Deep talks with my daughter

Hello Reader Friends, 

We all have (especially the female readers) share a very special bond with our mothers. This relationship is an evolving one and comes at par with the universal father-daughter camaraderie, which is blatantly endorsed with great pride. Interestingly, most of us girls become friends with our mothers when we experience motherhood as opposed to father-daughter bond. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, we daughters are so different than out fathers but yet they are our benchmark (largely). 

It is a generation thing that I do not have any such memory of sitting with my mother in childhood and discussing about my fights with my friends, issues at school, or in general my understanding of life. Who cared? She had chores to do and then life was not so complicated because we ignored. As a result, our generation never spoke about what we felt! Or we had mastered the art of ignorance. Sometimes ignorance is a bliss but not always. And our generation would agree their personal flaws, setbacks, issues owing to the kind of upbringing we had. It was a fantastic childhood, gadget free and 'less was more'. But  we could have a meaningful one. 

Coming to the point, yesterday I had a heartfelt discussion with my daughter. It has become necessary to have a conversation with her since we live in a nuclear family, and grandparents are a video call away. I am glad that we spoke and she shared her thoughts. My daughter is very opinionated and raises her concerns. I like that the most about her. But she easily gets disheartened when things do not go as per her expectations. I cannot say about others but she does have a certain temper. 

Temper: I explained to her that temper is acquired and not innate. When we were born, we were blessed with organs, blood, bones, feeling of hunger (baby cries when hungry), feeling of satisfaction (baby is quiet when fed), feeling of happiness (baby is happy when we blow raspberries). A newly born does not know anger. Then how do we get angry while we grow?  If we were not gifted then we should not allow that  feeling  of 'anger' to be a part of our system. She understood but I hope she remembers and implements it. Temper is bad and unnecessary. A person with temper will always be left alone. Why would someone spend time with him, no matter how rich, intelligent, he is!

Gratitude: We spoke of gratitude. While kids today have access to almost everything they want, and we as parents make sure to provide them beyond their needs. Our generation of kids got things way below our needs that is just the opposite! We also get angry and disappointed when we are not grateful. So rather than saying 'why I do not have this?' be grateful for 'whatever I have.' Then she replied, 'With this sort of feeling I will never become successful. She said if I will be happy with little success then I will stop working and I will not get more success'. She is correct. But then a lot of what we achieve in our life is due to discipline and consistency. We must first celebrate the little success, be grateful and work on it to make it a big success. She nodded, it appealed her. 

Stop pleasing: This happens a lot with children. While they are innocent and resilient but they are sensitive too. When all those differences with friends happen and they want to hold on to their friends, however wrong the friends are, the child tries to fit-in. The trait of pleasing creeps in. Though my daughter is known for her bluntness but she does see her other friends being popular because they can please others. I told her that it works for them but not for you. You should never please anyone just be in their friends list. You are what you are. Be humble, polite, nice and kind, but do not please anyone. 

It took me years to understand this, to learn to appreciate my gifts, and I am sharing that very early on with her. Eventually we all have our journeys but the learnings are important. There is a difference between journey in a Benz and a normal basic model second hand car. The good parents, who set a dialogue are like a Benz car. They will make the child's journey, a happy one. 

You only get experience when you do not get what you want - Randy Pausch. 

And sharing that experience is only right. 

At last, for all this 'gyaan', she hugged me and said, 'I love you Aai because you respect me, and understand me better.' We both slept well. 

Thanks!

Trupti

Compassion - not 'another' day

There are days and then there is one specific 'day' that stands out. 

For me 21st Feb was one such day, not 'another' day indeed. 

As a human being, I take pride and credit of showing compassion to known and unknown. 

My philosophy is : you never know the struggle(s) a person is going through, the least you can do is to be compassionate. 

Compassion : a not so small word with not so small meaning. This word is the crux of life. 

Picture credit: 

https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/podcasts/item/happiness_break_meeting_suffering_with_compassion

Going back to pre-Covid times..in the 2018, I met Farida at an organic vegetable stall. Her head covered with a scarf, almost no eyebrows, and she looked pale. She asked me a couple of questions about the fruits and veggies, and bought a few. We introduced to each other and then left the place. A couple of days later we met again. I was accompanying my daughter while she was busy playing with her friends. 

Farida and I chatted and laughed. She was loving the sight of children playing, and rolling on the green grass. From our previous meeting, I knew she was undergoing treatment for a deadly disease. But seeing young life around lifted her mood. After this meeting we met once again and that was the last in the next 2-3 years to come due to Covid. We became friends on FB. I would seldom check on her health via messages. 

During Covid she visited Mumbai for her treatment and appointments but we did not meet. After 2018, we met on the 21st Feb 2023! She had gotten off from FB due to a sad event in her life. She did not want to socialize anymore! I had changed my phone number and she could not direct contact me. Finally she found me from her alternative FB account that she had not operated for years. 

We met over dinner. She wanted to meet Aadhya too. She hugged her and blessed her. It was so good to see her hair, and eyebrows that added beauty to her face. She did not look pale anymore. We chatted and chatted as though we knew each other from years. 

I have this ability of connecting with people. Sometimes it turns out to be good and mostly not so good. Looking at her efforts for finding me, I was touched. She thanked me for just treating her as a normal individual while others treated her differently due to the disease. Never ever has anyone taken efforts or gone that extra mile to make me feel special. But Farida did! I wish her the choicest of blessings. 

Certainly this day made me realize that you will be appreciated by the right person.

More than once, I have been in @#*t because of my over caring, and compassionate nature. It is clear that I can be fooled. But I am learning to be selective, I am learning to read people. I perhaps fail to come across as a strong confident female due to this soft side of mine. That is how I am! 

Some of them think I am mediocre and not so intelligent and can be taken for granted. To each its own.

People who judge others need to get life. They judge achievers, over achievers and under achievers. According to them they are God's perfect creation but without compassion. 

Cheers,

Trupti

PS: I forgot to click a picture with Farida. Sharing one from Google. 

Appreciation - significant but less practiced.

Hello Readers,

With grey hair, receding hairline, and a lot of other bodily changes that metabolically slow you down, this one ability of 'appreciation' has naturally come to me. I am sure my friends of my generation will agree with me. 

Gone are the days when I was care-free, and bursting with energy, those last minute plans after a hectic day at work were still possible. And now, if not the energy levels, it would be getting that homework done from your kid. Then I did not have to worry about secure future, health issues, paying loans. But now I do. 

It is now that I realize, I took my freedom for granted.  

If you have ever complained of curly hair and desperately wanted straight hair - then it is okay. But what is not okay is not appreciating that you have curly hair protecting you from going bald! 

A cancer patient undergoing chemotherapy knows the pain of losing hair. 

We often complain about not having that perfect dress, cycle, car, shoes, phone, and so on but we seldom appreciate what we have. We have so much to thank for. 

Appreciate time: Ask a senior citizen about the importance of time, and you will see his eyes twinkling thinking about some happy moments. At the same time, the twinkle transforms to sorrow, and regret for having lost all that time and having not much left. Every minute you spend watching that video, reading that post, chatting with someone, or any activity, remember that you are doing all of this at the expense of your time. Your time is precious. Appreciate it! Use it well. 

