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/><category term="happier" /><category term="Masakali" /><category term="cards" /><category term="Devi" /><category term="Sharmila Tagore" /><category term="A R Rahman" /><title>Coffee With Mi.</title><subtitle type="html">My Mother is my inspiration.&lt;br&gt;Mi, I toast you with a strong cup of fresh filter coffee!</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>264</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/YGMBA" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/ygmba" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="license" type="text/html" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>blogspot/YGMBA</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUQMQHozfyp7ImA9WhVVGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-5799247383069697087</id><published>2012-05-13T09:58:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2012-05-13T09:59:41.487+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-13T09:59:41.487+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Devi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Happy Mother's Day" /><title>Happy Mother's Day</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;b&gt;"God could not be everywhere, so he made Mothers"&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I65zhZL6WkA/T683cRQLAdI/AAAAAAAAGJY/9NSy_VI0VTA/s1600/Vidya+Sury+Devi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I65zhZL6WkA/T683cRQLAdI/AAAAAAAAGJY/9NSy_VI0VTA/s400/Vidya+Sury+Devi.jpg" width="301" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
I love this photo because Vidur is also in it, tucked away in my tummy. Do you see two happy Mummies in the photo?.Yes, I was three months pregnant - indulged in a wonky hairstyle and was back in Secunderabad to wind up our life in this city and take Mom back with me to Mumbai. Oh, I just love her smile in this photo.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love my Mom. I miss her. She loved to hear me sing this song:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="main-text"&gt;&lt;b&gt;MOTHER OF MINE&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mother of mine you gave to me,&lt;br /&gt;
all of my life to do as I please,&lt;br /&gt;
I owe everything I have to you,&lt;br /&gt;
Mother sweet Mother of mine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mother of mine when I was young&lt;br /&gt;
you showed me the right way things had to be done,&lt;br /&gt;
without your arms where would I be,&lt;br /&gt;
Mother sweet Mother of mine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class="main-text"&gt;Mother you gave me happiness,&lt;br /&gt;
much more than words can say,&lt;br /&gt;
I thank the lord let me breath with you,&lt;br /&gt;
every night and every day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Mother of mine now I am grown&lt;br /&gt;
and I can walk straight all on my own,&lt;br /&gt;
I'd like to give you what you gave to me,&lt;br /&gt;
Mother sweet Mother of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-5799247383069697087?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/vaOHFsdEECA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5799247383069697087?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5799247383069697087?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/vaOHFsdEECA/happy-mothers-day.html" title="Happy Mother's Day" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I65zhZL6WkA/T683cRQLAdI/AAAAAAAAGJY/9NSy_VI0VTA/s72-c/Vidya+Sury+Devi.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/05/happy-mothers-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMBRHk7fip7ImA9WhVVFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-7462701883757432924</id><published>2012-05-08T10:50:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-05-08T10:50:55.706+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-08T10:50:55.706+05:30</app:edited><title>All that glitters</title><content type="html">Remembering.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My Mom would phone me to say this song was on TV and hold the receiver close to the TV's speakers so I could hear it. In fact, she'd call anytime there was a song that I liked on TV.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My friend would phone me to say the video was playing on TV.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember one particular Sunday when I went over to her house. We were booked to go to a movie....Golden Eye I think, James Bond. I reached her place, we had some chai and since we had a little time, we switched the TV on at Channel MTV (ah, MTV was bliss those days) and fancy our delight when this song came on - Gold by Prince.&amp;nbsp; Of course we sang out aloud together. The lyrics are easy enough, and quite nice. The song would lift our spirits and we'd crank up the volume real loud. Why would I not? (The Artist Formerly Known As) Prince is one of my favorite artists.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4CqZcw2zHzs?fs=1" width="459"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's a mountain and it's mighty high&lt;br /&gt;
U cannot see the top unless U fly&lt;br /&gt;
And there's a molehill of proven ground&lt;br /&gt;
There ain't no where to go if U hang around&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everybody wants to sell what's already been sold&lt;br /&gt;
Everybody wants to tell what's already been told&lt;br /&gt;
What's the use of money if U ain't gonna break the mold?&lt;br /&gt;
Even at the center of fire there is cold&lt;br /&gt;
All that glitters ain't gold&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's an ocean of despair&lt;br /&gt;
There are people livin' there&lt;br /&gt;
They're unhappy each and every day&lt;br /&gt;
But hell is not fashion so what U tryin' 2 say?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everybody wants to ....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's a lady, 99 years old&lt;br /&gt;
If she led a good life, heaven takes her soul&lt;br /&gt;
Now that's a theory and if U don't wanna know&lt;br /&gt;
Step aside and make a way 4 those who want 2 go&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Everybody wants to ....&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There's truth in these lyrics. All that glitters is certainly not gold.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-7462701883757432924?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/0f7qwsngMKQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7462701883757432924?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7462701883757432924?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/0f7qwsngMKQ/all-that-glitters.html" title="All that glitters" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/4CqZcw2zHzs/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/05/all-that-glitters.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMMQHo4fCp7ImA9WhVVEUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-7226859919913605974</id><published>2012-05-04T13:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-05-04T13:14:41.434+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-04T13:14:41.434+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="freelance writer" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Coffee" /><title>Not As Usual</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Mi, I have to report that I am sad today.&amp;nbsp; You know what that coffee filter did this morning? It did not yield decoction for me. Wait, let me tell you the whole story.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I woke up at 6 am, switched the geyser on and said hello to God.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I set the milk to boil along with the pan of water for the coffee filter on another burner. I arranged our little soldiers - the coffee filter, A cup for God, Vidur's glass, Surys' mug, My XL tumbler - in a row. I added Horlicks in Vidur's glass, a little sugar in God's cup, coffee powder, enjoying its aroma in the filter and sugar in the rest, according to the person, for coffee.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As the milk took its time, I cut the bhindi (Okra - ladies' fingers) for subzi. By the time I cut two bhindis, the pan of water was boiling merrily. I switched off that burner, eagerly picked up the pan and poured the necessary water into the filter, on the powder.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F4aL9JtMKt4/T6OHg1T_VwI/AAAAAAAAGE0/sqVeFtbPamI/s1600/FilterAndBean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F4aL9JtMKt4/T6OHg1T_VwI/AAAAAAAAGE0/sqVeFtbPamI/s400/FilterAndBean.jpg" width="190" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr style="color: #d5a6bd;"&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.zenmocha.com/" style="color: #c27ba0;" target="_blank"&gt;Image credited&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And waited for the tick, tick, tick sound of the decoction filtering through to the bottom half, as usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The milk began to rise and switching that burner off, I poured some in Vidur's glass and God's cup.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Imagining I was hearing the coffee filtering through, I continued to cut the bhindi. Then I started cooking the subzi.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I kneaded the dough for parathas for Sury. I got the dosa batter out from the fridge for Vidur's lunch.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then Sury and Vidur woke up and I made Sury's coffee.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I noticed there was still water in the top half of the filter. A filter that usually takes a few minutes to yield the decoction for that sacred first coffee of the morning. I &lt;i&gt;Arjun-Rao&lt;/i&gt;-ed it and got on with my work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then when the subzi was ready and the dosas made, before I started making the parathas, I decided I deserved my coffee. Added milk to my XL tumbler. And expectantly peeked into the filter. Fancy my surprise when I saw the water still stagnating there. Grr. Hopefully,&amp;nbsp; I disengaged the bottom half and saw nary a drop there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;Not as usual.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, I had built up so much anticipation for the coffee that I &lt;b&gt;needed&lt;/b&gt; it. There was some good decoction left over from yesterday. I added that to the coffee and enjoyed it, looking at the filter questioningly. Ah well, PMS for the filter, I thought. I am understanding that way, you know that. Attributing all sorts of human feelings to non-human objects. But I reckon that the filter is a member of our family - and so, I believe in giving it its rights.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Thus, I finished my coffee, albeit a little disappointed in the filter, and I made the parathas as I had an 8 am deadline.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then I packed the dubbas. By which time Sury and Vidur had had their breakfast and were dressed to go. With the filter on my mind, I dropped Vidur at school and returned home after fueling the bike. Once I got home, I kinda made the living room look better, picking up stuff and remembering the coffee, headed to the kitchen before I sat to work.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As usual.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was amazed to see the water still sitting on top. And nix in the lower half of the filter.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;b&gt;NOT AS USUAL, I SAY!&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
I had to take matters into my own hand. And then I realized we had never made coffee without a filter, unless we were drinking instant coffee, which was rare. I recalled you saying once, that people prepare their coffee from coffee powder just like they make tea. Yuck, I thought. But I could not waste perfectly good coffee powder.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;
