Ouch that pokes

I groggily awoke to the prickly feeling inside me. Rudely awoken if you ask me. Being in the swirly machine always makes me dizzy and pass out for a few hours.

Ouch ouch ouch. The poking is coming from within! Oh God what’s happening?

This isn’t as bad as the time we stepped on a that thorny bush that pulled at my string. That was from outside. This feels like its coming from within. The human’s feet are usually smooth. The occasional long nail poke at only a few places. What is happening to me?! Am I still dreaming.

“Righty? Do you feel it too?” I whispered

I looked around for my partner. No where in sight. We’re usually separated in the swirly machine, and occasionally when we’re hung out separately. However we’re united right after.

Wait, whooaaa…vertigo. Why am I being suspended so far up in the air? It’s so heavy. It’s gotten way heavier that with the human’s leg. He doesn’t put that much weight on his feet. My insides are being pulled down. WHAT IS INSIDE ME? Is someone filling me with needles? I think I’m going to break.

Where is my partner?

“There’s only a few inches left empty mom, is this much rice enough?” The human was asking someone.

Rice? Are they filling me with rice? Why would they fill a travelling entity like me with rice? I met a jute bag once and he said he carried rice for the humans. He was huge, ginormous. Surely the rice I hold will be a useless tiny amount compared that!

Ouch it really pokes.

“RIGHTY” I called out a little louder. Where did it go?!

OH. MY. GOD. I’ve never felt such excruciating pain before. Like someone is twisting my very fibers

“You can’t hold in the rice with a rubber band sweetie, you’ve got to knot it up like this. It’s a pity one of them got lost. This is such a pretty design too. Perfect timing however, this will help you loads with your back ache. Go on, put this under your back and lie down”

-

R.I.P

-

PS: I can’t breathe. I can’t feel. Am I dead? I think I’m dead. Righttttyyyyyyyy

28 Days

That’s the number of days in this month

That’s also the number of days since my husband left (to go finish his studies. It’s going to be a good 6 to 8 months till we’re together again)

That’s also the number of days in the normal period cycle

Which brings us to the seemingly random question my grandmother asked me ; “Have you got your period?”

Having PMSed last week, even I was wondering when it is going to come.

I’ve also been googling the correlation between ice creams and the onset of periods. [The self-inflicted ban on ice cream having been lifted post the wedding, there might have been one too many of the said indulgence]

Well, my grandmother and I have discussed periods on many occasions. Sanitary methods used across the ages. How it used to be in hers and how it is now. We discussed it at length when my sister switched to cloth pads – from why would she bother going back to the old ages when you have easier methods available now to this fabric might be good for her cloth pads. She also knows that I like lemon water during my cramps. So my period is no stranger to her.

What was strange however was her asking me if I got it. I don’t think that has ever happened before.

I didn’t think too much of it when she asked however, as I was temporarily distracted by wondering that myself: When am I going to get it? Will it interfere with my weekend plans?

THEN it dawned on me!

The connection between her question and statements 2 and 3 from the beginning of this blog.

Hahahahahhaha!

My dear grandmother is hoping I’m preggo! She don’t care that I’ve been married less than 2 months. She’s wondering if I’ve started preparing for next stage of life already.

However, what my poor grandmother doesn’t know is that I have a 40 day cycle.

Hahahhahahahahahahah !!!

Caught in the middle

Hello

How are you?

Happy New Year!

Although almost a month of it has already passed by.

It’s also almost a month since my wedding.

I say my wedding, and not since I got married because I’m back at my parents place. No, my husband and I are very much together and very much in love. However, he’s gone back to the states to finish his studies and I’m back to living the life I got used to since August 2017.

It’s kind of strange. I want to break into a modified version of that Britney Spears song – I’m not single, Not yet married; All I have is time, this vacuum that is mine; While I’m in between.

Most of my life, I had friends not as groups, but as individuals. I’m not very good with groups. I still haven’t figured them out very well. However, all those friends either live in different cities or have children. Now luckily, I have a group of friends. A group I’m still figuring out the dynamics of and finding where I fit in. I’ve had this group for almost three years now. We’ve vacationed, partied, lunched and enjoyed a ton. Why this sudden feeling of disconnect now?

Because he just left. A week ago.

When he was here, I never needed to wonder if I will be accepted or if I will be judged. I don’t have to wonder why my opinion cannot count even for a kebab platter. With him here, I belonged. I fit right in.

Last week, after he left, when people asked me how I was, I said I was doing great. We knew how the long distance thing worked, that I was used to this.

What I hadn’t realized is that it hadn’t sunk in.

I had spent a year wedding planning, now I have no wedding left to plan. I have a void. Last year, I didn’t write, I didn’t read. I didn’t do the things I most commonly did. Now, I don’t know what to do. I feel lost, so I’m falling in the vortex of Netflix, even as I desperately scramble to not get sucked into nothing.

I need a project. I need to remember that this break is short. I need to remember that I need this short break to sort life out, clean the things I need and separate it from 20 years of childhood nostalgia. I need to remember self-sufficiency once again.

I need to focus on moving forward and not stay caught in the middle.

Lord help me.

Balance

I get married in less than 50 days.

Wow. It's finally happening.

Last weekend, I asked my dad how he was feeling about it - he for one has been waiting for this day for almost a decade, me being his first daughter and all. He said he's ready for it. Haha. So like him.

I'm not sure if he is truly ready for life after I leave, but that's just us kids, we always worry about our parents.

People ask me if I am ready for it? Am I getting cold feet? Am I nervous?

The answers are: Have been since that day last year when I stood next to him, and the only thing I felt was absolute glee. No way. And hell yes.

Why so nervous you ask? Because I am yet to sort out my reception dress. My tailor is bailing on me, and my designer friend who was travelling is now not well. This portion of my wedding is totally jinxed I tell you.

As for cold feet - not even a little bit. More than ever before (yes, despite the occasional hiccups) I know that B is the best thing that happened to me, and I for him.

A prerequisite for Catholic Weddings is the wedding class. We've been taking an online version of it, where we're assigned a mentor couple, and have chapters and worksheets and homework that is reviewed. It's an interesting experience. I enjoyed it. We learnt a lot from each other from the issues and topics the class brings up to the forefront, and we also learnt a lot more by reading between the lines.

We share the core values that really matter. And those that we don't - the other is neutral about, so it's not a problem to lean towards the one that feels strongly about something.

