The Human Mixed Fried Rice: High Voltage, No Filter

My brain is constantly alternating between two modes: either I am in full Chaiya Chaiya mode, pretending to be a sexy Malaika Arora dancing enthusiastically on top of a moving train, or I am John Rzeznik, looking sexy as hell and belting out, "And I’d give up forever to touch you, / 'Cause I know that you feel me somehow. / You’re the closest to Heaven that I’ll ever be, / And I don’t wanna go home right now." This is not a brag; it truly is a childhood issue. I bring the drama to dramatic, the hurry to a hurricane, and the "Tsu" to a tsunami—you get the drift.

After 39 and a half years of self-introspection, I have realized that I am simply "too much." Thank God I still have friends who love me; my family just has to tolerate me, bless their souls. My mood changes quicker than a pendulum. I can go from happy to sad in under ten seconds flat, and back from sad to happy in under five. You could say my emotions are flaky. I just can’t make up my mind whether I want to be heartbroken or deliriously happy, count my blessings, or constantly crib that my back and knees hurt.

I am mixed fried rice with way too much mixed inside. When the waiter asks, "Chicken or prawns, sir?" and you reply, "Mix"—I am that mix. I am mixed fried rice, mixed noodles, and an American chopsuey with everything tossed in. What a strange personality indeed.

To quote every superhero movie’s cliché dialogue: "My abilities are a gift and a curse." In my case, my superpower is that I can read a room and a person like Superman using his X-ray vision, peering right down to your underwear. Whether you hate me, love me, dislike me, despise me, or try to brush me off, I catch it faster than The Flash. I am loud, chatty, giggly, and entirely in your face. Luckily, my friends understand. It is far too late in the day for me to change this high-voltage personality. So, wear your sunglasses or pop in some earplugs, because this chatterbox ain’t keeping quiet anytime soon.

Hyper bunny on sugar-free ice cream, out!

Dreaming of Doshas: A 3 AM Sleep Experiment

So last night, I tried something different to break my shitty sleep cycle. I kept my phone miles away from me, hoping for an undisturbed eight hours of sleep. But lo and behold, I woke up right along with the ghosts past midnight—at 3 AM sharp, just like I always do.

This kind of waking up is tricky: either you go back to sleep quickly, or you stay awake like a night owl staring into nothingness. Luckily, last night I did drift back to sleep. I ended up dreaming about masala doshas with my child, which was strange since we hadn't eaten or ordered them recently.

In the dream, we walked into a humble-looking South Indian breakfast restaurant with steel tables and simple sofas. We waited for someone to take our order. Finally, we decided to walk around to find a waiter to place our masala dosha order. As I kept thinking about that dosa, I wondered who was actually going to eat it; Riaan loves puris, and I am off carbs. Yet, for some reason, the masala dosha was stuck in my head.

When we turned around to look back at our table, we discovered to our shock that it was occupied by five or six potbellied uncles. Luckily for us, we suddenly spotted my mum at another table. As I looked at her face in the distance and wondered why on earth I wanted to eat a masala dosha, I woke up again.

This time it was 5:30 AM. Phone or no phone, my sleep is definitely still disturbed. But looking on the bright side, without my mobile phone, I suppose the time taken to drift back to sleep was quicker. And masala dosha dreams, however perplexing, are never a bad thing to have.

Not-so-tired owl, out!

The Uninvited Intruder

Migraine attacks,

Sneak in like an uninvited rat,

Loud, screechy, hammering,

The pain has me clamouring.

I bury my head in pain,

Lying in the farthest corners of my bed, forlorn. 

With migraine attacks,

There are no hacks,

Except to wait for it to pass,

Like an intruder who wants to trespass.

A migraine is a full mind and body experience;

It has you feeling delirious,

A complete lack of control over your senses,

And even your best defences,

Can't keep it out,

All you can do is wait it out,

Migraine attacks,

Sneak in like an uninvited rat.

My Backup Squad: Celebrating Three Special Birthdays

The upcoming week is filled with the birthdays of three of my favorite people—my mother, Riaan's best friend Agu, and my dear friend and colleague of more than a decade, Shina.