Appreciate opportunity: Lucky are those who have the opportunity. And unlucky are those who waste it. You are blessed to get an opportunity and make the most of it. When you work hard over that opportunity and succeed, that is appreciation. What you make of an opportunity lands you a second one. It is a chain reaction. This is something I have realized during the pandemic, when I was this close to an opportunity and it did not come to me. It did some but after a wait of 3 years. 

Appreciate yourself: We all have grown in different family set ups with different set of challenges. This defines us, and hence we all are different. Your journey to where you are right now is an achievement. Give some credit to yourself, pat your back! We often brutally self-judge ourselves. A little appreciation does wonders. Try it and see find a new you. 

Appreciate others: This is one quality that makes you human. When you appreciate others, you inculcate confidence in them. The positivity in their smile, and the happiness in their eyes after your appreciation removes the negativity. Again it is a chain reaction. Someone appreciates you, you appreciate the next someone. 

Appreciate your loved ones: These are your folks. Your friends and families who are with you through thick and thin. Appreciate their love and kindness. Be thankful that you have them. Life is happy only because of loved ones. These are your shock absorbers through the bumpy journey of life. 

Saying Thank-you and Sorry and meaning it while saying is an expression of appreciation; some one helps you, you thank. You hurt someone, you say sorry. Look into their eyes and say like you mean it. Believe me, simple things like this solve the biggest problems. 

Appreciate nature around you. Take out time to observe the scenery, the birds and trees, and everything around you. The air that you breathe will never be the same again. Being able to do so is a boon. 

Only when you live in the present, you will appreciate. Let it be your virtue. Let you be known as someone who appreciates. People will feel good around you, and you will be surrounded with positive vibes. 

So start appreciating from this very moment. 

However difficult life is, there is always something to appreciate. 

When you look at the positive, you ignore the negative, and nobody likes that! Certainly 'negative-ness' will go away. 

I appreciate your time for reading this. 

Thanks, 

Trupti

Retrospection.

                It took me some 7 years to revisit my blog. The prime reason for this revisit is one of my resolutions of getting back to writing. This writing is 'free', and 'unbound'. At the same time, I want the readers to relate with me, and learn something along with me. I promise not to disappoint you. There comes a time in our life where we reflect on our decisions, friends, achievements, and everything that we have lived through. If this happens to you often then things are about to change. I got into this mode of reflection some three years ago, and I see my life changing at a slow pace. Now I am working on my 'other me', and I see a big difference. 

Questions like: Where am I in my life now? Did I vision myself like this? Can I change my position?  What could I have done differently then? And what must I do now?

               Until my PhD I was a different person, one who believed in improvising everyday. I was regarded as one of the hard working PhD scholar in my department. There were issues like changing department, working without the stipend for three years but I did not quit; thanks to my parents. Finally, I submitted my thesis in 2012. Years of working under stressful conditions had totally changed my perspective towards life. I doubt if I really had one! I wanted a break after thesis submission. Then Aadhya entered in my life. I started growing as a mother but stopped growing in the other dimension. I was a post-doc fellow at University of Bath from 2013 - 2016. When Aadhya was 4.5 months old, I took up the position. So I was again working under stress, fighting against he guilt of leaving my little one at a day care, extracting milk in a secluded room in my department, the hormones astray, and exhausted all the time! Yet I worked but that could not translate as expected. Why? 

                Okay, so this happens with mostly all new mothers. But what I realize now is that I did not have a plan before signing up for motherhood and post-doc. If I had one, things would have been different. I had a strong will for PhD, and I worked really hard towards it. After graduating in 2012 and  until 2019, i.e. for 7 years I was doing things because I got them, not because I had planned for them. But Aadhya remains my best and choicest blessings from the Universe. But I forgot the other aspect of my personality apart from being a mother. I forgot to nourish that other dimension of mine simply because I had no plan whatsoever. 

                A humble request to mothers and ladies who are not mothers/single - do not forget to nurture that other you who dwells within you. Take out time and keep doing things that will 'better' you, develop you. Ultimately you become what you think. Let us not restrict to a gender, or a role, but to an individual, female or male. We all have that other part of us that helps us navigate through our life while we are playing a role of mother, father, daughter, son, wife, husband, and so on. 

              Let that other you be engaged. Basically that other you will define the kind of life you will live. Always have the reins of your life in your hands. Be disciplined, and never stop working on yourself. 

If you ask me what describes me best? - Mother or a Professional? My answer will be - mother. I take immense pride in being a Mother. 

               We all spend so much time proving ourselves in a particular role that we forget to 'other I or other me'. The end result is we are unhappy. And no one else can make you happy but yourself. It is rightly said that the solution to your problem is within you. Nobody knows you better so nobody can make you feel better. 

Hereafter, I will share my experiences, my thoughts on books that helped me grow, my workouts that made a difference, and many interesting anecdotes that are constantly changing me. 

I have subscribed for life-long learning. Are you?

Thanks,

Trupti

Child in you is immortal.

'If you carry your childhood with you, you never become older.'
                                       -Tom Stoppard

The quote above beautifully, exactly and absolutely explains my feelings right now about discovering the childishness in me. That child that always dwelled within me, refused to leave you in my growing years, that child who impishly laughed at my own self, that child who got scared when the light went off suddenly, that child who licked the milky trail of a melted ice cream making its way towards my elbow and more such instances when I am in téte-a-téte with that invincible child in me.

Every time I read a book to my daughter I meet this little child in me. As the story progresses we laugh, we feel sad, we feel hopeful and finally we are happy when little red riding hood is out of the fox's tummy or when Eeyore has a beautiful cosy house to live made by Pooh and Piglet or when 'Aalshi' the honey bee is set free after being trapped in a bottle of honey. With my daughter, I start this journey and relive my moments. Rather my moments are those that we spend together.

I have metamorphosed to a better mother, daughter, wife and lastly a human. This When the ugly 'different' duckling is lonely the smile on her face vanishes. I learn that ugly is being different and with being so comes loneliness but one day the different becomes as beautiful as a Swan and you are not lonely anymore. I learn to be brave just like those three little pigs who came together and kill the wicked wolf. I learn to be a child like Pooh who invents a silly game like 'Poohsticks' and suddenly being silly is the coolest thing ever. At times I am Bubby the sheep who innocently gives away her wool to the needy without expecting it back, I learn the art of giving. My belief in dreams strengthens with Alice who compels me to think about my Dreamland.

Oh! What a magnificent journey these little books take you on! Bedtime story time is our favourite time of the day. After being a mother I realise, my me time definition has changed. My time is our time. A time when I meet my childish version of myself....carefree, relaxed and forever young...when I bond with my little one being a little myself 🙂.

The 'different' Duckling

I am really getting good at reading stories to my little one. It is a daily bed time ritual. Though reading is a daunting task after having had a busy day but it is worth when I see her beaming. 