I love to travel, he loves to ensure that we get the best out of the place we visit.

We both love food.

...are some examples.

Importantly - we have very balanced conflict resolution styles. What makes me impatient - has him reacting patiently to, and what makes him impatient, has me patient.
[Agreed he's the more patient one amonst us 😛 ]

Last weekend I met a friend at Church after a long while. I was happily telling him that B & I have only 50 days left from our 500 day long distance stint before we meet each other again. The friend's first reaction? You guys have guts.

In my head, I realized - it isn't guts. It was the most fundamentally essential thing that made us most perfect and well balanced - We completely trust each other 😄

Amen.

#BhennyWedding
#50daystogo

Beading the Veil - Gossamer Veil Part 2

Aloha!

It's a veil. It's a piece of see-through fabric that was originally meant to cover the bride's face. Now it's rarely used to cover the face, and used more as an accessory. There - I've honestly admitted it.

Accessories however, can be a simple supporting statement to the main look or could be a statement themselves.

I wanted a simple Veil. With a little bit of shimmer of course. You probably know more about that from here.
My first experience with the Veil was when I went to a wedding dress store to try out one of their dresses, and the stylist clipped on a veil on my head to finish the look.
Boy does it finish the look!

The veil instantly upgrades a girl in a pretty dress to a Bride. 

I should have known then. I should have known that the Veil wouldn't be content being a simple accessory.

So now that I had the perfect Veil in the perfect colour, you'd think I'd be happy? Well I was, but it needed a little something more. Pearl beads.

I love beading things. I'd seen a picture of this bride with a blusher having a beaded veil, and what a pretty effect it brought. Even when it was swept back on to her dark hair, the white pearls stood out delicately. I wanted that - and I could DIY it (Of course! hehe)

So I brought out my beads, found the perfect colour and size, and stitched them onto my Veil.

Stitching each bead on was easy. What makes wedding projects amazing though is imagining and trying to predict how we would actually feel when we wear it on the D-Day. When the veil is placed on the head, behind the tiara.

Will I feel the weight of the beads?
Will it tug at my scalp - where the comb it's attached to is clipped on?
Will it clash with my dress?
Will someone step one it even before I reach the Church?
Will one of the Veil Girls pull it too hard - pulling it off my head?
Will any of these things matter then?

I look forward to the day - the only day, I will be wearing this tea dyed beaded ivory veil on my head 😊

Far away for Far too long

How long is too long?

A day? A week? A month? six? A year?

500 days.

That's how long our long distance relationship is.

1.5 years.

If you think it's long, it feels longer.

The saddest part is the forgetting. Forgetting of how he smells, or how tall he is when he stands next to me, the warmth of his hand against my shoulder. Forgetting how it feels to hold hands or be enveloped in that hug.

There are other hurdles too - time difference. Oh so confusing!! And of course difficult to find free times that overlap.

The biggest hurdle is not knowing the expression of the other person. Thirteen times out of Forteen, I have no idea what his face is saying in parallel to the words I hear, or the silences I feel. Even in the one time we video call every week, it's oh-so-easy to hide your face casually, away from the small front camera, away from the small phone screen.

We prepared for this a lot though. We made a list of 50 things we'd do together over the year to stay connected. Now I don't even remember what those things were! *Quickly refers excel sheet*
Things so random - Like no watching TV days, send snail mails, cook together, learn to make things on your own and so on.

We didn't do most of them,

We did do a few - we have a shared blog that I love, we video call at least once a week, we made pizza together once, we baked together once. That's it.

We have taken trips on our own, we did learn to make new things, read books and new skills - but not as together activities. Just as things to fill our time.

What works, the only thing that works is communication. I can't stress this enough.

In a long distance relationship, you can't expect your partner to interpret your silences or hug you when you look down. You need to verbalize EVERYTHING. It's a state where some of even what is said trickles through the sieve, unresponded to. And anything that is not said is lost to the other, for no fault of theirs.

He's a talker, it was easier for him. But talking is something I had to learn to do. Sometimes, (read most :P ) he has ten things he's started talking about when I'm still trying to verbalize one. However, we learnt through this distance to listen to each other. To be there for each other from so far away.

That was what made the last 401 days so easy. That's what's making the 99 that's left look like child's play :)

Gossamer Veil

The Veil – part 1

The Wedding Veil. A delicate thing that makes one think of words like Gossamer – words I have no clue about the meaning of. Gossamer and Fairy Dust.

When you have a long time to plan a wedding (I don’t mean the years that passed by, I mean the year and a half that I have between my engagement and my wedding) there are many things that change over time.

My dress for example, which I got months back, now has a longer train amongst many other upgrades. Wait, that’s for a later post!

When I started planning my wedding look, my veil played a very small part in it. I had decided to just get some plain white tulle, add a ribbon on the edges, and DIY it. That plan met with an immediate facelift when I found glittery tulle instead of a plan one! Yaay! [Closer to Gossamer in my head – whatever that could mean ;) ]

However, that plan was shooed away in an eye blink when I saw the most gorgeous Cathedral length Veil hanging at a shop in China. The lace work on it’s side was elaborate and so delicate. I had to have it and I got it. It was beautiful.

Only problem though? It was white.

How is that a problem? My dress is Ivory.

I bought the veil anyway, and kept looking it at it occasionally – quite the sad forlorn looks too. Because it looked like I had to go back to my glittery DIY veil again, which didn’t quite hold the same allure anymore. Not next to this ethereal lace edged veil! Oh the white!

This is where Bridesmaids come in handy. I have three amazing bridesmaids. One who’s supportive of all my ideas. One who is skeptical of them and another who is neutral. Both of them are happy with the outcomes (most of the times *wink*)

So the supportive one, bless her soul, mentioned that I could have the Veil Dyed! Voila! I could have my Veil and wear it too *imagine happy piano music in the background*. But will I find someone I would trust with my fairy veil? I did. Me! Haha. I guess you understand where the skeptical one’s skepticism comes from *evil laugh*

I actually hadn’t planned on DIYing this. Not with the gossamer veil. I started with reading blogs to see if anyone else had faced similar problems, and they had (with the internet, you can find someone who’s had a similar problem even if you’re problem is that you sprouted a tail) A few bloggers & fellow DIYers mentioned that Tea Dying a veil is an easy an effective way to dye a Veil. Interesting. Find more about it HERE.

