One Evening Out.....Offline

This is one of those evenings when my friends hijack my evening hours and wean me away from my computer screen.

“Actually speaking, evening is for strolling and socializing” (argues my offline friends) “its not for gluing on to the insensitive machine,”

Insensitive machine?? hmmn!! Well, they are unaware of the big range of activities of my dearest virtual friends with whom I have some 'mousy' fun round the clock, and otherwise also, I do have Saturdays reserved for my offline other friends, yeah! I do!! But still, this is one of those evenings when my offline friends insist that I walk down the stairs and interact with them out in the open air.

Oh!!

So I have two invitations today, a stroll by the seashore for an evening breeze and later to visit another friend for Ganpati pooja.

At 6pm I get one more reminder call to get me off my butt, and I say goodbye to my 'dahlink' machine and off we go to the Jogger’s park at Carter road.

It’s worth it!

The cool breeze and the beautiful sunset, the sky changing colors every minute with sun playing hide-n-seek games behind the clouds, throwing reddish to pinkish colors around the clouds’ lining creating an artistic pattern on the sky’s belly with harmonious reflections of sky on the sea below, such is the sight I bathe in.

We aimlessly walk around a circular, concrete path for next twenty minutes . At one node there was a gardener ..er..umph! a rabbit.. chewing up the grass….(recently I have been seeing animals at many public parks chewing up the over-grown grass, other day I even saw few donkeys on the road dividers chewing up the grass, creating a nice manicured strips in the middle of the busy road, I was thinking if the animals were purposely put there to save the cost of the labor and create food opportunities for the animal and get free fertilizers’ in return??)

After four rounds of the park, the beads of perspiration trickled down my back and I sat down facing the birds cage, watching the children play.. It’s a treat, indeed. A two year old child walks up the muddy path, her tiny feet slipping on minute rolling pebbles and she squeaks…aw!! her four-year-old brother runs and holds her hand protecting her from further scratches…and there is pleasure and joy watching these two kids and I am glad that I am here to witness this.

After one hour of such pleasures, we head towards my other friend’s home for Ganpati Pooja.

‘So very glad that you could come” says my friend with a friendly hug and I am led into her room that is occupied by Lord Ganesha sitting with flute( flute?? yeah, I am wondering too) , half of her room is occupied with the decoration for Ganpati with plates containing flowers, sweets, fruits, lamps, savories all spread in front on the floor. Pundit sits near the idol performing some rituals while there is CD music singing hymns in the background. I occupy the comfy couch and we wait till the room fills in with more invitees. (and devotees).

There is a certain kind of vibrations that uplifts the mind to the higher zones, filling me with the kind of feeling that is difficult to explain.

I am not an idol worshipper, nor do I visit any religious concrete structures for spiritual contentment, I don’t follow any rituals nor chant any rhythmic verses, I have always found spiritual strength within me, it is something that is there within and can be felt every moment, it is the harmony within oneself that helps me communicate with outside world in a pleasant way and but here I was, staring at Ganesha’s eyes and feeling the profound joy.

The pundit immersed the flower into the container of water and sprinkled the drops up in the air, lighting the lamps with camphor in one lamp and oil into the other, he started chanting prayer, then suddenly, the blasting music from CD ranted the aarti “Jai Ganesha, Jai Ganesh, Jai Ganesha deva. Mata teri Parvati, pita Mahadeva” The music so loud that I thought that Ganesha was uncomfortable too..(I was thinking of all the ear specialist in that area who would have a fantastic business after the festival) I am sure all of Mumbai could hear it, plus the heavenly abodes up above, where all other Gods reside. Why didn’t they allow punditji to chant the aarti instead? Had he forgotten his lines? The aarti went on for next twenty minutes with each person in the room taking their turn to hold the plate containing the lighted oil lamps and swinging it in front of the idol of Ganesha. Soon the room was filled with too much smoke from camphor. So much smoke in the room that any asthmatic person (like Dimple Khanna in movie Debangg) would have met an instant death. Everybody in the room was chanting the hymns with teary eyes.

And then there was silence.

But only for a moment and then it was punditji’s turn again to chant more hymns. Flower petals were distributed to everybody and they all threw the fist full aiming at Ganesha but not really succeeding, there were many flower petals on my head too.

The delicious part was the Prasad, (of course) a banana, an apple, dry spicy channa, modak, dry bhel, chikki, dhokla, veg cutlet, stuffed patties, coconut chutney. Yum!!!

Hmmn!! skipped dinner…and back into my virtual world. Hahahaa!!!

Elements in our nature

During one of the sessions at the workshop that I was attending on Management Development Program, we were divided into five groups representing five elements in nature: Space, air, water, fire and earth.

Each group had to write the qualities most suitable for that element.

The groups came up with wonderful results

The characteristics of space could be free, creative, curious, mysterious, limitless with no boundaries

That of fire is heat, uncontrollable distruction, aggressive, rising upwards, bright light, contagious. Can spread easily, calmed by water

The characteristics of water is free flowing, mingles with anything and get molded in it, always flowing downwards, creative,

Those of Earth is stable, firm, trust-worthy, firm

And that of air is free, creative, adventurous, daring, and open to ideas, more accommodating, universal and versatile.

These characteristic were then compared with humans and how the presence of elements in person shapes the person’s character. That explains that why we can jell with few people and other we cannot tolerate. A person with more of 'air ' element is more creative and he might find it difficult to understand the person with 'earth' element who may be stubborn and with strict values.

It is easy to be tolerant to people if we just understand what elements are stronger in them and what is the reason behind person’s behavior. Our personality is the combination of five elements, some elements stronger than the others. If we work against our nature then there is conflict and then stress and then depression.

We then wrote a bit about ourselves and I made the list of my own characteristics

Looking within, I discovered that I am creative, I cannot repeat anything twice, many times people ask me to make the same food I cannot reproduce the same taste…I like to lead and inspire people, I can make decisions independently. I am caring and more accommodating to other’s needs and am willing to walk an extra mile to make somebody smile. I am outgoing type and love adventure, like to try new stuff and am willing to take risk. I make few selected friends and look for long durable friendship. I never talk to people just for time-pass, I would rather read a book. On the negative side I am too sensitive and sometimes a recluse.

Thus, I discovered that I have more of air and water element. I keep away from people with fire element, because I hate loud noises and aggressive people and those with earth element who are stubborn and unwilling to go with the flow.

So, what element is stronger in you??

Hostel Room 131

Whenever there is a book lunch or any other event/promotion at Crossword, I get a SMS alert. This book store is just five minutes walking distance away from my home and it is a good place to relax. Moreover, this is the only place where I can go alone on my own.


So, today morning I got a SMS : “Meet noted filmmaker Onir at the release of ‘Hostel Room 131’ by R.Raj Roa at 7pm.”

It was raining all day which switched me off to a silent mode and I was quite lazy to test the sturdiness of those wet broken streets. Mumbai is not the safe place to do any jay walking, the minute I venture out alone; I have to recite some strong prayers hoping that I don’t tumble down too close to the ground over pot-holes or trip over chipped interlocking tiles. I can easily spend a carefree day trekking on the outskirts of the city or even take a comfortable walk on the steep hills of Europe, but Mumbai streets don’t qualify for such pleasures. More on that some other time, but for now, I looked at the skies. By 6pm the clouds had cleared and I was brave enough to go out to the book launch.

