Priyanka Naik's Blog, page 15
March 23, 2015
The 10x housing mantra (of the home & the heart)
The world is changing every single second....and so are our dreams and aspirations. In this race of life, nobody wants to be left behind. Everyone is constantly on the run, seeking a better lifestyle, striving for a better quality of living. However, what we fail to notice is that this constant struggle for improvement is slowly but surely taking over what is most important...our relationships.
I have seen a lot of people changing. 'No time to care' seems like the new age mantra. Everyone is busy caught up in their own lives, trying to better their tomorrow. The fact that they are neglecting their today goes unnoticed. However, there are a few people who still appreciate the simple life.
In this world of rapidly changing priorities, they have still not let go of their values. It is in stheir small acts of genuine simplicity that I realize that all is not lost. The world still has hope for a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where man will respect relations more than wealth, where honest, God-fearing people will bring up their children the right way, where love and kindness will be most supreme.
Meet Savitri.
Despite of residing in crowded shanties, Savitri is a neat and tidy woman with oiled kempt hair and a cheerful disposition. Her clothes are old but washed. She is the sole earning member of her family, the others being a drunk husband and a grand-daughter, Sayli, whom she adores.
Till date, Savitri has not once mentioned about her daughter and son-in-law, and I have never asked. I respect her privacy, but the occasional bruises on her arm are an indicator of domestic abuse. Despite all these hardships, Savitri always has a smile on her face...a smile that tells the world she is not giving up, at least not as yet.
During Savitri's eight years of working as 'help' in my house, there were many instances when her integrity had been unintentionally tested---times when I left my hand bag open on the table, tired evenings when I carelessly placed my wrist watch by the bed side, forgot a fifty rupee note in my jeans pocket. But it was Savitri who unfailingly pointed out and corrected my recklessness. ..every single time!
Recently, a close friend had stopped by my house. Like is the norm in my case, friendly gup-shup often steers in every single direction under the sun, and we ended up discussing real estate. Savitri happened to around then, mopping the floor.
Nikita was explaining to me about Look Up's 10x housing mantra, and the revolutionary initiative that got all the elements together and make housing easier. Her dream seemed just a step away now. Housing was no longer a cause of panic attacks. As I checked the website, I had to agree it was an impressive approach.
Soon after Niki left, Savitri asked me what we were talking about.
I had realized Savitri was eavesdropping, and it amused me.
"That is her dream, Savitri. She wants to lead a comfortable life. Owning a plush house has always been top most on her priority list."
She was silent. I wanted to continue the conversation. It was not every day that Savitri initiated a conversation.
"Do you have a dream?" I asked her.
"Yes, Memsaheb," she said, almost instantly.
That is when she amazed me yet again with her clarity and simplicity of thoughts. Savitri had a dream...a dream to educate her grand-daughter and make her a responsible citizen.
"Memsaheb, education is most important, isn't it? I am illiterate. But I will never let that happen with my Sayli," she said. "My grand-daughter stands amongst the first three in her class. She wants to be a doctor like you," she smiled.
I couldn't help but smile back. I was proud of the determination I saw in her. She told me that her grand-daughter studied well in advance for her exams. As electricity was scarce, she sometimes studied under the street light. I saw a strange kind of passion in Savitri's eyes....the grit to overcome the odds, the hunger for knowledge, an ambition, a goal, a dream.
I felt a strong urge to help this woman fulfil her dream. If only I could help her in some way, I thought. I knew Sayli was a bright child. I decided to offer to pay her school fees. But Savitri refused.
"Thank you, Memsaheb. But I cannot accept it," she said, declining the money proffered to her.
"But why, Savitri? You don't need to pay me. I am aware of the hardships you have to go through. Sayli is doing very well. Things would be easier if..."
"Nahi Memsaheb," she interjected. "My Sayli should know the importance of her education. She should know how much her mother has sacrificed so that she can study. Only then will she learn. Only then will she remember."
I nodded. I knew what she meant.
"She respects me, Memsaheb. She knows I do all I can...only for her."
I was proud of Savitri. Some other person, in her situation, would have gladly accepted the money. But Savitri, although poor, was a self-respecting woman. She had not once asked for more than what she deserved. That day, I realized why. Savitri's self-respect, honesty and dignity of labor were the driving force behind Sayli's perseverance. She wanted to teach her grand-child to dream on her own merit...to fly with her own wings. She was hopeful. She was optimistic. This woman, standing in front of me, had not let go of her dreams, but she had not forsaken her values for it. With an upbringing like this, I was very sure that her grand-daughter would live up to her expectations.