When you Tea Dye your veil, you’re not actually dying it, but effectively staining your veil. It took a lot of courage. And a lot of praying from my skeptical bridesmaid – bless her soul!- who also ensured that I didn’t jump right to the deep end, and tested sample fabrics and tulle first. It surprisingly, amazingly worked! If she’d been there with me, and seen the brown that the veil actually looked like before I rinsed it in cold clear water – she would have probably fainted. I might have too, if the instructions hadn't clearly advised that this might happen, and to not freak out. 😃😂

My Veil is now Ivory, and matches my dress perfectly.👰

Sometimes, when I see the folded veil, it looks a lot darker, with the multiple layers adding shades to it. At those times, I calmly take it out, place it on my head like how it might fall when worn correctly, and it all feels right again. Gossamery – so to say!

The End

For now. My Veil still has some work that has to be done on it. You’ll know about it when we get to it. Hehe.

PS: No pictures are being posted here, as the boy also reads my blogs, and I ain’t taking away his surprise pals!

PPS: gos·sa·mer

ˈɡäsəmər/

noun

1. a fine, filmy substance consisting of cobwebs spun by small spiders, which is seen especially in autumn.
2. 
   

How do I feel about this? 😑

Husband

A Married Man or Male Partner in a marriage.

I am going to be married in less than 4 months! Every time I think about it, I seem to have lesser time. So either I think about it too less, or time is shrinking. (I’ll leave those in the know to eye roll or smirk as they please)

The closer we get to December, the more I find people asking me “What is your Husband-to-be” doing, or something else about him.

I was very comfortable with him as my boyfriend. Then, he was my friend, confident and equal in every right.

Then he became my fiancé. After some initial adjustments, I got used to having a fiancé as well. That’s when he truly became my person. He was still my friend and confidant. However, he also became a person who could take liberties with me, give me advise and vice versa. He also became an integral part of my support system and someone whose opinion was needed, not just mattered.

Now, or soon, he will be my husband.

That sounds so much heavier as a relationship definition though. Even the word “husband” sounds stronger and gusto next to the small lesser lettered “wife”. What does it mean? I wondered. Is it derived from His+Band? Like he wears his wedding band, so hisband, husband?

Obviously, it is not that simple (or silly if you feel that’s more befitting)

If you look at the English meaning of the word, Husband is defined as “A Married Man”. Straightforward enough.

The root words and original meanings are thus:

HA!

That is a catch! Master of the household!

This, in the context that I may not be working for a corporate or generating my own source of income after I’m married (at least for a while) – it gets much more pertinent, doesn’t it? That was giving me that niggling feeling in the back of my neck.

If I’m going to be dependent on anyone, I know that I would much rather it be him than anyone else.

It’s funny.

I am looking forward to being married. Very excited about being married to him.

However, I am not looking forward to having a master of my household. No, the feminist in me abhors that. I am also, most definitely not looking forward to my professional identity expiring as my personal identity takes such a drastic change.

Will he take care of me? Without a doubt.

Will he master me? Highly doubt it. I don’t think he’ll even want to or bother wanting to.

This is just me reacting to terminologies that are not the most comforting. And what does “wife” mean? Let’s not even go there!

Jump

One of the cool things we are taught to do when swimming is to jump into the deep end of the pool. Not dive. Just jump, leg first, body straight.

We go straight down till we touch the ground - holding our breaths, then we automatically kind of pop up - like a balloon held under water. Once we pop up, we've got to continue swimming.

I love this jumping thing.

The first few times I kind of fell on the water instead of jumping, and I was also keeping my eyes shut. The masters kept telling me to keep my eyes open - I was wearing goggles anyway! That's when I really started enjoying this.

You have to let yourself really be aware of the process to feel it. You should consciously not let it be a blur. Then you will catch what my favourite moment is - the part where you give the outside world the slip, and get under water. Then the light is different, things slow down under water, your body feels different, and for that brief moment, you're a creature of the water. You land on the floor, hand floats a little.
Then, it speeds up again and your body rushes you back to the outside world in one fast swoosh, and you got to swim like land-lings again.

It's beautiful and liberating. It's out of this world and into another. Just for a brief moment.

E for Engaged

I’m Engaged!

I said yes ;)

So this is part of CBC’s ABC Challenge, and I’ve been thinking all day for what to write for E. I even asked a friend hoping she’d give ideas, but no luck. I was almost going to write a random essay on Elephants when it so happened that a classmate of mine from Grad School Created an all girls group for our batch. It’s been 8 years since I graduated, and it’s almost like we’re getting to know each other all over again. Most are married with kids, and when I was introducing myself, I said I’m engaged.

That led to so much excitement. More than pictures of the kids the girls shared! “Aaaawwww” and variations of the same was the general reaction.

Got me wondering about what I feel about being Engaged.

This time each year (around his birthday), since I’ve graduated, my dad starts a familiar saga – “We got to get you married before May 10^{th (My Birthday)}” It’s his inevitable and inexplicable hope to get me married – a last ditch attempt to get me married at whatever age I’m at, before I turn the next number on May 10^th. I’m sure I probably started off being stressed in that last minute pressure – but this year, when he wasn’t doing it anymore, I realized how I almost relieved I am, yet, almost miss our usual:

Him: “We got to get you married soon.”

Me: “Sure why not!” as I rolled my eyes.

That aside,

Engaged

We’re in a long distance relationship. A very very long, long distance relationship. 500 days long, and 9.5 hours between time zones. And we have more than half left to go! Many times, I miss him so much, it’s depressing.

That said, this is a very interesting phase, and I love so many things about it!

There is no mental pressure about having to find someone.

I no more wonder if I will die alone. [This was a very legit worry as I don’t like cats, and rocks felt too boring!]

I take a long time to get used to change, so an 18 month engagement period is perfect for me!

There is one go to person when I’m happy, sad or when I need to bug someone. There is one go to person to gripe about things. There is one go to person whom I can blame for things completely unrelated to him, then apologize or laugh it away, cause I know he’ll forgive me anyway. There is one go to person to whom all my craziness is a normal whacko person he knows and loves :P

There is one person who tells me about all the things that happens in his life. One person who makes time for me, no matter what. One person who does some things that I used to think I would be uncomfortable with, and now I just find it hilarious. One person who likes to take my input when deciding tiny little things like font if I’m awake, but is perfectly capable of making those decisions if I’m asleep.

There is one person who tells me to eat ice cream when he knows I’m sad. One person who chastises me for eating too much ice cream when I do.