As soon as I reached the bookstore I saw two transsexual men at the entrance. They were dressed in tee and jeans and had gaudy make-up. I couldn’t help staring at them. It was early, so I decided to browse over some magazine racks. I had no idea what the new book was all about but I noticed that there were more men than women attendees.

The launch started with introduction about the writer who is the professor in the department of English at ‘University of Pune’, two of his books, ‘BomGay’ and ‘The Boyfriend’ is regarded as cult classic. His other books include ‘One Day I Locked My Flat in Soul City’ (short stories), slide show (poems), ‘The Wisest Fool on the earth’ and other plays. He seemed to be quite a popular writer (although I had not heard about him) but the bookstore was jam-packed.

When Raj started to read the excerpts it dawned upon me that this was a queer literature, that ‘Hostel Room 131’ is being marketed as Gay novel, that it is a story of two boys in the hostel madly in love with each other, struggling with society values and parental reservations. At one instance, I saw one man on my right stretch over and fondly ruffle the head of the man who was sitting next to me. I found that very odd. Now I have never been in the company of gay men, and have never seen group of men so happy in each other’s company unless they are sharing a drink or a cigarette puff.


Here I was, surrounded by men who were looking at each other, exchanging raised eyebrows and some of them holding hands.

(And for the first time, nobody was staring at me.) hahaaha!!

I was especially distracted by one photographer who was dressed in a very peculiar manner. He wore the most stylish black clothes with colorful mirrored jacket and a turban. Ears, ten fingers, wrist, arms, neck, ankles, and even toes were covered with silver jewelry and huge precious stones.

It was when the discussions and feedback started, that I realized that this was no laughing matter.

It was sad to hear about their struggle in the mainstream, about being different. How does it feel to be rejected by the society? Dirty, used, humiliating, worthless, crushing, devastating, useless … all these normal emotions I read between their lines. I have seen mentally challenged children at school but they are the happier lot because they don’t understand the society’s indifference. The blind people are happy too because they cannot see the cruel expression of the presumed-sane world. Deaf and dumb are lucky too.

But being born different and intelligent can be quite challenging sometimes.

Surprisingly, society wants perfection on all counts or else they cannot stop judging you. They find it very difficult to accept the people as they are or respect their way of being who they are. The discussions were quite thought provoking, sometimes black humor and sometimes pathetic.

At one point I was highly amused when one of them said that gay person is likely to get aroused by seeing the butt of the men who are shitting on the railway tracks during early morning train journeys.

But most of the time I was uncomfortable. I could not explain my own behavior, maybe because we are conditioned thus or maybe because this was my first encounter with them. We don’t normally see them differently in the usual crowd because they don’t get chance to show their real self but here they were, their actions loud and clear.

As soon as the discussions were done, I rushed back home. I did not wait in queue of hundred men to get my autographed copy.

When I came back home I was highly disturbed and wanted to speak to somebody who would understand me. I spoke to my online friend, who understands me the most and she encouraged me to blog about it.

I told her that I was afraid to hurt the sentiments of their kind and wouldn’t know the proper words to use. But she reassured me, confirming the fact that we are so used to the idea of heterosexual and that is what that seems normal to everyone. She told me to befriend at least one of them and they won’t bite and the truth is that they have been here for ages and the acceptance has just started and then added “Don’t worry, write, it wont hurt them”

I told her that it was very difficult for me to understand my own rude behavior and she laughed out loud, ‘lol’ing “You behave thus because it is your first encounter with them but soon you will see gays taking over the world” she said.

Watching through my green lens

I always have a camera in my handbag; one never knows when one might get a good shot. Over the period of three years, I have collected many, many pictures. Today I saw ektitli asking for submission, I am tempted to share my pictures there.


This is the interesting contest where there is a theme. There are three categories. We are asked to share two of our favorite pictures that touch their theme.

• Strength & Spirit:

Under this theme participants can send in their own photographic interpretations of strength, endurance and spirit. It could be anything from a massive bridge to a row of working ants or even your personal pillar of strength!

• Under this category, I have posted:

Caption: Talent has no age

With no cares of the world, young painters paint on the walls of the street for happy sunshine, now that’s the spirit!!!

Category: Strength and Spirit

Location: Mumbai (Wall project)

Caption: Dancing on the wheels

Differently-able children skate happily holding ribbons, falling at regular intervals does not dampen their spirit.

Category: Strength and Spirit

Location: Swami Bramananad Pratishthan, centre for mentally challenged, Navi Mumbai

• Moving Stills:


Under this theme participants can send in pictures of anything that has moved, inspired or motivated them. This a free category with no specific theme.

Caption: Tiny steps to liberation of soul

We, like a young monk, can be happy too, if we learn to be content in our own beautiful world

Category: Moving stills

Location: Gangtok, Sikkim

Caption: Careless Shopping

Unlike in those shiny AC malls, we can squat on the floor, haggle over price and still come back home fully satisfied

Category: Moving stills

Location: Darjeeling

Seven Deadly Sins:

This is a theme based category revolving around the seven deadly sins of pride, envy, lust, sloth, greed, gluttony and wrath…..except with a GREEN twist. Here the participants can send in entries depicting any one, two or all of these sins but relate them not to people but to the environment! (eg. ‘Wrath’ of global warming on our climate patterns, “Pride” of towering concrete cities after merciless felling of trees) We have to relate a sin to any crisis of environment

• Under this category I have posted

Caption: Fishy Business

Ignorant of its freedom, the fishes glide in two by two foot colorful tide, bringing joy to the human’s pride

Category: Seven deadly sins

Location: Darjeeling

Caption: Endangered Nature

Re-development will devour off the rivers and trees, there will no waters for dogs and human to swim

Category: Seven deadly sins

Location: Raighad, Maharashtra

If you like my pictures, I will appreciate if you vote for me at ektitli

Thank you so much in advance :))

Wordless Wednesday

Life is still tough

Freedom to Dignity

image source

On August 15th, every body puffed out their chest to sing National Anthem, remembering the heroes of yesteryears whose sacrifice gave us freedom from British rule to lead a life of dignity.

Some watched the celebration on TV and some formed groups and went to celebrate at far off resorts, further away from the city, there were even many cycling groups, who peddled from different nodes of Mumbai and converged at Prabhadevi. School children were asked to come to school on Sunday morning for flag hoisting. They too had a small celebration with stories and lots of goodies.

Everybody had fun in their own way.

But, somewhere else on the streets of Mumbai, an eight year old child sat hunched, leaning against the iron railing outside a railway station, dressed in traditional clothes, spreading her wares in front of her on the ground, she requested every passerby to buy her stuff. She was selling friendship bands. On a sheet spread before her were hundreds of plastic buttons with alphabets, each at Rupees two.

She didn’t know to read and write but she knew that one could patch together a word by simply stringing them together. A four year old, (must be her brother), unmindful of the greenish snort that leaked down his nostrils and the broken buttons on his shirt, exposing his bare chest, playfully jumped over the railing, performing different aerobics.



There was one more child, a ten-year-old girl, who stood quietly behind them.

India was celebrating its 64th Independence Day, but these children and many more like them, have not been able to cross over the threshold of poverty, nor are they fortunate enough to go to school. They sat on the streets learning alphabets by sight reading from those tiny printed buttons, learnt mathematics by calculating their earnings in numbers at the end of the day, learning the value of those numbers by meeting their basic needs, they honed their manual skills by crafting a macramé with cords and beads to make some friendship bands.

