Lateral Perspectives

The huge world inside a tiny head

Archive for the category “Personal Stories”

Mom and Cats

Kids are the best source of innocence, perhaps apart from my mom.

Last year, when I was in India, a pregnant cat had somehow found its way to our store room. I don’t blame the cat, it really is a safe place where predators wont find them. I don’t know what you call this in other places, but its where we keep all the things “that might come in useful someday” and old newspapers, woollen sacks,some food stuff and so on. It’s sort of a messy room really.

So my mom being a typical mom, starts getting agitated. She doesn’t really like cats, but don’t mind them either. It’s really cute of her. I would suggest throwing the cat away playfully  and she would be like, “No!”. Motherly instincts. Anyway, the feline gave birth to some four or five tiny kittens. It was quite cute to hear the small meow meow coming from the store room. The thing that surprised me was it was hard for me to find where they were! Even in the store room, the mother had chosen to put her home at a height, inside a cardboard box. Typical of a cat to go for a box.

Now mom was getting more agitated, one moment she’ll be like oh no, the kittens are making so much noise, I cant work in the kitchen, and a bit later she’ll be like, awwww they sound so cute.  There is this guy, Philip who does some yard work for us, and we mentioned it to him about the kittens when he came around. She asked if he wanted the kittens, and if he didn’t want, to throw them away somewhere. No no, don’t kill them.

He agrees and says he will come another day. 2 days later he’s back, at something like 8 in the morning. He never comes that early and we were wondering why. Apparently, his kids loved cats so much, and one of the cat went missing or something and they had been crying out ever since. He told them about the kittens in our house and they started pestering him from the moment. He could no longer bear their pleads  and came home to take them away.

Now we had forgotten about the mother cat. Her cries were so heart breaking, mom wanted to go get the kittens back. She would be cutting some vegetables and when she hears the cat, she would stop and listen, and then look at me.

After some time the cat went away, never to be seen again. I don’t think mom has moved the box from the store still.



Rekha. No, Rekhachechi.

A name that had started to fade somewhere along the back of the mind, catapulted to the front now. Pictures come running through the mind as if someone has put a flashback on.

With both hands her in her pockets, the image of someone walking on yellow tiles that smells of disinfectants, here pristine white coat covering her bright saree with colorful designs.

With wide eyes and a mischievous smile, she would come around to look for me, if she knew I was around. Did she have dimples in her cheek, and  a touch of sandalwood streak on here forehead?  I cant remember. Come to think of it, I don’t even have a picture of her at home, and a fuzzy remembrance of how her face looked.  The only thing that I do remember with clarity was the love with which she would call out my name. I may even have forgotten the voice, but the love remains etched, like the birthday card greetings that she have left behind, which are still kept in a little box in one of the shelf.

Now you might be wondering, what this is about. This is about Rekha. She used to work with my mom in a hospital. Chechi is a term of endearment and respect, that which one calls and elder sister. Much like Akka in Tamil or Didi in Hindi. I was very little then, probably around 10-12 years old. Even back then her name piqued curiosity. It felt unique, and even now, I haven’t met anyone with her name. Her name means “A line”. Simple enough, but may have different interpretations.  A mathematical line, or a line that’s supposed to be drawn on the head,which also denotes faith, or it could even be a ray of sunlight.

I remember going to her wedding along with my mom. I remember being adamant that we should not be going empty handed and having wanted to give the gift myself. If memory serves me correct, it was a small miniature of a wedding couple with Happy Married Life or something written on the bottom. Hers was the first of the only two Hindu wedding that I have taken part in. I remember talking non stop about the taste of  food we had. It is one the tastiest vegetarian food I’ve ever had.

She left the hospital after her wedding. Mom moved to another clinic. I saw her many years later. She had a vegetable store, and lived in a flat above it. She looked completely different. Married, working and with a kid, she looked older. We caught her in the middle of work. She looked flustered, yet happy to see us. The hair was dishevelled, the face starting to show wrinkles, signs that she had left her youth far behind. The remnants of a mischievous smile still playing on her lips, surviving, somehow.

Why did I think of her now? Come to think of it, how many Rekhachechi’s are there in my life? For some reason, I find myself reluctant to think about it. Is it a sin to forget people whom we once loved and respected, but had moved out of our lives long back, slowly faded out?

Yet, there is a strange feeling of happiness for having though of her now. At least I have thought about her, written her down, and through this, some years in the future, I might return to read this, only to remember a lovely voice calling out my name dearly.