So - I removed it from the filter, put it in the pan I use for boiling water and brought it to a boil. Feeling bad all the time. Because making coffee must be a gentle affair where I lovingly add the boiling water to the powder to produce the decoction.&amp;nbsp; Sigh. I switched the gas off and let the pan sit for a minute before using the tea-strainer to filter the coffee. I heated the milk and added some of the coffee to it. Added a little sugar, listlessly. Mixed the contents of my glass. Tasted it. It was...uh....uh....okay. Reminded me of&amp;nbsp; சில&amp;nbsp;பேரு வீட்டு&amp;nbsp;காபி. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By now, the whole kitchen and its surroundings were filled with the aroma of coffee - quite like when we pass those coffee outlets where they roast and grind coffee. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I laughed to myself, thinking of how we would talk about our coffee filter judging people - producing the decoction for those it(we) liked and taking ages to percolate for those it (we) did not like so much.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Did it dislike me today?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh well, what it lacked in taste it made up for in aroma.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And thus I had my coffee today in an aromatherapy-like ambiance.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNcNgFhw_wY/T6OIBJ22LyI/AAAAAAAAGE8/4t1sCOtkZuk/s1600/GoodOldFilterCoffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PNcNgFhw_wY/T6OIBJ22LyI/AAAAAAAAGE8/4t1sCOtkZuk/s320/GoodOldFilterCoffee.jpg" width="251" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Nice.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Can't take anything for granted, eh?&amp;nbsp; Especially coffee. Why should I get so worked up when you're not here to share my coffee with me?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-7226859919913605974?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/qj7EoUGA2Z0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7226859919913605974?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7226859919913605974?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/qj7EoUGA2Z0/not-as-usual.html" title="Not As Usual" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-F4aL9JtMKt4/T6OHg1T_VwI/AAAAAAAAGE0/sqVeFtbPamI/s72-c/FilterAndBean.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/05/not-as-usual.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUQCR385fyp7ImA9WhVWGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-3259365314088270378</id><published>2012-05-02T19:32:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-05-02T19:32:46.127+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-05-02T19:32:46.127+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Wish" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Devi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>I wish</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
At 2 pm today, I just thought I’d go through some info I had collected to write an article. There was enough time to do just that before I left to pick Vidur up from school at 2.30. At 2.15, I felt slightly drowsy. You know how weird that is – I get paranoid about not waking up on time, so I got up and had a glass of water. Then, realizing I had another ten minutes at least to go, I sat down again and looking at my document.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At 2.25 I dozed again. And awoke with a start at 2.28. In those three minutes, I had a vivid dream. I dreamed that you were walking up the staircase, wearing your favorite red saree and saying, “Vidya, as usual the lift didn’t turn up”. You were smiling. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can see you coming up the stairs.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When I woke at 2.28, I was so disoriented. 
It made me wish you were really coming back. It made me wish I could hear your voice calling out to me at 2.25 – to tell me it was time to go to school to pick Vidur up. Maybe you were telling me and that’s why I woke up at 2.28?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I wish.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I always think of this expression on your face.&amp;nbsp; And what fun we had with those soft toys.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/k-HmT5EApf0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3259365314088270378?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3259365314088270378?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/k-HmT5EApf0/i-wish.html" title="I wish" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-__VTaxhstNc/T6E-Ik_c-uI/AAAAAAAAGD4/nmeuLSgzV20/s72-c/devi+teddy+-+Copy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/05/i-wish.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQHRHw6fCp7ImA9WhVXFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-8274002509356535182</id><published>2012-04-15T22:15:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-04-15T22:15:35.214+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-15T22:15:35.214+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><title>Happy Birthday</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Dear Mi,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Happy Birthday.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_fsIHVQPJd4/TGrJ1KKpLoI/AAAAAAAABSE/OuKmu8Unn5I/s1600/Vidya+Sury+malligai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="224" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_fsIHVQPJd4/TGrJ1KKpLoI/AAAAAAAABSE/OuKmu8Unn5I/s320/Vidya+Sury+malligai.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
These days, I dream of you almost every night. I wake up feeling quite happy in the morning. I know this could be perceived as weirdness by some. But we don't need our happiness to be controlled, right? At least not anymore, as Sury often reminds me. You obviously know we remember you in everything we do. We talk about you all the time. Yesterday, while making chakrapongal, I missed you so much. I think it came almost exactly like you make it. And I remembered how you never got pareshaan about anything - no matter how complex things were. I am so lucky I grew up with your wisdom in my life. I just wish you didn't have to go so soon.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am thinking of you as I sweat in the kitchen making chapatis as though I've been doing it all my life. I recall how you never grumbled about making them - in fact, you insisted only you must make them&amp;nbsp;because&amp;nbsp;you enjoyed cooking so much. Strangely, I do too. Or not so strangely. I keep recounting to &lt;a href="http://www.vidursury.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Vidur&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;how we used to make that kanji maavu for breakfast porridge in large quantities and the story of switching to muesli. And how we used to make all the podis so meticulously. I am ashamed to say we went two days without dosa molaga podi. Yes, go ahead, smile. This time, Vidur told me it tastes exactly like how you make it. And I remembered how Tanu and I would endorse that no matter who approved or disapproved of us, it is our mothers' approval that matters the most and crowns us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tanu called a few days ago and we had a lovely conversation. Sharda is also in my radar now and I am looking forward to catching up with her. Of course, Uma (enna saar) is the jigri-est. :-) The day before Vidur got his results, she arrived with a little tub of icecream for him, telling him that he should give her good news the next day. And he did. He scored a CGPA of 10, Mi. Imagine, he's in the 10th now. Remember how he would say he was in the 10th when asked which class he was in, when he was in UKG? &amp;nbsp;And when you were unwell and going through tough health times, I would always ask you if you didn't want to cry when Vidur came home with his 10th std results? Who the heck even dreamed you'd be snatched away from us so abruptly?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
To celebrate your birthday, we sponsored a meal at Seva Sadan today. I've also contributed for their medical fund, Mi. I know you would be happy about that. I am also working on nikalo-ing things and donating them off. Such a pain to clean. Oh, I miss our cleaning drama so much. I was telling Vidurkutty how we used to keep changing the arrangement. You know, we've stuck to the same living room arrangement since you've been gone? Frankly, I don't have the energy to move things around. Okay, I confess, I don't have the inclination.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am just hoping I can finish my book this year, Mi. It is my dedication to you. I thought it was the least we could do to help others. Whenever I feel low, I think of your encouraging words. Did I tell you our Pookari's son drowned? Poor thing. She's moving on with life. She's moved up her shop on to a tela and sits perched on it, happily &amp;nbsp;weaving garlands. Yesterday when I bought flowers from her, she asked me "is it two years since amma passed away?" and I felt so touched. Sweet, no? By the way, I met the upstairs Padma who moved out of our building some years ago. Now her daughter is married and has a kid and she&amp;nbsp;inquired&amp;nbsp;about you - and when I told her, she was shocked. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, we bought a pedestal fan to keep us cooler. I was thinking what fun it would have been to have had it in our kitchen when you were there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There can never be a Mother/Grandmother/Teacher like you, Mi. Just remember to be my daughter in your next birth, okay? You promised.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Your lovely smile is always in my mind. Please watch over us, Mi.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-8274002509356535182?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/rLLK3fm2Aa8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8274002509356535182?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8274002509356535182?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/rLLK3fm2Aa8/happy-birthday.html" title="Happy Birthday" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_fsIHVQPJd4/TGrJ1KKpLoI/AAAAAAAABSE/OuKmu8Unn5I/s72-c/Vidya+Sury+malligai.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/04/happy-birthday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEHSXg5fip7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-5798574116410290856</id><published>2012-03-06T22:24:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:43:58.626+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:43:58.626+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mother's Day" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="mom-dates" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="cards" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="children" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="flowers" /><title>3 Ways to Honor Mom On Mother's Day</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Moms--we all have one. In many ways, we owe Mom our life. The value of a day honoring the integral socio-cultural unit is both obvious and important. However, by virtue of her parental role, not all moms get a lot of appreciation from her children on a daily basis. Especially during &lt;a href="http://www.earlychildhoodeducationdegree.net/"&gt;early childhood&lt;/a&gt;, kids often find it difficult to appreciate all that their mothers provide for them. Mother's Day is a great opportunity for you to take that extra step to show Mom she is both loved and appreciated.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Here are a few tips that may help you figure out just what kind of special gesture your Mom will recieve for Mother's Day. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;h2 style="text-align: justify;"&gt;


Flowers&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dfcuA6yiUH0/T1ZASbxq14I/AAAAAAAAFX0/Ug3ghtAzssU/s1600/Vidya+Sury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dfcuA6yiUH0/T1ZASbxq14I/AAAAAAAAFX0/Ug3ghtAzssU/s200/Vidya+Sury.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Flowers: an old standby, true, but for good reason. Mothers especially appreciate flowers and the gift is appropriate on a day that honors Mothers because, like her children, flowers are living, growing things, and they provide a lot of beauty and comfort for the recipient (without all the stubbornness and crying). Its a good idea to try and figure out (if you do not already know) what kind of flowers Mom likes most. Dad may be a good place to start; then again, he may not be. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;h2 style="text-align: justify;"&gt;