Addressing to the Nation on this I-Day, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said

"Today, India stands among the fastest growing economies of the world. As the world's largest democracy, we have become an example for many other countries to emulate. Our citizens have the right to make their voice heard. Our country is viewed with respect all over the world. Our views command attention in international fora.

We are building a new India in which every citizen would have a stake, an India which would be prosperous and in which all citizens would be able to live a life of honour and dignity in an environment of peace and goodwill. An India in which all problems could be solved through democratic means. An India in which the basic rights of every citizen would be protected."

Read more: Text of PM's address to the nation on I-Day -

The world listen to his speech with rapt attention, believing every word.......
 

Unfortunetely, these children are not aware that education could change their world. They are not aware that there are programmes especially targeted to the welfare of the socially and economically backward sections of our society. They did not hear nor would understand even if they heard the speech that said "It is our endeavour that every child, irrespective of whether he is rich or poor and which section of the society he belongs to, should be given an education that enables him to realize his potential and makes him a responsible citizen of our country."

They are not aware because they are simply invisible.
 
If only somebody cared enough to guide them to a proper channel. If only they found some real friends whom she could happily tie their beautiful friendship bands.

If only they would learn the meaning of freedom some day and they too could march ahead together on the path of progress and prosperity and proudly chant 'Jai Hind!!'.

***********

Other bloggers who wrote on this day too.....

 for Mera Bharat Mahan at Blogadda

all aiming for the mug from Pringoo and wish I could get one..want to have coffee if they are kind...:))

Tiranga!! Our National Flag

'At the stroke of the midnight hour, when the world sleeps, India will awake to life and freedom. A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new...' said Jawaharlal Nehru, the first Prime Minister of independent India.

Recently my aunt, who lives in Trinidad, came to visit me and she saw an Indian flag in my house. It was one of those flags that we find at the streets. I had purchased it at one of the signals, but I don’t own a car and therefore all I could do was to keep it on my dresser. She was delighted to see the flag on my dresser and asked me to buy for her too because she said that she is a proud Indian and loves to flaunt her nationality in her adopted place. She asked me to buy ten flags for her. Why would she want ten flags, I had asked her and she had said that she would like to distribute it to her friends because she was very proud to be an Indian.

I could not buy for her immediately because these flags are only available on January 26th and on August 15th when Indians are super patriotic.

Actually, ordinary Indians can only fly the flag on Republic Day (January 26), Independence Day (August 15), and Gandhi Jayanti (October 2) even though it was ordinary Indians who won India's independence.

Worse, our politicians and bureaucrats (who during the freedom struggle remained loyal to the British and now they remain disloyal to their own people) have the right to fly the flag when and where they pleased.

It is mainly because Indian flag entails huge responsibility upon its citizens, known as the Flag Code, such as, it must be maintained well; it must not be torn; when the flag is hoisted, all must stand at attention; likewise when it is pulled down, and so on.

But how many people know that? The next day of those two important days, we do see these on the streets flying with the rest of the garbage, little value for a piece of tri-colored flag.

A little Samajdhari on national flag:

The Indian national flag was originally designed by Pingali Venkayya in 1921. With a few necessary changes, the flag was adopted during an ad hoc meeting of the Constituent Assembly on July 22, 1947, just a couple of weeks before India won her independence. The flag served as the national flag of the Dominion of India from August 15, 1947 to January 26, 1950 and as the national flag for the Republic of India thereafter. Based on the flag of the Indian National Congress, the flag is a horizontal tricolour with saffron on top, white in the middle and green at the bottom. A navy blue wheel known as the Ashok Chakra lies at the centre. The wheel with 24 spokes has been taken from the Lion Capital of Ashoka on the Ashoka Pillar.

The Indian national flag, when presented to Mahatma Gandhi, had two colours; red for the Hindus and green for the Muslims. The traditional spinning wheel suggesting self-reliance took up the centre. Gandhi modified the flag by adding a white stripe in the centre for other religious communities. The red was later changed to saffron to avoid narrow-minded associations. The tricolour comes to mean what the country represents with orange standing for courage and sacrifice, white for peace and truth and green for faith and chivalry.

Nevertheless, I am sure it will have its greatest respect at my aunt’s house in Trinidad. It will be stored in a better place and distriuted with pride.

I hope to pick up a dozen or two for my aunt on this August 15th

Wordless Wednesday..children still play board games in India

The long wait

The wait was long. Almost nine months. My sister waited for her first grandchild.


I waited patiently looking at her DIL’s tummy as it bloated each month. And when she spoke of the child’s movement, she complained about the activity of the baby inside her womb.

“I think he is playing football” she would say.

“How do you know it’s a boy or a girl? It could be 'she' stretching out of discomfort” said I.

“Well, from the boisterous activity that is going on inside my tummy, it cannot be a girl” she said

She wanted to know the sex of the child.

“What does it matter?” I said

“I need to shop for the baby, don’t know if it’s blue or pink.” So much planning before the child is born. She bought clothes in yellows and greens but posponed the purchase of the baby cot.

And finally he arrived….a baby boy…

There was too much excitement in the family, everybody congratulating on entry of a new member in the family, too much activity, more than one could see during football season.

But he looked so serene and calm, cannot believe he had so much activity in there.

The new life has just begun. It’s a miracle. Really!!!

Celebrating Friendship and Chocolate day!!

On Friday, when I entered the school, I was in for a surprise. The children were in festive mood, some of them singing into the mike while others dancing to the music. Group of children sat on the floor to enjoy the show while most of the other children were excitedly greeting each other ‘Happy Friendship day’

Now you may wonder if all children understand the meaning of ‘Friendship day’ especially if they are mentally challenged, It’s true they may not understand the word ‘friendship’ but every child understands the meaning of chocolate and teachers had cleverly named the day as 'friendship and chocolate day'.

After the singing and dancing session, each child was given a packet containing assorted sweets and some friendship bands and they were asked to tie the band on the wrist of their friends. Soon the children popped the first sweet into their own mouth and then went about tying friendship band to their friends' wrist and exchanging sweets.

After they were done with the friends of their choice, some of them came to the staff room to put the band over their favorite teacher’s wrist. Soon our wrist were covered with many colored bands and we had collected so many sweets.

When this child came to my side and tied one friendship band on my wrist, I exchanged sweets with him and he bend down to touch my feet…..

Such sweet kids who know neither to hate nor do they judge their friends, when we smile they smile, we exchange chocolates, they accept it with gratitude and become our friends.

Comfort Zone

During my visits to one of the blogs, I came across the woes of the blogger who complained that worldclass T3 is built to welcome the visitors of Common Wealth Games and he was wondering why the station like VT, which handles more than 2 million commuters are given a raw deal.

He then spoke of a lady who was picking up the garbage with two pieces of cardboard and was not even given a something better to pick up the trash.

This sets me thinking. Some people are used to doing things which is most convenient for them and giving them something better is not going to make any difference to them, they might discard that fancy better stuff or even sell them off and continue to do what they are comfortable.

Don’t believe it?

I have this fruit seller who visits me regularly, climbing up two floors to give me his service. The other day he came to sell apples. I wanted half kilo but he had no 500gms-weight. He weighed one kilo apples and then distributed equally into two plates of the scale to give me my half kilo.

Clever!!

But silly me, I asked to buy half-kilo-weight to avoid this problem and he said it cost Rs40. I gave him money to buy one, thinking it will be nice if he had a proper way to measure his fruits.