This blog is one such incident that happened on one fine day while I was walking with my little one along a beautiful pond side. The geese and few ducks were loitering around aimlessly. A pond is not worth watching without ducks and geese and turtles. My little one loved chasing them and they 'quacked' running helter-skelter. 

I am amazed at how these little kids are meticulous observers. For me it was flock of geese and ducks, some were white and some were not. My little one yelled with excitement, "Look Aai, that black duck! It is an ugly duckling."

I immediately answered, "No Aadhya, it is not ugly but it is different."

"Why is it different?"

"Well we all are humans but we have different hair colour, eye colour and skin colour. We are different."

"Okay Aai."

"Neither black is ugly nor white is beautiful. They are just colours."

She must not have understood this but I made a point that she does know that that duck was 'different'. 

My lessons of rational thinking commenced post motherhood. I measure and weigh before speaking to her or in front of her. I am choosy about what I read to her. 

Responsibility is the crux of motherhood or parenthood (in general). What you feed to these young brains goes a long way. As a child I empathised with the ugly duckling. I loathed how the poor little duckling was teased and harassed and bullied. But I loved when it metamorphosed into a gorgeous Swan. 

image - Google

As I grew up I deciphered plenty of hidden morals in that story. Importantly it was about believing in one self. Never feel dejected. Always believe that we all are different and unique. Do not forget to respect 'different-ness' in you and others.

This different-ness could be a blessing in disguise. It could be your strongest asset.

We all were once branded 'different' in terms of looks, intelligence, ability, competence...etc etc but we all made it to where we are today. Congratulations to all of for living with this different-ness.

Oh Yes! We still read the story and go through those emotions of pity and happiness for the little duckling. But every time I read, I do tell her that it is not ugly but different. And that different duckling could swim faster than other ducklings. 

There is nothing shameful about being different. It is good to be different than usual and boring :)

Love 

Trupti

Manthru's controversial perspective.

It is 7 a.m. and time for a cup of tea with the daily newspaper, a routine that Geeta Aunty has been following for years together. Her Mother-in-law never understood the importance of this deadly combination of tea and news together but believed about tea and gossip, together. Needless, Geeta Aunty looked forward to her tea after her morning walks.

Immersed in the newspaper, seated in her posh garden that needs some trimming, about to sip her tea, her mobile beeps. A message from her gardener Manthru that he is going for a rally to support a group of nationalists opposing Bharat Mata ki Jai. Manthru has not even passed his school, never gone to a college or university but what is education to do with intelligence?

Geeta is confused and mutters, " Haan Bhai, Freedom hain."
A few days ago, Manthru had been to a gathering held by a random sanghatna on 'Valid reasons for a Son to look after his father even after marriage - Mera Beta Mera Khoon.'

Anyway, firm on not to spoil her mood, she sips her tea. Nodding her head with a disapproval look on her face, she reads about the Bharat Mata Ki Jai broil! She is right there in the middle of thoughts, Geeta's MIL interrupts, "Bahu, look at the kitchen, it needs cleaning. Vessels need cleaning."
"Ji Mummy ji."
"How will your reading this newspaper help getting our morning chores done?"
"Don't worry Mummy ji, I will do it."
With that curt look on her face MIL says, "I always told my son, marry a less educated girl but he never listened to me."
Geeta is still busy reading. MIL is rambling in the background.
"Cook something good today, my son and your husband is coming home after 15 days from his business trip."
Geeta didn't utter a word, of course she knew her husband is coming; she soaked rajma beans the previous night, his favourite.

The recent ongoing controversies in the country have been disturbing for Geeta like for most of the citizens but right now more disturbing was Manthru's issue.

Geeta finishes the chores, cooks a meal and is waiting for the family to join her for dinner Lunch was managed on previous night's leftovers. She has cooked, Rajma-chaval for Mr Husband who misses this most during travelling, oil free paratha-oil free sabzi and sugar free kheer for MIL and Soup and salad for her daughter who has been struggling to lose some weight.

Everyone is happy eating delicious meal, MIL quotes, "I always told my son that a girl who cooks good is the one with a heart of gold."
Geeta chuckles and serves a little of everything in her plate.
The daughter is proud of her Mum.
The husband is busy enjoying Rajma-chaval.
The sun sets declaring the end if evening and Geeta in no time is in deep slumber after a long laborious day. One more day and her maid will be back to work.

The next day Manthru walks inside the gate and Geeta is enjoying her newspaper and tea; she hasn't gone to to her morning walk today.

"How are you Manthru?"

Manthru answers after a long pause, "Bibi ji, yesterday my son fought to me. His wife is really cunning. Wants me to leave my old mother back in village to die. She is old and getting finicky, needs help."

"Hmmm. Then why do you live with her? Send her to your village"

"Bibi ji, she loves me and cares for me; she is my mother, how can I leave her?"

Geeta repeats the question, "Why did you attend the rally?"

The question remains unanswered and Geeta sips her tea.

Delhi.....yet again!

New Delhi - Delhi - Dilli -- The capital of a populous democracy, famous for masculine Red Fort, tall Kutubminar, bustling Chandni Chowk, gorgeous Taj Mahal in the neighbourhood and its culture.

The memories of Chandni Chowk are still fresh and the aromas of kulche, paranthas, cholle, aalloo tikki...yum yum, the taste lingers. The cycle rickshaws, shawl clad people walking on streets, hot stuffed parathas being cooked by the roadside and served with tea, people grouped and enjoying a puff of beedi, the normal class busy with their everyday life. Dilli ki Sardi ki baat hi kuch aur hain!

Lovely and colourful and cheap markets; Delhi is vibrant and a touch of royalness is witnessed when you see those dainty shy girls clad in salwar kameez and modernly dressed girls redefining fashion; a culture whose foundation is an outcome of fusion of Hindustani and Moghul cuisine, art and culture, which  makes Delhi an exquisite experience.   

Basically, everything about this city comes in a spotlight; the good and the bad.

Nirbhaya gang rape, Mr CM, his tweets, his policies, most polluted city, not so old odd-even car policy and the recent 'world cultural festival' marking 35 years of 'Art of Living.' - Delhi has always been media's favourite.

A recent broil about why only Delhi for world cultural festival? The river is dying and now this event has seen a huge turn-over through out the world.

A lot of criticism and I don't want to get into politics, not my cup of tea.

As a teenager, I remember visiting Mathura on a pilgrimage. The makhanchor, nand laal's bhumi, where a speck of dust too is considered pious, the air, the water and the entire Vrindavan is nothing but a representative of Kanha. Hare Rama..Hare Krishna is constantly ringing in your ears. I encountered those white vaishnavas in saffron robes, immersed in 'Bhakti' and one feels surprised. How can someone of a different culture and lifestyle be so comfortable in a new culture? Fondly known as Krishna's bhumi, it must have been clean during his reign; cleanliness is godliness but I was surprised to see Mathura so filthy, so unclean and unhygienic. We went to banks of Yamuna; it smelled horrid and I never understood a bunch of people led by priests offering prayers to Yamuna; milk, rice grains and flowers with great satisfaction reflecting on their faces. Not only Mathura, a few pilgrim places in Maharashtra - Pandharpur, Tuljapur and Akkalkot are no exception.