"I have saved some money for Sayli's college," she told me. "People tell me to rent out a small kholi with that money. But I am saving it for her education. I can live in a hut all my life. But if I stop dreaming, I will be miserable. She is my only reason for happiness. You think I am wrong, Memsaheb?"
"No Savitri. You are absolutely right," I smiled. "What is more important than the four walls of a house, is the happiness of the people living in it. You are absolutely right. Don't ever give up on that dream. "
Savitri might not have good housing facilities today. But she had earned respect in the eyes of her grand-daughter. They both shared a silent promise of love and selfless devotion to each other. She safe-guarded a dream in her eyes....a dream that would nurture their relationship.
That day, I realized that love worked on a 10x housing mantra too, just like Look Up. If allowed to house in the heart, it makes one push their limits to move towards a better future.
I have seen a lot of people changing. 'No time to care' seems like the new age mantra. Everyone is busy caught up in their own lives, trying to better their tomorrow. The fact that they are neglecting their today goes unnoticed. However, there are a few people who still appreciate the simple life.
In this world of rapidly changing priorities, they have still not let go of their values. It is in stheir small acts of genuine simplicity that I realize that all is not lost. The world still has hope for a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where man will respect relations more than wealth, where honest, God-fearing people will bring up their children the right way, where love and kindness will be most supreme.
Meet Savitri.
Despite of residing in crowded shanties, Savitri is a neat and tidy woman with oiled kempt hair and a cheerful disposition. Her clothes are old but washed. She is the sole earning member of her family, the others being a drunk husband and a grand-daughter, Sayli, whom she adores.
Till date, Savitri has not once mentioned about her daughter and son-in-law, and I have never asked. I respect her privacy, but the occasional bruises on her arm are an indicator of domestic abuse. Despite all these hardships, Savitri always has a smile on her face...a smile that tells the world she is not giving up, at least not as yet.
During Savitri's eight years of working as 'help' in my house, there were many instances when her integrity had been unintentionally tested---times when I left my hand bag open on the table, tired evenings when I carelessly placed my wrist watch by the bed side, forgot a fifty rupee note in my jeans pocket. But it was Savitri who unfailingly pointed out and corrected my recklessness. ..every single time!
Recently, a close friend had stopped by my house. Like is the norm in my case, friendly gup-shup often steers in every single direction under the sun, and we ended up discussing real estate. Savitri happened to around then, mopping the floor.
Nikita was explaining to me about Look Up's 10x housing mantra, and the revolutionary initiative that got all the elements together and make housing easier. Her dream seemed just a step away now. Housing was no longer a cause of panic attacks. As I checked the website, I had to agree it was an impressive approach.
Soon after Niki left, Savitri asked me what we were talking about.
I had realized Savitri was eavesdropping, and it amused me.
"That is her dream, Savitri. She wants to lead a comfortable life. Owning a plush house has always been top most on her priority list."
She was silent. I wanted to continue the conversation. It was not every day that Savitri initiated a conversation.
"Do you have a dream?" I asked her.
"Yes, Memsaheb," she said, almost instantly.
That is when she amazed me yet again with her clarity and simplicity of thoughts. Savitri had a dream...a dream to educate her grand-daughter and make her a responsible citizen.
"Memsaheb, education is most important, isn't it? I am illiterate. But I will never let that happen with my Sayli," she said. "My grand-daughter stands amongst the first three in her class. She wants to be a doctor like you," she smiled.
I couldn't help but smile back. I was proud of the determination I saw in her. She told me that her grand-daughter studied well in advance for her exams. As electricity was scarce, she sometimes studied under the street light. I saw a strange kind of passion in Savitri's eyes....the grit to overcome the odds, the hunger for knowledge, an ambition, a goal, a dream.
I felt a strong urge to help this woman fulfil her dream. If only I could help her in some way, I thought. I knew Sayli was a bright child. I decided to offer to pay her school fees. But Savitri refused.
"Thank you, Memsaheb. But I cannot accept it," she said, declining the money proffered to her.
"But why, Savitri? You don't need to pay me. I am aware of the hardships you have to go through. Sayli is doing very well. Things would be easier if..."
"Nahi Memsaheb," she interjected. "My Sayli should know the importance of her education. She should know how much her mother has sacrificed so that she can study. Only then will she learn. Only then will she remember."
I nodded. I knew what she meant.
"She respects me, Memsaheb. She knows I do all I can...only for her."
I was proud of Savitri. Some other person, in her situation, would have gladly accepted the money. But Savitri, although poor, was a self-respecting woman. She had not once asked for more than what she deserved. That day, I realized why. Savitri's self-respect, honesty and dignity of labor were the driving force behind Sayli's perseverance. She wanted to teach her grand-child to dream on her own merit...to fly with her own wings. She was hopeful. She was optimistic. This woman, standing in front of me, had not let go of her dreams, but she had not forsaken her values for it. With an upbringing like this, I was very sure that her grand-daughter would live up to her expectations.