The next time he visited me, I asked him if he had bought one, he still hadn’t. He said he had not yet found time to go to purchase it.

It has been four months now and he has still not bought it. He is comfortable weighing the fruits the way he is used to.

I want my money back. I feel cheated.

And since, I ask him whenever he knocks on my door, he has stopped visiting me. No more door service for me. Haaha!!

Can we import Europeans luck to India?

kyon ki european enjoy too much of Aish..haahaa!!!

such luxurious trains winding through hills

Wah! What a taxi maan? I would like a ride too, hope people don't have to cross the road to go to their destination

No climbing stair to catch a train, no warm weather to sweat and soak

bus..aish hi aish!!!!

kya kismat pahi hai gore log ne...hahaa!!

Memories of an another day

Doctor says I need to walk but I am lazy, always too lazy, and have various reasons for not going out for a walk…endless reasons…grin*....sometimes I have to push myself to walk in order to remain in good health.

And now-a-day I have some excuse too…It’s raining and the roads are slippery…hahaaha*.. I know, its not a good reason and on my way back home from my class of web-designing, I force myself to walk one-way.. it’s 20 minutes walk ....plus I save some auto fare…heeheehe (No, I am not chingoos…don’t get ideas) but this walking through these streets with pollution everywhere, is not healthy, I know, but it is a walk. Right?

So today I decided to walk and it was jeopardized once again. Heavy showers again with strong winds that blew my umbrella clockwise, giving it a nice dancing swirl and folded on the wrong side..(*how embarrassing*), soaking me in rain. I looked for an auto and got into one that was waiting at a signal.

"Get in fast” said the driver, “I am scared, today is 26th July”.

"So what about 26th July? Huh?" I said

“You don't remember 26th July? Every time it rains heavily, I am reminded of that horrible day when the water had touched my chin as I waded through the floods. I had parked my auto at Versova and went walking to Chembur.” He said

"You walked all the way from Versova to Chembur? That is quite a distance.” I said

“Yes it is; I walked through those dirty lanes, filled with filth and scum, wading through water for more than fifteen hours. It was a nightmare and those memories haunt me till today. Every time it rains I am scared and am reminded of that horrific day.” he said

Five years ago, on 26th July, I was on holiday in Hongkong and had escaped that deluge. I had watched the Mumbai rains on TV from the comfort of my family home. The flights were getting cancelled and there was more commotion at the airport. I had extended my stay in HK and came back after one month.

After I returned back to Mumbai, everybody had a horror story to tell. "There was no light and water for two days" said one neighbour, "Our lane was submerged in chin-deep water "said another. The stationary store down my lane had to buy a new photocopy machine, all the stationary was destroyed and he had to start all over again. The next shop, a cyber café, had all computers destroyed. A woman next door was mentally depressed as she reached home only in her petticoat and blouse and her sari was blown away. She was so rattled that she didn’t talk for days after that episode and had to be treated to normalcy. My maid, who lives in slums, talked about her how her family had perched themselves on the roof of their house and waited for rain to stop. Every person, whom I met, told me different story and each was a horror story. I was saddened to hear their woes.

I think schools should give a holiday today” said the auto driver, “The things have not changed. During last five years there has been no improvement. The people still use plastic bags, the infrastructure is still poor and there is no guarantee that 26/7 will not re-occur, I have lost my faith in my government.” He said.

Face-Off the Book

Every person I meet asks me the same question. They want to know if I am on facebook and if I am then would I accept their friend request. Yes! I will but only after I know them cause facebook, like my little private world, is dotted by the friends I trust.

Facebook had made our world into a narrow space where we get each day connected with our friends, visiting their thoughts on their walls, seeing their pictures, reading their notes, exploring their private space. Did you say private? What private? Who wants privacy? It is more fun to be open about your views. That’s the reason why we are so choosy in the first place and confirm only those friends whom we know.

Sometimes I think about my life during those pre-facebook days. Oh! I did many different things then. Read books, painted in oils, made many handicraft items, made stuff toys, knitted, crocheted, cooked and visited my relatives without any reason, I led a very busy life until this facebook ruined me.

Three years ago, during a private meeting, I heard two of my friends discuss Facebook and they spoke about the fun they were having at this network. I had received many invitations/tags from different people asking me to join this network, but I was reluctant to join yet another social network. I was quite active on Ryze and would read my people’s work on the forums and the extra time that I had, I would spend it surfing the net and maintaining my blogs. I didn’t feel the need to join any more of those social networks. But after listening to my friends discuss their Facebook activities, I was tempted to give it a try. As soon as I logged in, I was surprised to see so many friends lined up, all welcoming me, it was like I was entering a party zone.

During those earlier days, I would visit various groups and read discussions on their board and play many virtual games. I had even written a poem for one of the contests on FB during those days, where we had to start a poem with word ‘Face’ and end it with the word ‘Book’. I had written about my experience on FB then…

Face is potholed by too many pokes
Of friends and families in every nook
Vampires fights, somersaulting werewolf
Frightening shadows of their crazy look


Playing Scrabulous, and other virtual games,
Enjoying cold coffee by the brook
Many summers ago, on a rainy day like this
All I would do, was to just gape at a book

I had attempted six short poems, my favorite was

Face above sand
caught in a blizzard
unprotected, helpless
trapped like a lizard
A joke turned sour
his friends, all gone
if by miracle , he survives
he may write a book

Of course I did not win then, because I couldn’t compete with the talented poets who wrote such beautiful lines.

The first prize for this contest had gone to Tolu Ogunlesi from (Nigeria) for his winning entry called
Instructions


Face the future.
Pick the moon off
the dark, cold floor
of night. Slot it gently
into the earth, and wait.
Nothing might happen.
Just like in an empty book.

I was quite fascinated with different groups and would take part in many such discussions where there would be different interactive word games. I remember making a story with my set of six friends by adding just three words. Each one of us would write just three words in one turn and a long story thus created was really good.

I got addicted to facebook

For many months after that I interacted with my friends (On FB, I had very few friends, I could count them on my fingers and toes) and would envy those who had 700 friend. “700 friends?” I had asked my friend when I saw his friends’ list on Facebook, “Do you really have 700 friends?” and he boasted that all those 700 friends were not mere numbers, they were all real friend. It’s been three years now but I still have not managed to collect 700 friends.

Over the years the popularity of this network has grown. As reported in HT -

If Facebook were a country, it would have a larger population than, say South Africa. This week, the social networking site crossed 500 million users. This means that one out of every 14 people on earth is on Facebook. India’s share is 12 million users, three times the population of Hyderabad, the city where Facebook will open its first Asia office soon.

Who would have thought in 2004, when it was first launched, that it would become so popular? When Mark Zuckerberg started this social network, it was just to share notes with his friends and other students. He and his roommates, Eduardo Saverin, Dustin Moskovitz and Chris Hughes founded this website whose membership was limited to few students but was later expanded to other colleges in Boston.

The original concept for Facebook was borrowed from a product produced by Zuckerberg's prep school Phillips Exeter Academy, which for decades published and distributed a printed manual of all students and faculty, unofficially called the "face book". (source-Wiki)

Facebook has travelled a long way so have I.

I have more friends now with whom I can communicate and share my notes and my travel albums. I like the comments that are made regularly on my wall and like to interact with everybody. In the real world too, I have become friendlier, although of course, I am still shy of strangers and still never make the first move, I never start a dialogue with strangers. I never talk to my co-passenger while travelling, preferring to read my book, generally, I don’t make friends easily. I talk to only those who will talk to me, and am reserved by nature, but with those whom I have become friendly on FB, I seem to have fun.