The only person who (has to) face my PMS, and never gives up on me despite that.

There is a new family that I get! J

I get to plan my wedding for a year – slowly and steadily. With so much time to experiment, research, and DIY!

Being engaged is lovely.

Being engaged in the same city would have been amazing. But this is lovely too J

We get to get to know each other and be there for each other, without the pressure of being married already. That is an amazing thing. 

D for DIY

I'm a DIY girl.

I love doing everything myself, or at least customizing it to make it more mine.

My DIY passions were certainly handed over to me by my mom. Till I was 3, she stitched almost every dress I wore - and made sure I matched her too. I also remember that my first haircut at a salon was when I was 20 and away at hostel. Till then, my mom cut my hair.

Evidence of my DIY projects can be found all over the house - right from the walls I painted, to the frames I've made. I love DIY because it adds a story to everything :) Also adds a sense of pride and ownership.

Here are some tips for a successful completion of you DIY:

• You need patience and time. DIY projects almost always require more time than the alternative of buying it off the rack or getting someone to do it for you. So make sure you have enough time to work through the project
• DIY is often times cheaper, but it could sometimes cost as much as the store equivalent
• If you feel DIY is for you in the long run, then get some basic supplies - For example, I have a sewing machine which is a great investment (amazing for quick alterations, and for experimenting with different designs. I even made the backdrop for my engagement party myself~ with the help of my friends and fiance of course), Adhesives of different strengths, Sharp Scissors, Cutters, Fabric, Wood, Hacksaw, Screwdriver set, Swiss Army Knife, An Oven, Baking essentials - these are some great basics which always come in handy
• Tape is your best friend
• Don't be shy to copy - with the internet now, it's almost like every idea has already been thought off. Do not let that deter you. If you like some project, try it. After a few projects, you'll find yourself naturally customizing and finding your signature style
• Read up, research. Check resources like Pinterest, youtube, google for tips and ideas for your chosen projects
• Don't give up halfway through. DIYs sometimes feel like they take much longer - especially when compared to some fast forward videos you might have seen that project as in facebook or youtube. It is slower in real life, but stick it out, and it's worth it. 
  
   
  
  
• Find projects that work for you. I personally have indefinite patience to weave dreamcatchers, but I don't have the patience to crochet. It depends a lot on where your interests lie. 

• Don't let opinions of others bog you down. Different people like doing different things. Don't feel compelled to do something just because others are doing it. Also, vice versa, do consider things even if it's not trending at the moment if you have a liking for it!

These are just some suggestions from my journey. Do give it a go! It's great fun!

For those who are interested in what my latest project is? It's my wedding ;) I'm currently working on jazzing up my white dress 👰😀 I finished making my own shoe, and belt. The Veil is next. Other projects currently include - circle skirts, skater dresses, sugar cookies. 

Happy Doing it Yourself! 

B for Babies

Babies. Toddlers. Little humans. Humans you can’t communicate with.

I’m at an age when many of my peers have babies. It’s highly possible that I’ve been in that age span for a while now, but have been able to dodge/ ignore the presence of those little humans till 2 of my close friends had babies in the same month, and another cousin as well.

I also realize that – since I now have a partner, I haven’t had to blidside babies as an impossibility – which has led me to pay more attention to those little things which require a LOT of attention.

A few weeks back, two friends of mine with one of theirs’ son went to the zoo. The zoo itself was great. Lot of open pathways for the kid to run wild in. Which he did, happily. For me, the scary experience was the ride to and fro. I’ve been driving for more than 2.5 years now, but I just realized that day that he was the first toddler in my car. I don’t have a car seat. Indian road rules don’t mandate it. My friend (his mother) was used to having him in the car, so she didn’t worry. However, I tell you those 45 minutes to and 45 minutes from, I drove with my heart in my hands.

One minute he was standing on the seat. One minute lying there (Inside my head screams: Stay there. Just lie down. STAY!), then he decided to check out the place between the back of my (driver’s) seat and the seat behind be – where he fits perfectly, with space to spare even, then he was trying to make his way to the passenger seat where another friend sat (where I firmly sent him back from), then playing with my umberella and then he was trying to climb on to the back. I had so many – SO MANY visions of everything that could possibly go wrong. Him popping out the side windows, or the back vizer, or the umbrella going right through him, … you get the drift. [I’m pretty certain that my kid(s) are going to be strapped into car seats. And Chair seats. And Cribs. And anything they can be strapped into.]

Then there’s the other baby. The tiny 5 month old (young?) who cannot sit still for a second when she’s awake.

We had a Biriyani party at her place (my friend’s. the little thing isn’t old enough to rent places out yet) – and 10 grown ass adults sat around in a room with one fan, occasionally fanning ourselves, because that one tiny human who is hardly 2 feet long got to sleep in peace in the air-conditioned room. The last time there was a biriyani party, it was us in the air-conditioned room.

Little humans change everything.

My other friend, she doesn’t live in India anymore. Earlier, she could come here and go as she pleased. Now, her little human determines when she travels. AND HOW she travels. Ha!

Are you wondering if all I have are gripes about these little humans that change lives and families?

Not really. I love babies. To bits. I know it’s a tad difficult to believe after this little rant. [YES little. Don’t even get me started on babies/ toddlers meet paper/ wall/ nice things in general]

What once used to be polite interest has now become open curiosity. I’m amazed at how much babies and parents have power over each other’s lives.

My friend (with the 5 month old) and I go for swimming classes together. One evening, as she was rushing back, she was telling me how her little one knows exactly to wait for an hour then start wailing. Apparently one day she got back a teensie bit later, and little K is drowning in her own tears and wouldn’t even let her go take a shower because she was scared my friend is leaving her again.

In my mind, I was thinking “Oh poor mothers! They can’t do anything”

My friend however, dewy eyed, declares “I was like ‘awwww – How can anyone love me so much!’”

That was beautiful.

These little beings disrupt lives. Then they look at you, hold on to one of your finger with all of theirs, and smile – and the whole world fades away. You are the most special person who reigns on that planet in that moment. And if they hug you or kiss you (or try to eat whatever part of your face fits in their little mouths!) that’s the sweetest.

If they trust you enough to fall asleep as you hold them – all the peace on earth is with you.

-

PS: Until they wake up and start wailing. Hehehehehehe!

Splashing, Sputtering and Spewing - Learning to breathe from scratch!