Coming back to Yamuna, the pollution was evident but yet people were ignorant though recently several NGO's have taken an effort to cleanse this holy river but why do we need a reason to oppose? Why in the first place a gathering was required to make us all realize 'largely'about the dying Yamuna? It has been dying a slow death for several years...so it is unfathomable to me that a 3 day event is causing a major threat to Yamuna than those industries that have been polluting it for several years.

It only leaves an impression that in today's day and world, there is a set of people who believe in doing something and another set who believes in criticising and not necessarily both are correct.

Sadly, People who talk about Yamuna conservation that is making so much noise now, don't care about:

pollution caused due to them using plastic bags

their habit of littering everywhere

spitting that pan masala

smoking in public places

honking horns

violating traffic rules

smoke given out from their vehicles

indulgence into shopping and buying non-sustainable products

being unkind and rude

gang rapes and child abuse

Not only Delhi but all metros are chaotic, losing their integrity, peace and calm. Our natural resources are at stake. Quality of life is declining. So wake up! People living in East, West and South of India all of a sudden are concerned about Yamuna, which is appreciable but they need to raise their voice for problems in their state, city, town, village they are in has many more problems to be dealt with. 

My question to you is - there must be a river or pond or lake in your surroundings or neighbourhood, what have you done for its restoration so far? Did you stop disposing 'Nirmaalya' or immersing idols of Ganesh and Durga mata?

It would be sensible if we do not become prey to politics and become a part of it, we are highly evolved creatures and something substantial is expected from us. 

Every time you protest, be honest about the reason of protesting. It shouldn't be influenced by religion and politics - be honest and neutral; neither leftist nor rightist, be neutral when it comes to natural resources.

It is not only Yamuna that needs to be conserved and cleansed but also our conscience.

Pic courtesy: Google. 

Dirty lanes..

The only highlight Shruti looked forward to was her evening stroll with her Aaji (grandmother) during those 2 months of summer vacations; that was packed with interesting encounters. Walking through local grocery market, cloth market, old market, libraries, utensils bazaar etc etc. Shruti noted her experiences in her diary that very night.

So much to see, learn and enrich, Shruti was a big fan of her Aaji. 

Today, Aaji decided to trudge through one such lane of the city, mostly populated with houses glued to each other sharing common walls almost looking like compartments of railway, whistles of pressure cookers adding hot steam in air with the aroma of rice and pulses, from somewhere radio playing songs of 80s and 90s, young girls in groups chatting, boys running and screaming, men stretching themselves in lungi's and pajamas discussing their day. 

These were normal houses with normal stories but judgmental eyes never saw the normalcy. The existence of people dwelling in never mattered to rest of the city. Shruti and Aaji passed another patch where women of different sizes, shapes, colour would wear make up and sit on threshold of their houses. She saw a woman, stout, square faced, neatly done eyebrows, dark red patchy lipstick, with a gajra, a cheap but sequined saree with a velvet blouse. Another young woman in a gown sitting with an old man. The other house with a woman getting dressed up and giggling in between and a man sleeping on an iron cot observing her, with lust in his eyes. The neighborhood teen aged girl in salwar kameez with a middle aged man, walking with his arms around her neck.

What Shruti observed was that though these houses looked normal, there was something abnormal about their existence. The women were sad but yet doing what they were supposed to do, they weren't cooking but were wearing make up. There was a man in every house but they didn't look like a family. Some houses had no one but the woman was sitting on the threshold waiting for someone to come, all decked up. A group of women with glittering clothes and loud makeup were chatting and looking around like a hawk. There was something unusual about these houses, these women, their stories and lives.

               

pic courtesy: google

Shruti asked her Aaji, 'Do they look different to me or are they really different. I mean the houses, the women, their lives?' Shruti had only seen them in movies and sort of knew that they exist in the society. 

Aaji smiled, 'You observed right, there is something different and the difference is that they are strong women, who live life on their own terms, they are prostitutes. They have their own society and are comfortable within their circuit. Society doesn't understand them, looks down on them but for me they are a living example of being strong. After all no woman chooses to be a prostitute!'

What is the purpose for me to see this Aaji? asks Shruti innocently.

Aaji replies, 'I want you to understand that the world is a place where flowers and thorns live together, dark and ugly have their own identities, rich and poor have their own existence, normal and abnormality are contradictory. What is abnormal to you is perfectly normal to someone else. So don't judge anyone and before having an opinion, think twice. Just as these women, they became prostitutes due to circumstances, wrong decisions. A person is not good or bad but circumstances and decisions unfortunately make them one'.

Shruti understood something, her Aaji was preparing her for years to come when she will grow as an independent woman in a society that is so biased and judgemental about women. That day she went back and wrote in her diary:

A woman never chooses to be a prostitute. She is a woman first before she is anything else!

Devil...Fear...Smile...Conquer

As ambiguous as the title reads, once can fathom - Devil and Fear share a connection but how can a Devil smile? How can it be conquered?

The most scary, nasty and horrendous looking creature, would lose its charm with that smile.

Devils have been introduced through fairy tales and to me they are just like a speed breaker, when everything is kinda smooth and easy going, there comes a hump - a Devil.
Who is this guy? Who created him?

Unlike its opposite, the Angel, this guy has to be red eyed, a big jaw, long untidy nails, sticky hair that haven't been shampooed for ages and probably a big fat moustache and wait, what is its skin colour? Never understood why Devil is associated with dark?

Oh! So does it mean that a Devil is black, red, purple or of any colour except White? - how racist!

                     pic coutesy: twitter@devil, google

This is debatable and perplexing; his kin Ghost too is equivalently, a weirdo; hanging upside down on some lifeless trees almost like a bat, laughing wickedly and undoubtedly the most ugliest by looks. The whole clan seems to be stereotyped and amazing that none of us has ever seen or witnessed their presence.

Though I agree, when I trudge through a dark lane, my heart thuds and I can almost feel that knot in my stomach. I am scared. Afraid. Perturbed. But by whom? The Devil? But where is he? He hasn't touched me, slit my throat, twisted my arm and not even laughed thunderously but I almost feel he has done all that to me.
With all those goose bumps, I come in light and the Devil is gone. My heart beat is pacified, I have retrieved my throat and arm, there is no more laughter ringing in my ears.

And then I am enlightened that this  guy 'Devil' is nothing but my Fear.

I have encountered this fear; on the first day of my school, writing an exam, facing an interview, riding that bicycle on a road for the first time, giving a presentation, sleeping alone in the bedroom and every such little or big thing where there is a possibility of failure and rejection.

One is fearful when he is consumed by the thought of failure, which leads to rejection.

Now, that one figures out that this Devil, lies within us, the solution to conquer it also lies within us.

If our every failure is perceived as an attempt, a step towards success and achievement of our goal, there would be no fear; no Devil.

So, the next time when your heart is thudding, your throat is dry and about to be slit, your arms seem numb and twisted, thunderous laughter rings in your ears; stand still, get hold of that Devil and look into his eyes, smile at him and he will smile back; do not succumb but conquer him.