The Accident

I was cycling to meet my friends after a friendly volleyball game for dinner.  I reached a junction and was confused about the direction, and stopped to call one of them. That was when it happened. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone rolling of the front of the car at the pedestrian crossing. I stood there for a second processing what just happened. Just ran across  the highway and reached her.

I don’t think I ever felt so horrified before. It was a lady and she was pregnant.

Pregnant. It took all the effort to hide my shock.

The driver who hit her seemed equally horrified. I quickly took out my phone to call ambulance, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the emergency number and my phone was hung. Luckily, the driver was already calling them. I looked down at the lady and she said the most heart-wrenching sentence I ever heard in my life.

She said, with tears in her eyes, “My baby, my baby”.  I’ve felt helpless at moments in my life before, but this was just heart breakingly unreal.

All I could do was search my memories to what first aid I could administer. Movie and television series scenes flashed through my mind. I held her hand, and asked her is if she was hurt anywhere. She pointed to her head. Someone wanted to raise her to a sitting position. I said NO. We didn’t know how bad she was hurt and whether us making any movement would make things worse. There was no blood thankfully. She was breathing frantically and I then asked her to relax and take deep breaths. She kept on breathing rapidly. I asked her to fully open her eyes and focus on me. .This she did, and she seemed to calm down a little.Her eyes looked clear and was steady.My priority was to keep her conscious and alert. I asked her to take deep breaths and keep focusing on me. She was still crying and just kept repeating “My baby, my baby”. I asked her name, she replied Toto.

Meanwhile, there was  a crowd and thankfully, nobody was crowding around us and creating a big scene, probably because it was the highway. Cars kept rushing past us, with curious faces in the window. At this time,I was sitting by her side, holding her hand and stroking them. I don’t know. I think it helps to have a human contact. I wanted to assure her everything was all right. I hope it calmed her. I thought she was Chinese  and asked one lady from the crowd to speak to her. Being in an accident is traumatizing and  I thought speaking a familiar language would help her. When she spoke it turned out the lady was from Myanmar. I then asked her if she had her phone with her.  She nodded. Another standbyer looked through her handbag but couldn’t find the phone.  I asked the crowd to search for a phone nearby. But couldn’t find it. I asked  her number. Unfortunately, my phone was hung, so I asked another person to make the call. The phone ended up being on the cars viper. We gave her the phone and asked her to call her husband. She said he was overseas. She then called her brother and cried.

Another few minutes and thankfully, the medics arrived. We stood back and let them take care. I thought they would immediately bundle her up and take to ambulance, but they took their time assessing. When I thought about it, it made sense. She was bit sprawled about. One medic held her head steady, while another started touching her from the arms and asked if she was having pain. Finally when the assessment was over, they sort of tied her legs and thighs together with some cloth, and brought down the stretcher.  There were other witnesses, so I left the scene.

I just had to write this down. There were a few things that came to my mind.

  1. I couldn’t remember the emergency number, and didn’t have it saved in my phone.
  2. The only first aid training I had was back in high school, and I couldn’t remember shit. Why isn’t first aid training mandatory everywhere?


That pleading eyes with that cry, it is going to haunt me for some days. If there is indeed a god, please, I beg,let nothing happen to her and her baby.

Pamuk and Other Colours

13th June 2017, marks an important day in my life.

I finished reading Orhan Pamuk’s book titled “Other Colours”.  He is one of the very few authors, or author of the very few kind of books that I have read, who has made me reflect on life. While half way through the book, reading his reflection on Dostoyevsky, I suddenly realized that I have never seriously studied a novel before. Sure, I have drawn parallels and infused myself on thoughts on life in general, comparing the character’s circumstances and decisions made, about how the world is evil and not to be trusted, about how people are never what they mean and say, but do. But never in a studied manner. Never erudite, always a passive impassionate mode of thought. To think of it further, I almost never ventured to dig deep into books, or novels. I always assumed that they were pretentious at best, trying to please the audience.

I say almost because partly the blame lies on how literature is taught in schools.  Putting critic’s reviews in textbooks may not be the best idea. Since these existed and I read them, I grew up with the idea that whatever critic I would make would be a replica of theirs. A number of half-witted, self-promoted intellectuals try to dissect and vainly identify patterns, link or ideas even the writer may not have considered, for example, in goodreads or Quora. “The curtain is blue”  – the textbook would ask us what this could mean. It would try to impress on us that it depicts the writer’s depression, or whatever the critic decided to attest its meaning to.  Codswallop in my opinion.  I did not want myself to be associated with such people. In fact, I refrained from making any such assumptions and distanced myself from it as far as possible. In a way, it was good. The deeper meaning behind this book was not always something I concerned myself while reading. I read simply for the pleasure of enjoying the imagination of the writer, to visit new lands, to reflect ideas never discussed before, or to see them in a new light, a wondrous moment indeed.