All three of them are Cancerians, meaning they are highly empathetic and deeply sensitive. It is a good mix because they keep my son and me in check. I dump my emotional load on both of these ladies like nobody's business, and they solve it for me in under ten seconds—either with a kind word or a pair of their lovely slippers. The message gets delivered effectively, and I quickly move on with my life until the next problem pops up.Moving on to Agu: he is Riaan's everyday protector and guardian angel. He reports all of Riaan's daily misdemeanors to his mom, Devyani, who promptly reports them all to me.

Consequently, my post-school days are filled with either reprimanding Riaan, appreciating him, or feeling sorry for him, depending on the situation he has gotten himself into.They all have sparkling personalities. To quote Shina, when I mentioned, "What a wonderful, crabby person you are—I meant the star sign, not your personality," she quickly corrected me, saying, "We are all crabby, but still nice, even personality-wise." I quickly nodded along and wisely steered the conversation in another direction.

What would Riaan and I do without this strong trio in our lives? Read more about them and how they have significantly influenced my life in my brand-new book, "The Story of One Single Mom and Her Backup Squad," where they make prominent appearances in the prologue, poetry, and essay sections.

The links to purchase my book for Indian and international readers are available below:

For Readers in India:

Amazon India: https://amzn.in/d/075flTXm

Notion Press: https://notionpress.com/in/read/the-story-of-one-single-mom-and-her-backup-squad

Flipkart: https://www.flipkart.com/story-one-single-mom-her-backupsquad/p/itm748b32e22b9fb

For International Readers:

Amazon US: https://a.co/d/0bVbTKVs

Amazon UK: https://amzn.eu/d/0c38jlyf

The Dentist's Chair Nightmare

I have more cement than teeth in my mouth now,

Before I could even ask how,

The job was already done,

And it was far from fun,

One excruciating hour of drilling, polishing, and cleaning,

I found myself puffing, panting, and leaning,

I collapsed into a chair,

And gasped for huge breaths of air, 

I crawled back home,

My mumma's home,

Ate two tubs of ice cream,

And decided to forget it all like a bad dream,

Protect your teeth with all your might,

Lest you undergo my plight, 

Ice cream and sleep,

That's all I want for tonight, while I try not to weep.

The Legend of Swaroop Chettan: My Brother, My Superman

For the umpteenth time, I am writing about my main source of inspiration: my family. This piece is about my big brother, Swaroop Mohanlal—the man who made me fall in love with superhero movies, thanks to his extensive collection of graphic novels when we were kids. We have an eight-year age gap, and he has fully taken advantage of that situation!

Family weddings have always been so much fun with Swaroop chettan and the rest of our large family. Growing up, Swaroop chettan and Arjun chettan were the main conspirators in ruining the "first nights" of many newlywed couples in our family. Once, as a seven-year-old, I was told to hide under my uncle and aunt's bed on their wedding night. Of course, they caught me and threw me out in an instant, thanks to all the giggling coming from under their feet! 

Another time, these boys hid alarm clocks set to go off at various hours of the night just to wake a newly married couple from their deep slumber. We even stood outside bedrooms with firecrackers and matchsticks, eavesdropping on conversations and reporting back to each other.

So naturally, when I got married and couldn't spend my first night in my own house, I was super disappointed. For the first time, I was away from my naughty brothers and my family. I cried buckets of tears on my wedding day—and for a whole week leading up to it.

Both of my brothers are absolute legends. They are smart, funny, and incredibly sharp with their work. Because of them, it is only natural that I grew up to be an amazing human (cue the applause, please—thank you, thank you!).

Unfortunately, we couldn't all meet up as a giant family this year for various reasons. Therefore, I sent him a little reminder of how important he is in my life: a custom Superman and Superwoman sibling memento. I wanted him to carry those wonderful childhood memories back to the U.S. with his adorable children.

Swaroop chetta, you are one of the Supermen in my life. Thank you for your words of encouragement, and even for your harsh criticisms of my writing, which have improved my craft tremendously over the years. I don't think a single article or blog post is enough to cover the ocean of love and affection I feel for you, your beautiful wife, and your gorgeous children. 