Celebrating Life - draft your way

Life is a journey for all living beings with an unknown destination. 

A new life - newborn receives the warmest welcome, the mere news of its arrival brings in curiosity. Yet unborn, this little creature inside the womb has unknowingly started its journey, its plan to step into the world and very little it knows about how well it will be received. Every parent, the farmers, the poor, the commoners, the royals; from whichever strata of the society have their own ways of celebrating life!

The recent 2 instances of the way of celebrating life lay the foundation for this post-

The world learnt of a proud father, an eminent CEO of a social networking site that I and most of us use to promote, share and vent our experiences from our everyday life. The CEO shared his joy of fatherhood. The couple's daughter, needless to say is the most precious gift for them and a very elated father, donates 99% of his company's shares that accounts for $45 bn (30 bn) at its current market value. Very sensibly this amount will be given away over the course of couples lives and it primarily focuses on improving human potential, promotion of equality of children. The couple wants the world to be a better place for their adorable daughter.

This announcement broke the internet - undoubtedly it had to!

Though there are many unanswered questions, CEO's wife's property isn't accounted and only time will analyse the authenticity and purity of the purpose. 

Like the world, I too applauded this benevolence and commitment of these powerful parents towards their daughter.

My limitations that I could only laud because unlike them neither I posses that amount of money nor I have that ability to make this world a better place for my daughter, instead I can only strive to make her a better human who can make this world a better place to live.

Often when questioned about the disparity in our Indian society, the divide between the rich and poor, privileged and underprivileged despite of India being a land of multi-millionaires, I prefer to keep mum. Do I have any answer? That is an unfathomable reality.

Oh Yes! I opened a Sukanya Yojana account and have been piously depositing some funds to secure her future - I am a commoner!

Now what instigated me more to write this post? 

A Prince is born in a Royal family of Bhutan. Again, needless to say the Royals are over the moon on their Prince's arrival in not so perfect world; a world that is cutting down trees, a world that is losing its connection with nature, a world where modernisation comes at a cost and at last a world where natural is replaced by unnatural and the later being accepted as modern civilisation. So going ahead this couple with the help of the government of Bhutan, plants 108,000 trees! Bhutan is a democracy, underdeveloped but high on happiness quotient. It relies on India for its needs but is progressive about restoration of a faith as per Buddhism, which believes that trees are symbol of longevity, health, beauty and to an extent compassion. Now why 108,000 trees? Like Hinduism, the number 108 is very sacred in Buddhism, it relates to cleansing of 108 'kleshas - impurities' that obstruct beings from enlightenment - so now you understand importance of 108 beads in rosary, which also exists in Hinduism and Islam.

So when Buddhishts, Hindus and Muslims dwell in India, is something like this difficult to adapt and practice?  

Never being colonised, being rooted to the tradition, never being attacked unlike its South Asian counterparts, Bhutan silently is giving a 'strong message' and it is up to us to decipher. 

Unlike the world, I applaud and praise this stance of planting trees more over the former's donation stance; no way I am being judgemental or demeaning the CEO. 

This Royal family has laid the stones and it is for the world to realise the significance of living in a world close to nature and the irony is most of us spend time and money to organise a perfect holiday amidst hills and trees to find solace. 

Solace is; when that crisp pure air soothes your respiratory tract and rejuvenates your lungs and different colours of nature calm your eyes that leave an ever lasting image in your brain. The experience is magical when your senses are in co-ordination.

As neighbours, India can and should learn so much. There is a probability of 'vaan nahi tari gun lagla' as a saying goes in Marathi. If each faith plants even 108 trees, a global message can be conveyed. 

A commoner like me who doesn't have billions or even millions to donate, yet can be a Royal by planting trees - what a fantastic thought and act - take a bow Bhutan!

There is no rule book to celebrate life and one can surely draft its own way. 

Each sapling is planted with a prayer and gratitude, the tree grows well and healthy, so shall the Prince.
Long live the Prince.

                                                        pic courtesy: thehotchild.com

Manthru's tryst with Swach 'Bharat' Abhiyaan

Immensely written articles about Swach Bahrat Abhiyan, celebrity posing with brooms, politicians cleaning heaps of garbage and being photographed were such a common sight in the daily newspapers….just like a thing of past it is now!

Everyday seeing a new face with white clothes and a broom and some litter around, the curious me once asked them, 'Bhaisaab and Behen ji, these Rin white clothes will get dirty?’. I was obviously ignored.
I agree that it was an honest effort that was genuinely announced and introduced by our PM but for some of them it was a publicity stunt or rather one more opportunity to flaunt themselves on Page 3 and for some it became a source of income. 
Sharing a hilarious incident that  happened in the neighbourhood with Gita Aunty.

Gita Aunty was sitting in her chair with the newspaper and a cup of masala chai. After a cuppa and catching up on some news she scooted for her morning walk.
Mathru, her gardener is compassionately cleaning the garden, it is autumn and a tiny hillocks of dry leaves, decomposed leaves that made ‘charr charr’ noise on stepping, whatever, leaves are leaves, just rubbish in the garden.
What is there to invest emotions in those dry, crispy and rotting leaves?

‘I am sorry that I haven’t been clicking your photos for cleaning my garden for last 20 years’, said Aunty as soon as she returned from her walk. 

‘I want to post it on Twitter’. 

Manthru was certainly unaware of all the ranting his Memsaab has been doing but gave a smile and pretend as though he understood every bit of it, after all it was about clicking his photo.

Manthru replied, ‘Memsaab, twitter mane woh chidiya toh nahi?’

Aunty was stunned, ‘Yes Manthru, Twitter has a symbol of bird. How do you know?’

Manthru replied, ‘I don’t know much but young boys of our society who gather for evening chats were talking about this’. He then continued, ‘Memsaab, they were saying something like usne aisa tweet kiya, uska tweet padha kya?’

‘Memsaab, yeh tweet kya hota hain?’, innocently questioned Manthru.

Gita Aunty now was looking for an answer and an easy way to explain him about Twitter.

Finally assured enough about having found an answer she started, ‘Manthru, woh kya hain na, like in old days Raja-Maharaja communicated using birds but in this era, no more Raja-Maharaja’s and no more pigeons used but digital bird is used and this service is Twitter’. 

Manthru is listening to his Memsaab with keen interest.

She then continues, ‘Are you keen on learning to use Twitter, Manthru?

Unsure if he is stunned or happy or in denial, he says, ‘Haan Memsaab!’

‘Acha Manthru, sharp at 2 p.m everyday. I will fetch my laptop and we will start the class in our garden, it is really nice here.’

A fast learner and so intrigued about changing world, Manthru is the new ‘Twitter Man’ in the society. His Twitter handle is @TheGardener….Gita Aunty is happy that she could educate someone and of all her gardener, whose nails had mud stuck in it but now would run on the keyboard. She was a role model for rest of the employers, her gardener knew to use Twitter!