Speaking of critics, one come across writers who write what they think, but these are rare, and I adore them dearly. The earliest one I have come across, is in my own native language, Malayalam. A critic of the acclaimed novel by Mohammed Basheer, Premalekhanam. The prose of the critic was incredibly hard, and fortunately, my teacher was extremely good. She made us think beyond the literary meaning of the critic’s word. This was my first true encounter with the critic. I harboured hatred for the critic for tearing down a wonderful novel – how dare he find meaning behind words! And a conflicting part of me developed admiration for him. I was seduced by how he painstakingly researched the time, condition and the mentality of the original writer and how all these influenced and lead to the novel, how it was received and affected the society, and how, the future generation of mine ought to read and think about it keeping all these things in mind. It was more like how they say Tolkien’s Mordor was inspired by the wastelands of the Word War.

Orhan Pamuk is such a writer/critic.  His thoughts are well formed, his conscious clear, and he tries to be polite and humble when it’s not. When reading Isaac Assimov’s robot series, I pondered very little on his take on the role of humans in a robotic world. I assumed these were natural consequences of such circumstances. I never realised the depth of his thoughts when he depicted the world and his characters. Moving forward in this digital and futuristic world, I can’t help but feel that more than fiction, he was a visionary, and his novels not mere science fiction, but predictions, of a future yet to come. It is not utopian or dystopian entirely. After all, much of science fiction has become commonplace these days. Except time travel and inter-galactic travel. I have my suspicions that space travel will find tremendous progress in the coming decades, and I would witness some historic moment with respect to it.  Time travel, unfortunately, is not something I think would be possible.

When reading Harry Potter, apart from falling in love with the magic world, I simply agreed with Rowling that power struggle is real and the magical world is no different world when it comes to basic human traits. Sure, there is a hero, a villain, anti-villains, traitors, but I still think the greatest character Rowling introduced is Umbridge. This, is what made me love the series even more. This separated Rowling to me from being a mere fantasy writer to an astonishing writer. You see, Umbridge is the kind of character I hate most in this world. Misusing and representing a position of power. A story of lies and deceptions, of their influence on unimaginative people, who in turn resented authentic ones. But these thoughts not occurred then, but a few years down the road. Until then, I always had thought Umbridge was simply a bad character. Only when I started working and witnessed true politics, did I appreciate what Umbridge truly represented.

In other words, it is high time to observe nature and society more. Even more essentially to me, to study books deeper. To read more classics and see what men and women, thought of people and society in general. It is not enough that I just read a good novel anymore. It is imperative that I understand more than the book, that I question the author’s circumstances, that I realize what the greater question is. I may not go to the extent of the critic, to break it down as finely as them, but would probably end up thinking a little bit more about the novel.

Some words on the actual novel itself. First of all a word on the title. An apt title, a breath of fresh air that also truly reflects on the content of the book, which is the authors breadth and width. I am quite happy to have witnessed the dear writer’s mind. Or whatever he chose to publish to the world. I was sort of surprised that he spoke little about philosophical ideas such as love, jealousy, ego, faith , pride and happiness, but greatly on turkey, childhood and the east-west conflicts. Perhaps this is what truly concerns his mind most of the time and the others, well he has written in his novels. Another part of me was partly happy because to be honest, I was bored by some of the articles because they were quite dry in nature.  Even a great writer like Pamuk can also write something that does not concern or interest me was surprising to say the least. There were two particular chapters that invoked an emotion that I was unable to identify or name. These are “When Ruya is Sad” and the final chapter, “My Father’s Suitcase”, which is his Nobel prize acceptance speech. Apart from these there was a particular article whose title might be “No Entry” which I think was quite clever and would like to leave it to the readers imagination to read and reflect on them. The former is a very short piece which touches lightly on melancholy. The speech which begins with a slow and dreary pace but soon picks up emotion and ends up in a spectacular paragraph on why he writes. I was so moved that tears welled up in my eyes. I choked and had to dry my eyes at the library. It would not be an understatement to say that the book has inspired me again after ten years, after reading a novel called Snow. That the same writer can have the same effect on you after such a long time, when you have undergone so much change is just purely incredible and to that Mr Pamuk, my favourite author, I owe you a lot.


