Telephone Etiquette 101

Tring Tring Baje Phone!
Hello, hello, kaun, kaun?

Or in our case, 'Hay, hay, kaun, kaun?' Coz the telephone is Mister Cube's newly discovered obsession and he just can't get enough of it! When he's not tinkering with the buttons, putting the phone on speaker mode and then listening on in rapt fascination to the melodious dial tone or trying to break the receiver into smithereens by attempting to dismember the phone by separating the receiver from the rest of the instrument, he is answering the phone (or so he thinks because said answering happens even when the phone doesn't actually ring!) in his own inimitable style. This consists of lifting the receiver, flinging it over his shoulder with a distinctly Shammi Kapoor-esque flourish as he tries to emulate the more mundane version of lifting receiver to ear that other members of the household follow, cocking his head to one side with a look of intense concentration and saying 'Hay?' He follows this up with some extensive gabbledy gook which his sister apparently understands and joins in and much merriment ensues as his little band of household admirers eggs him on between wiping away tears of mirth at this ongoing demonstration of telephone etiquette 101.

Never thought a telephone would be capable of bringing this much joy, or fun! And since we are ringing in so much merriment thanks to the telephone these days, this is what I'm gifting Monsieur Cube for his first birthday (can hardly believe its already been nearly one year since Mister Cube came into our lives!) coming up soon:

*Fisher Price Chatter Telephone image courtesy www.diapers.com

Mommies need appraisals too!

This weekend I caught up with a few of my ex-colleagues from one of the companies I had worked for in my corporate avatar, back before I gave it all up to be chief slave to the little tyrant who now rules my home (and my life ) with an iron fist. This particular group of colleagues had also grown to be good friends over the years but it had been a while since all of us had got a chance to meet and I was looking forward to catching up with them. I was therefore a little surprised when my initial excitement at seeing them all together was returned with wan smiles and terse ‘hellos’.

“We had our year-end appraisals today” they explained morosely “And now we need a stiff drink each to forget them quickly!”

It turned out that three out of the four friends I was meeting had been given a rather rough time during the appraisal by their immediate bosses and the fourth friend’s appraisal had been, in his own words, ‘too confusing to make any sense of’ and he had left the meeting with more than his fair share of existential angst!
“You’re so lucky you don’t have to go through these corporate feedback sessions anymore!” one of my friends exclaimed as we reminisced about one joint appraisal we had gone through years ago, when we were still mere rookies in the corporate world. I laughed in response and the moment was drowned in a fresh round of minty Caprioskas brought to the table, but the words came back to me hours later when I was back at home, ensconced in my daughter’s room as we built large teetering towers with blocks and shaped little red butterflies with blue dots out of Playdoh.

True I didn’t have any formal feedback sessions anymore, ever since I had swapped my demanding corporate job for my even more demanding role of mommy, but sometimes I felt I sure as hell needed them as much if not more than before!

Motherhood brings with it a barrage of advice and feedback, and it starts even before the star of the show, the baby, makes its first appearance. Right from the moment you break the ‘good news’, or, if you’re the reserved kind, from the moment the bump begins to show, everyone from your vegetable vendor to complete strangers you run into in the parking lot, consider it their moral obligation to offer nuggets of advice and wisdom. When the baby does arrive, the stream of advice flowing in multiplies manifold and swells incessantly until you’re ready to throw in the oars and make a mad swim for it. Most of the advice is well meaning and can even be helpful of course, but the sheer overload of information coming in can often be overwhelming for an unprepared first time mother. Over time you get used to it and you even begin to discern the good advice from the unnecessary stuff, but one thing remains constant: your new found status as mom ensures that the advice keeps flowing in thick and fast at every stage of your child’s growth.