Many of my offline friends still remain away from Facebook unless they are writers. Some of them have refused to learn. They wean me away from the internet, insist on meeting me regularly, want to go for long walks with me by the sea-shore or watch a movie, sit together at a coffee shop and have good time. They don’t understand my addiction on net and think I am wasting my time reading the personal views and making unnecessary friendship with people whom I may never meet.

I too am not sure if I will ever meet those online friends.

What does it matter? It’s the happiness that counts and if an unknown face can give us happiness by their expression of their sweet words, we have nothing to lose.

On a rainy day like this, none of my offline friend will visit me. I am stranded in my house in the self imposed curfew, I cook for a me a nice meal, and even enjoy a hot cup of coffee but cooped up in my dingy room only a FB friend can cheer me.

I am participating in the WeBlog's Sleepy Sunday contest! You may read other participating posts HERE

(Un)Blessed Children

I feel pain, an intense pain, when I see children begging. I never give them cash, always afraid that they will know the taste of easy money at this age when they should be learning that begging is not a dignified thing to do, that education is the better option and if one is educated, there are wide choices available out there in the world. But at this tender age, I see them at every signal, running from one parked car, to another auto, to another car, some of them selling flowers, some of them sell books and some of them only beg, peeping through the glass window, putting on the pathetic face and asking for cash of which they may not even comprehend its value. Many of them might kidnapped and abused, their childhood scarred forever.

But then what can one do??

In my life time, I have taught many maids to read and write, teaching them simple mathematics, to read and write alphabets, to write their name, to be able to write phone messages and numbers for their employers. There have been many maids who have learnt a lot and have migrated with their employer because they are able to read and write. But most of the time I have been disappointed. I spend money buying all the necessary books and stationary but they lose interest and are not sincere. Some of them are plain stupid and I have to really try very hard to make them learn some simple things. And most of them have interfering parents who are always suspicious of my willingness to teach.

I once had a maid who used to bring her 9-year-old daughter to work. Most of the work she would ask her daughter to do, with her only supervising her daughter’s work. I would feel that she is taking advantage of her young child and thought it was not very nice thing to do. But the kid excelled in all the chores that she did. She washed utensils, swabbed floors and did all other work efficiently. She was an enthusiastic learner too and I saw great potential in her. I wanted to educate her and asked for her mom’s permission.

Her mother was very pleased. She suggested that she stay with me and help me with the household chore while I could teach her whenever I could. The next day, she moved into my house and into my private zone. Now I am very uncomfortable with live-in maids and I prefer to do odd jobs on my own. I don’t like to take any service from anybody and especially not from this 9-year-old kid. Anyway, now I was committed.

Her mother enrolled her in a school and I got for her all the necessary things that she would require like school uniform, books, stationary and all her personal items that she would require for her day to day activities. I was feeling like her prodigal mom. I fussed over her food, making sure that she was ate well, took up her school work and doted over her. She would wake up early morning, get ready for school, come back and study. Personally, she was of no use to me; the only work she did in my house was to help me with chopping of vegetables and dusting the furniture. All her free time, she would spend in her personal grooming or watching TV. But her mother thought she was doing me a great favor by getting me a live-in maid.

As the days passed, it was becoming very cumbersome for me to have this girl in my house. I couldn’t leave my house unless I chose to take her with me. Her family would visit her at all odd hours of the day. Her TV habits were giving me a head ache. I had lost my personal space. Since she was a normal girl, just like the children her age, she would have her temper tantrums when the things would not go her way. At once such occasion, I scolded her and she decided to go on hunger strike.

She just refused to eat.

What can one do if the person is stubborn? I was not about to apologize to her for the scolding which was due and proper. Sometimes it is important to point out the flaws in the person to show them the right track.

I tried to coax her to eat but no cajoling helped.

She skipped dinner and the breakfast the next morning. When her mom came to work, she complained about me and accused me of starving her.

What followed next is too messy to relate.

Till date, I have never again invited any maid for free tuitions nor do I go out of my way to offer my help to anybody. I would rather help in an institution voluntarily and work at my own leisure. Sometimes it is best to leave things as they are.

What can one do?

Furious Critter

Last night my room-mate Smitha, came running into my room, screaming, “There is a flying cockroach in my room.” She said

“Kill it”, I said

“No! I am afraid, Please come and you kill it” she said

"What are afraid of such a tiny thing? If you were in China you could have sold these by dozens" I said

But actually, I am afraid too. Its very sight is so disgusting, That chocolatee brown body with those menacing whiskers, more ferocious than Ram Gopal Verma film heroes but I was not to show my cowardice in front of my room mate who had great faith in me. She trusted me to solve her problems so I bravely went to the battle field. The cockroach was flying in all directions, a tiny helicopter type species. I armed myself with pesticide spray and stood at one corner of the room, and sprayed from a distance. The spray filtered through my nostrils, I covered my nose and didn’t see cockroach getting furious. It flew in my direction, I heard the whoosh closer to my ears as it brushed against my ear-lobes then flew back in opposite direction and Smitha screamed. I threw the tin on the floor and climbed up on the bed, covering my ears, hopping on the soft bed, lost my balance and down I was on my butt, unable to move. The pesticide was playing its tricks on cockroach too, it fell down next to me on its back with his feet doing the latest aerobics, swinging its tiny feet in the air and spinning round and round.

I slowly crawled a bit further away, so as not to disturb the spinning cockroach. “Your hours are numbered” I told the cockroach showing my tight fist and slid away on my bruised butt away from this critter.

But this one belonged to some Pathan species, very, very strong, had a great will power to survive and would not die easy. It kept swinging its eight arms/feet in such a way that it suddenly turned over and started walking, like a drunkard. Smitha screamed again, “look, it is not dead” she said

“Okay, bring the slippers and kill it now, just crush it under your feet” I said, gritting my teeth, feeling the genes of Naxalites crawling under my skin.

“No! I shall not kill.” she said wriggling her nose, very devoted to her PETA clan

“Kill or it shall walk up to your bed and come and sleep with you” I said trying to instill the fear in her.

“No!” she screamed again as the cockroach turned to walk towards her direction.

She waited far away and watched attentively, following its every movements. TV programs forgotten, hunger vanished and internet was idle. Such undivided, focussed concentration! I think if she meditated on the cockroach for next one hour she might have reached Nirvana.

The critter walked slowly, aimlessly, its wings loosely dragging from its flesh. It seemed like it had wardrobe malfunction. It walked from room to room, parading with caution, until it went under the bed in the living room and disappeared.

Smitha spent the restless night unsure of her safety. When she slept for a little while, she dreamt about the cockroach that had come back with the army of hundred critters to get their revenge.

Early morning, I swept off corpse.

Passing the parcel

Although my birthday was last month, but it never ends till all my friends have wished me, so today, another set of friends (just eight) came over for lunch to enjoy the belated party.


Now eight is a big number for a private party and I don’t like to leave anybody out of conversation so I decided to have some games to get everybody involved. After the delicious lunch of Veg Briyani, Samosas, bhajiyas and Raita followed by chocolate ice-cream, we started the normal game of bingo for warm up and almost everybody received a small gift for their participation as the play progressed from jaldifive to 3 lines to full house.