Cards&lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nnfnEFe4bPc/SwzS7naFUJI/AAAAAAAAAdE/hsw-SV8-Ym4/s1600/thanks.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="140" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nnfnEFe4bPc/SwzS7naFUJI/AAAAAAAAAdE/hsw-SV8-Ym4/s200/thanks.gif" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Cards are another classic Mother's Day standby. However, a great card can go along way with a Mom--who, when thinking about their &lt;a href="http://www.childpsychology.net/" target="_blank"&gt;children&lt;/a&gt; may welcome the opportunity for some sentimental gushing. The trick to a great card is to choose one with a short and general message of love. The short message will allow you room to write your own feelings. It may be hard to open up to your Mom, but if you think about it, the words will come. Ultimately, telling your Mom "thank you" in a way that highlights the fact that she gave up a large portion of her life to care for you will be very well-taken by any Mom. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;h2 style="text-align: justify;"&gt;


Mom-dates &lt;/h2&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jcc6tqJUD5o/S27lQdKP16I/AAAAAAAAA0k/joIYodpmH9w/s1600/i-love-you-mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="140" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jcc6tqJUD5o/S27lQdKP16I/AAAAAAAAA0k/joIYodpmH9w/s200/i-love-you-mom.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
When was the last time you spent some time with your Mom? Mom's usually miss their children's presence more than they ever let on. Taking the time to take Mom out to a movie or lunch may very well mean more to her than a bouquet of flowers or kind sentiments. Even if you and your Mom do not spend a whole lot of time together for a reason, grow up and do not be so quick to find excuses to avoid her! She deserves your respect and love, and making the effort will really go a long way towards honoring Mom on Mother's Day. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
For more tips on how to honor Mom on Mother's Day, check out the following resources:&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.dayformothers.com/mothers-day-history/" target="_blank"&gt;Mother's Day History&lt;/a&gt; - the history behind Mom's special day. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li style="text-align: justify;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.sheknows.com/holidays-and-seasons/articles/808527/15-ways-to-honor-mom-this-mother-s-day" target="_blank"&gt;15 Ways to Honor Mom&lt;/a&gt; - even more Mother's Day suggestions. &lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/pQ0RfgtHc8g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/5798574116410290856/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/03/3-ways-to-honor-mom-on-mothers-day.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5798574116410290856?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5798574116410290856?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/pQ0RfgtHc8g/3-ways-to-honor-mom-on-mothers-day.html" title="3 Ways to Honor Mom On Mother's Day" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dfcuA6yiUH0/T1ZASbxq14I/AAAAAAAAFX0/Ug3ghtAzssU/s72-c/Vidya+Sury.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/03/3-ways-to-honor-mom-on-mothers-day.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0EBQ3w6eip7ImA9WhVQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-1815538339356151084</id><published>2012-03-01T00:30:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2012-04-02T10:10:52.212+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-02T10:10:52.212+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="truth" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="learning" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><title>The Truth</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.mfadegree.net/"&gt;English
students&lt;/a&gt; may recognize this quote by Oscar Wilde: "It is among the commonplaces of education that we often first cut off the living root and then try to replace its natural functions by artificial means. Thus we suppress the child's curiosity and then when he lacks a natural interest in learning he is offered special coaching for his scholastic difficulties." &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Would you not agree with that, Mi?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-atBdtTLu3nY/T051vjjebDI/AAAAAAAAFVs/eX9wTJsfoL8/s1600/Vidya+Sury+Curiosity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-atBdtTLu3nY/T051vjjebDI/AAAAAAAAFVs/eX9wTJsfoL8/s1600/Vidya+Sury+Curiosity.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #c27ba0;"&gt;Image credit commonspark.wordpress.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I was going through your books and felt so nostalgic to see your handwritten notes everywhere - with quotes in the margin of the pages.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sigh!&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-1815538339356151084?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/6Y34I6ICGlY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/1815538339356151084/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/03/truth.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/1815538339356151084?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/1815538339356151084?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/6Y34I6ICGlY/truth.html" title="The Truth" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-atBdtTLu3nY/T051vjjebDI/AAAAAAAAFVs/eX9wTJsfoL8/s72-c/Vidya+Sury+Curiosity.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/03/truth.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEDQns9cSp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-9084227954748624678</id><published>2012-02-09T00:05:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:44:33.569+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:44:33.569+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="anniversary" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>Second Anniversary</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-46mnpFDPwhY/TNJFiaIc0LI/AAAAAAAABos/bQX1XAbvkls/s1600/vidya+diwali+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="187" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-46mnpFDPwhY/TNJFiaIc0LI/AAAAAAAABos/bQX1XAbvkls/s320/vidya+diwali+2.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
Miss you every single day.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
People talk about remembering.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;
How can we remember when we never forgot in the first place?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-9084227954748624678?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/O_gPxNCVU38" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/9084227954748624678/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/02/second-anniversary.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/9084227954748624678?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/9084227954748624678?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/O_gPxNCVU38/second-anniversary.html" title="Second Anniversary" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-46mnpFDPwhY/TNJFiaIc0LI/AAAAAAAABos/bQX1XAbvkls/s72-c/vidya+diwali+2.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/02/second-anniversary.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUENQXgzfyp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-6132761114366387797</id><published>2012-02-07T11:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:44:50.687+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:44:50.687+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nostalgia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>Remembering</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Satyanarayana Puja days - what fun it was. It is Full moon day today, pournami and I am remembering the hustle and bustle of the morning rush to finish making breakfast, packing lunches, all before 8 am so that you could go bathe and get ready for the puja. You would insist on making the kesari prasadam yourself and it would turn out so wonderful! Then while I finished cooking lunch, you would get started on the puja. After admiring the decorated shrine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So sad, Mi. Madhavama's son passed away. Suddenly. He just went out with his friends and before going, hugged her affectionately. This was around 1 pm. And then, at 2, she receives the news that he is dead. She looks so devastated. I had begun to worry about her being missing at her spot for a couple of weeks. Then when I asked the keerai kaaran he told me what happened. Of course I met her after she returned to her post. Lonely and sad. paavam.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Another major news is the death of Valambi. Shocking. Apparently she had knee surgery on both knees and they had brought her back home. The next morning, she passed away. I was really surprised to find out she was 70, Mi! She seemed younger, somehow. When you were in hospital, she was visiting her manni and also came by your bed. You didn't know of course, being unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Feb 7 - 2010 - I remember how mama came rushing over. We had kept calling them to wish them on their anniversary and somehow, the tone of my voice prompted him to rush over.&lt;br /&gt;
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And on Feb 8, it was all over. So unfair. You were only 64. :-(&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-6132761114366387797?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/FMglv8G8J-E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/6132761114366387797/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/02/remembering.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/6132761114366387797?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/6132761114366387797?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/FMglv8G8J-E/remembering.html" title="Remembering" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/02/remembering.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAFSX45eip7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-1718039698636909664</id><published>2012-01-12T08:53:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:45:18.022+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:45:18.022+05:30</app:edited><title>A favorite tune</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
When we hear Talat Mahmood, you are obviously in our thoughts and we talk about which songs are your favorites. Very hard to choose when it comes to Talat  - still!. Here's one song you always enjoyed hearing:&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/V8c1cntgz2E?fs=1" width="459"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I am trying my best to be a creative cook, Mi. Last night I panicked about what to give Vidur in his school dubba because we hadn't discussed it. I became pareshaan. Thing is, he hardly has any lunch when he carried sandwiches and stuffed parathas. So I decided that the best solution has to be to pack more. After all, what is better than children enjoying food? That was a very "you" thought :-) because immediately - it occurred to me that you would have done something similar. &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
So today, instead of aalu paratha, I made carrot-onion-coriander paratha. I think it will be nice. I grated the onion and the carrot so that the dough would turn out smooth with only flecks of carrot. It is the red carrot season and I am remembering all the times you would just love to grate and have it. We would even use it in veg pulao for the lovely color. Sigh.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Two days back I made kathrika curry and it turned out just the way you love it. Made me think of our 12.30 lunch bell and how you would be surprised to see that lunch was ready in less than half an hour. Well, you were always the expert and I think I had a wonderful teacher in you! &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I was laughing to myself this morning - stuffed paratha for Vidur and bhindi curry and plain parathas for Sury. It later occured to me that both could have taken the same lunch - had I not gone ahead and cut the bhindi from routine! &lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Maybe I do have a bit of you in me when it comes to cooking, Mi! At least I am happy to experiment! &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Miss you. The day after tomorrow is Pongal/Sankranti and this will be our second without you. &lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author" style="background-color: white; color: #8832ff; font-family: Arimo; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/Z-AT4bQAtWg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/1718039698636909664/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/01/favorite-tune.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/1718039698636909664?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/1718039698636909664?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/Z-AT4bQAtWg/favorite-tune.html" title="A favorite tune" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/V8c1cntgz2E/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2012/01/favorite-tune.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAHQ385eCp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-9081804720693817244</id><published>2011-12-27T15:25:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:45:32.120+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:45:32.120+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="temple" /><title>Over and done with</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