Given that parenting is one role that doesn’t come with an instruction manual, I’ve often felt that sometimes it might help to get objective feedback on probably what is the most important role I will ever play in my life; that of shaping and nurturing another individual. And so I decided that I would put my business education and my corporate training of many years to good use and give myself a ‘mom-praisal’. My husband decided to play the part of objective third party since my boss was too young to conduct the appraisal and could not be trusted to not throw a tantrum or make ludicrous demands if things didn’t go her way, and we got started. I decided to give my mom-praisal the importance and structure it deserved and created a list of performance parameters against which I rated myself, borrowing generously from the many performance appraisals I had gone through in the corporate world. Here’s a quick peek at what my mom-praisal score card looked like:

1.Displaying a Sense of Urgency:
This is one area where I score hands down, even though it would not be entirely untrue to say that my performance on this parameter is driven more out of fear of failure than anything else. For my boss does not tolerate tardiness at any cost! From a dirty diaper to a demand for food, right from the early days of her birth, my daughter made it very clear that not displaying a sense of urgency when it came to her needs being met would mean retribution of the most severe kind: ear splitting shrieks and mutinous howls. Displaying a sense of urgency soon became second nature.

2.The ability to innovate and think out of the box:
Much as I’d like to gloss over my (many) shortcomings as a mom, this is one area where I’d have to admit defeat. For when it comes to parenting I’ve always found a sense of security in following the text book approach. Parenting tomes of all shapes and sizes occupy pride of place on every conceivable surface in our home now and everything ranging from a tantrum to a refusal to eat the midday snack sees me rushing to consult my trusty mommy manual. Definitely not an example of innovative thinking, though I must say I have invented a pretty nifty technique of speed reading my ‘What to Expect in the toddler years’ while simultaneously entertaining my daughter with a snazzy rendition of ‘Dorothy the Dinosaur’. The husband however is one of those dads who can think out of the box and make it look as easy as shelling peas, so there is hope for me yet!

3.Monitoring and communicating progress frequently:
Another area where I can proudly pat myself on the back. Right from my bai, to my daughter’s playschool teacher, to the hapless husband, to anyone else who cares to listen, I make it a point to update everyone with any semblance of progress. Right from the first utterance of a new word or a particularly complex sentence construction, to a tantrum free day, to successful trysts with the potty, all progress is painstakingly monitored and communicated. The bulk of these communication updates happen with the husband who is given a blow by blow account as soon as he walks through the door. Yes, this is one area where I think I deserve a notable mention or perhaps even some mommy accolades for exceeding performance benchmarks. The husband doesn’t seem particularly pleased about it though!

4.The ability to manage stress with ease:
Now this is a tough one because I am one of those people who tend to get stressed easily. And while I make sure I don’t let my sky rocketing stress levels get to my daughter (mostly), I don’t exactly handle it with ease either. My way out of a stressful situation is usually to stuff myself silly with the most calorie laden food I can get my hands on. Like the time I binged on a pizza the first time my daughter fell ill. Or the walnut brownie with fudge overdose to help me cope with the first day of school and having to let my baby go into the care of strangers for two whole hours. Or the innumerable bars of chocolate to soothe my frayed nerves before her first solo stage performance. I’m getting stressed just recalling all of these instances! Think I’ll just take a quick nibble of some chocolate to help deal with the, er, hunger.

5.Do I strive for constant self development?
Now this is something I haven’t thought about for a while. I’m always thinking about ‘developing’ my daughter, of course. Developing gross and fine motor skills and physical balance and co-ordination are routine playground conversations with other mums. I make a sincere effort to foster a love for reading and am working at developing her socializing skills since she has been displaying marked signs of having inherited the anti social gene from her mother. I try and bring on the creativity by getting the husband to spend time with her while I re-read my book on ‘how to foster creativity in your child’. So yes, I get full marks for trying when it comes to developing my daughter. But me? I guess I never really thought about me. I suppose I’m in a happier place than I was before since my daughter took over my life. I’ve finally become patient and selfless, qualities I always admired in others and sorely lacked myself. I’ve learned to stop, slow down and relax. More importantly, I’ve finally got my priorities right and figured out the things that really matter to me, and that’s made me feel more settled. So yes I guess I have managed some self development without consciously striving for it.

I’ve decided to make my mom-praisal a regular feature to ensure that I don’t stagnate as a mother. Maybe, when my daughter is older she can take over the appraising bit and give me some feedback to make me a better parent. Until then, I will have to make honest and brutal self assessment work for me, I suppose. I have to admit though, that unlike the often dreary appraisals from my corporate past, doing my mom-praisal was kind of fun. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that this time round I am hopelessly in love with my new boss!