Gita Aunty went for her evening walks, never missed it.  One such evening sipping her tea from the finest bone china, she cracked a light joke with Manthru.  ‘Arey, so much of swach abhiyan going around, we can supply them with some dry leaves from our garden.’ 
Diverting the topic she asked him, ‘Arey kya hua tumhare Twitter account ka? Did you tweet?’

Manthru hopelessly said, ‘Kisko karenge Memsaab?’ and Gita Aunty empathized with him.

Something popped in his brain, he chuckled. Ever since that day, he became overly active, never seen resting nor with his beedi. He started practising his Twitter lessons on Gita Aunty’s laptop every afternoon, Gita was proud of her and him as well.

Roughly after a week, just round the corner Gita Aunty saw a throng of men, photographers sneaking here and there, brooms after a hard work of cleaning, hillocks of leaves with some polybags and general litter. Men and Women with Rin white clothes and masks covering their nose. 

Then she saw Shambhu's popping head trying to catch a glimpse of the action, he was Mrs Dev's gardener.

With her hand raised high, she called him. He quickly ran towards her and greeted, ‘Namaste Memsaab.’

Gita Aunty said, ‘What is happening and what are you doing there?’

Shambhu said, ‘Memsaab, all this good is happening because of you, we are earning something extra.’

Perplexed, Gita Aunty asked, ‘What? What have I done?’

Shambhu's grin almost touched his ears now and almost blushing he said, ‘ Memsaab, Manthru taught us to use Twitter, most of the gardeners now know to use it. We sell all those dried leaves to groups who are interested in buying it. Today this group bought all the dried leaves from your garden!'

Shambhu eyes were beaming with pride, just like a diamond merchant's shining eyes while exhibiting his finest collections, he questioned, ‘Memsaab, can you not recognize those leaves from your garden…see those mango tree leaves, Ashoka leaves and also those dried bouganvillea flowers?’

Furious Gita Aunty could only see Manthru’s face in that heap!

No wonder the society looked sparkling clean recently. 

गणपती बाप्पा मोरया....पुढच्या वर्षी लवकर या!

आज बाप्पा परतीच्या प्रवासाला निघणार. अगदी थोर ते बाल वयोगटातील मित्र मंडळी खिन्न मनाने त्याच्या सांगतेची तयारी करतात. आहेच असा तुमचा, आमचा आणि आपल्या सगळ्यांचा 'बाप्पा'! अंगाने अवजड पण चेहऱ्यावरचे भाव बालीश आणि लोभस.

मोरया रे बाप्पा मोरया रे...

कशी एक मूर्ती, आपल्या घराची शोभा द्विगुणित करतो हे कोडे आजतागायत उलगडले नाही. गणेशोत्सवाचे दहा दिवस म्हणजे 'लाईव्ह' नेटवर्किंग काय असते हे पटवून देते आणि त्याची सुरुवात म्हणजे गल्लीतले किंवा चाळीतले किंवा सोसायटीतले तरुण मंडळी वर्गणी जमवतात, दारोदारी जाऊन. गणेश स्थापना, सकाळ - संध्याकाळ ची आरती, सगळ्या वयोगटातील मंडळीसाठी स्पर्धा, काही ठिकाणी 'फन फेर', ह्या दहा दिवसांत कधीही न दिसलेले चेहरे चक्क हसताना आणि कार्यक्रमात सहभागी होताना दिसतात. अचानक गल्लीतले किंवा चाळीतले किंवा सोसायटीतले काही फारसे 'गुड फोर नथिंग' तरुण मंडळी अत्यंत धडाडीचे नेतृत्व करताना दिसतात, कुठली मॕनेजमेंट स्कूल असा क्रॕश कोर्स देईल? माझा आवडीचा भाग म्हणजे संध्याकाळची आरती! काय तो कमालीचा तल्लीन पणा, दिवसभराचा क्षीण त्या 'टाळ्या-घंटी-करपूर' ह्या त्रिकुटात विलीन होत. उकडीचे मोदक कोण विसरेल बरं?

इतका आनंद, उदंड उत्साह आणि मनाला प्रसन्नता देणाऱ्या बाप्पा ला कोणाला सोडावा वाटेल? तो जाताना चैतन्य घेऊन जाईल!

मला काही राहावेना, मी बाप्पाला म्हणाले, 'प्लीज जाऊ नकोस रे, पुन्हा आमचं आयुष्य रटाळ होऊन बसेल, हे असं लाईव्हली वातावरण राहणार नाही. तु पुन्हा एक वर्षानंतर येणार तोपर्यंत आम्ही हा सगळा आनंद, उत्साह  विसरून जाऊ. नको ना जाऊ रे'.

बाप्पा एक मोदक खात म्हणाला, 'ह्ममम्, फारच टेस्टी आहे. अगं मी परत येणार आहे पुढच्या वर्षी. मी जाताना तुम्हा सगळ्यांचे प्रेम घेऊन जातो आणि जेव्हा त्याचा साठा संपतो मी परत येतो, तसंही तुम्हा माणसांना आवडीची गोष्ट लिमिटेड मिळालेलीच बरी असते!'

बाप्पाचं हे म्हणणे मला पटले, ह्या दहा दिवसांचा आनंद आणि उत्साह आपल्याला वर्षेभर पुरेल आणि प्रेरणा देत राहिल.

मी बाप्पाला नमस्कार करुन निघत होतेच तेवढयात बाप्पा म्हणाला, 'अगं, पुढच्या वर्षी तुमच्या मंडळाला सुचव की मला 'ईको फ्रेन्डली' स्वरूपात आणण्याचे आणि हो नो डाॕल्बी प्लीज!'

मी बाप्पाला हाय-फाईव्ह दिला आणि सुखकर प्रवासासाठी शुभेच्छा देत म्हणाले, 'गणपती बाप्पा मोरया....पुढच्या वर्षी लवकर या!'

The Story of rain droplets - Aimless to Determination.

Ever since Raveena started working as an intern as a part of her Masters course in Journalism, she started feeling responsible and focused. The difficult child that she had been throughout, she now was learning to mellow down. Working with a brilliant creative team at 'The Bombay Times', she found a new meaning to her life. She started commuting through local trains; her journeys became more interesting as she started observing her commuter mates nearly, anything could be a story now. She was this bud who was desperate to bloom, she was every bit of that jet of water flowing through the narrowed nozzle cleaning dusty leaves and branches in the garden, she was just like those rain droplets; still and determined on the window pane of her car, once upon a time!

A few months ago, this wasn't the case. Raveena was passionless, clueless about her frigidity, she had no dreams and had lost all her charm. She was just like that little flower in the vase which wilted due to insufficient water. There was something going in her mind that she couldn't express. She had a fantastic life, a life of a princess but she lacked motivation, lacked determination and had lost her creativity. Anything in excess is poisonous and that was the case with her. Love, care, money and freedom whatever one could have asked for was served on her platter. Her new I-phone 6 failed to enchant her, that I-pad to which she was always glued to was no more drawing her attention, a chauffeur driven car had become a golden cage for her – she had a privilege to open the doors of this cage and free herself! A life that made all her friends jealous and were ready to trade for but within, Raveena was losing herself inch by inch every day.