You are an extension of me, and I am an extension of you. We are bonded forever by the late Captain P. Thyagarajan (the greatest sailor of all time) and the late Mrs. Indira Thyagarajan (the best ammumma any child could ever have grown up with).

Rest Is for the Dead: Own Your Quirks and Live out Loud

You can never be too much for the right person or the right set of people. Take this from someone who is "too much" all the time. I am often told I am like an Energizer Bunny on steroids—but no, sugar is the real key to my happiness. That, plus sugar-free ice cream and the occasional tiramisu, cheesecake, gajar ka halwa, and moong dal halwa.

Be too much at all times. Talk, laugh, and put forth your point of view respectfully. Just be too much! Being sober and calm is for when you are dead—which, practically speaking, is right around the corner.

Be remembered for everything that you are. Honestly, you don’t even have to try that hard. Be kind, listen intently, and answer with empathy. It is really not that difficult.

Definitely avoid gossipmongers and people with no ambition. My hobbies have hobbies, and my job has another job; stay super busy and occupied at all times. Once again, rest is for the dead. You are not dead yet.

If my life had a soundtrack, it would be loud, warm, in-your-face, genuine, and all heart. Any fear I ever had died the day my husband did. I am a completely different person now. I have the wisdom of Chandra from Lokah, the strength of Selene from Underworld, and the political incorrectness of Deadpool.

Mind you, I was always this person. It just got heightened by the confidence of raising a child single-handedly—with the support of my very able backup squad, of course—alongside juggling my professional responsibilities.

Be unapologetic, own all your quirks, and head into the world with utter confidence. You don’t have to fake it till you make it. You have already made it. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, and you are good to go for the rest of your life.

Over-Enthusiastic Cutlet: A 39-and-a-Half-Year-Old’s Guide to Lifting and Defeat

I experienced lifting fatigue today. I've been going crazy with weights for the past couple of weeks and decided to push myself up a notch on Tuesday. My "old lady bones" protested—and how! Shoulder blade pain, neck pain, back pain, and parts of my body that ideally shouldn't hurt began to ache.

This is what happens when you are over-enthusiastic in life. If enthusiasm were a cutlet, I'd be a giant one, deep-fried many times over. The lesson I learned over the past three days: never take your body for granted.

You can push yourself only up to a point. Beyond that point, remember you're not Hercules, He-Man, or whichever hulky "He's" exist in the world (ooh, Hulk! I just remembered him because I wrote "hulky"). 

As I was saying: breathe, marvel at what you can do, but pushing on a day when you've already pushed yourself is probably not the greatest idea. Today, I didn't even look at my higher weights. I just stuck to the humble 2 kilos in both hands and accepted both the pain and the defeat.

At the end of my workout, my trainer lectured me for 15 solid minutes on the evils of eating Rajaram's Butter Murukku every evening to satiate my soul. I looked at her the way Skeletor would look at Evil-Lyn. She was my Evil-Lyn in that moment, and this Skeletor wasn't laughing—no, I was huffing and panting instead.

At 39 and a half years old, a mother to a 7 and a half year old, and definitely perimenopausal, perhaps I shouldn't behave like a 21-year-old when it comes to my workouts. To quote Barnabas Collins—the 200-year-old vampire played by Johnny Depp in Dark Shadows: "You must put those birthing hips to good use at once... lest your womb shrivel up and die." And, "She has the most fertile birthing hips I have ever laid eyes upon."

So yes, my hips have been put to use, and my womb is probably shrivelled up and dead.

Keeping all these very accurate facts in mind, it's time to behave less like all the aforementioned "He's" and start acting like a very, very tired "she."

And that brings an end to my bodily rants. Over-enthusiastic cutlet, out!