Next we started to play the interesting game of passing the parcel. When we were kids, game of passing the parcel was all time favorite where we had punishments which would be quite entertaining with something like ’sing a song’ or imitate so-n-so, or some other childish punishment which sometimes would be quite an embarrassment. But today these kinds of punishments were not on my mind. I wanted to do something innovative.

So I made list of six topics for discussion as punishments where in I put the question and the person was asked to express her views. Following questions were asked:

Q1: As we all know that Imran is a gay icon- how will our community behave if they start exposing gays. Do you think that older generation will be able to accept this fact? What kind of conversation will the people be having during discussion of latest trend of our youth?

Q2 Do you feel suicidal sometimes? What things irritate you the most and you get this kind of feeling that the world is not worth living in?

Q3 Do you think media is responsible today? If you were a reporter what would be your first priority of reportage?

Q4 You know your friends are not paying attention to their health. You want to help them but you also know that she/he is not likely to follow your advice. What strong words would you use to bring home the message?

Q5Do you believe in idol worship and blind faith? If someday, you became a spiritual guide, what kind of preaching would you do to explain the existence of Supreme Being?

Q6 How responsible is our Indian Cinema? If you were given chance to make a film, what kind of movie will you make? What important message would you give in your films and whom would you cast in the film?

There was heavy discussion on every topic and there were difference of opinions too. The fun part of this game was that one person spoke while the rest listened carefully and gave their feedback and there was some healthy conversation. Normally, the shy ones never get chance to speak and they are left out from conversation. This way, everybody was participating.

The discussions went on till tea-time after which we all headed to Baidas Hall, Vile Parle, to hear the Vedanta lecture on ‘Happiness’ by Jaya Row.

Today I am in a phunny mood!

During my last visit to China, I noticed that nobody smiled and I was thinking are they stressed out? All had tight lips sealed from corner to corner, not a curve anywhere, as if their lips were glued in position and were afraid of some kind of punishment if they dared to smile.

So you would think there is no humor in china

There! You are wrong again.

They have fantastic sense of humor only they don’t see it

But they truly have phunny translator who do justice to our language

Justice to English?

Well! why not?

Have you travelled by bus in China? No?

Then next time you visit China, please do travel by bus and if you are lucky you will be travelling in the same bus as I did, which had this threatening note just above the dashboard.

The bus is running? and I am not supposed to spam seats? How do we spam seats? Mess around? Oh never mind…..

Sitting in stable?…..er..stable? ....I am reminded of horses….

Never spreading arms and body? How do we spread our body outside the window?

I might try to..but my size is not as thin as Chinese size. .maybe they use window to exit from the bus? Er?

Going up and taking off?? Is there some short cut to heaven?

It was my first day in China, first ride and the humor had just begun

I did enjoy my stay in China…the humor was behind those closed lips...humor zipped behind those lips..hahaha.... Lucky lips!

Fake notes are doing their rounds in ATM machines in Mumbai

and you can do nothing about it. Talk about trusting your bank? Well… that trust goes down the drain.

No bank will ever take any responsibility for the bank notes that are circulating from their ATM machines. If you have a fake note in your pocket, too bad! It’s your bad luck! Sigh!!

Today early morning, in a hurry to pay my web designer a fee of Rs5000, I rushed to the nearest ATM cabin, which is just outside the Bank of India, opposite National college, and extracted the money from the ATM machine.

But my web designer is smart lady, (maybe she has lots of time on hand, or maybe she had been cheated once, because she has made a study of each note and could distinguish the fake note in a jiffy). She checked each note before taking it from me.. and Lo! Behold! One of the one-thousand-rupee-notes was a fake note.

“This note I cannot take, it’s fake note” she said

“But, Maam, I have just removed this from ATM machine this morning, how can it be a fake note?” I said.

And she started to educate me.

She held the note up against the light and looking closely, she said, “Array baba, see the watermark na…this watermark on the empty portion on the left side of the note? Can you see that? One should be able to see a portrait of Mahatma Gandhi in this space, along with multi-directional lines and an electrolyte mark showing the denominational numeral, see, there is no 1000 numeration mark here.”

I looked at her with blank look

She took out the authentic note from her cash box and told me to look closely, “Can you see 1000 numerals in this corner?”

serial no 2BD 579808 is a fake note

At first I couldn’t see anything nor distinguish it but when I held it against the light, I was able to see the numerals. Then she gave me the fake note and showed me the difference. Sure enough, those numerals were missing.

‘Hmmmn” I said

She held the note at eye-level and said, “Look into the gap between the vertical band on the right and the portrait of Mahatma Gandhi. In genuine notes, one should be able to see the word RBI and the denominational numeral in this space.”

True, transparent numerals '1000' were not visible in fake note.

“Now see the micro-lettering too,” she continued “Hold the note up against light. On the left of the portrait and half down the vertical band on the side, one can see a floral design, which appears hollow on the front side and filled up on the opposite side. The denominational numeral can be seen as a whole in this floral design, though the half of the numeral is printed on one side and the other half on the opposite side.”

“Even the visually impaired person can identify the fake note.” She said, stressing her point on ‘visually impaired’, “Look below the floral design. One can see a dark patch in intaglio print (raised print). The shape of the intaglio print varies according to the denomination of the note. Did you know that there are different shapes for various denominations? There are vertical rectangle on Rs20 note, Rs50 - square, Rs100 - triangle, Rs500 - circle and Rs1,000 – diamond.”

I had never known that. My interest was deepening and I wanted to know more about it.

I listened with rapt attention as she told me about other features that appear in intaglio print like: Seal of the RBI, the guarantee and the promise clause, RBI Governor's signature, the Ashoka pillar emblem, and Mahatma Gandhi portrait, all of them had a raised effect.

Even the color of the numeral changed from green (when I held the note flat) to blue (when at an angle).

She then, pointed to the security thread on the note and said, “Look at this line here, this is a security thread. It is 1.4 mm wide. It appears in breaks on the front of the original note. However, from the back, it looks like a complete line. The words RBI and Bharat (in the Devanagari script) is inscribed on it. It appears yellow in ultra-violet (UV) light. This thread will not glow if it is a fake note. Continuity of the security thread is not maintained if it is a fake note.”

I saw the green glow on the real note. Wow!

I kept comparing the fake note with authentic note, seeing the difference for the first time. I had never ever held a fake note but today, I wanted to know everything about it.

“Now let me tell you what features one can see in UV light?” she said, as she took both the notes in her hand. Then she went on to explain to me about how the optical fibers on the bank note make themselves visible when held under ultraviolet light. (In case of a fake note, optical fibers are less in number), the year of printing of the original note is visible in the middle and the reverse side near the bottom, and how it has that unique feel and a crackling sound.

I felt cheated.

I took the fake note to the ‘Bank of India’ Khar, and I was directed to speak to the manager.

From the look on his face, I knew at once that it would be the waste of my time. Firstly, he did not believe me nor acknowledge it and I had to show him the receipt of the proof to convince him that the transaction was done from ATM outside his bank. He argued and I threatened to report it to the media. He got defensive and played the blame game, saying that ATM was not in his control that I must contact ‘Brink Arya India Pvt. Ltd’, a cash handling and secure logistics company and they are the ones who load all the cash in all ATM machine in Mumbai. He told me to search the details about this company online, and then post the complain note with photocopy of receipt of transaction and the fake note.

“Sorry I can do nothing about it” he said seeing my disappointed look. “Now-a-days, who can distinguish the real one from fake one?” he said “Tell me one thing, what makes you say that this note is fake?”