Quieting the Mind

This is not a post giving you pointers to how to quiet your mind. There are dozens of such posts on the internet, go search yourself.

How does it feel to have your mind talking continuously? Ever got so bored that you just started doodling on paper? You know, just making your pen go round and round and round. Then you start crisscrossing just because you fudged up the nice circles. And now you are going all over the place, you are striking it off, and you have torn the paper, crumbling it now, throwing it at the bin with furious anger, missing it, stomping all over to the  bin, picking it back up, going back to your fucking place, but you just can’t make it and you want to stop, but you can’t. That’s the closest imagery I can think of.

Perhaps it’s this phase I am going through. As you might have seen, I haven’t written much here. I did however scribble here and there on paper, on nights that refused to let me sleep. It seems I am rather concerned about who I am, what I want to become, and what I am doing, in personal and professional life. Currently I am not working, for I resigned from my previous role because there was a job mismatch. I never should have taken the role. There was this gut feeling  that something was not quite right.  And it did turn out that the role was not what I expected, it would end up being a menial job.  Every time I denied my consciousness, this gut feeling, things never worked out properly. From a statistical point of view, it is better to start believing in gut feeling. Wanting to become a logical thinker on the other hand, it does not help to rely on the gut feeling.

Anyway, one month later, I am still jobless, but not to fret, I have a feeling that I’ve been shortlisted for 2 roles, so hopefully, I can take a deep breath by the end of next week.  This one month has seen its share of ups and downs. But to be honest, the thing that surprised me was, and still is, that I am rather passive about the whole thing. The only thing that irks me is the endless answering of all the questions these recruiters ask,not to mention the haggling to lower the salary. In one way, it is good because I am not stressing myself out. On the other hand, it’s not good to take everything so easily. It’s like in the movie “About Time” – a simple movie with a great message. To stop stressing and enjoying your life.  Well I can’t exactly enjoy because finance is pretty tight at the moment, but once a job is settled, that should clear in two or three months time.

Coming back to my main point, as you can see above itself, my mind is drifting all over the place. Many a times, I found myself day dreaming, making grand plans, and ignoring the present. This is particularly frustrating while trying to study.  The technical nature of my job require at most attention, and there are a lot of tiny detail involved. Another reason is the amount of distraction I am getting. I removed facebook, but even then, I find myself peeking at my phone, expecting a message  and don’t know what. I don’t even have a girlfriend damnit. I seriously want to remove whatsapp, but this is my only point of connection to friends and family, so there’s that.

Routine. This is another thing that I have trouble fixing. If I have an interview in the morning, I am up and about running around, after spending a night tossing and turning around, worried whether I would wake up in time. Talk about irony.  If I plan on waking up early and study in the morning, I would end up finding very interesting videos in youtube the night before, eventually sleeping around 2 or 3 in the morning, making waking up early near to impossible. One of my grand plans involve waking up in the morning and going for a run regularly. Now that I am not working this might seem like a distant dream, but getting a regular office hour work should fix this.

Another thing I noticed is that, again, like above, I talk a lot about what I would do. This is something I need to address. The only reason I am writing it here is because in case I still keep the habit, I want this to be a reminder to myself( screw you future Praveen, if  you are reading and you haven’t).  Learning guitar, cooking, a foreign language( french or german), driving. These are the things in pipeline, if you are curious to know what these grand plans are.

To be honest, long term goals never really work out. Perhaps I lack the patience. But this is not the Praveen I remember from my childhood. Somewhere while growing up, that steely resolve, that curiosity that kept the fire, that spirit is missing. After a lot of introspection, I think I have found out the reason. I stopped listening to myself and started listening to others. I found myself comparing my life to others. I envied their lives, blamed everything including me for the life I was having. Is my life horrible? Of course not. I have a loving family, had great friends, have a good career(had for now). By right, I should be happy,right?  This comparison, this, this – I don’t even have a word for it, you see. This frame of mind is not exactly positive. I am challenging this attitude now, I want the old Praveen back. The one who laughed a lot, the one who read a lot, the one who wrote a lot. I am bringing sexy back.(Side note- I found this phrase the other day while watching this seriously funny standup – Gotta love Aisling Bea. Seriously, check it out.)