Originally written for "The Punekar"

------------------------
Manasi Vaidya, Author of "No Deadline For Love"

Break a leg!

Just popping in to tell you that my short story has appeared in the latest issue of Femina (the December 14 issue, with Asin on the cover)! I love Femina and I've been reading it since I was about nine (hi mom!). It started off as a covert love affair, with every new, minty fresh copy of Mummy's Femina as it used to be in those days, being surreptitiously smuggled into the loo where I'd spend a blissful twenty minutes or so lost between its covers, before my mom started hammering the door down. We lived in Moscow those days, in the erstwhile USSR, with trips to India being few and far between. Once every three months or so, we would get a goody bag of sorts from India, a tangible link to home, with VCR tapes of the latest Hindi movies, mangoes or sarson ka saag or kamal kakri depending on the season, various types of attas and pickles, copies of Champak and Tinkle and sometimes, Target for me and my sister, and a copy of Femina for my mom.

Safe from the ever alert eyes of my mother I would pore over every page of Femina, reading and re-reading articles that I particularly liked. The short stories often featured in it were a huge personal favorite and I still carry deep mental imprints of some of the stories that left a lasting impression, even though the paper clippings that I tried to preserve are long gone. So it was a huge honor when I got an e-mail from Femina asking me if I would like to contribute a short story for the magazine. Its a three part story titled 'Break a Leg' and it will appear in three consecutive issues of Femina starting with the Dec 14 one, so if you get a chance to read it, do please let me know what you think won't you?

In other news, my sister is down from the US for a couple of weeks and I've spent the last few days at my parents' gorging on my Mom's awesome Konkani dishes like batata song and matar chi amti and then spending the afternoons passed out in a food induced stupor, rousing myself only when Nikki, who is not one for afternoon naps, or really sleep of any kind, decided she would play 'horsey-horsey' with me as the horsey, or Red Indians and proceeded to send some eardrum splitting shrieks my way. My sister also got me a goody bag of a very different kind as a gift, and while this one didn't have the Tinkles and the Targets of yore, which I sometimes still miss, it did have a wonderful array of creams and lotions and body scrubs and what-have-you's which saw me spend the weekend steeped in Bath & Body Works bliss. And now its on to my favorite time of the year; family coming down from different parts of the globe, the festive season right around the corner, birthday and anniversary a few corners further down and then a big family wedding. This time I'm planning to go all out and introduce Nikki to Santa and his band of helpers. Rudolph is already a bit of a favorite in these parts ( I suspect it has something to do with the red nose). I'm getting us a tree and decorations and have plans for a traditional X-massy spread if I can manage it. Now all I need is a modern day, Johnny Depp look alike Santa to make the festive season really cheery. And you? How're you planning to ring the new year in?

An extract from ‘No Deadline For Love’ (Penguin Books India)