A normal Sunday evening, showers hitting on her car's window pane, Raveena could relate herself to those drops which were trickling down and aimlessly making a path to settle down under the influence of wind. They had no choice, even if they wanted to stay there on the glass, they couldn't! Then with the harsh wind, slapped a poly bag on the window shattering all those droplets. What a life! She looked at Jolly, her driver who was driving with concentration, hands steering the wheel and head straight on his neck. The small teddy hung around the car mirror was dancing, wipers were moving faster and faster again crushing those droplets. The car stopped, the red signal light looked hazy as though it was dissolving in that rain. Suddenly there was a knock on the window pane, a girl in her early teens drenched in the rains, wearing a frock that was wet and hugging her body stood with some bestseller novels neatly wrapped in a transparent poly cover was trying to look at Raveena through the window pane. 

Raveena pulled the glass down and looked at her. She was attractive, wheatish with her nose pierced, hair braided in two pleats with red ribbons and a prominent bindi between her eyebrows on her forehead. The girl was shivering but determined to sell her books.

Raveena asked her quickly, 'Naam kya hain tumhara?' (What is your name?)

The girl answered, 'Gehna'.

Raveena then questioned, 'School jaati ho?' (Do you go to school?)

Gehna with a light in her eye answered, 'Night school jati hoon roz' (I study in a night school)

The rain had stopped and signal changed from red to orange. Raveena quickly slid on the other side of the seat and opened the door, asked Gehna to get in before signal changes to green! Jolly was confused but he didn't utter a word, he took his position, hands steering wheel and head straight on his neck.

Raveena then gave a flannel to Gehna to dab that dripping water at least. Gehna with wide eyes was looking at the interiors of the car. This car was the best place she saw till date, spotless! 

Raveena then asked Gehna, 'Why do you sell books on roads? Do your parents ask you to do this?’

Gehna first dried that poly cover and then rubbing that flannel on her hands she said, 'Thank you for this ride in your car. I like your car very much and you are very beautiful. My parents are no more, they both passed away last monsoon, probably drowned in a manhole, don't know what happened. I live with my Maasi (mother's sister) and she has no children. She earns enough to live a life and saves a little so that I can attend night school. My parents always dreamed that I will read and write books, very big books. After they passed away, I decided to sell books and this earning would help my Maasi too.'

Gehna was still wet, her eyes and eyelashes were moist, looking at Raveena she smiled. and said, ' I want to grow up and become a writer, want to write big books and fulfill my parents dreams.' 

Jolly was listening but didn't express. Raveena absorbed every word, something moved her 
and something motivated her. 

Gehna then keeping her books on her lap innocently asked to Raveena, 'Didi, what do you want to do when you grow up? Do you also want to write books like me?'

Raveena said nothing, she herself didn't know the answer but this question was enough to stir her. 

She simply said, 'I love to read and want to buy all these books from you.'

She was glad that she met Gehna and Gehna was very happy to have been able to sell all her books. At the next signal, Gehna alighted and bid a good bye to Raveena.  The sky was clear, rain drops were just like pearls sitting on the window pane, the cocktail of sublimed lights through these pearl droplets was mesmerizing, droplets looked determined for once and so was Raveena. 

Sometimes a good-bye is essential, that good-bye was actually a new beginning, a new journey for Raveena. A journey full of motivation, determination and passion. 

Most of the times, it takes an incident or a moment or a story like this to jolt you, bring in self-realization. Determination never dies, it only gets buried somewhere under a mound and an incident, a moment or a story like these scavenge through this mound and dig out Determination- just like that rain, aimless droplets and Gehna evoked long lost 'Determination' in Raveena. 

Determined droplets 

A Bend in the River - my perspective

It was always on my mind to read Sir V S Naipaul’s work for reasons unclear. It could be because he is bestowed with Noble Prize in literature and of Indian origin or vice versa. The recent book I read of him was - A bend in the River. Terrific. Brilliant. Masterpiece. I so much like his style of writing that I am determined to read all his work. A few days ago there was a small article on top 100 books to read and this book is the 90^th and now I am well aware of why it found a place in top 100’s.

The story in short:

The character Salim, Indian Muslim born in Africa witnesses the post-colonial transformations with new government who also bring in bureaucracy and corruption. Salim is deeply affected by all this but he is flexible to adapt change, adapt new people and new Africa. His friend Indar who goes to London for higher education leaves him jealous and insecure but Salim overcomes that and is happy with his own small shop. Mahesh and Shobha are his friends from India with whom he eats and hangs out. Though they are friends, there is always a distance between them. Mahesh has his own way of doing things and is highly influenced by Shobha, largely this couple is a typical hypocrite and so is Salim. Sir Naipaul, beautifully points out the hypocrisy that governs Indian mindset from every angle. How Mahesh and Shobha aren’t affected by the changing situations is surprising. There is Zabeth, an African woman who buys stationary from Salim and possesses mystic powers. Ferdinand is her son who is initially difficult to get on with but later emerges as a very thoughtful person but cannot escape from the consequences of changing Africa. People like Raymond and Evette, man and woman, live in a pseudo life where Evette cheats on Raymond for Indar and Salim. Finally with growing threat in Africa, Salim is forced to flee leaving his shop, flat and car; in short without nothing he sets on a voyage for new life. Sir Naipaul is brilliant in portraying the characters, situations and everything kind of happens in front of you while reading. Corruption, rebellious youth, an opportunist leader and common people - the story touches every aspect and stirs the reader.

I couldn’t stop thinking that why has it always been about power? What right does any community or country have over other community and country? Is 'Immigration' such a risk? if not financially then emotionally? A person of a different culture moves, adapts and settles in a new country, amongst new people and new culture but still tries his best to retain his own, whatsoever changes he adapts and tries to be a loyal new citizen of a different culture and country , he still is insecure! He will never be an indigenous. Sir Naipaul beautifully brings up the controversial lifestyle of third world and first world countries but what is to remember is that all these third world countries have always been invaded, ruled and exploited by first world countries. If development, reformation and prosperity comes only by dominating others then I would prefer to always be a third world country citizen. What one needs to understand is after churning out butter from these third world countries and when nothing more was left, they were orphaned to deal with corruption and the worst of all - poverty! 

The story is all about how Africans were shipped as slaves, the Arabs ruling Africa before Europeans, effect of post-colonial developments affecting the immigrants. It is very important to realise that when a country is ruled or colonised, is orphaned after milking out all benefits just like sugarcane molasses! All colonies were left to deal with poverty, racism, corruption and illiteracy. It was only today that I watched the famous debate rhetoric speech by Dr Tharoor in Oxford, where he slapped 200 years of extortion during colonisation on Brits in 15 minutes of his speech. The most agreeable point is that not only financial, cultural and social damages are being done but ‘moral damage’ done cannot be compensated. The Europeans, Americans were busy developing, reforming and we Indians were fighting for our rights to live freely in our own country. Why Indian research or African research hasn’t attained those heights?  Most of the scientific findings, research was done during that time where people in colonies were illiterate and their resources were diverted to the ruling countries, this is the promenade reason why European countries have prospered in every aspect. Colonies were stuck in fighting for basics. Even before the Brits stepped on Indian soil, caste-ism was prevalent in India but when they left we were buried under the heap of discrimination on basis on colour, caste and gender, poverty; bureaucracy, opportunistic politicians who introduced corruption; in short it was a chaos!