You know what I mean, Mi.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Let's do a namaskaram of peace to Chocolate Amman, a.k.a. Kolavizhi Amman.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-frmjQRW9PFc/TvfuX4yGd3I/AAAAAAAAEpE/7-9IG5iVk5I/s1600/VidyaSury+ChocolateAmman.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-frmjQRW9PFc/TvfuX4yGd3I/AAAAAAAAEpE/7-9IG5iVk5I/s640/VidyaSury+ChocolateAmman.JPG" width="480" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
You would have loved this temple, Mi. It is in Mylapore near that Sanskrit College. Amazingly, the weather was also very cool. Mini-mama enjoyed the trip.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We're now waiting for the New Year. I'll have some interesting photos to show you soon. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-9081804720693817244?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/kS7nZFzypkg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/9081804720693817244/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/over-and-done-with.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/9081804720693817244?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/9081804720693817244?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/kS7nZFzypkg/over-and-done-with.html" title="Over and done with" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-frmjQRW9PFc/TvfuX4yGd3I/AAAAAAAAEpE/7-9IG5iVk5I/s72-c/VidyaSury+ChocolateAmman.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/over-and-done-with.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAARnk5fCp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-7547928220149970459</id><published>2011-12-22T10:35:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:45:47.724+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:45:47.724+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="New Year" /><title>Life's little gifts</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Depending on how we look at it, some things are good and some things, not so good. I am so not looking forward to a trip we have to make, but we'll do it anyway, to get it over with. Moreover, wouldn't want to waste money cancelling the tickets. My crazy mind things, imagine how may Seva Sadan meals that could cover! Like that.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But let's talk about some nice things. Vidur's school annual day was great - he took part in the Carnatic music song - so cute, considering he's learning Hindustani classical no? The programs were superb and we returned home quite happy the way things turned out. Of course, Vidur kept on practicing wearing the dhoti in the traditional style and look pretty great when he wore the final event costume.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHHF5_tuGu0/TvK2h42T7TI/AAAAAAAAEnM/TrNh_KEHIoo/s1600/Vidur+Sury.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHHF5_tuGu0/TvK2h42T7TI/AAAAAAAAEnM/TrNh_KEHIoo/s400/Vidur+Sury.jpg" width="300" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Vidur Sury 17.12.2011&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
I clicked a quick photo as soon as he got dressed. That backpack looks like he's attached to it permanently! :-). Reminded me of &lt;a href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2010/09/no-cwg-games.html" target="_blank"&gt;another time&lt;/a&gt; when they got ready made dhotis. The size was too small for him and I had to attach it to the hem of a pair of shorts to make it look normal under the kurta. So funny.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, Sid hasn't turned up to complete the piping/plastering work. Are we surprised? No. Really.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yesterday I made coriander chutney. The coriander was so fresh and the leaves shone so healthily, I had wave after wave of nostalgia, thinking of how you would tirelessly make chutneys of &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mentha" target="_blank"&gt;pudina&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coriander" target="_blank"&gt;coriander&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Curry_Tree" target="_blank"&gt;curry leaves&lt;/a&gt;...roasting lentils, cleaning the bunches of leaves and lovingly putting the ingredients together so we could all enjoy the healthy flavors.&amp;nbsp; I also remember how I would always scold you for hurriedly converting the fresh leaves into chutney, and then realizing we hadn't left any for garnishing while cooking :D. And I've lost count of the number of times and the number of people you have gifted this to. Not that the acknowledgments or appreciation is pouring in - still. Fact remains you gave and gave and gave.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My blood is boiling over many things I cannot write here, Mi. I guess Vidur is going to be my best friend now to&amp;nbsp; talk to. Amazing how he always has great advice. Out of the mouths of babes eh?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sigh. Another Christmas. Another year. 2012 is around the corner. I have to go to Seva Sadan and make the payment for this year's contribution to food, medical supplies and all that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Weird to think we're getting older. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-7547928220149970459?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/e0IA_hs50uI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/7547928220149970459/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/lifes-little-gifts.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7547928220149970459?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7547928220149970459?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/e0IA_hs50uI/lifes-little-gifts.html" title="Life's little gifts" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xHHF5_tuGu0/TvK2h42T7TI/AAAAAAAAEnM/TrNh_KEHIoo/s72-c/Vidur+Sury.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/lifes-little-gifts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACSHw7eCp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-2385108190979901421</id><published>2011-12-16T11:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:46:09.200+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:46:09.200+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="repair" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="KV IISc" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="routine" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><title>Nuts</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
Just about describes my state of mind now. Mi, I battled for two weeks, trying to get the building manager to understand that there's a pipe leaking and the irritating thing is steadily soaking the wall of the pc room and verandah. Finally I got him to come check and he left with the promise it would be attended soon. Well, as we all know, "soon" is a relative term.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But it did happen sooner than I expected, amid much teasing and laughter from Sury. Murphy's Law you know. We seem to live it sometimes. Anyway, our friend Sid came and checked. And said he'd be back "soon". Again, this time "soon" meant four days.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And now, the verandah is a mess with the grill off the piping area, and that duct open all the way from the terrace to the basement. Funny it is. The guys have changed the pipes that were corroded and leaking. This time instead of the cast iron pipes, they've installed pvc pipes. In fact, the pipe fixing was done in a jiffy. What delayed the job was the availability of the residents of all the floors. I work from home, and so I was available. But the first floor walas weren't there - so that drags the job over to today and tomorrow. So irritating.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
What the situation is?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Hmm. I've been sprinting from the front door to the back door. Millions of times, or so it seems like. The problem with the messy verandah and the trail of cementy footmarks all over the place is driving me nuts too. Remember that bathroom makeover, Mi? Errgh. Oh well. Same guy. Different job. So now am looking at many more hours of this happening. Finding it so hard to focus on work. How can I do it efficiently when I keep getting up every ten minutes? The prob is they have to walk right through the house to get to the verandah. Oh well. Hopefull it will all get over in another couple of days. Not that they always stick to the promised deadline. And not that I can always set my watch to their punctuality. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
In the mean time, Vidur is ultra-busy with his school events. They had KV Foundation Day and this will be followed by Annual Day tomorrow. Busy practicing and performing. They had gone to KV Hebbal yesterday and were there all day. He went at 8 and returned at 6.30 pm. Long day for him. Hopefully today he'll be back home at the usual time since they have full dress rehearsal today. Tomorrow is the big day.&amp;nbsp; We were talking about the various annual days we both have accompanied him to, landing up far earlier than everyone else so we could "help" dress the kids.You used to enjoy school events so much.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, they have a very dynamic new principal this year. We had a parents-teacher meeting the day before yesterday and it went quite well. With the usual what-nots. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I am still playing langdi over the house cleaning. Getting more and more like the Holy Grail for me. Gimme strength, Mi. Sometimes I feel the age. On top of all this, trip to Madras. Can you say I lead a boring life?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
By the way, I skipped the second round of coffee. First-ay thadhingina-thom most days. All my fault.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-2385108190979901421?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/wMQDkDZFVzI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/2385108190979901421/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/nuts.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2385108190979901421?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2385108190979901421?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/wMQDkDZFVzI/nuts.html" title="Nuts" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/nuts.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAMRncyeSp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-8539109933690206131</id><published>2011-12-11T08:08:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:46:27.991+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:46:27.991+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Devi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Condolences" /><title>And now, bad news</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