Now it was my turn to educate him. Whether he knew the difference or not, he did listen to me while I explained to him the difference. He expressed his helplessness at not having any control on this aspect, “There are so many notes out there in circulation, how can one have time to separate each one?” He asked.

True.

I am left thinking what can one do about it? Nothing? I can afford to fold this one-thousand-rupee-note into eight folds, tuck it away and move on but what about those who find it difficult to earn a decent living? One thousand rupees is a lot of money to them, can they let it go?

Duplicate currency is manufactured in Pakistan and Bangladesh. The fake notes are brought into India through Nepal by Pakistan's ISI and other terrorist groups. The amount of fake Indian currency in existence today is huge. According to one national daily, in UP alone over Rs40 crores is estimated to be in circulation. This might be the tip of the iceberg. The fake notes generate easy money for terrorists which use it for antisocial activities.

How will this racket stop? How will they separate fake from authentic? Is there really nothing that we can do about it???

I am not very sure that I live in a secured world! As long as terrorists and criminals will keep on manufacturing such notes very intelligently, there is no hope! Nor any help!! Sigh!!

Grocery store at street corner

A grocery store in India

I grew up in Sion, a suburb of Mumbai. My granny used to send me for small errands down stairs to a grocery store. During those days, there were no supermarkets or malls in Mumbai and we could do all the stopping from small stores down the streets. There was a small grocery store at the corner of the lane. I often went there to buy sweets that were kept in a large jar. There would be several jars containing sweets of different shapes, colors and sizes. I would pop few sweets into my mouth before giving the shop assistant the list of items that my granny wrote on a piece of paper. This store would be quite messy and was always cluttered with various items, some of them strewn on the floor. There would be sacks containing pulses, rice, dried red chilies, wheat, etc, filled to the brim, some of them overflowing. There would be no path to walk into the store. The shelves, lined on all three sides of the store, would be full of other packed or bottled food that would reach up to ceiling.

The shop owner would sit at the cashier giving directions to his helpers. The assistant would read the list, bring out the things and weigh it in front of me. He would then pack it in a paper bag and tie it with a twine and keep it on the counter. There were no plastic bags in those days and I always carried a cloth bag with me whenever I went to buy the grocery. The shop owner, an old man dressed in loose white kurta-pajama and a Gandhi cap, would then write out the price of each item on a piece of paper, do a mental addition and charge for the same. Calculators had not yet made their invention and everybody knew their proper mental mathematics, right from addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. Everybody knew their sums. I knew it too. That was years ago.

Today, after many years, I went back to that store. Yes! The grocery store is still there at that same corner, but the shop looks bigger. The shop owner sitting at the cashier was a young guy with a long hair tied into a pony-tail, maybe his grandson. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt making a statement. The shop was neater with things categorically placed. I went around picking up the things that I wanted and placed the stuff at his counter. He used calculator for addition/subtraction, did not waste time honing his mental mathematical skills. He asked me if I would be interesting in buying new products that were available at his store. I asked me to explain what he had and he introduced me to new health products that were available, the power snacks that had little oil, the dips made at home, the drinks that were organic and before I knew, I had bought many more things than what I had intended to.

For packing my stuff he had no plastic bag but he suggested I buy a cloth bag from him for Rs4 which he would refund if I gave the bag back to him. I bought the bag too, but it is so impressive that I may not return the bag and get the refund. Maybe that guy knew it too.

Now that is called business tactics!!

‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’

I saw this tag ‘Sin against Gender Stereotypes’ on the pages of several bloggers and secretly learnt about likes/dislikes of many blogger- friends, but waited patiently for a formal invitation, I am not a gate-crasher and therefore never make any entry till I am invited….and when Pallavi tagged me, I, most happily, cleared my throat…..cough, cough…to speak….so here I go….

I used to be a girlie-gurl once upon a time, a shy, reserved, timid, invisible till I grew up to discover that I am a human too and not a show-piece and am allowed to have a mind of my own. I realized that if one likes something, one does not think of gender, but is led by the instinct of doing what one feels is right with clear conscious and doing it in the best way that one can…..and so the freedom of expression was born in me and I learnt to live.

 NOW if I… feel like doing something..I will do it.. I need no permission, nor any public approval nor any gender margins to do what I please:

1.  I like male-talks better than girlish-chat..I hate talking abt maids, children, kitty parties, prefer to talk biz, money, investments or lifestyle trends..
2.  I like humor and also PJs, ragging, sharing anecdotes and will stay up late nights to chill with friends
3. TV..nah…no more… .once upon a time I was a couch potato, knew all the TV personalities by their first name, their problems, their relationships on screen, could discuss the soap/serial characters as if they were family members.. until the computers and web 2.0 took over my life, now I am glued to the virtual world. Can't detox because my virtual friends live there and I love to meet them everyday.
4. Cannot cope up with high class designers labels nor able to afford the extravagant life-styles of my Sindhi community, so have got over the fetishism over fancy, loud clothes and diamonds and have reverted to simple clothing and unreal jewelry.
5. Would prefer walks by the sea-shores rather than imprison myself over three hour of torture inside a cinema hall munching over unhygienic samosas and stale popcorns. Nevertheless, I do go for a film if others want me to go with them.
6.  Prefer home cooked food over the restaurant food. Have difficulty in swallowing white moldy parathas that contains sticky oils and the over-cooked veggies that contain too much of random spice powders.
7. Sleeping late, waking up late makes me miss some important dates.
8. Can repair everything, radios, clocks, lights, iron, electronic gadgets, plumbing, zips and even broken umbrellas and shoes and bags.
9.  Can read and understand the manuals, never use anything without reading the manual, will not sign anything till I have read all the fine print, will not believe anything unless I have heard, seen and witnessed it.
10.  Find it difficult to say ‘NO’ to anybody seeking favor, love kids and old people and will always try to make things easier for the weak.

And now to tag……umph…er..my friends…whom I truly want to know their sins….

My friend has threatened me with a curse to wear blue pants (since I am a woman) and it was pink shirts if I were to tag a man – for next twelve years if I did not compile this list and now, after having done my bit, I pass on this curse to you UNLESS you list at least ten things you have ever wanted or done which your gender is not supposed to.

The tag is called ‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’. And you must tag twelve blogging friends or else you will be ….. er…what was that you said, Pallavi??? So get going gals....

Hiyaa Israni
Ani
Vimmi Jaggi
Mayuri Sharrma
Pragya
Alakaline
Suniti Joshi
Darpana
Ratna Rajaiah
Sangeeta Patni
Gayatri
Jhumur
Laxmi
Natasha Sinha
Baisali Chatterji
Soma ghosh

And like I whispered to you earlier, I now repeat 'khule aam'
"Sweets things r easy to buy but sweet ppl difficult to find, life ends when u stop caring, friendship ends when u stop sharing….."

so taking few liberties, I tagged u in my note hoping that you accept my tag and tell me things that I wish to know…..because I am confident that u r my friend….hugz 

Water; water everywhere…what’s a big fuss?

Why do my NRI relatives and friends make such a big fuss over consumption of water? They grumble if they see a leaking tap. They need a warm shower bath to clean their body. They need spacious bathroom. They won’t drink boiled or filtered 'Aquaguard' water. They want sealed bottles of a well known brand to stay healthy.

Are they so delicate?