‘Whoa! What happened, Megha? You look like a fright!’ Vijay had looked a little startled when I’d bounded up to him and I didn’t blame him. I was having a bad hair day and all the running up and down the stairs hadn’t helped matters. It probably looked like a tornado was swirling around my head by now.
I hurriedly explained the situation to Vijay and he told me that I would find Yudi at the little coffee shop in the basement of the building that housed our office.
‘He’s gone there for his daily shot of caffeine,’ Vijay grinned. ‘That guy is a tea-totaler—he can’t stand the sight of tea and there isn’t any coffee served at these high tea sessions! Hey Megha, tell him I’m looking for him too, will you? Oh, and Megha?’
'Yeah?' I turned around just as I was rushing out of the cafeteria again.
‘Tie up your hair, will you? It’s kind of, you know, frizzy,’ Vijay said kindly and I smiled and continued on my way. A comment like that would have normally unleashed my temper but Vijay had said it so sweetly and in the most well intentioned way that it was impossible to get angry. Besides, he was right. I paused to glance in the mirror of the office elevator that was transporting me to the basement and cringed at the sight of my hair. It was in a particularly mutinous mood today and each strand had declared independence from gravity; any more frizz and I would look like I’d been electrocuted. I whipped out a hair band and quickly secured my hair into a tight knot at the nape of my neck. I normally avoided tying up my hair because everyone said pulled-back hair made me look very young and vulnerable, like a little lost soul. I had interpreted this to mean diffident and under-confident and had taken to wearing my hair loose most of the time. I was so used to it now that I felt strangely exposed with my hair pulled back, as though a crack had appeared in the facade of supreme self-confidence that I kept up most times as I lurked behind my gloriously swinging mane. Vile Varun could’ve probably eaten me alive if I’d walked into the appraisal with my hair tied back like this.
The lift lurched to a stop, jerking me out of my reverie, and I hurried along to the coffee shop, my eyes peeled for Yudi. A strong whiff of espresso hit me as soon as I swung the door open and I inhaled huge gulps of it, the familiar smell comforting me somewhat. The Beans Coffee Hut was a popular hangout for the office crowds that worked in GF as well as the surrounding area, and even though the food sucked and the coffee tasted like dishwater, nothing could compare with the fantastic juke box they had in the corner which churned out melodies from as far back as the ‘70s. The owner, Samarpreet, had some ‘connections’ in the Bollywood music industry through which he had acquired this treasure and he took loving care of it, servicing it personally every week and polishing it until it shone. I had spent many a post-work evening there in the reluctant company of Vijay, who was more of a rock music buff, listening to old Hindi film songs and melting my office-related woes away over some piping hot masala chai which was the one thing the Beans Coffee Hut did a reasonable job at dishing out.
I looked around and my heart sank suddenly as I spotted Yudi in a corner, partially obscured behind some potted greens. He was in the middle of an intense discussion with Priyanka who was looking at him devotedly, her hands clasped in front of her. My mind whizzed back to the thousands of times I had seen Yudi and Priyanka together—at work, in Goa, at the restaurant where I’d met Gautam. They were definitely a couple from the looks of it and if not that, they had to be interested in each other given the amount of time they spent together. Maybe Yudi had turned his cell off so they could be alone, I realized, as I remembered the 'not reachable' message on his cellphone. Maybe they wanted to celebrate Priyanka’s success in private and here I was all set to crash the party. Well, there was no going back now—I had no time to lose if that stimulus material was going to make the flight with Yudi. I took a deep breath and approached their table, suddenly feeling terribly self-conscious and acutely aware of my slightly dishevelled appearance. Priyanka could make me feel like a country bumpkin in severe need of a makeover on the best of days, and today was not one of my good days. The recent work overload had taken its toll and I was looking like a dehydrated raccoon with dark circles occupying prime space on my tired face. I had rushed to work that day in my raggedy old jeans and a faded tee, taking advantage of GF’s Friday dressing policy, because I was much more comfortable working in them than the formal work wear I normally donned.
‘Umm . . . Yudi?’ I said nervously, walking up to the table. ‘Can I talk to you for a minute, please?’

Read the rest here!

An extract from ‘No Deadline For Love’ by Manasi Vaidya, reproduced with the permission of Penguin Books India, exclusively for ‘The Punekar’.

The 'happy party'