I didn't think I'd be writing this so soon, Mi. P'ma passed away yesterday. It is odd to think you did not live to see/hear it. Of course you would have cried and felt miserable, because no matter what, blood is thicker than water, is it not?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So, where are the tears?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I think I am a bad person sometimes. When I heard the news, I did not shed a single tear. I thought I was in shock. But I wasn't. Do you find that strange? Because I was quite normal and went about the usual stuff, as usual. Maybe because we knew she has not been well the last month? Remember I told you she was diagnosed with lung fibrosis a month ago? Well, good for her she was back in India and met all the people she wanted to see. Except me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The last time we met was in December 2009 when she dropped by to see us when she was visiting with her granddaughter. I also remember how upset you were that she hardly chatted with you. Subsequently, we chatted on the phone a few times, but you know what? No one really asked any details about you, leaving me always with the thought that you mattered when you were healthy and able to do things for others. Not that am surprised.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I just wish you were with me now - we would have talked about so many things. Oh, we still will, except it will be a monologue in my head. And Mi, am not rushing over there to participate in the death rites. I'll probably be scolded to death over it, but that is okay. I just can't stand the rituals combined with socializing. I know they say that no matter what you miss, must never miss attending a death announcement. I beg to differ. So maybe I am crazy to think like that. That's okay, too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But I do plan to make a day trip to see Mama and a couple of others as soon as Vidur's hols begin. And I'll probably be at the receiving end of you know what.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh, but I have to tell you this, though. Just a couple of days ago, N. visited us and we had a pleasant time. That night, I had some bhayankar bad dreams. I didn't remember anything about it though, after I woke up. Then the day before yesterday night, I dreamed that P'ma had passed away - I remember it so clearly you know? Imagine, when we got the phone call around 5 pm in the evening - I immediately remembered the dream.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My intuitions have always been strong, except when you were in the hospital. Wonder why I didn't even imagine you'd be no more? Probably because I thought you'd live forever? Because I wanted you to? Yes. I never even thought about a situation where you'd not be there. You were only 64. Why would I even think that? Death may be inevitable, but that does not mean I have to be sensible, cool and calm about yours.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-8539109933690206131?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/VUacxQEcIVw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/8539109933690206131/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/and-now-bad-news.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8539109933690206131?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8539109933690206131?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/VUacxQEcIVw/and-now-bad-news.html" title="And now, bad news" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/12/and-now-bad-news.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8EQHw9fCp7ImA9WhVSFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-7304215543355121601</id><published>2011-11-25T11:22:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-03-12T14:46:41.264+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-03-12T14:46:41.264+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="tribute" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Coffee" /><title>Good news, Sad news</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
The good first. This November 23 was a different kind of birthday for Vidur. He was keen on going to the Angala Parameshwari temple on Magadi Road. We did, and oh boy, you should have seen how they've renovated the place. Amazing. The huge cutout that used to freak Vidur out is no longer there; they've removed it, it seems. But we had a nice time. The poojari at the inner sannidhi turned out to be a nice guy and allowed us to click photos to glory, much to Vidur's joy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Vidur Sury - 23.11.11&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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Uh oh - that camera's battery has messed up again!&lt;/div&gt;
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We also made our ritual trip to the bookstore. I have to tell you, I felt blessed that Vidur has such nice interests. He was mighty thrilled about the books he bought. There is a Crossword branch now in Sadashivnagar, so after we went there, we headed over to Sapna bookstore, followed by Pizza Hut for dinner. Then we left-right-ed it home. You know how easy it is to get transport back from there! All in all, a happy day was had by all.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
But the day before, we had sad news. Revati's mother passed away. We went and visited them and talked for a while. Sigh. These things are never easy.&lt;/div&gt;
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After much procrastination, I decided I'd go give my bike for servicing. Yet again, I should have delayed it by another day because - drumroll&amp;nbsp; - the mechanic was out of town and expected back tomorrow. With an evil grin, I came back home, recalling how you would tease me about the good outcome of my delays. So funny.&lt;/div&gt;
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Yesterday, I started the process of shifting Vidur's clothes to the bigger cupboard. Emptying it is a massive job. I have only just cleared the sarees from it. As I folded each one and put it away in the steel cupboard, I fondly recalled all the&amp;nbsp; memories associated with buying the saree, fixing the fall and our tussle over who should wear it first. Then I remembered you telling me, more recently, that I should wear them all at least once, wash them and store them again as it is not good to keep clothes folded for years and years. So I decided that starting today, I'll wear a saree to the weekly meeting. Which still means I am stuck at four a week. Errrgh. Let me see what I can do.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
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&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
It is time I started cleaning out all the shelves one by one since most of them have been neatly arranged for years now. Time to review and nikaalo stuff. We had been planning to clear out one particular cupboard for months and now, it is years. Suddenly I think, what's the point of accumulating all this stuff? I really ought to clear out stuff. I will.&lt;/div&gt;
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I woke up this morning with a solid headache and now I am wondering whether I should make a cup of coffee.&lt;/div&gt;
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Okay, I will.&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/vc0B4T_B3RM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/7304215543355121601/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/good-news-sad-news.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7304215543355121601?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/7304215543355121601?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/vc0B4T_B3RM/good-news-sad-news.html" title="Good news, Sad news" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B3eBvKaV2RA/Ts8w_cYVfwI/AAAAAAAAEcQ/WnLUFdZ7oVs/s72-c/Vidur+Sury.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/good-news-sad-news.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMNSHY_fCp7ImA9WhRREk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-8200423526559081845</id><published>2011-11-17T12:25:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-25T11:24:59.844+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-25T11:24:59.844+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="School" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="pulmonary fibrosis" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="health" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="family" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hosptial" /><title>Breathless</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
Mi, can you believe it? Pulmonary Fibrosis runs in the family. How weird to first of all come to know this after you passed away from a collapsed lung which was a result of "idiopathic" pulmonary fibrosis. And now, we learn that it is more of an idiotic situation than idiopathic.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
It seems P'ma has been diagnosed with PF and is having a bad time. I can imagine - you went through twelve years of that. (PF - supposed to provide for the family as a Provident Fund - but look at what's happening here! PF is also Pulmonary Fibrosis) I chatted with K and he told me what was happening.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
Such a deja-vu-ish feeling. I couldn't help thinking that you suffered so much in 1997 before the docs reached the right diagnosis, and then, continued to go through all sorts of health issues as a result of the medication for each problem. No one took it seriously in the family.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
When you were in ICU for 15 days straight receiving platelet transfusions as the doctor and his team struggled to get your platelet count and hemoglobin up, we were told to be prepared to lose you. I still remember pacing those corridors all night, because they expected to have to take you to the main hospital 20 plus kilometers away because they didn't have a ventilator here, in case they needed it.&lt;br /&gt;
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I like to think prayers saved you that night. The nurses were so indifferent, probably because they see this on a daily basis. So now looks like I must plan a quickie trip to go see P'ma. I heard she's frail and has to wear a nightie. I remember how you felt bad to wear one when you had that fall from the second floor in your school and had to take complete bed rest.&lt;br /&gt;
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Don't you wonder sometimes how we managed to stay sane through all the things we went through? The multiple hospitalizations, the frustration, the expense,the stress, the suffering - and during the last few months, recovery was not always imminent. Still, I never worried during the various times you were in hospital because I always had a deep conviction that you would pull through. And you did.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
So - why it did not work the last time is something I still feel unreal about. Yet your chances of surviving were almost nil. If it were only the collapsed lung, they might have succeeded in reviving it. But the lack of oxygen during those crucial minutes before we got you into emergency played havoc on your system.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
To this day, the people you regarded so highly did not ask for details; who has the time to listen to others, Mi? Yet they want to make sure they tell us every little detail about themselves, no matter how trivial. It is always very significant when even minor things happen to them. But you and me, bru-ha-ha-ha.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
While we managed to laugh at most of this, I know the pain we shared and I will never forget that. I am blessed we had/have each other. After all, we are so used to people’s give and take policy. We give, they take.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
Today, Vidur had to miss school because of a tummy upset. I was scheduled to go to the bank to wind up your accounts, but S called to say she's sending someone to get the papers and after reviewing them, I could plan a trip. Convenient for today especially since I was undecided whether to lug Vidur along for the ride.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
While making the list of documents for her, I came across a photo of yours tucked into a checkbook. So cute. Vidur and I got very senti - because we always remember you exactly like that - alert, smiling, bright and ready to GO!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
Still trying to understand why you never had a single lazy bone in your body, Mi. That’s one thing about you I would never aspire to emulate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
Oh well. Now look at the inheritance I have to handle: Health risks, mostly. No wealth issues, thank God. *wink*. Paternal family has bequeathed the risk of diabetes and breast cancer. (And who knows what else). Enough said. Tomorrow I'll show you the cute kadaai I got. You would have loved to use it, my immortal kitchen queen!.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div align="justify"&gt;