On further introspection, I found that being myself is what have worked out in my favour throughout the years. Granted, an occasional interesting party(internal monologue- potential girlfriend) might have been turned away, but if they turned away, they wouldn’t end up being us with anyway right? But this doesn’t mean being selfish or pushing everyone away. I was spending time with friends, yet I found time to spend on me own. Perhaps it’s about balance. Another curious , but nonetheless not surprising thing was that, being busy was the best way I enjoyed myself. Inaction made me lazier. The more time you spent home, the longer the nights get, the longer the crazy thoughts persist. Have things to do. If you got nothing to do, find new things. Or get out and do the next level for the things you love. Go to a different part of the city or town. Try out a new food. Call someone you haven’t spoken to for some time. Do something different, something that you makes your body move, if it makes you perspire, all the better. We are still descendants of the great hunters. Idling is not our default mode.

Long story short, please get out of the house more, spend less time on phone(unless you are calling someone).  Make coffee, and most important of all, look at the big picture, and relax. Your life is only your own, be the captain, don’t let others point your way or steer your ship.

End rant.


Missing hugs

As I am sitting here on the train, after a long day at work, I just want some hugs. I just want to feel the warmth of a human body, a reassurance that I’m indeed alive and walking. 

I think thats why people love pets so much. They can hold, hug, kiss them anytime, anywhere. There is a sense of comfort in that I guess. And no question of labelling the relationship. Wish it could be the same with humans. 

Back home, once the days sets, I would probably be hanging around at my cousin’s house- playing with my sweet little Mabel  and Marvel. Their tiny voice and crazy antics fills up my heart. I especially miss holding her in my arms. Still can feel her head on my shoulder when she falls asleep. Is it selfish to ask that kids dont grow up? Let them be kids! Let them spread joy and happiness and give us all that fuzziness! 

Over here, in Singapore, thats what I miss the most. I live with my friends around the same age. We live harmoniously, is generally happy to see each other, but that sense of  “family” is missing I guess.   

Looking around, I think that is the case with most of the people. All of us just want somebody. Not necessarily to love and make out with, but just need them to be a presence, in an otherwise lame day. 

I just want some hugs very very badly. Missing you a lot more Mom.

Woke up before September

Hello There,

My non-existent invisible readers.


It was a huge break this time, was it not?
I have my excuses- I was very, very busy.

I went back to India for a while, hugged my mom and dad so tight,spend time with all I loved,
making sure I valued their presence. As I grow older, I find myself loving deeper and deeper,
caring less about the worldly stuff. Guess what the old people were saying was true.

Oh, and yes, starting to agree that my parents were right most of the time.

Then I came back and started preparing hard for one of the Cisco exams – CCNP Switch. And I passed!

The thing is that, I will cherish the time I spent studying. Because in the beginning, it was so freaking hard.
I couldn’t concentrate for more than half hour, (I still may not be, but that is not the point),
had doubts about myself, and was generally not in a great mood for most days. Committing or aka forcing myself
to study was a huge task, and eventually, I got the better of it.
And once I started preparing, other things started falling into place. Started realizing that I was just
making bullshit excuses and whining instead of just doing stuff.
Been practicing simplicity lately. Don’t need it? Throw away, remove it from your life.
Make it a lot easier to search through the rest of the stuff.

So yeah, here I am wiser(hopefully), smarter(hey some more modules to go before I graduate with a degree),
and working better. I didn’t need someone to wake me up before September- random fact just because I goddamn
love that song so much. And oh, I did write some stuff, but most are in Malayalam and spread across the pages
of my real life scribbling books.

End rant.


There is something that is blocking me to be productive. I cant place my finger on it. It prevents me from thinking logically. It is preventing me from memorizing stuff.

It is not allowing me to do my assignments. I need help it seems. Or am I just being paranoid, because there is too much stress I cant handle?

I fear failure. I had an assumption that I was brilliant academically and that notion is shattering to pieces day by day.

I badly, badly need a break. Unfortunately, I won’t be getting that until after May, after the University trimester exams.

Then I’ll be going back to India in July.

Oh how I wish to lay my head on my mother’s lap!  My heart earns for her gentle caress on my forehead, that chases all negative thoughts away.

Missing you very badly Mom 😥

The Earthly Connection

I moved my house recently to Marsiling (Singapore).  Even though its a bit further in than I wanted, I simply adore the location. Just outside the house, there is a kids play ground. I could just sit in my room and hear the tiny joyful noises. I miss my little cousin so much!