So its been a while since I posted here last. Not counting the Punekar posts which were written some time back and which I decided to put up just to fill in the increasingly growing gap between posts. The last three months have been far from rosy and for a while I had just given up on everything, blogging included. It all started with P falling ill, followed in close succession by Nikki, which I blogged about here. Just when life seemed to be limping back to normal and things were getting back on track, Nikki fell ill again. Except that this time round it wasn't the routine fall ill- go to the doctor-take a dose of antibiotics jig that we had kind of gotten used to, given the number of times she's been unwell ever since she started playschool. No, what happened this time round made the whole go to the doctor- take antibiotics routine seem like a faraway, rosy dream. It was a complete nightmare from the word go, comprising a week's stay in the hospital, two days of which were spent in the ICU. My first and only visit to a hospital before this was when Nikki was born and that was something I had prepped for, for over a year. This time round it was unexpected and scarily so. Its been well over a month, nearly two, since this happened but even now just the thought of that hospital stay gives me nightmares. The only good thing that came of the entire episode, even though I wouldn't have thought such a thing possible at the time, was that the short, harrowing hospital stay helped me get a lot of things in perspective. They say illness always gives you a new, sometimes improved perspective on life. Very true in my case. This episode happened at a time when I certainly needed some perspective and I got it by the cartloads. And cliched as it may sound, I think somewhere it has left me a wiser person. I can handle any shit Mr Murphy (he seems rather fond of me) chooses to throw my way now. Having said that, an illness of this magnitude for Nikki is certainly not something I want to undergo ever again. I would much rather happily go under a truck. Even a multitude of trucks. Its one thing to be ill yourself or even watch another adult suffer. Its excruciatingly difficult when its your young child and its not something I think I have the fortitude to bear again. Food for thought that, considering I've always considered myself to be a rather strong person otherwise, but this episode left me shattered. For weeks after we'd got back home and even after Nikki was back to her usual naughty little chatterbox self, I was moping around wallowing in self pity, feeling quite fed up with life.

Life, meanwhile, went about her business with nary a care as she is wont to. The maid vanished into thin air a few days after we got back from the hospital without so much as a by-your-leave. The dhobi continued to delight with burnt shirts and mysteriously stained collars. The people who live on the floor right above us carried on with their all year round home renovation program which gives one the constant impression of living under either a bowling alley or a hammer wielder with a particularly nasty temper, or on some particularly good days, both. All delightful little reminders that the show must go on and you really have no choice but to pull up your socks and get on with it. And eventually, time will heal all wounds even if it doesn't necessarily erase all memories, and life will seem less miserable even with the bais who don't show up and the errant dhobis. (I draw the line at the people on top though, they really are a a royal pain.)

In other news, in all of this general chaos and turmoil, my beloved book was launched. I really couldn't give it the attention or the time it deserved, much less blog about it but I hope to be able to do that now. All in all, it has been around for a couple of months now and by the grace of God its doing well. The reviews have been very encouraging, its made it to the Landmark best-seller list two weeks in a row(Woo Hoo!) and readers have written in to me with very ego boosting kind of stuff which could have potentially gone to my head if it hadn't been for the able support of my family who've taken it upon themselves to keep me grounded.In their own special ways, of course. A couple of months ago when the book had just been launched, an impromptu get-together was organized at my aunt's home. "Read from the book!" someone shouted.
I blushingly obliged. Surrounded by a gaggle of aunts and cousins, heart thumping so hard in my mouth I could barely get the words out, I nervously read from what I hoped was one of the funnier bits in the book. A frozen silence ensued. Baffled looks were exchanged.
"Erm, are we supposed to laugh now? That was the funny bit was it?" inquired a bewildered voice.
Yep, don't think there's any danger of my developing a swollen head anytime soon. They help me stay grounded, my family, they do.
************************************************

I was chatting with my mum on the phone about the last three months the other day and I told her I was fed up with all the worrying and the fretting and that 'the pity party was over'.
"What is a pity party Mama?" chirped an inquisitive little voice at my elbow.
"Umm, a pity party is when you're feeling sad Nikks. But Mama has decided not to feel sad anymore."
"So Mama will be happy now? Have a happy party?"
"Yes."
And a happy party it will be. Let the good times roll.

New Mum on the Block

In my pre-mommyhood days, what sometimes seems like a lifetime away now, I used to be a very different person. I was a driven career woman, climbing up the corporate ladder; laptop bag in my hand, stars in my eyes. I met deadlines, dealt with demanding bosses, thrived on coffee-fueled early morning meetings and late night presentations. On weekends, I enjoyed lazy lie-ins and luxuriated in bed with a book and the papers. I experimented with food and dined in exotic places. Long lazy brunches and quiet dinners during which I mulled over the little perplexities of life. I took pride in my appearance and indulged myself with lazy soaks in the tub and frequent trips to the salon. My clothes were impeccable, my hair shiny and blow dried. I went dancing and to the movies and the theatre when the whim struck me, curled up with a good book at home when I preferred a more mellow way to unwind. I travelled often, to far-flung exotic destinations, at times long trips, sometimes short ones, embarked on an impulse. They were rather nice, those pre-mommyhood days.