&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/LuvbXn7YhyI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/8200423526559081845/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/mi-can-you-believe-it-pulmonary.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8200423526559081845?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8200423526559081845?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/LuvbXn7YhyI/mi-can-you-believe-it-pulmonary.html" title="Breathless" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/mi-can-you-believe-it-pulmonary.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ADQnk7eip7ImA9WhVQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-2132087233043327469</id><published>2011-11-09T09:54:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2012-04-02T10:12:53.702+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-02T10:12:53.702+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="kids" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="food" /><title>Breakfast at Seva Sadan</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
...is even better than Breakfast at Tiffany's or Breakfast in America. Because our breakfast at Seva Sadan commemorates the eighth of every month for us. Oh, what a pleasure to feed people. Mi - now (as you wisely predicted) I understand lots of things that I got bugged about when you mentioned it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
"When am gone" was a phrase I hated to hear from you. But who can stop Fate from playing her game? Fate, indeed is a woman.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
I thought of you so much on Sunday when I was making aalu curry and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chapati" target="_blank"&gt;chapati&lt;/a&gt; for the Music Get-together. I kept imagining how quickly you would have turned out the chapatis. As a child I was always fascinated at how you made several fulkas simultaneously, flipping them over like a juggler on the tava and then on the fire, then rolling them off, like beautiful balloons onto the plate. Then we would add a layer of ghee to the chapati - and - in an&amp;nbsp;ambiance&amp;nbsp;that only the fragrance of cooking chapatis can bring, we would enjoy our &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roti" target="_blank"&gt;roti &lt;/a&gt;and subzi.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sRSAmR-igMc/Trn9ioL0VtI/AAAAAAAADws/quShhuGhugI/s1600/VidyaSury+fulka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sRSAmR-igMc/Trn9ioL0VtI/AAAAAAAADws/quShhuGhugI/s1600/VidyaSury+fulka.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
mmm...I can still smell those long winter evenings when we would make "Keerai" and roti because we had a strict food budget. What lovely days those were. &amp;nbsp;We used to make sambar so rarely and generally manage with a mixed subzi and plain rice. Funny - those days we actually bought an assortment of veg for Rs.5 and returned home with two carrots, two onions, one potato, a handful of peas, and a couple of tomatoes, all of which went into making one dish that doubled up as a side-dish for rice or roti.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
You know, Mi, you'll be proud to see me make rotis, fulkas and parathas with ease, just like you. I am so grateful for the lifelong education you affectionately passed on to me, mostly without me being conscious about it. Students attending &lt;a href="http://www.onlineschooling.net/"&gt;online schooling in cooking&lt;/a&gt;
would love to feel the same support.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
I still recall those hot afternoons when I came in from the 45 degree sun, to a welcoming wash at home and a yummy lunch of seasoned curd rice and beetroot curry which you would have lovingly arranged in glass dishes because I admired how it looked.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
It is sometimes hard to believe that Vidur is going to be fourteen. Remember how we spent the better part of the night before his birthday decorating the living room and blowing loads of balloons! Someone told me that "blowers" are available - we were so stupid and huffed and puffed and did it. And how appreciative Vidur always was. He has a nice plan for his birthday this year - and he talks of you all the time. I am so glad you are alive in his mind and heart. I am blessed to have a gentle child.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
I made dosa molaga podi and paruppu podi a couple of days back. And of course I heard you telling me, in my mind, that I should remove the podi from the mixer and put it in the airtight container to retain the flavor. It seems am not so bad at making podis myself, considering you were/are the podi queen. Not surprising, eh?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;
Now, let me pretend you're sitting with me, and sharing kaapi.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/XQeL_U7LAkw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/2132087233043327469/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/breakfast-at-seva-sadan.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2132087233043327469?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2132087233043327469?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/XQeL_U7LAkw/breakfast-at-seva-sadan.html" title="Breakfast at Seva Sadan" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sRSAmR-igMc/Trn9ioL0VtI/AAAAAAAADws/quShhuGhugI/s72-c/VidyaSury+fulka.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/breakfast-at-seva-sadan.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEFQHg4fCp7ImA9WhRTEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-6423399233750242128</id><published>2011-11-01T10:30:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-01T10:30:11.634+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-01T10:30:11.634+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="write a book" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Nanowrimo 2011" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Coffee" /><title>November 2011</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Significant for many reasons.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;a/ This is the calendar we’ll be looking at for everything:&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-hBxapZcGpK0/Tq981it7i7I/AAAAAAAADu4/AFT83zfrLOs/s1600-h/Vidur%252520Sury%252520Nov%2525202011%25255B20%25255D.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Vidur Sury Nov 2011" border="0" alt="Vidur Sury Nov 2011" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pVPae2wjoBk/Tq982biHdrI/AAAAAAAADu8/c65nuFohLmo/Vidur%252520Sury%252520Nov%2525202011_thumb%25255B20%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="464" height="397"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Isn’t that exciting? That’s Vidur’s painting on the IISc calendar, very interestingly featured for the month of November, which is wonderful, because it is…..&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;b/ Birthday Month&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Turning 14 is no jokes. Nothing remotely funny about that. My little boy will be fourteen years old.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;c/ &lt;a href="http://nanowrimo.org" target="_blank"&gt;NaNoWriMo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I am participating in the National Novel Writing Month, and the challenge is, starting November 1, to write 50,000 words by November 30. I am excited, nervous, confident I can do it. I am counting on my support group to motivate me. I have decided to rebel and write non-fiction. But who knows? I might end up with a short story or two, too.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I wish you were here, Mi, because I don’t know anyone else who encourages and pep talks like you do. I’ll be thinking of you to keep my spirits up, when I feel low. I’ll definitely miss the endless cups of coffee you would have made for me.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-6423399233750242128?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/Z4tUEodh6Y4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/6423399233750242128?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/6423399233750242128?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/Z4tUEodh6Y4/november-2011.html" title="November 2011" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-pVPae2wjoBk/Tq982biHdrI/AAAAAAAADu8/c65nuFohLmo/s72-c/Vidur%252520Sury%252520Nov%2525202011_thumb%25255B20%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/11/november-2011.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MFRno_fSp7ImA9WhdaFUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-3581969144696276206</id><published>2011-10-25T09:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-25T09:33:37.445+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-25T09:33:37.445+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="festival" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="diwali" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><title>Miss the magic wand</title><content type="html">&lt;p align="justify"&gt;I am going through a phase of je-ne-sais-quoi. Can’t quite put my finger on what that feeling is. It could be because of all the stuff happening in the last two or three weeks, some physical exhaustion, plenty to do, looking ahead. My eyes just seem to want to stay closed.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;I sometimes wonder if I’ve got internet fatigue. Or maybe I am just pre-menopausal. Whatever, I am trying my best to stay sane. It occurred to me that in the past, I’d express in written words how I felt and this would make me feel better. I would also thrash it out with you, Dear Mi. And you would automatically wave your magic wand and make it alright. And the sun would shine in my life again.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;This time, I am too lethargic to do it. Also, this time, I decided to do it in a different way. Of course, I fell back on my T-chart method. It always works. I made a list of all the good things I had, to look forward to. Lots of stuff. Very encouraging. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;What is probably getting me down is my growing (too-much-)to-do list. Sometimes I wish some of the things on the list would just expire if I left it for long enough. But no, it only moves up the priority list and gets done. And life does go on. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sometimes it is so boring to have to plan and do things by myself. Tomorrow’s Diwali, and am missing all the excitement you would build up for weeks before the day. Getting the special oil ready, planning the sweets, the new clothes and the overall festive atmosphere. This year, I am afraid that I am just going to make gulab jamuns. Just don’t feel up to anything else.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Am grateful I have Vidur and Sury, without whom I think I might fall apart. Maybe I seriously need to take time off.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-3581969144696276206?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/sf9suy7Z-hw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3581969144696276206?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3581969144696276206?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/sf9suy7Z-hw/miss-magic-wand.html" title="Miss the magic wand" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/miss-magic-wand.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cMSXc8eip7ImA9WhdbFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-3871129561526953645</id><published>2011-10-15T11:41:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-15T11:41:28.972+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-15T11:41:28.972+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fun" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="laughter" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="memories" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="strength" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="nostalgia" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><title>More than words</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;Dear Mi,&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3IUpyxVnMJk/TpkkDWEAcWI/AAAAAAAADkM/8PC83-nRfE0/s1600-h/Vidya%252520Sury%252520-%252520Devi73%25255B13%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="Vidya Sury - Devi73" border="0" alt="Vidya Sury - Devi73" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n46eoG3Ylqc/TpkkD0tmD3I/AAAAAAAADkU/oEQWHMcdqrE/Vidya%252520Sury%252520-%252520Devi73_thumb%25255B19%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="192" height="244"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Mom Devi - One Sweet Day in 1973&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;You are always more, much more than words. You are hugs, smiles, laughter, love and above all, fun. October 15 – what happy memories we have, enhanced even more by two years of unexpected strawberry and chocolate cake which we all shared and ate together, and stored in the fridge for our daily high teas. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Now, Vidur prefers to remember this day, your pseudo-birthday, and celebrate it with something special. I suppose people would expect him to sit and sulk and feel bad. But then, that is not what you taught him. You always believed that the living must remember all the good things and laughter shared with those that are physically not with us. If we do believe in angels, then you are obviously our head-angel, with Paati right behind you. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;I am so blessed to have known two strong women, you and Paati,&amp;nbsp; who influenced me throughout my life. I credit you with all the strength and wisdom you’ve help me build within myself. I am grateful to you for all the good things I am today, and hopefully will be, as long as I live.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Last week, we were talking frequently to ‘Shnu as Vidur had an assignment that required him to interview a famous personality. Sury suggested our Shnu, who is now India’s top ranked tennis players, at No.2, nationally. Sury and Vidur put together a set of interesting questions which we then emailed to &lt;a href="http://www.vishnu-vardhan.com" target="_blank"&gt;Vishnu&lt;/a&gt;, as he is in Delhi at the moment for a series of tournaments. We got a prompt reply from him with a set of wonderful answers. I found it so endearing when he mentioned the bad “first” haircut, the Bournvita bottle breaking and other things. I think we have more photos from Shnu’s childhood than he has. I still have the cassette where we’ve got his baby voice and Padma’s “rasam curry” dialog. Oh, nostalgia!&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Even now, I find it so hard to believe – okay, not so hard really, but it all seems a bit unreal. While talking to Shnu and marveling at how nice he sounded, I kept thinking about the time we met the family for the first time. I was 24 (am 48 now) and Vishnu was about 8 months old (and is 24 now). Truly amazing, how we’ve kept in close touch – and I think it is one of the most cherished relationships we’ve got. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Mi, that shwee pan’s handle finally came off a couple of weeks ago. I have to get it fixed. I remembered how you advised that these utensils are the pillars of the kitchen, thanks to years of use and rough handling and still looking great. Luckily the pan was empty when the handle came off, or else, imagine!&amp;nbsp; Also, we have such sentimental value attached to our two shwee pans. Every Sunday, during 1987 to 1991, you made “kesari” in it. Shnu got so used to it that he’d toddle in on Sunday afternoon, point to it and say “Shwee”. And how can we forget how he would point to the last shelf in the steel cupboard and point to himself and smile, expectantly, waiting for us to give him something in a brown paper packet. Just because you once kept a little vest for him in a brown paper packet in that shelf. And how he would always point at you and keep saying “Chia, Chia” if you were wearing a saree he had seen me wear, assuming only I should wear it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sigh. One head. So many memories. I was sharing all these funny tales with Vidur, who’s home with a bad cold and cough and on antibiotics. You know what an avid&amp;nbsp; listener Vidur is. Just loves the old stories, sweety that he is. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Blessed to have Vidur. He prays to you every day. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;After all, Maata, Pita, Guru, Devi, no?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Kaapi time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-3871129561526953645?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/RMuqAADzzxQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3871129561526953645?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/3871129561526953645?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/RMuqAADzzxQ/more-than-words.html" title="More than words" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-n46eoG3Ylqc/TpkkD0tmD3I/AAAAAAAADkU/oEQWHMcdqrE/s72-c/Vidya%252520Sury%252520-%252520Devi73_thumb%25255B19%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/more-than-words.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C04DQ3wyeCp7ImA9WhVQE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-8449799663764712436</id><published>2011-10-12T10:01:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2012-04-02T10:16:12.290+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-04-02T10:16:12.290+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="orthodontist" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="braces" /><title>Smiles minus one</title><content type="html">&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;
After that exciting day in July when &lt;a href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/07/smiles.html"&gt;Vidur's braces came off&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;the doc told us our next appointment was a year later. A year! I thought. Sounded too good to be true. And admiring Vidur's smile, which is always endearing to me, we got on with life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Only to discover a few weeks later - in Aug - that two of the aligned teeth were losing their alignment. Of course I panicked. The first thing I did was phone the doctor's office, for who better to talk to? The doc wasn't around. In fact, he was away and expected back only in the end of September. So we made the first available appointment and waited. People
interested in helping patients with their teeth issues quickly should look
into &lt;a href="http://www.guidetohealthcareschools.com/"&gt;Guide to Healthcare
Schools.&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;Because, what was scary was the fact that&amp;nbsp;each day, these two teeth were regressing. A little more by the minute.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Finally, we did go to the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orthodontics"&gt;orthodontist&lt;/a&gt; and he checked Vidur's teeth. He told us that since four teeth were removed before the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dental_braces"&gt;dental braces&lt;/a&gt; were fixed, there was always a possiblity of the two misaligned teeth to regress. Not encouraging. So, what next, I thought. It turns out that Vidur must wear a removable clip constantly, except while eating, brushing teeth and singing. What A pain. Sounds like the braces were a better idea. Maybe they came off too soon, I thought secretly. We all know how hard it is to argue with a specialist. Quite like lodging a valid complaint only to make things worse.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Oh well. He got the clip fixed yesterday, and now we're hoping and praying everything works out okay this time. As though this weren't enough, he's also got a bad cold, and school reopens tomorrow. Grrr. Who said adolescence was easy?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-8449799663764712436?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/S9tLmfDPCg4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/8449799663764712436/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/smiles-minus-one.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8449799663764712436?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/8449799663764712436?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/S9tLmfDPCg4/smiles-minus-one.html" title="Smiles minus one" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/smiles-minus-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4MQHoyeSp7ImA9WhdUGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-5423812917095590938</id><published>2011-10-06T16:16:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-10-06T16:16:21.491+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-06T16:16:21.491+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="festival" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidur" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dussera" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="navratri" /><title>Dussera</title><content type="html">&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Navaratri greetings to everyone! &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-j1ynq-IVwiw/To2G-ewNWGI/AAAAAAAADFo/2XD_5Ezgtoo/s1600-h/VidyaSuryNavaratri%25255B21%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="VidyaSuryNavaratri" border="0" alt="VidyaSuryNavaratri" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RAN7NuRvMAU/To2G_Fn6_WI/AAAAAAAADFs/Q8Xd-JGsZkI/VidyaSuryNavaratri_thumb%25255B18%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="474" height="356"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;This pic is from the beautiful Prabasee Association's arrangement at the Canara Union near our place. They do this every year. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Mom used to love visiting the place. For one thing, it was quite close to our place - about two minutes walking distance. And second, I often suspected Mom used it as an excuse to indulge Vidur in whatever he wanted from the supermarket opposite the place, in case he didn't fancy anything at the food court at the puja venue. At home it would be a lively nine days with different "sundals" and sweets every day, especially with Vidur at home. Of course, even though it was school holiday time, he would have loads of homework and in the midst of pampering him, Mom also made sure he followed a strict routine of working on his homework for a couple of hours in the morning before he did anything else. Nice tandem routine we had. Lots of fun, but got our work done. The evenings would involve visiting people or having them over. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;When I was young, it was a completely different routine at my grandmother's place. We were a joint family and with eight plus members in the family at any given point in time, each had their duties. While the elders went about their stuff, I would have two pages of handwriting in the four languages I knew - Tamil, English, Hindi and Marathi. Then I'd practice math problems.&amp;nbsp; We had no TV or computers. Only the radio for entertainment or we could go to the cinema theater. We didn’t even have fans – used to be quite cool as I recall. I remember very much coveting the “white cupboard” one of our neighbors bought, which kept things cold. The refrigerator. So comic it seems now.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;The building next door would reverberate with Navratri Dandia sounds, as it was full of gujaratis. So pleasant. While our building was alive with everyone inviting each other to their houses to se their doll displays. Visiting meant wearing our finest clothes. And when we visited, we’d be expected to sing songs and earn our sundals. We loved it, though. My aunt really loved to dress up. She looked like a doll, diamonds twinkling from her earrings and nose studs, jasmine flowers adorning her hair. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;My Mom never enjoyed these things, preferring to stay behind the scenes and doing the hard work. Such was our culture.&amp;nbsp; People preferred it that way, because they considered her the odd one out. Why? Because her husband abandoned her when she was pregnant and due in three months. Most people did not bother to give her the “tamboolam”. Even her own sisters did not honor her with this as they thought it was not auspicious to do so. Makes me mad to just think about it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Tamboolam is the auspicious take away from Indian functions and festivals if you are a sumangali (married lady) or a kanya (unmarried girl). The tamboolam consists of a couple of betel leaves, betel nut, usually a sachet of kumkum and turmeric, a coconut and a fruit and of course, flowers and dakshina (cash). My Mom always made it a point to add a gift and sweets to this. She would.