Hi Googlies, 29/5/10

PTL! Thank you Mama Mary!

I celebrated my 41st Bday on 26th with family. Nothing special; just shopping at Panjim. My brand-crazy Kirsten bought an Adidas for the next academic year and I picked up an equally expensive school bag from Poshak for Nathan. Glenn had taken the smallies to Campal grounds where they had a blast on the slides. The kids voted for Pizza at Domino’s, Porvorim as their dinner, which I regretted agreeing to. Was ripped of Rs. 600/- for two measly pizzas. The crust was great but I could have made a better filling, I do declare! Well, no more ‘branded’ dinners for me ever and that’s a vow, not an empty promise.
The ‘pig’ incident with Carmona, Churchill and Raheja tickled me no end so I wrote a story which I will post here as Herald refuses these kind of ‘poking fun at pols’ articles nowadays. ENJOY! Hope you all liked the previous play I posted; that too was a Herald ‘reject’. Herald resurrected one article I had sent to Goa’s Heartbeat three months back; gave it a makeover and so I was pleasantly surprised. Ana says its my bday gift. Yeah, Well? So this month has been a good one with five articles printed so far.
Hols are coming to an end and I am the same size, weight and off chocs and sweets but I can’t seem to give up my coffee binges. God Help!
This Sun., I become a godmother for the third time: Baby Rosemary is in Australia so Maria has made her friend Reshma as my proxy and her hubby Victor to substitute for Glenn.
Chalo then. Do keep reading and post some feedback please to glenn@microngold.com

From the heart,
Auriel.



THE FOUR LITTLE PIGS
(adapted from that popular tale of triumph of good over evil)

Once upon a time in the sleepy old village of Carmona, there lived four little pigs. They were the protégées of a massive mother sow who was respected for her pedigree and yearly donations of piglets to the villagers.
One day, when the four piglets went for their regular morning stroll around the village, they noticed that the vacant plot next door, belonging to Pedro Camille, was filled with rubble. “What’s happening here?” exclaimed the eldest piglet. “Looks as if the owners were digging for gold but have found rubbish.” “Rubbish, my foot.” countered the youngest piglet. “This is land-filling going on, if I’m not mistaken. Let’s go tell Mummy.”
The four piglets ran back to the mother sow and told her what they had seen. Listening patiently, the sow nodded her head once or twice, then bored, she gave out a loud yawn and went back to sleep in the pool of mud. The four piglets were perplexed. “Why is Mummy not bothered about this?” they wondered.
Just then, the Sarpanch of the village came down the lane. He was going for a morning walk. The piglets stopped him and narrated what they had seen. “Oink! Oink! I know! I know!” said Panch de Carmona. “Pedro told me he was developing his plot. So what’s the problem?”
“But ‘Punch’ uncle, we saw a big sign there that read ‘Ra Hijda builders’. It was a strange name for a Goan so we got worried.”
“What! The rascal! He very clearly told me that he was employing a local builder and the flats would be sold to our people. I must look into this matter immediately.” squealed an obviously agitated Panch. He marched off to have a word with Pedro.
The piglets returned back to the sty. Their mother was still lolling in the mud. “Mummy, the sarpanch says that there seems to be something wrong going on in Pedro Camille’s plot. We fear that things may go wrong here as well. Let’s build our own home and be safe.” So the mother sow stood up, shook the mud off her body and waddled off to the market with the four piglets. There, they bought straw to build a house. They started building their house as soon as they reached Pedro Camille’s plot. The house ready, the family of five settled down for a cosy siesta.
Soon their calm afternoon was rudely disturbed by a loud yell outside the door. “Oh, Du-khors, come out of your house. I am hungry for ‘Du-Du’.” The mother sow peeped out and saw a Big Mad Wolf, standing on the doorstep, huffing and puffing like a steam engine about to begin its marathon run. “Children, we must flee at once. The BMW has come to eat us up.” Exiting from the backdoor, the four piglets ran with their mother into the neighbouring plot.
The BMW huffed and puffed vigorously and blew the house down. As the straw flew into the air, he let out a huge guffaw and sang in a baritone voice, “The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind, the answer…..” The four piglets were incensed at this arrogant attitude, but being small and helpless, they knew they were no match for the BMW.
“Let’s rebuild the house. This time we’ll make it stronger so that the Wolf won’t be able to tear it down so easily.” said Mother pig. So once again the five squealers went to the market where they purchased logs to make a cabin. Upon returning back to Pedro’s plot, they saw that the panch members had gathered the villagers there and they were shouting slogans. Some villagers came forward to help the pigs build their house, saying: “Even the pigs of our village need a home to live in. We won’t allow Pedro to sell his place to a Hijda.”
And so once more, a sturdy house built of logs was erected for the pigs and all was well for a while.
Then a terrible storm rose up from the South. The pigs heard a loud ‘honk’ of the BMW coming down the lane. “Who has dared to build a house in my territory?” thundered the furious hillbilly. “I will transfer him to Pernem!”
The piglets shivered with fright but the mother pig was brave. She told them to hide under the bed. The BMW huffed and he puffed and the cabin came down. “Ha, Ha! Now I will finish you pigs. All you know to do is squeal when you are caught.”
The pigs somehow escaped his clutches and fled to the hills to hide until he had left. From a distance, they could see the Wolf discussing something with Pedro, who seemed visibly upset. Then he shoved a fat wad of notes into Pedro’s greedy hands and left.
The pigs were feeling down in the dumps but far from defeated. They rested awhile, then went once more to the market for building materials. At the market, they met the Sarpanch and told him about the exchange of money. “Oh, we know about that. Foolish Pedro will sell his ancestors for a song. He only lives to drink these days. The BMW will be the one rolling in wealth, you just see.” he said, when they had finished.
“But we must do something about it. We cannot allow this to happen to our village. We must kill the Big Mad Wolf!” cried the four little piglets.
They made a plan. Soon the pigs and the villagers were busy at the plot, building a solid concrete house of cement, mortar and bricks. Pedro, in a frenzy of fury, hurled abuses at the men but he was no match for them. He ran in to call the cops but they were at the casino, spending their illegal money at the gambling tables. He called the BMW but the Secretary said he had gone for one of his interminable red ribbon ceremonies. As he ran back to stop the villagers by himself, he tripped, fell into the pig sty and landed in a pile of shit.
In the meantime, the house was ready. The pigs inaugurated it, inviting all the villagers and they had a merry time. When it was night, mother pig kept a huge ‘koso’ of water to boil in the fireplace and they went to sleep.
The BMW, on hearing the news, was furious. He huffed and he puffed his way to the newly constructed house and tried to blow it down. But try as he may, the house, which had been built to last with strong material and stronger intentions, just wouldn’t budge. In desperation, he sought to enter the house through the chimney but, to his bad luck, he fell right into the pot of scalding water and was killed instantly.
The next day, a procession of the BMW’s shrivelled carcass was taken all over the village, dressed in colourful attire, a juicy apple in its mouth. The Sarpanch announced: “Let this be a lesson to all of us – Pedro, greed got you into deep shit. Mother pig, if you had wallowed in the mud, nothing good would have happened. These piglets have proven that where there is concern, courage, unity and a good plan of action, the impossible can be attained.” Throwing the body of the Big Bad Wolf into the River Sal, the villagers returned home to live happily ever after. (1239 words)