"I have saved some money for Sayli's college," she told me. "People tell me to rent out a small kholi with that money. But I am saving it for her education. I can live in a hut all my life. But if I stop dreaming, I will be miserable. She is my only reason for happiness. You think I am wrong, Memsaheb?"
"No Savitri. You are absolutely right," I smiled. "What is more important than the four walls of a house, is the happiness of the people living in it. You are absolutely right. Don't ever give up on that dream. "
Savitri might not have good housing facilities today. But she had earned respect in the eyes of her grand-daughter. They both shared a silent promise of love and selfless devotion to each other. She safe-guarded a dream in her eyes....a dream that would nurture their relationship.
That day, I realized that love worked on a 10x housing mantra too, just like Look Up. If allowed to house in the heart, it makes one push their limits to move towards a better future.
March 22, 2015
Together from the start...
They say we can repress certain memories if we want to. I sometimes wonder if that is really possible at all. How does one forget to remember?
Perhaps we can jumble up our memories...like fix them in order of preference, pretty much like a jigsaw. Change the sequence, shuffle the deck, do what you want--some memories just fail to leave you. They become a part of you.
One of the most memorable moments in my life revolves around my best friend, Rashmi. It's rather bizarre, the way we became friends. I was the shy intern, she was a senior resident.
It was during one of my postings. I was doing my internship then. Dr A.K, a senior consultant in the department, had just returned after six long years in the United States. Suave, smart and American accented, he was the talk of the whole department. He was in his early fifties, a perfectionist in his work, and a seemingly mild mannered person. We interns did not have to interact much with him, except for the rare occasions when he decided to hold group discussions.
I had a very good impression of Dr A.K until he started calling me to his cabin a little more frequently. Initially I would ignore this, but as days went by, I started finding his behavior a little odd. Amidst sniggering co-interns and embarrassed patients, he would compliment me on my attire. He would ask me to leave aside my case history and assist him in another case. I was aware that his behavior was getting really weird. Besides he was a senior consultant, and a person of his caliber did not usually take interest in teaching interns. But those were the days when I was naive enough to believe that decency has something to do with age, and that all men your father's age must see you as a daughter (now I know better). Hence I would go to his office when called and listen to what he had to tell me (usually an elaborate textbook concept that did not need any explanation but would consume a lot of time) This happened for a couple of weeks.
They say every girl/woman possesses this innate gut instinct that alerts her of anything fishy. My intuition warned me to stay away from Dr A.K. I started bunking clinics on days when his unit would take ward rounds. I exchanged duties with interns from other departments. I feigned headaches. I avoided him like the plague.
This went on for several days until all hell broke loose the day Dr A.K asked the peon to examine a new admission and present the case to him. The memory still manages to get my blood boiling. I remember me stepping into his cabin with the patient. He asked the patient to leave and told me that he wanted me to present the case without the patient. (This was when the warning bell in my brain went on) As soon as I started reading from the file, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and called out to the peon outside, asking him to shut the door on the pretext of the OPD being too noisy and not allowing him to concentrate on the case. With the door closed, Dr A.K got up from his seat and walked towards me. There was something about his smile and the look in his eyes that made me shudder. Alarm bells were clanging in my head by then. My palms had turned sweaty, my pulse was racing. Without thinking any further, I made a dash towards the door.
"Sir, I have forgotten one of the case sheets in the OPD," I said, pretending to shuffle the papers in hand.
Before the a**ehole could even respond, I pushed the door open and scurried away.
That was when Dr Rashmi Kamath stopped me. Dr Rashmi was the senior resident in the department, the only female resident amongst a group of six doctors. Looking at my face, she had sensed something was wrong.
"Is everything alright?" she asked me.
It was then that I couldn't bottle it anymore. Fear, panic and anger were bubbling within me. I burst out into angry sobs.
"Shh...Let's go to the canteen. We can talk there," she comforted me.
While at the canteen, I narrated the whole incident. I also confided in her about my decision to leave internship midway. I had three more months in that department, and Dr A.K would make my life hell. He would see to it that I get an extension....especially when I insulted him by dashing out like that. I panicked. It was better to quit voluntarily...that way I still had a chance to complete my internship elsewhere.
That was when Dr Rashmi told me about her experiences in medical school, of the pressures she had to undergo during her internship year, of the discrimination she had to face being the only female in the PG batch.
"You can't run away like that. You will meet a Dr A.K in every college. You got to stand up and fight. Every step from here on will be a new battle. You will meet people like these at every step. Don't give in, and more importantly don't give up," she said.