Ho-Ho-Ho and Dry Eyes Go

Eyes so scratchy and dry,

Even my tears can't undo this, if I cry,

In my head, I am sixteen,

But my eyes say I am closer to sixty,

"It is perfectly normal,"

Said my ophthalmologist, with an explanation so phenomenal,

So I am going to take it,

As a life well-lived, almost a super-hit,

I say "almost" because I am not sixty yet,

I still have a couple of decades in me, I bet,

Staring at screens during work and play,

Has finally led to this day,

It is okay, it is alright,

I don't see this as a plight,

Eye drops are the way we go,

And we continue to sing, "Ho-ho-ho!"

Eyes so scratchy and dry,

Even my tears can't undo this, if I cry. 

In a Fragile World, Choose Friendship (And a Good Mid-Week Read!)

There is a lot to learn from childhood friendships, and my biggest living example is my son and his best friend, Agu. Whatever the season, whichever the class, and irrespective of teacher changes or the addition of new friends, Riaan has never let Agu slip away. Their love for one another is unconditional. They stand up for each other, fight for and against each other, love each other, and are deeply loyal to their friendship. Not one bad word can be uttered in front of Riaan about Agu, or in front of Agu about Riaan. There is no room for parents to scold either of these children in front of the other without being called "evil" and "bad."

Life is full of changes, but having that one person to hold onto for the rest of your life is everything. There are massive lessons of loyalty, friendship, and love that we can learn from these boys. I hope their friendship never ends, and that they grow up to talk about future heartbreaks, marriages, jobs, and everything in between. I hope they always remain each other's safe space and sounding board. In a world filled with uncertainty and fragility, choose to be like Agu and Riaan.

On that note, my new book, "The Story of One Single Mom and Her Backup Squad," features a poem about Riaan and Agasthya's four-year-long friendship. Do pick it up and read it if you are a parent, a boy mom, or if you just want a mid-week laugh!

The links to purchase my book for Indian and international readers are below:

Amazon India: https://amzn.in/d/075flTXm

Amazon US: https://a.co/d/0bVbTKVs

Amazon UK: https://amzn.eu/d/0c38jlyf

Notion Press: https://notionpress.com/in/read/the-story-of-one-single-mom-and-her-backup-squad

Flipkart: https://www.flipkart.com/story-one-single-mom-her-backupsquad/p/itm748b32e22b9fb

Keeping Arkham at Bay: The High Stakes of Emotional Regulation

It is so important to be emotionally regulated at all times. The demons inside your head must remain only in your head. Contain them and make them battle it out with each other until they see sense, so that you do not blurt out utter rubbish to friends and family.

It is amazing how much mental clarity I have now, after spewing hormonal period rage at everyone for a week. It was not one of my finest moments, and even chocolate did not help. It was pain-induced anger—anger that showed its face because I lost control of my body. But that was my emotionally dysregulated moment for the month, and I have no excuses. I was like the little green devil from the Onida TV advertisement, only more red than green because I was snappy and far less cheerful than that little demon.

Emotional regulation is the only way you can move forward in peace with society at large. That garish thought of dumping someone inside a lava-filled mountain should only remain within the confines of your brain. Ideally, all your thoughts should remain inside your brain, unless you want to be thrown into Arkham Asylum like the Joker. And remember, there may be no sexy Harley Quinn to fall in love with you while treating you. No, those lovely things only happen in the movies. On that note, I wish I could recreate that "falling into the vat" scene straight into the Joker's hands. Sigh! I digress.

Going back to emotional regulation now: be regulated, boys and girls, at all times. It is the sane and mature thing to do. Take this advice from someone who has mostly remained insane and done only nutty things in life, such as eating five boxes of Cadbury's Nutties in one sitting. 

Okay, let me stop clowning around now. Stay emotionally regulated. Stat!

My Drama, But Worse

Tiny tongues worse than blades,

Then the adage rings true: call a spade a spade.

It's your tongue,

Placed in your little one, who swings verbal cow-dung.

A temper worse than yours,

Ready to slam doors.

You've created a mini-you,

And you understand him through and through.

Your drama, but worse,

Your overthinking, but in tumbling verse.

What have you created?

This was the bean for whom you waited,

Almost an eternity for,

But now he just wants to stare at you and roar.

Tiny tongues worse than blades,

Then the adage rings true: call a spade a spade.