My latest book is The One Who Swam With The Fishes.
"A mesmerizing account of the well-known story of Matsyagandha ... and her transformation from fisherman’s daughter to Satyavati, Santanu’s royal consort and the Mother/Progenitor of the Kuru clan." - Hindustan Times
"Themes of fate, morality and power overlay a subtle and essential feminism to make this lyrical book a must-read. If this is Madhavan’s first book in the Girls from the Mahabharata series, there is much to look forward to in the months to come." - Open Magazine
"A gleeful dollop of Blytonian magic ... Reddy Madhavan is also able to tackle some fairly sensitive subjects such as identity, the love of and karmic ties with parents, adoption, the first sexual encounter, loneliness, and my favourite, feminist rage." - Scroll
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16 May 2008
Fatted and feted
The train back was better than the train there (the train THERE had a) a snoring man who I had to POKE to get to turn over and he still kept snoring and I wanted to smother him b) MANY noisy children--seriously, parents? This is not cute. and c) one little girl who was sitting opposite me and asked me several times why I was reading so much. Gah) The train back had only one baby (not noisy, rather sweet actually) and two hell-monster kids who yelled till what felt like four am--train time being five hours ahead. And after being late with my period in Delhi (I was only comforted with the fact that I could not possibly be pregnant unless it was the immaculate conception or something, which was also unlikely coz I'm an atheist) I got it in one ENORMOUS torrent last night, trying to sleep in my very uncomfortable berth, my laptop bag tucked for safety underneath my pillow. I even woke up out of a sound sleep because I felt it descend. I guess my ovaries were waiting for me to be back on Maharastrian soil. Anyhoo, that meant unpacking my suitcase and pulling out a change of clothes and trying not to look embarrassed and having to manage on minimal sleep and a very chatty cabbie on my way home. Why do people keep trying to talk to me when really all I want is to have minimal human contact when I'm commuting? It's true--if I can't pick the company, I don't want ANY company. Hmph.
tc, my little Motu Singh, is delighted to have me back. Oh who am I kidding? I don't think he cares really. He rubbed himself against my legs for a bit and then went off to stare out of the window despite me going, "Hi baby! Mummy's home! Did you miss me? I missed you!" I even picked him up and squeezed him just for looking so adorable (and so FAT, that makes two of us, I guess, because I look like someone's inflated me) but he rolled his eyes at me and went away to lick himself furiously. I like to think I'm more than just a giant pair of legs that feeds him, but you know, you can't tell. (Awww.. and just as I wrote that, I heard a little miaow and tc came in my room to say hello. My Turqinder. I'm so full of sappy parenting feelings right now.)
Delhi this time was mainly house parties, which I love, including one mini-thing at my house. Bani and Maya had a wine and cheese thing at their (yes, yes, VERY CLEAN BRAND NEW ABSOBLOODYLUTELY SPOTLESS) house (they have a thing for housework right now, in case you can't tell) which concluded with butter chicken. And because I was so reminded of Leela, I had to call her and we had a lovely long chat. Only I mistook Camembert for Emmental, so we finished all the Camembert and Bani was like, "Dude! Emmental! Just for you!" and so I had to eat it all. by. myself. No wonder I'm fat.
Oh, and such fabulous shopping! I did Sarojini Nagar twice and I must tell you about all my clothes. (But I'll make it easy to skip by adding asterisks at the beginning and end of the shopping descriptors, THAT'S how much I love you.)
*****BEGIN CLOTHES DESCRIPTION**********************
One sleeveless pink tunic thing with pockets and button straps. (Ooh and I saw the IDENTICAL tunic at Pepe for like LOTS of money and I was all hah!)
One very pretty brown fitted dress with spaghetti straps and a flary skirt that reaches my knees. It's more khaki brown than BROWN brown and it has these strings you tie up at the neckline and I wear it with a red tie-die dupatta for a very Spanish effect. Teamed with...
.. silver kolhapuris, where the sole is so thin that it gets bent out of shape pretty soon. But I had a pedicure to match them.
A balloon skirt dress with a large sash and stars all over it, soooooooo pretty.
A blue belted tunic, a little bit too large for me, but very nice thin material so I won't die of the sweat.
New Converse sneakers in khaki which I have been coveting.
A long yellow t-shirt also of this incredibly thin, incredibly clingy cotton, the kind that looks like it'll fall apart if you look at it roughly with a picture of a cat driving a car on it and it says Le Chat Noir. See, see, why I bought it?
A clingy white top with lots of cleavage and the kind of material designed to show even a mole on your stomach.
A dotted black and white tunic, with tiny cap sleeves and a sweet little belt.
Another yellow top, but this time made of cheesecloth, with smocking and peasant girl sleeves.
A black and white striped shirt, also slightly large for me, but looks good with jeans on.
And, not from Sarojini, but Pepe Jeans, I bought another long-sleeved shirt, with frayed edges and a paisley design.
K, I'm done.
I met K again, which was nice and after a VERY long time too. We're kinda, sorta, friends now, which is lovely. No lingering looks, no snide remarks, just everything on the table. I'm happy, he's happy and I guess we wish each other well and all that. There were some pockets of weirdness, but I don't think those are EVER going to go away, even if we're both married happily and have five hundred children. But we hung out like civilised adults even though I kept getting surprised looks from mutual friends. ("Uh.. you guys are hanging out now?" "So, you and K are like friends again?" To which I said, "Phssssssssh. Whatever. The past is the past.") Oh, and also I changed outfits a hundred million times each time there was a meeting. Yeah. Most mature.
Ya know, back in the day, when my move to Bombay was only six months old, I faced a classic immigrant problem. Bombay wasn't yet my home and Delhi had ceased to be my home. And now, I looked out from the Rajdhani at Delhi AND at Bombay and said happily to myself, "Home!" Isn't that awesome?