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Miss it all. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-5423812917095590938?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/fUGQZeV5Vl8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5423812917095590938?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/5423812917095590938?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/fUGQZeV5Vl8/dussera.html" title="Dussera" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RAN7NuRvMAU/To2G_Fn6_WI/AAAAAAAADFs/Q8Xd-JGsZkI/s72-c/VidyaSuryNavaratri_thumb%25255B18%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/dussera.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMDRHc-eip7ImA9WhRSFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-2983754950939828150</id><published>2011-10-03T21:45:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-11-18T21:37:55.952+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-18T21:37:55.952+05:30</app:edited><title>I miss my partner</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;My coconut chutney partner, in particular. Each time I have coconut chutney with a dash of pudina (mint leaves), I really miss my mom. She and I loved it with idly, dosa, vada and puri. Yes, puri. We Tamilians are like that. Coconut chutney is actually a standard side dish with puri. My grandmother, who now lives in California is a fantastic cook and my Mom used to say she learned some of the best tricks in the book from her. Oh, my Mom was a fab cook too. &lt;a href='http://www.californiaculinaryschools.org'&gt;So, even if you are not attending California culinary schools&lt;/a&gt; if you are passionate about good food, you may be interested in looking into cooking classes.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Oh well. For three days, I treasured a bowl of chutney and had it with dosa, puri and bread. Yes, bread. Pretty yum, it was, too.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-N2AOlego_PA/TonfioymppI/AAAAAAAADFU/_1T18wTmB3g/s1600-h/coconutchutney%25255B2%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="coconutchutney" border="0" alt="coconutchutney" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DC1LbHWdGk8/TonfjeiBJVI/AAAAAAAADFY/kRv37zJiPDI/coconutchutney_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="164"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;(Picture courtesy: &lt;a title="http://www.idlydosa.com/" href="http://www.idlydosa.com/"&gt;http://www.idlydosa.com/&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;And during Navaratri, the coconuts pile up. We make a grated coconut + cardamom + jaggery concoction that Sury likes. And chutney. Lots of it. But only Mom and I would have it. Now, it is just me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-2983754950939828150?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/stajUupuv-w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/feeds/2983754950939828150/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-miss-my-partner.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2983754950939828150?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2983754950939828150?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/stajUupuv-w/i-miss-my-partner.html" title="I miss my partner" /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-DC1LbHWdGk8/TonfjeiBJVI/AAAAAAAADFY/kRv37zJiPDI/s72-c/coconutchutney_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-miss-my-partner.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUABQ3s8eCp7ImA9WhdUEk8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-2623767769797856374</id><published>2011-09-28T22:05:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-28T22:05:52.570+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-28T22:05:52.570+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="birthday" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><title>So I managed...</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;To have one more birthday without Mom.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;I feel so sad to think she won't ever be there again.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;But she is in our hearts and in every little thing we do.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt;I celebrated my birthday yesterday by feeding the kids at Seva Sadan. I donated my mom’s cot and mattresses along with linen and other stuff to the Friends In Need Society, which is a “home for the aged” here and felt quite happy. I intend clearing out a lot more stuff gradually. I had set myself a deadline for certain things and am more or less in tune with the timelines.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Life does go on, doesn’t it?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Navratri would be such a big deal at home had Mom been there. So many things are just not the same without her. I miss her energy – making a production out of my birthday, shopping throughout a week ahead, buying loads of stuff and generally creating an atmosphere of celebration. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;My birthday was very nice, though. I was lucky to have Vidur spend the day with me. The three of us had a cozy evening at home. All my friends remembered and called or visited and made me feel wonderful. I am so thankful for that. It is such a blessing to feel so loved. Am very grateful for my life and everything I have.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-2623767769797856374?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/gJbBS-vR9_0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2623767769797856374?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2623767769797856374?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/gJbBS-vR9_0/so-i-managed.html" title="So I managed..." /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/09/so-i-managed.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQEQXkzfCp7ImA9WhdVFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5713266458136370735.post-2891442197859425038</id><published>2011-09-22T11:15:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2011-09-22T11:15:00.784+05:30</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-22T11:15:00.784+05:30</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Devi" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="life" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Vidya Sury" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mom" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>Life is short. Death is final.</title><content type="html">&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Last week, we got news that our cousin’s husband developed a headache, became unconscious and had to be rushed to hospital, where he was in a coma for about five days. He was hooked to the ventilator. The doctors hoped that maybe he would survive. After all, there is a God. Miracles have happened in the past. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Unfortunately, he died. The family, of course is completely devastated. I mean, he had come back from work as usual, had his dinner. Life was normal, routine. The family – he, his wife and his ten year old daughter would have been laughing and joking. As usual. And doing all those little things that make up life.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;And then this happened. Almost overnight, life changed. Forever. Suddenly it is one critical family member less. Although no family member is any less important for being absent. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;It got me thinking about my Mom, who was with us until February 3, at home and then in hospital until February 8. She was fine until Feb 2, recovering from spinal TB and being mobilized after a prolonged mandatory bed rest to heal. After several months of severe suffering, life began to look brighter and when 2010 started, we thought it was ta time for recovery from then on. New Year usually makes you feel that way when it starts on a happy positive note. Mom was eating better, somehow seemed happier, as she deserved to feel.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;And then, on the night of Feb 2, she complained of a slight pain in the side. We called the doctor right away who prescribed medication and she felt better. Still, when she didn’t look totally okay, we called an ambulance, thinking that if she needed care in the middle of the night it made sense to be where it would be available. Yet when the guys arrived she laughed them away, scolding us for making a big deal out of a small pain.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;On Feb 3, morning, she woke up as usual and went about her routine. But she didn’t look okay. I requested the doc to visit home, so he could assess her and assure us she was okay. The doc visited and advised us to rush her to the hospital right away. Little did we know that one lung had probably started collapsing. The ambulance arrived and we reached the hospital’ emergency room, to be told that had we reached even ten minutes later, she may not have made it alive there. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;As if that was not scary enough, further evaluation revealed that her condition was critical – life-threatening, and the doctors informed us that there was no choice but to attach her to a ventilator. Minutes later they had her in the ICU. They tried reviving her lung, which never recovered due to a chronic idiopathic lung fibrosis. (Yes, the same thing &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mansoor_Ali_Khan_Pataudi" target="_blank"&gt;Pataudi&lt;/a&gt; has been diagnosed with). The doctors did not give us any hope at all over the next few days and on the morning of February 8, she “breathed” her last. Her heart stopped.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Obviously I will never forget each moment of waiting from Feb 3 to Feb 8 when we were not sure if she would survive. We never even expected that she would stop living. I mean, she has been in and out of hospital a few times, pronounced critical, yet she pulled through always. Imagining a life without Mom seemed impossible for all of us and perhaps more, for Vidur.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Yet, we carry on, remembering her, her warmth, the wonderful memories. I feel very lucky that she was with us and that Vidur had the opportunity to know her for twelve years of his life.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;So, I cannot even begin to imagine how my cousin’s family must be taking their loss. They would have made plans for Navratri holidays. Our aunt celebrates it grandly, in style, with the traditional doll display. And now, none of that will happen. All those dreams together…. it is so sad to think of it.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Brings home the fact even more strongly that in life, nothing is permanent. To think that there are people bearing grudges and taking pleasure from hurting others – it all seems so petty.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Makes you take stock and think, doesn’t it?&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p align="justify"&gt;Sigh.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href="https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987" rel="author"&gt;Vidya Sury&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5713266458136370735-2891442197859425038?l=devividya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~4/zS9WSWUIKXs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2891442197859425038?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5713266458136370735/posts/default/2891442197859425038?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/YGMBA/~3/zS9WSWUIKXs/life-is-short-death-is-final.html" title="Life is short. Death is final." /><author><name>Vidya Sury</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/106017206075415527987</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="//lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G5bIrMMbvx0/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAGDw/A9KNUVUTw-k/s512-c/photo.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://devividya.blogspot.com/2011/09/life-is-short-death-is-final.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