The damage has been done, people who did bad are no more alive but we have our country and freedom, we have resources and we have a vision. To cry over spilled milk is a waste of time. This is not only about India but for all colonies; it is difficult but not impossible! 

Virtual Yug

Today this obvious struck me, probably my subconscious compartment in brain notices this everyday but today my brain cells took a special note of this obvious. You must be wondering, what this obvious is? Wherever I am, on business, travelling, leisure, all people around me are buried in their fancy gadget called smart phone - all heads down! On train, heads down in this so called smart phones made by smart human. Once upon a time, honest confession that the time without a smart phone was so 'my time'! I enjoyed being where I am absorbing everything around me and living in the present moment, I appreciated sudden weather changes that taught me to accept any change, I never wanted to update and declare to friends and acquaintances about my whereabouts, I never clicked atrocious selfies as my idea of fun wasn't about making silly faces. In short I enjoyed my company if alone or enjoyed being with family and friends.

We all accept that life has changed with technology but technology at disposal and so easily accessible is drawing us apart from being human. We unfortunately need social networking to prove that we are social animals. I again bring an issue of living in a first world country, life is moving with the help of technology but are we being enslaved by it? Are we getting addicted to it? These are some questions to ask. Everyday I walk passing Starbucks, people in there buy those status defining mugs of hot drinks, take their seat and are immersed in their robotic devices, I don't understand this at all. For me a cup of tea is unwinding, its a bonus if I have people around to chat with that cuppa, I am yet very Indian. On serious note, this head down position might get you in trouble named Spondylitis.

Has anybody thought that these man made electronic gadgets are controlling us! We need a smiley to convey our emotions, we need social networking to express our feelings - in a minute we may feel blessed or happy or determined or hungry! Common you don't need Internet to make you realise that you are hungry, it is pure biology. Your stomach and brain coordinate and then you realise about your hunger. Well I am no exception, as I keep on declaring about books I read and movies I watch but never would I update about feeling hungry or thirsty or blah blah blah.

What am I trying to emphasize on?- smart phones? Internet?  Gadgets? Not really, this is all about living in a virtual world. Bhagvad Gita mentions about Satyug and Kalyug but never about Virtual Yug, needs to be deeply thought. Let's make a resolution that we use technology for good,  for convenience. Today, where world is one place and people are hopping around the globe, technology connects us in the form of whatsapp, FB, Twitter, Gmail through these gadgets but trust me the warmth of a hug, happiness when laughter shared, sorrow fades on crying together is much effective than living in a virtual world.

There is a debate if Einstein ever said this but nonetheless, it perfectly defines Virtual Yug.

The current scenario, each family member has his own gadget - this stops you from understanding the concept of sharing, withdraws you from others, forces you to live in your own virtual bubble. I wonder at times, will our next generation ever realise the importance of meeting people/friends/family in flesh and blood!? Or will they prefer doing this virtually? Not to forget, we can talk, dance, sing and do every possible thing that defines that human are social animals, if we stop doing this then soon we would be creating mini robots, with no feelings and emotions but only virtual love and life.

Hold your head up, high and straight,
Let your eyes see the world around,
Let your senses be in your control,
Be ready to explore the world,
With yourself and not with your phone! 

Bye bye Maggi..

Brace yourself for this little nostalgic ride. Those school days and especially Sundays that usually was an official television day. As much as those cartoons were an indispensable part of Sundays, advertisements played a crucial fun role. Not only me but all of us, children of 80's used to sing in chorus very happily. I still remember that Sunflower oil advertisement - The healthy oil, the healthy people and that rolling big Puri with big gulabjamuns in the background. Do you remember that cute little girl saying, I love you Rasna?! I loved her as much as I loved Rasna. But the most catchy song was 'School se aate Dhoom machate...maggi noodles'. I was jealous of that boy in that jingle happily sitting with a bowl of pipping hot maggi noodles and bending a little, starts sucking up that flavourful delicious string of soft, silky noodle with lips pouted, stomach pulled in. This was so inviting and left me imagine that why my mother never made maggi for us when we came home hungry as dogs from school? Girls with curly hair often got their curls compared to Maggi, some were even nicknamed as Maggi. Maggi became a figure of speech and a proper noun! Such has been the influence and unconditional love for it.

Today, with this life threatening Maggi controversy happening I should thank my mother for not inculcating such habits of indulging in junk food but then at that age my brain wasn't aware of MSG and other preservatives involved in imparting taste and flavour, the harm they were to cause my growing body. Whenever my brother and I went to buy that little something from a nearby kiosk at least I was tempted to buy a pack maggi wrapped in that yellow poly bag, it always lured me. When my friends chatted about gulping down a bowl of maggi, I was jealous but whatever happened to me, my mother was undeterred from her decision of not buying such nonsense with loads of preservatives, instead she emphasised on making home made vermicelli upma and I equally loved that. I confess to have forgotten the lead laden, MSG rich maggi while gulping down that bowl of upma loaded with nutrition, free from preservatives and garnished with Mom's love. Okay, believe it or not I didn't taste maggi until I was 18! Shocked!Me too, when the whole nation and our generation was deeply in love with this little wonder that was damn easy to cook, I was unaware of its taste.

Taste bhi, Health bhi(??) and Lead (Pb) bhi!!!

(Pic from Google images)

It was only when I left home for my higher studies, that I started buying this 2 minute wonder and I was deeply in love with it. Hostel life - midnight hunger pangs - roommates - maggi and coffee, what a life - perfect!!! Then being a science graduate, I read the content but conveniently ignored MSG, probably I was trying to compensate my maggi less childhood. The idea of cooking something in 2 minutes was eloquent enough to bring it in our houses.

Now that the number of working Mums have increased by folds, life is getting busier as ever, the departmental stores are stuffed and overflowing with instant noodles, pot lunches, breakfasts conveniently sidelining home made nutritious snacks. Mornings start with cornflakes packed in boxes but thanks to those numerous dabbawala's for delivering fresh food tiffins. Find a suitable tiffin for your taste buds and you are sorted. To maggi, losing market in India definitely is a substantial loss but if they come up with a remodelled Maggi without preservatives in a biodegradable packing then they will be welcomed open heartedly.

Something irreleavently relevant is not to forget to thank our Indian Moms fully loaded with Indian sentiments, where they believe that cooking and feeding their families is a prime responsibility, she isn't selfish at all and this keeps us going. Well if she isn't able to put up a meal due to her job/career then why can't we expect this from the man of the house? A family that cooks together, eats together is a healthy and happy family.

So now, try cutting on food stuff containing preservatives. The longer shelf life means more preservatives! Indulge into fruits, home cooked foods. An apple enlightened Adam and let this 2 minute maggi enlighten us about good and bad food habits.

Happy and healthy eating to you all :-)