FINDING THE DEEPER MEANING OF MARRIAGE.

The idea of being a part of something called the Marriage Encounter Weekend seemed interesting so when I got an invitation for it, I jumped at the opportunity. OF course, convincing my very reluctant husband and freeing my kids from school was another task altogether; but God seemed to be on my side, and I got my family ready for the trip. Eager to get going, we woke up early and tumbled into our van, the boys tired and sleepy, baby cranky, Glenn wary, Kirsten happy to bunk school and myself hopeful. Thus started our journey for the SVD Seminary, nestled in the hills of the sleepy village of Raia.
We arrived as the first session was already underway. A Jesuit priest, Fr.Leslie, was conducting the session along with a team couple from Benaulim, Vicente and Valene. He told us to introduce ourselves to the other four couples and say one good thing that we liked about our spouse. Then he gave us two questions to answer: “Why did I come here this weekend?” and “What do I hope to gain?”
My husband said he had come because I had wanted it and he didn’t want to disappoint me. I said that I had heard about the weekend when my parents used to go for it in Mumbai but never got a chance to do it myself. When Valy and Anna, the organizers, said I could get the kids along, I jumped at the idea.
What did we hope to gain? Well, I said that I hoped to gain insight into the mistakes I could be making in our marriage and to find a way to resolve them. I also hoped that my husband would do the same. Glenn hoped to get a better understanding of me and to build our marriage and family bond.
And so we began the exciting journey into the steps of the Marrriage Encounter weekend. We had to write many love letters, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Glenn warmed up to the talks after the first day and he too enjoyed the letter-writing and dialogues we had in the privacy of the bedroom, with the kids out of our hair for once. We were able to talk freely about our fears, hopes and disappointments in the marriage and to seek and give each other forgiveness. I cried a lot and Glenn tried to understand my fears. It was a momentous turning point for us when I finally felt he understood. I realized that I had been living a married-single lifestyle without even being aware of it and that it was affecting Glenn in a big way.
We decided to make time to dialogue everyday and when asked to write on how we were going to share our couple-love, I wrote “By holding hands and being close together in public, by visiting others as a couple and, by opening the door for Glenn when he comes home tired from work and giving him his cup of tea while he relaxes in bed.” Glenn wrote: “Plan outing at least once a month with wife only, visit the sick and old with wife, and kiss my wife when I get up in the morning.”
As we returned home, Glenn and I were happy to have gone for the weekend, sad to have said farewell to our new friends at the retreat and fearful that the loving atmosphere would vanish once we landed back home.
The next day, we wrote our first love letters at home and discovered it wasn’t difficult at all. I even sent Glenn several love mobile messages through the day and dedicated a song ‘There’ll never be another you’ for us on the radio.
Yes, we are on our way to sharing our feelings, not just with each other, but also with our kids at home. (640 words)