All that changed when my daughter first announced her appearance in my life with an ear splitting shriek. “Mother” that shriek seemed to say “I am here now. Get ready for your life to change. Big time.”

And change it did. I went from being the driven career woman to perpetually harried first time mother, grappling with the new found challenges of motherhood. The laptop bag was replaced with the diaper bag. The stars in the eyes remained, but they were borne more often than not of a sleep induced haze. Coffee continued to be my best friend. Except it wasn’t to handle deadlines and meetings anymore, it was to keep up with a sleepless infant. Lazy lie-ins became a thing of the past. The child arose each morning at 5.30am sharp. Except weekends of course, when it was 4.30am sharp. My appearance now was the last thing on my mind. I was usually just grateful on the days when I made it to the shower. I had cereal in my hair. The lazy soaks in the tub were quickly replaced with two minute dashes in and out of the shower, in the middle of many of which I often emerged dripping wet with my heart in my mouth because the child had let out a blood curdling yell (which as it turned out was because she was just imitating ‘Oliver the Monkey’ on television). I still danced, but only while entertaining the child at mealtimes. Mealtimes themselves were quick shove-the-food-down-the-gullet affairs for me, and more elaborate ones for the child, stretching on for hours while she mulled over the little perplexities of life and I mulled over what I would serve for the next meal that she might eat faster. I rarely went to the movies anymore and the few times that I did, it almost felt like a surreal, magical experience and I felt like a child at the candy store looking at all that Pepsi and popcorn. I still travelled but only to child friendly places and with luggage enough to make people wonder if I was considering a permanent move to a different planet. Naturally, ninety nine percent was the child’s luggage.

And yet, in spite of all these changes, I was the happiest I had ever been now than before my daughter was born. Motherhood is a transformative experience. It was for me. The most life changing, gut wrenching, overwhelming experience of my life. Yes it is tough and challenging and oftentimes frustrating. But it is also hugely rewarding and satisfying and capable of filling you with a fizzy, warm happiness that touches your soul. Those little arms wrapped around you, that little head trustingly resting on your shoulder and that little voice that says “I love you Mama”. The eager little eyes that search for you in a crowd and, when they find yours, the way that little face lights up with radiant joy. The discovery each day, of a new wonder, seen through those innocent, hopeful eyes, something you would never have caught with your own jaded and cynical ones. The experience of watching that tiny bundle you got home from the hospital grow up, the gradual shaping of that little personality, the understanding of what unconditional love means.

Yes I do think of my pre-mommyhood days sometimes. I even miss little bits of them. But I wouldn’t want to trade my mommy days for anything in the world; not even the ones where I have cereal in my hair. For I know that nothing can compare with being my daughter’s mother.

Join me then, dear reader, as I walk through first time motherhood with my daughter, sometime stumbling, sometimes waltzing along. For all the parents out there, especially the mothers - new mothers and old ones, mothers to be, those who’d like to be mums someday, those who value their own relationships with their mums, and those who like a good laugh. This column will take a tongue- in-cheek look at everything that has anything to do with mommyhood. And about being a mum in Pune. And also a little bit of life on the side as I see it. Until the next column, then.

Originally written for "The Punekar"

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Manasi Vaidya, Author of "No Deadline For Love"
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The Boss From Hell

That evil smile, that sadistic smirk

He’s out to torment you while you work


Every move of yours he’ll spy on and check

You can bet he’s always breathing down your neck


Get used to feeling trapped, like a fish in a bowl

He’s going to suck the joy right out of your soul


He’ll grudge you that long lunch, that coffee break you crave

You better know he thinks you’re his personal slave


Very soon you’ll want to tear your hair out and yell

Coz honey, you’ve got the BOSS FROM HELL.



Vile Varun. Boss from hell. In ‘No Deadline For Love’…. Coming soon!

No Deadline For Love: More Updates!