Also, its like a garden over here. Not sure if it is done by the residents or the government, it certainly is a beautiful site to behold everyday. Bougainvillea looks so pretty. And to top that, we have an actual hill just near the house.

I was always fascinated with hills. Something about it makes me wants to climb it. There is not a hill I haven’t climbed in a 5-mile radius back home.  I just climbed the hill day before yesterday. At 4 AM in the morning. I had come home after night shift and was trying to sleep. But ended up tossing and turning. That’s when I decided to climb the hill. Though not windy, it had good breeze that helped to calm my mind. Went over to a secluded area, and just laid down on the grass and stared at the sky. The moon was full, the sky clear. Couldn’t have asked for a better setting.

Why I am telling you all this?  Because during that time, I felt something I have experienced only few times in my life. The “Natural High” , I call it.  A state of complete peace. Serenity.

Previous time was June 2015. When we went on a bike trip. 3AM. in the Munnar hills. Sitting on a viewpoint, gazing out to the valley below me, mist slowly twirling, I went in to that state. I remember my friends shaking me up. They said I was sitting motionless for around 15 minutes and did not respond to their calls. Loved it.

20150606_060549The next day, climbing down another hill, tea leaf plantation on side, a green plateau down below being graced by morning sun, wind on my face.



Before that, 2014 New Year’s day in Singapore- at Siloso beach. After the new year party, we had gone to the beach side to chill. The rest of them were still dumb from all the drinks. Since I don’t drink, I was much alive. Simply sat at the shore, leaning against a tree, stating at the sea. I recommend this to anyone and everyone. Do this at least once in your life. Stare deep into the sea, feel the waves rolling into the shore, listen to the sound of the sea. And watch that while the dark night slowly starts to brighten and day comes in. Simply magical.

Time now goes back to teenage. Quite a jump there heh.

I’m outside the house. Mom’s shaking her head because it was exam time and  this little boy wanted to play. Went to my friend’s house, but was chased away by their parents because apparently, they had to “study”.  Off, the little boy dashed to the hill. There were no houses near it, and it was pretty deep into the thickness. On one note, it was pretty dangerous for me to be there. Anywayyy,  strolled around for a little bit. It was around 5 PM then. Layed down on the grass so green, was like 1080p HD blu ray IMAX green..well, you get the idea…

Ever noticed the evening sun? Evening sun is Midas. It turns everything into gold. I wish I could show you the picture that I am reviving from the memories. Golden light diffused, sharp smell after the rain, and beautiful clouds. This was my first high.  Just lied down there, watching the clouds trying to hide behind the big tree.

Why am I saying all this? Because I realized I had lost my connection with Mother Earth for a long time. Apart from the occasional trips that we go  on during holidays, rarely do we take the time to sit down and just do nothing.  That sense of restlessness that you often feel? I believe much of it has to do with being away from nature( or because we don’t have a gf/bf – single people unite!). We ty to distract ourselves with movies, books and music. Not that they are not needed, but everything has its place.

We humans evolved from being hunters to localized civilians only in the span of a few lifetimes. We still have strong connections to our mother Earth.

So dear reader, do yourselves a favor – you don’t need to go to exotic locations to feel nature.

Go to a nearby hill or park, lock your phone( no instagram shit please). And just be there. Open your eyes, watch the clouds, hear the birds. No cigarette, no whiskey, get your natural high right there.

Like Beethoven said, Muß es sein?

Es muß sein!






My brother got married last year.  It was an arranged marriage(Yes, I know, its silly- but my brother and my sister in law is lucky).  She is a lovely lady, we all fit very comfortably with each other.  

One of the major problem after a wedding would be the integration of the wife to the family.  My mom is a lovely person. I am not boasting, she is a such an angel, with a big heart and forgives everyone almost instantly. One of my major concern for my sister-in-law was how things would be between her and my mom.  Not to my surprise, they go together awesomely. Quite a cute, happy little family.  

Now, if I had even the teeniest bit of doubt whether my mom did actually like her daughter-in-law,  it was pretty much cleared last night.

 My brother is currently overseas, and his wife was away at her own home for a couple of days. Both me and brother usually calls home several times a week. But past week, we did not call after Monday. And when I called home on Saturday, the first thing she said was this,

I was wondering why none of my three children have not called me again this week“. 

Three. She considered my sister-in-law as her third child. It’s hard to explain what I felt. If I was near her, I could have just hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. 

Every person should  be lucky enough to hear such a statement from their mother-in-law. 

Love you loads mom. 

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