Breathing was the ONLY skill we never had to learn. It's the first thing we do when we entered this earth. Some of us did it easily, some with a little fuss, but we all did it.
When something is easy, we say it comes as naturally as breathing.
Now I have to relearn breathing - and my entire head it revolting at the idea!

Every time I jump into the water, it's natural instinct for my mouth and eyes to shut tight - and nose to suffer with the consequences of that!

Rewind to two weeks ago, when my friend was saying how great learning to swim is!

It's always been on my list, there were classes at a time and location that is quite comfortable for me, and it seemed like one more perfect thing to check off my list before I turned 30!

So I joined last week. The first 4 days were brilliant. They were blissful. Float keeping me a float securely, I just has to move my hands and legs to go forward in the water. It felt almost effortless. Towards the end of class 4, one master after jokingly asking me to try floating with a float, actually helped me do it. So easy!

I was so wrong!

Enter class 5, couple of laps, and my normal master goes - "Let's take off the float now"
Luckily for me, I wasn't alone. I had a friend (A friend of the friend who suggested we join swimming classes). We were both in initial classes, and at the same level.

"Float across width of the pool" the master suggested. "I'll be at the centre to push you along, don't worry"

Beginners luck long gone. Yesterday was when I found that I'd forgotten how to breathe.

I later realized that I hadn't forgotten to breathe, I was too stuck with my old way of breathing, that my body was absolutely rejectly the idea of trying the alternate breathe-through-the-mouth method. In my body's defence, it rejects the alternate idea even when I have a cold - which has had be waking up breathless in the middle of the night multiple times. [Said out loud, I realize how silly it be-s]

However, sputtering and gasping for air, we both made it across the width of the pool. Each of us feeling like we did worse than the other.

About three times into that, and the master said ok, go to the ladder and climb out.

Had we done so bad that we're getting evicted from the pool? Can they do that to us in the fifth class after we've paid for thirty classes?

Those thoughts and doubts were shortlived. After that moment, we were actually wishing that we'd just been evicted instead.

We were invited oh so sweetly to just “take a seat” by the edge of the deep end of the pool. My friend was busy voicing the thoughts that were screaming in my head “Please please don’t ask us to jump in here. We’ll drown. We’ll sink right to the bottom! It’s just the fifth class! I’ll die!”

Before I joined, my friend said "When you go, blindly follow what the instructors say. Don't tell yourself you know better" - At what cost, an imp in my head questioned.

The masters laughed sweetly and said “Just sit ma” Oh the endearments. Never trust the endearments!

“Now take some deep breaths”

“Ok. Please don’t ask us to jump” was that a quiver in our voices? Most definitely.

“It’s okay. Just breathe”

I’ve always known that water has the ability to clear our head. My snorkeling experience is still the most serene memory I ever hold. I was about to find out that water can wash our brains clean. Lol.

“Now jump”

I want to say that we either bravely or obediently just jumped. But no. We sat, we shivered, we pleaded with our eyes, hoping they’d change their minds. No luck. Finally, I decided to get it over with.

One deep breath. It became a prayer. Lungs and mouth filled, and splash.

The nose tried desperately to do what used to be so easy – to just take in oxygen and breathe out carbon di oxide. What went in was not air. What went in was a shock of water that seemed to fill your skull with the only objective of chocking and drowning the brain. The hands and legs moved. Not as they were taught to – it was a primal tune they danced – just to stay afloat. Just to stay alive. The mouth and eyes shut tight – another primal instinct? I never knew we had these.

When I did finally manage to bring my head up to the surface, it was only long enough to blow out all the water in my orifices. And before I knew it, before I was ready for it, I was back under water, cursing it as it went to attack my brain once again.

Some distance voice – from within my head? From outside? Shouted – instructing me to keep my eyes open. I opened them. Just water everywhere. This helped though, it didn’t feel like I was being water-boarded in a black hole anymore. It also helped me see the ladder not too far away. I desperately reached for those. When I did reach them, and held on for dear life, I could feel the water draining away slowly.

“I’m ready to go again” I heard my mouth say. 

The best among us

"Who would be the first among us to go" is not a question that we often ponder over. Definitely not when we're in our twenties. As cousins from a big family, we range between the early twenties to the late forties. Even with such a wide coverage, we've never had to think of such morbid things. We were young and healthy.
Life, or God, or Death, whoever it was, however, had different plans.

It's strange. Everytime I think about it, a huge sigh escapes me. No tear has left me yet however. I didn't let it. I can pretend it didn't happen.

I can pretend that I woke up to just the usual morning, got ready in my normal auto pilot way, and drove to work listening to whatever music was on the playlist for that day or talking to my fiance. However, that's not what happened. I woke up to find my father, sitting in a dark living room. That should have thrown me off. My father loves well lit rooms. He has all four lights on when left to himself. He was sitting in the dark, and rubbing his eyes.

"Naveen is dead" No matter how old you get, or how mature you get, you don't want to hear the D word in the same sentence with anyone you know and love.

"What are you talking about. He was just in the city yesterday or day before" Thanks to facebook.

"He met with an accident on the way back. One police says he's unconscious, the other says he passed away."

This is the kind of time you'd expect things to cinematically blank out. But no. Not for me.

"I bet he's just unconscious. Which hospital did you say he's admitted in?"
Hope. Stupid idiot hope that I cursed and battled against for years was back now. I had no idea it had moved back and taken such firm roots in me again.

I spent the next half hour trying to call every number listed for the government hospital he was taken to. No luck. All numbers were out of reach. Why can't the damn government keep their records upto date. My father was already calling his close relatives, his other sisters and my other cousins who didn't know yet and letting them know.
"Stop! You don't know anything for sure yet" I tried to tell him desperately. He was however wiser.
By a sudden light bulb moment, I called Naveen's number. Some guy picked up. "Give the phone to Naveen" I said confidently. I was certain he was just lying there, coming to consciousness again, and would say he's fine. The guy mumbled something and handed the phone over to another person. He identified himself as the police. "How is he?" I asked. Hope still standing tall. He went on to ask about who I was. "His sister. How is he?". "I'm sorry ma'am". "HOW IS HE?" "I'm sorry ma'am. He's. I'm sorry"

You know what sucks? I didn't cry even then. I just stared at the phone blankly for a while.

I didn't go back to tell my father that it was confirmed. It seemed a cruel thing to do. He seemed to know anyway.

I went and brought in the laundry that's I'd forgotten the evening before. I messaged my sister. I meticulously folded each piece of cloth and put it back in my cupboard one by one.

