This kid is smart as well as sweet.

P.C.Girl's School.... this used to be my playground. I don't know why, of the many schools I went to, this school makes such an impression on my memory. I don't really remember what they taught me academically but I learnt all my cross-stiching, knitting, weaving skills from this school.
You can see they have modernised the main building, it used to be an Assam type when I studied here. I remember standing in lines for Assembly as the teachers checked the length of our nails and our fringe (the eyebrows and earlobes must be visible. Go figure). Then we used to troop inside for a prayer meeting. We used to have missionaries from ramthim as guest speakers. All of us wanted to be missionaries when we grow up. I wonder how many of us actually became one.
The building above remains the same, the tree is also the same. It used to be the classroom for fifth standard kids (the building, not the tree). I remember Pi Saptawni (RIP), the then headmistress, always throwing me out of her scripture classes. I still don't know why, I wasn't that naughty a student!The 'A pawl' and 'B pawl' classes used to be held where this green building once stood. I used to throw a tantrum every morning in 'A pawl'. My mom used to drag me screaming and kicking my legs to school. I had the rather apt nickname of 'tahbelhi' then. Ick!

The heavenly-looking house below is the 'Banglapui' of Synod. I took a picture of it on my morning walk because it looked so idyllic and perfect for morning tea.

Lastly...a picture of my roast chicken. When we moved into our new home, we used to have family and friends over for dinner quite a lot. I was hugely pregnant then and had no maid. So I used to simply roast a chicken for the main dish. The guests used to love it, but I was so sick of it I hardly used to taste it at all.

Told you it was going to be a jumble.

Baby whisperer

Ruatfeli has been acting up lately.


She sleeps through the whole day, and only wakes up to feed. Even if you shake her, she goes on sleeping. My dad asked me if she ever opens her eyes. But come 11 pm, she's wide awake and starts to take an interest in the world. By the time we lie down to sleep, she starts her whimpers. So I nurse her, she falls asleep. I lay her down on the bed, she blinks twice and let's loose a loud cry. The surprising thing about her is that, for such a tiny body, she has the vocals of a heavymetal singer. No one can ignore that cry. So I pick her up, hold her till she falls asleep, lay her down and the whole scenario replays. By 3 am, nothing is amusing anymore, and when she finally seems to tire of the game, she sleeps, and so do I.



This had been happening for the last three nights, so I was feeling pretty tired. I browsed the internet for information and realised it's a worldwide problem. In Japan, they even have a name for nighttime crying - 'yonaki'. Knowing that Ruatfeli had yonaki didn't really make it better but I did read the tips and suggestions. The best point was ' Your baby is not trying to manipulate you, it has no idea what it's doing to you'. I really was starting to wonder if she was doing it on purpose.



H has somehow been relegated to parent number 2, mainly because, you know, I have the milk supply, and also because H has to go to work while I can stay at home and wake up late. So I try let him sleep through Ruatfeli's performances. He's brilliant with kids, he's a favourite uncle to all nieces and nephews, I just never thought he'd know what to do with a screaming infant.



Well, last night, I was dead tired, it was 2 am, I had tried nursing the baby, tried burping it, checked her nappy, rubbed her tummy, but Ruatfeli continued her orchestra. Finally, H picked her up, and I told him I was going to nap for a minute and immediately dozzed off. The next thing I knew, he was laying her down to sleep. The next morning, I woke up refreshed at 7 am. We had slept through the entire night!! This was incredible because we usually have feeds at 1 or 2 intervals throughout the night. I asked H how he did it, he just shrugged and said nothing much.


Guess who's going to put the baby to sleep tonight? :)