In India, people take water for granted. If there be a water tap in the middle of the road, you might find somebody taking the opportunity of washing clothes and or taking bath in the most spacious open area, unmindful of the moving traffic or dusty and filthy streets and some thirsty passerby may even be brave enough to stretch his empty bottle for a potable refill.

It happens only in India.

Accept me as I am.

Inspired by Blogadda to enter this competition “What Women Want”

source: Google

There may be some women out there who are the angry lot, some aggressive, some wicked and some may even have some serious weapons to attack their man but they are not me. I am the woman in love; I will do anything to bring you into my world. But you should also care and love me back and accept me simply the way I am

I, as a woman want acceptance of being what I am, give me freedom to think. The only place where you trust me is in your kitchen, isn't it? You never enter my kitchen. You will eat whatever I cook because you are too lazy to cook for yourself. Yes I know, I am partly to be blamed for your laziness, I am crazy in love with you, I cater to your every demand, but sometimes you are impossible, especially on the days when the food does not live up to your standards. Please understand that I too have my moods, give me a break sometimes, and take me out to a restaurant on my bad days.

Allow me the liberty to handle the bank accounts too. I know to write the numbers in words from one to ten thousands of millions in text and yes all the spellings are perfectly right too, did you know that there is no alphabet ‘C’ in any of those numbers? And that letter ‘A’ appears first time in one thousand? Did you notice that alphabet ‘D’ appears first time in one hundred? And letter ‘B’ is not present in any numbers till you reach the billion? Well, I know it. I am clever, you must trust me. I have spend many hours in practicing my signature, but you never allow me to sign any check on my own. You are always lurking, breathing down my neck. You make me nervous, don't you see it? Whenever I make a payment more than a thousand, you go red, green and then deep blue. I know the value of money much better than you do, I can even handle the managerial job if you allowed me to, but you wont, not even when you know that I have spend many years studying and have a thick folders of degrees and awards.

I want some independence in deciding where I wish to go. Don’t ask me the hourly reports of my day, stop calling me four times a day and enquiring about my wherabouts and then repeating the same questions again at the end of the day to check whether my answers match. During the day I have lots of errands to do, I go to the market, temple, dentist, our child’s school, go to pay bills, visit the sick relative, chat with a friend on phone, kitty party, go for a evening walks, sometimes gym and many more things to do, and there are days when I prefer to sleep all day. It’s the luxury I enjoy after some sleepless nights when I keep awake because you were stressed. I don’t wish to give you my hourly itinerary. I am always at home before you reach home so tell me why are you so inquisitive? Don’t you trust me at all? Take that chain of your suspicious mind off my navel, I wish to be free.

I want you to pay attention to me, to hear me talk while I speak, to observe my shaped eyebrows, my new hair cut, my new dress, my funky shoes. I am disappointed when you are stuck-up like a couch potato while I am struggling with babies’ nappies, Help me sometimes with household chores and when relaxed, let me watch football match with you. Don't call your friends home and make a mess, my back aches lifting up those used cans and cigarette butts.

I want you to walk with me, matching your step with mine, on equal footing, when you go right I too will turn right but on your left why am I left behind?

I, like every other woman, wants to be accepted for what I am. Be closer to me but let me breathe, stand far away from me but not too far that even when I stretch you cannot be reached.

Love is the message and Pass this around……

Cloudy trip over Tiger Hills in Darjeeling

Our group leader said “Wake up early morning if you want to see the most spectacular sun rise, we need to leave for Tiger hills at 3am and it will take 2 hours to reach the point.”


“Why must we wake up so early to see the sun-rise, I never do in Mumbai.?” I argued. I refused to go; I am always too lazy to wake up so early in the morning. “I will see sun-rise from my room window, why must I go to this tiger hill?” I grumbled.

But when you are in your tourist boots, no reasoning helps. My friends refused to go without me and they made sure to wake up at 2am, since they know that I never leave to go anywhere without a bath, so I needed one hour to dress up.

So here I was, grumpy at 3am, walking through the mist of Darjeeling towards the mini bus with the rest of the group

My sleep disappeared as soon as the bus rumbled its wheel through the narrow and broken path on the hills of Darjeeling and the cool breeze softened my moods and I started to enjoy the ride, bringing out my camera to shoot the picture of the scenery outside my vehicle window in the early hours of the morning, not that I could see much, but playing with my camera is one of the activities that helps me keep alert.

Bad morning!! It was raining. At five am, when we reached the ‘Tiger hills’, it was cold and wet. I didn’t take umbrella and my friend obliged by sharing hers. I bought a hot cup of coffee, it was good and refreshing. It was quite breezy and cold. We couldn’t stand in the open space in such weather. We moved towards a building and walked up the steps to a large room.

There were more than hundred people inside a small room, many of them sitting on the plastic chair facing the cloudy sky behind the glass windows. It seemed like they were sitting in an auditorium waiting for some musical performance.

I had no idea of what spectacular sun rise was I to witness, but seeing the enthusiasm on people’s face, I was sure that it must be something not to be missed. I saw some children with same zest too. What was I complaining? These kids didn’t seem to mind and they were equally ignorant about this sun rise show like I was, but they were not grumpy. Some of the adult sensible ones dozed off while waiting for the event. I envy those who can snooze off in most uncomfortable positions at any hour of the day.

It was raining outside. My grumbling grew worse. Group of men sitting in front of me were chatting about stocks and marketing. Men can talk business at any hour of the day!! They all looked beyond window periodically, hoping for the sun rise. Who says women are noisy...men are equally irritating too. I was getting impatient. Too many people inside the small room. I was finding it difficult to breathe in this closed room with so much crowd.

It was 5am and no promised sunrise. The sun is known to be punctual and can never forget to rise, but what does one do when it goes off in hide-n-seek mode? How do I push these clouds that are heavy and pregnant? It started to drizzle again, rain drops trickled down the window panes blocking our view but people continued to wait.

5:30 am and people finally came back to their senses and started to move. I walk over to window, slid the window-pane and clicked the scene beyond the horizon.

Cloudy sky was all that I could see.

Soon I heard the voice of a man selling CD shouting, “Sorry, you could not see the sun rise but want to know what you missed, then buy the CD-.Darjeeling..a tourist spot.”

Indians are very enterprising, they can sell their wares from any dungeon places. Many people started buying the CD, my friend bought one too.

I decide that I shall not waste my money to see what I missed.

Nah! I shall google it when I get back home

Back home, I googled for the sun rise in Darjeeling..Oh Wow! I missed this!!!!

“The first rays of the sun shoot ahead and shed light upon the twin peaks of Kangchenjunga painting it pink and then bathing it in a beautiful orange colour. From Tiger Hill, Mount Everest (29,002') is just visible, peeping out through two other peaks standing by its side. Makalu (27,799') looks higher than Mt. Everest, owing to the curve in the horizon, as it is several miles closer than Everest. The distance in straight line from Tiger Hill to Everest is 107 miles.

On a clear day, Kurseong is visible to the south and in the distance, Teesta River, Mahanady River, Balasun River and Mechi River, meandering down to the south. Chumal Rhi mountain of Tibet, 84 miles away as the crow flies, looks like a great rounded mass over the snowy Chola Range. One comes face to face with this peak of superb beauty from Phari Jong which is 129 miles away from Darjeeling.

I cursed the weather

It had spoilt the most beautiful sight that I was supposed to witness… I have missed it. I will have to make one more trip to Darjeeling to experience this moment.

I go to the balcony of my room window in Mumbai and show the fist to the other part of the sky.

"Grrrrrh!" I yell