They were now talking about when the "Body" would be available to take back.


I realize now, as those stupid tears threaten to fall, that I'm a master at pretense. I can pretend everything is fine. I can pretend just the last 24 hours didn't happen. I can pretend he's fine 600 kms away, just as he was. As I pretend, another part of me asks and acts sensibly.

"Where is his wife?" "How is she"

Just like that, one life was over.

We talk about him in the past tense now. How cruel.

Naveen was my younger cousin. My younger brother. 3 years younger.

As cousins, we were in 3 different groups. My older cousins, the ones in the forties, born to my dad's eldest 2 sisters were almost from a different generation. Then the second group of cousins who are now in the thirties - we (the youngest group) looked up to them, but they still have played with us. Finally, there were us - Me, the three boys, each of us born a year after another and finally my sister - the youngest, who was in our group because we were the closest.

He was youngest of the boys, but the truest of us all. He stayed closest to the roots. Followed in our grandfather's and his father's footsteps. He loved animals and worked with them.

I've never in all the years I've known him, seen him without a smile or a laugh on his face. I've known him since he was a tiny munchkin I could chase. I've known him as the gangly teen - whom we teased and asked not to break. Who with his wiry frame used to romp around with his two big dogs, and more often than not, with a snake on his person. I remember him getting excited about a lizard, catching it and feeding it to a snake. I remember how everytime he laughed at my fear of animals, but kept them from me anyway. I remember being jealous of him as he was one of the first of us to learn to drive. I remember him as he outgrew all of us - but never made us feel bad about being shorter. After years of us teasing him for being so thin, you'd think he'd have a better response than a laugh when he grew taller - no. He's was too damn good.

Being a civil engineer, he was my father's favourite. He was the one who revived our grandparents' house and brought it back to life.

He was the first one from our group to find the love of his life. The first to get married. The first to have a baby. And now.

I remember the day before he got married - his wife's birthday, he got her a big cake, a teddy bear and other heart shaped things. Nothing compared to the amount of love he had to give. I honest to God have not seen a happier couple. His wife is a darling, and they obviously loved each other to the moon and back. She smiled and laughed as much as him. She came into our family less than 2 years back, but she's already such an important part of us.

It's been less than three months since we went to his baby boy's baptism.... looking at who used to be a little boy now effortlessly being such an amazing father and husband made me so proud. I don't remember going to any other niece or nephew's baptism. We went for his son's. We went because it was his son. He got the whole family to put aside even the little differences and anything else to come together.

I used to keep telling Bloo about him, that they'd totally hit it off because they both loved animals. Now they'll never meet.
Just the day before, his wife pinged me and we were talking, and she mentioned how excited she was to come to my wedding.

My heart goes out to her and the little one most of all. How devastating it must be to lose the love of your life at twenty-five.

I keep sighing thinking of them .. such heavy sighs.

I didn't go to his funeral.
My dad and I met him last at the station after the baptism. He'd come to drop a friend. We chatted and spoke about God knows what. Didn't realize the significance of that conversation then.
I'm happy with that being my last memory of him.
I won't ask why he took away someone so young and vibrant. I know God has His own plan. However,

I wish I'd stayed better in touch with him after he'd gotten married.
I wish I'd taken bloo to see him

Now ...

I know mom will take care of him, and show him around up there.
I hope he takes care of his wife and son, just like mom takes care of us now. I know he will.
I hope she figures out the best way forward.
Please God, keep uncle, aunty, baby and mom safe and within your sight.

Dark Alleys

Yesterday, after shopping at H&M at Express Avenue Mall, I thought I’ll check out ThakurDas Choithram. It was 8 minutes away by walk, and on the main mount road. So off I headed, towards there. However, once I took the right towards LIC, on the mount road, it was almost like it was a different zone. It was darker. Only handicraft stores were there, and much emptier. I was feeling quite a bit uncomfortable walking there, though it said it was just a 3 minute walk away.

I found the shop, and understandably, I didn’t like it very much.

It wasn’t well lit, it didn’t have air-conditioning working and it was after a lonely walk. That was enough to put me off, though they had rolls and rolls of gorgeous fabric, which I normally love to browse through. I left  quickly without buying anything.

It was just 7:00 pm. Not even late in the night.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

You know what the funny part is? I didn’t tell this to my boy friend yesterday, because I knew he’d not be happy with me walking alone in dark places – even if it’s in the main road. Just like the time when a guy on the road who was coming in the wrong way (on a motorbike), picked a fight with me (in a car) for his mistake. That guy, within minutes had 2 others speaking up for him, and questioning my driving skills, and giving nothing but support to the one who was clearly in the wrong. If it had been a guy driving the car, they would have decently apologized and the matter would have ended. They wouldn’t have had to be insulted loudly on the road, like I was.

My boyfriend’s reservations are  justified though, just like my instinctive fears. Fears I’ve not felt while walking through darker alleys, later in the evening, in other countries. Anyone who knows Chennai’s mount road would know that I’m not even close to talking about actual darkness, just darker as opposed to well lit, crowded locations.

The society here, the environment is just not supportive or conducive for women.

Physical and sexual violences against women are becoming increasingly common – and the victimization is starting from younger and younger ages – as my friend and I were talking yesterday. We agreed that sexual violences are not restricted to India. Far from. It is prevalent in most countries. 

What makes in worse for India though?

The focus is on the crime, how it was committed, where and why. There is even focus on the medical injuries that ensued. But there is little to no focus on the justice doled out to the instigators, to the assaulters, on the rapists or those who rag. The punishment is not clearly advertised. In many cases, it is not given till too late.

The excessive focus on the crimes, and the minimal focus on the justice system they have deal with is making such violences popular for all the wrong reason. Those are the real dark alleys now. Alleys which need to be better lit up.

This is not just the fault of the justice system. 

The media has an essential role in this as well.

News channels need to sensationalize the justice when it is given out, and also make more shows about how such evil doers are hunted down by the police. It’s the justice system that needs to be brought to the spot light to reduce the violences.

When will women safely walk where men walk?

When the figurative alleys are well lit as required. 

Rock-a-bye baby

Isn't being rocked gently a lovely feeling?

I imagine it is.

The last memory of being rocked to sleep is from when I was a little girl (as described in THIS post). I've been a big girl since and fallen asleep by myself.