Another long overdue post. But I have been busy you know. There's the school drop off every morning, and since school is only for one hour for now, I spend the time hanging around outside, plotting ways by which I can be one up on Nikki's teacher....erm, I mean contemplating the various intricacies of the Indian education system. Then there are play dates on weekday evenings, birthday parties on weekends for which I am the officially designated chaperone, trips to the zoo and the park and the library....well you get the picture. Clearly I need to get a life. Of my own.

Okay, so before I go even further away from the original point of this post (you've forgotten haven't you? See title!)and start ranting about the house help (there is always something there), let me get back to the post at hand. Right. So, the book! It is finally going to see the light of day, or rather the light of bookstores. The good people at Penguin have informed me that it is only a matter of days now before the book is in stores, and they're also sending me a few advance copies so I can finally, finally see what it looks like instead of wistfully sighing over my much thumbed manuscript.

Here's a preview of the cover spread:

Right, so much for that. Since you can't read a word of what that says in spite of all the trouble I went to (darn you, Blogger!), here's what it says on the back:

All her life Megha has diligently done what was expected of her: the graduation in economics, the MBA in marketing and now the straitlaced job in a high-profile FMCG company. But lately, she’s been wondering if this unending routine of juggling late hours and unreasonable deadlines is really her life’s calling. Her mother’s desperate attempts to put her on the ‘marriage market’ are not making life any easier. And to top it all, Megha’s latest project has been bogged down by a complete dearth of creative ideas, giving her nasty boss the perfect excuse to disregard the blood, sweat and tears she’s poured into her job so far. The last thing she needs is having her suggestions trampled upon by the team’s new creative consultant, Yudi—gorgeous, sardonic and only too eager to disagree with Megha. And so the stage is set for a quirky battle of wits and some unexpected romance.
************************************************************************************

For all of you out there who think this is the kind of book you'd like to read, do read it and let me know what you think. I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned it on this blog before, but I started writing my book before I started blogging and I had no plans to ever start my own blog till I discovered the wonderful world of mommy bloggers, and then I desperately wanted to be a part of it too. I mean I could always write about Nikki's first steps in my personal diary or rant about the mealtime tantrums, but where else would I get a friendly virtual hug or a 'don't worry, you'll get through this' in return? I was convinced no one would ever read my blog though, and the husband was routinely subjected to the middle of the night crises of confidence and waves of self doubt about whether starting the blog was a good idea. That is of course when he wasn't being subjected to the routine crises of confidence and waves of self doubt about whether writing a book was a good idea too.

Anyway I started the blog, unsure and tremulous, and was convinced it would just sputter out eventually and no one would notice. But someone did, and that someone was kind enough to leave a comment! And then there were more comments, and people told me that they liked the way I wrote! And it was the most amazing feeling ever. I still remember reading that first comment just before leaving for an evening stroll with Nikki and chugging along delightedly in the park with a goofy grin on my face, attracting strange glances from passers by and even a few from Nikki herself. But the point is, it really means a lot to me that some of you out there read what I write, and like it and your comments help me cope with those routine crises of confidence and waves of self doubt that I still suffer from quite regularly. So thank you. If you do read No Deadline For Love, tell me what you think, won't you?

We have a Facebook page up and running now too, you can join it here. I did try and get a plugin on the blog to make it easier to join this, but its sort if gone and died on me and there's only so much a technologically challenged person like me can deal with. (Darn you, Blogger! Yeah I know I said it once, but darn you!)Oh, and its available on Flipkart and Amazon and a couple of others places too, links to which I will try to upload in the sidebar shortly, provided the Cyber Gods are kind to me.

Coming Soon!

Coming real soon, to bookstores near you! You remember I'd told you about it, here? Well the endless wait (for me!) is finally over, and it is going to be out in bookstores by early next month. Will post more updates once it is finally out there!

And now, I'm going to go back to curl up under my duvet to snivel and chew away at my finger nails and continue being a hopelessly nervous wreck.

On an unrelated note, did you notice that I've put up TWO posts in the same day? Prolific, eh? On a blogging spree, what? Yeah, I thought not. Its probably the first and last time this is ever going to happen.

Now back to sniveling.