However, the next best thing I suppose is being sung to sleep. I have a host of tiny babies around me in varying levels of baby metrics (I'm going to dedicate a post to baby metrics) - one thing common across them all is that I instinctively start singing to them when I want to calm them down. It works many times, doesn't work sometimes.

The tiny humans are probably wondering why I make strange noises directed at them I suppose. Last evening I was spending some time with one of those tiny humans - she's still shy of three months, and one of two things is going to happen to her; She's either going to continue to be really talkative, or she's going to be all talked out soon. For a little thing that can't make words yet, boy she talks a lot. Baby language of course. She spoke so much that I even forgot about my song. I was just trying to decipher what she was coming to say. She did pause to stare at the fan though. Of course, those are the most amusing things invented. I used that gap to sing to her, and she started laughing away. Was it me or the fan that amused her so? I wouldn't know.

Singing together is a happy feeling. I've been lucky to have a sister who sings amazingly, and (more importantly) sings with me. That's something about home that I love. Hearing a song, and continuing it from the next room. Granted she's accused me of making her forget many songs - and also, she remembers my composition of baby songs better than me.

My boyfriend and I, who are in a cross-continental long distance relationship also sing together sometimes. We're on the phone, doing different things, and singing the same song. One day, when he was being very indulgent of me, and I guess in a very good mood, he readily agreed when I casually asked him to sing me to sleep.

Being sung to is such a happy feeling. So calming.
That day, he had a whole playlist of songs ready for me. Yes not all of them would qualify as bedtime songs - I think he even threw in a few raps in between - however, that night, I gently drifted off to sleep with the phone on my ear. Almost better than being rocked to sleep :)


P.S: Such a random haphazard yet happy post right? Well, that's how I'm feeling now :D
Sometimes, who cares if the nursery rhymes seem a little violent? So what if the cradle drops or jill tumbles? As long as the children singing them are happy :)
Who cares if the fairy tales have been romanticised now? We could use lesser gruesome stories all around, thank you!

Love Everlasting

There are somethings you can’t explain

Like the love you’re already into

Never truly knowing, when it began

Knowing for certain you can always go to

I don’t know when it began

It’s been so very long

Don’t how or what or why

I just have a happy sigh

All that I have now is the warmth

The afterglow

Sometimes, little flames erupt

However true happiness lies,

In knowing that the embers are everlasting

Today, when I was almost through

Came right down to the end of the interaction

I put that last chocolatey cone of ice cream in

And remembered again

Not just the warmth,

Of love everlasting

But that happy gooey sappy smiley feeling

Of love alive

Trippin, Flipping, Stumbling still Bubbling!! - 2017 what a year you were!

Whoa! It's time again for a review of a year that was post! And, what a year it was!!!

2017 subtly, gently but surely nudged me out of my comfort zone in so many ways.

I did travel as much as I would have liked to, but almost none of them were alone. 5 domestic - Fort Kochin, Pondicherry, Wagamon, Tirunelveli and Mumbai (the one day trip - the only one I went alone on) and 1 international - China. Most surprisingly (probably only to myself) I immensely enjoyed the different kinds of company I had on each of those trips, and even feel that I wouldn't have liked/ enjoyed/ covered half as much had I been alone! Be it covering all the exhibits of the Art Biennale which I definitely wouldn't have done without my companion, Figuring our way through a foreign land, not knowing the language, feeling lost - that day, if it hadn't been for my friend who was able to keep a cool head, I would have broken down for sure or Lying in a tent on a hill that's almost where the clouds as the sky cracked open and poured down on us, as a girl friend and I giggled and laughed at our love stories, with no care about the downpour outside.

I was given incremental roles at work - things that required me to learn SO much more than I would have ever imagined, and more importantly, about things that I once believed were so far out of my scope of interest. If you'd told me just a couple of years back that I would be writing statement of works for drill kits, vices and what not (with the help of an engineer of course) and be able to do basic repairs in 3D printers, I'd have said you're high on imagination - but well here I am!
At the end of the day, as challenging as it was, I completely enjoy it!

Serious relationship! Now this one was and is a roller coaster - but I'm not alone, and hence it's so much fun! Yes I've been in relationships before. Even this relationship started last year, but it was just this year - almost starting from a conversation we had on January first, did the seriousness sink in. What initially seemed almost impossible is now a beautiful reality.
Long distance relationship - I've got a year of that left, so I'm going to just say that as long as there's enough love, it's not as bad I expected it to be at all!

Writing fantasy - this one was a pleasant surprise! I actually started working on my fantasy novel last year. I wrote about 5000 words then and paused. I realized this year that I was trying to extrapolate too much from my life experience and had to let that go. The world that opened up post that is extraordinary! I hope I do it justice in 2018 :)

All this, however, would not have been ever possible without the support system I had!
My family - old and new who have been sweet and great, My friends - they're rock solid and the best ever, My team - Best team ever!

Now moving on to some of my favorite moments of 2017:

1. Getting engaged. Funnily enough, the engagement of July 5th sunk in for me only on September 4th. ;)
2. The great wall of China, making it to there by train. Watching the sunset from there. Being there when it was pretty much empty - just about 5 others were there, and having a marvel and greatness of the endless wall sink in. That was fabulous!
3. Holding the hands of the tiny, minutes (less than an hour old) daughter of my close friend, after having stayed with her through the labor, calculating the time between contractions and waiting in front of the labor room. That's an experience that cannot fully be described! Got to mention that I went for a walk with the mother just the evening before :) 
4. Getting a phone as a gift from my sister! The little thing is all grown up, earning and even giving expensive gifts!!! Time flies. Proud moment :)
5. Getting picked up to go to a certain dinner by a certain someone. I had decided against going to that dinner because I didn't know them too well. However, I was picked up, and taken and made to feel at home. That car ride still makes me smile :)
6. Sitting on a cliff somewhere in Wagamon, watching the clouds pass by below and the sunrise above, as the plot of what happens in a world created within my head came to life 
7. Getting paati a new earring with Jeffy. It's sweet how proud grannies are of being gifted by her grandchildren.
8. Sitting on a swing and catching up with a friend of mine after almost 5 years. That was happiness. 
9. Meeting my team face to face in China this year :D
10. Craft - This year I crafted a lot of things beyond just dream catchers. It's been a whole load of fun. I hope I continue to do so!

Biggest regrets of 2017:

1. Mixing friends and money - lesson learnt: DON'T
2. Not going to Vascos for lunch :( I don't know why I don't do some things that I want to so badly sometimes
3. Putting on weight *cries*
4. Not writing more
5. Not taking better care of myself. Be it dressing up or staying fit. 

Hopes for 2018:

1. To not get lost in the vortex of wedding planning. Still have a wedding I enjoy.
2. To finish writing ATU
3. Go to at least one new country (please please please Travel Gods)
4. Find the gentle balance between Us and Me in relationships
5. Learn to wear make up
6. 58

If you stayed on to read all the way till here - Big hug and thank you :)

I hope you had an amazing year as well!

Do share a memory of your year here if you like :)

See you in 2018 ❤

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall

There are earthquakes, prime ministers and presidents rocking this world.

However, here I sit, quietly mourning two trees a hundred miles away, that stand no more.

My home in most of my dreams, almost till just a few years ago is the not house I stay in now - where I've stayed for the better part of the last fifteen or so years. It's my grandmother's house where my sister and I have spent almost all our summer holidays. Through my schooling days, Christmas or Summer meant a long vacation spent in the sprawling one storey house with a roof top that was the perfect place for run and catch, badminton, star gazing, watching the sun set, hopscotch, ... we were young and the possibilities were endless.

The house also boasted of a small water tank that doubled up as a kiddy pool, which we did grow out of - and an amazing garden.

The best part of the garder were two huge- and I mean Huuuggeee Chikku trees. We've climbed them, we've relished its fruits for days, we've played endless games with the seeds of the fruits and we were more under the shade of those trees than we were inside the house when the sun was up.

It was under those trees that we were fed – distracted by the music of birds.

It was the sound of a mynah that sat in those trees that my mother could perfectly emulate. We’d listen in awe and ask her to whistle that little tune over and over again, wondering how she ever did it. Trying in vain to copy her, having only air blow out, no matter how we tried to twist our lips and mouths.

When my sister was still a baby, and I was quite small, my grandma used to tie two sarees to the branch of one of the trees - the one closer to the side entrance of the house. We would both have a swing each. The saree was then padded with a layer of seat cushion and we would lie in it. My mother or grandmother would tie a rope to the two make shift swings, and keep tugging at the from where she sat – swaying us gently.

It was in the shade of that tree that I had my first and only pet – a little baby chick, which was stolen away by an eagle from the shade of the same tree. I cried for days.

As we grew, it was under those trees that we played house – with miniature kitchen utensils, big hopes and friends from all around the neighbourhood. As we grew, make shift swings of cloth couldn’t hold us anymore. The sarees tore and gave way. That sadness was shortlived however, as our grandmother knew our priorities and had a big sturdy table converted into a swing.

This swing was like a boat for us. Tied up to a tall branch of the tree by four strong iron linked chains, we could both now swing at the same time. We grew leaving behind kiddish things like playing house, and moved on the board games that we could play right on the swing.

The swing would make a rhythmic tung-tong noise – hearing which meant that the swing is in motion and the other is to join immediately.

This big swing was wide and strong enough to even hold my mother and grandmother at the same time. Those fat chains could easily support us as we leant on it. Three of us would sit there playing UNO or Bluff for hours.

Some afternoons, we’d nap on it – it had cushion and life was perfect.

It was on that swing one of those swings that I first fell in love – with Mr.Darcy, and more importantly, with reading itself. My favourite authors changed from Jane Austen to J K Rowling to L M Montgomery, but the love for the swing never changed.

However, time went on, life got in the way, we stopped going back there for holidays so much. The swing used to always be there on the tree for us, as long as we went back with my mother to her childhood home.

Eventually, the holidays spent there became just long weekends spent there. One day she passed on … we took her back there from the city we lived in, and after everything was done, I remember sitting on those steps that she used to sit in and wonder why they had taken down the swing. The trees were still a comfort, and a familiar climb – so I could find a big branch to climb on to.

More than ten years have passed since then.

The house changed in a million ways, that I almost don’t recognize it anymore. But the trees were as familiar as breathing. As close as last year, when we’d gone there, my sister, father and I were all climbing and hanging off those branches continuing like we always used to.

Last Monday, I found out that those trees were no more. I’ve been trying to write this since then, but I needed to tribute the happy parts and not just mourn their loss.

Out of the many things we take for granted, and only remember when we’ve already lost them and it’s too late – those trees will be. A childhood under those shades and the wind made softer by them.

I’m glad they were a part of my life. I didn’t realize how important a role they played till now. I hope every child in the world has a tree to play around.

Down will come baby, cradle and all

Have you heard the lullaby "Rock a bye baby?"
It's a very soft and sweet melody.
The softness and sweetness stop there, however. If you closely listen to the lyrics, you'll understand that it's actually quite a violent and sadistic song.

The lyrics go like this:

Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top
When the wind blows the cradle will rock
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall
Down will come baby, cradle and all

I've been having a crazy week at work. Another one of those weeks where I ended up feeling proud for not actually saying out loud things that I was thinking.

I woke up this morning not feeling rested at all. Having traveled both nights the last weekend, and having a busy Monday and Tuesday was not fun. My first thoughts were about the vendor I had to confront because he had given me just 15% of the items I had ordered, confused some of those orders as well, and forever gave me the "Working on it" story. There was no morning letter waiting for me. Added to that, my morning book currently is a Danielle Steel - Journeys, which covers physical and verbal domestic abuse. So obviously, by 7:00 am, I was ready to crawl back into bed, and sleep for a week or so.

There are some days which you know are going to be so bad. However, nothing has happened yet.
It's like lying in the damn cradle hung on breaking branch. You may be swinging on it, staring at the branch as it breaks little by little. Knowing that it's just going to get worse. Somedays they just do. Unavoidable impending doom.

There's no point in fighting even. Moving or shaking when lying in such a cradle will only break that bough faster. So you just let it go. Wait for it to be done with. The damage done can be assessed after the crash and fall has happened.

The crazy thing about these kind of days is, it all comes down on you at one shot. Before it does though, it's quite comfortable - in a way - the wind might be blowing, the cradle might be rocking, it might be the perfect kind of moment to softly drift away into sleep or watch the butterflies flutter around you.
Like hey, another delivery I expected tomorrow is coming early!

On the other hand, you have that feeling at the back of your neck - things are going to go wrong. Will the bough break? How far am I from the ground? Will the broken branch fall right on me, and will it fall away? It could even fall searing into me. Maybe I'm just a foot or so above ground, maybe I can roll away quickly?

Unfortunately, you'll only know when it has already happened.