The next three hours saw both of us talking like sisters...old friends. Dr Rashmi was no longer just a senior resident. She had become my guide, my confidante, my buddy. She told me she had faced a similar situation due to which she had lost a year. She said she had been a coward, she did not want me to be one. She told me she had realized her mistake a little too late. One year was spent reflecting on decisions, sorting priorities and organizing life.
"Quitting is always the wrong decision. Winners never quit," she told me, as we were just about to leave.
I was feeling better after having spoken to her. I had finally opened up to someone who seemed to understand what I was going through...who had once been there herself. Dr Rashmi's encouraging words lit a spark of positivity in me. Dr A.K was in the wrong, I did not have anything to be afraid of. I would not give up, I decided.
As we re-entered the hospital corridors, Dr A.K crossed our paths. A wave of nervousness hit me. Perhaps I still needed time. He still managed to unnerve me. Dr Rashmi noticed that. Holding my hand, she went up to Dr A.K.
"Hello Sir. I have been noticing you are taking special interest in our intern batch. I would want to relieve you of that burden. From tomorrow, they will present their cases to me. I hope that is okay with you."
"Er..uh..Y..Yes...why not?" Dr A.K fumbled. His gaze shifted from me to Dr Rashmi. It was his turn to be nervous now. Her choice of words had made him realize that she knew more than he wanted her to know. He knew she was capable of complaining the matter to the dean.
I, on the other hand, had regained my confidence on seeing his displeasure. Dr Rashmi had convinced me that I was not alone. We were in this journey together.
Years passed, but that day's memory is still fresh in my heart.
Today, I am far more bold and self-assured than I once used to be. I have come a long way. Life has taught me to stand up for what I believe in, because nobody else will. I have learned to face my fears, fight my own battles. I have learned to never allow my faith in myself waver.
Dr Rashmi and I are still the best of friends. We lean on each other for professional and personal advice and suggestions, just like best friends should. We are still together in this journey.
Thinking back, it is never the advice that we depend on people for. It is their company that provides that small little nudge that is required to push our life back on track.
And just like that, a life long friendship is born...
Perhaps we can jumble up our memories...like fix them in order of preference, pretty much like a jigsaw. Change the sequence, shuffle the deck, do what you want--some memories just fail to leave you. They become a part of you.
One of the most memorable moments in my life revolves around my best friend, Rashmi. It's rather bizarre, the way we became friends. I was the shy intern, she was a senior resident.
It was during one of my postings. I was doing my internship then. Dr A.K, a senior consultant in the department, had just returned after six long years in the United States. Suave, smart and American accented, he was the talk of the whole department. He was in his early fifties, a perfectionist in his work, and a seemingly mild mannered person. We interns did not have to interact much with him, except for the rare occasions when he decided to hold group discussions.
I had a very good impression of Dr A.K until he started calling me to his cabin a little more frequently. Initially I would ignore this, but as days went by, I started finding his behavior a little odd. Amidst sniggering co-interns and embarrassed patients, he would compliment me on my attire. He would ask me to leave aside my case history and assist him in another case. I was aware that his behavior was getting really weird. Besides he was a senior consultant, and a person of his caliber did not usually take interest in teaching interns. But those were the days when I was naive enough to believe that decency has something to do with age, and that all men your father's age must see you as a daughter (now I know better). Hence I would go to his office when called and listen to what he had to tell me (usually an elaborate textbook concept that did not need any explanation but would consume a lot of time) This happened for a couple of weeks.
They say every girl/woman possesses this innate gut instinct that alerts her of anything fishy. My intuition warned me to stay away from Dr A.K. I started bunking clinics on days when his unit would take ward rounds. I exchanged duties with interns from other departments. I feigned headaches. I avoided him like the plague.
This went on for several days until all hell broke loose the day Dr A.K asked the peon to examine a new admission and present the case to him. The memory still manages to get my blood boiling. I remember me stepping into his cabin with the patient. He asked the patient to leave and told me that he wanted me to present the case without the patient. (This was when the warning bell in my brain went on) As soon as I started reading from the file, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and called out to the peon outside, asking him to shut the door on the pretext of the OPD being too noisy and not allowing him to concentrate on the case. With the door closed, Dr A.K got up from his seat and walked towards me. There was something about his smile and the look in his eyes that made me shudder. Alarm bells were clanging in my head by then. My palms had turned sweaty, my pulse was racing. Without thinking any further, I made a dash towards the door.
"Sir, I have forgotten one of the case sheets in the OPD," I said, pretending to shuffle the papers in hand.
Before the a**ehole could even respond, I pushed the door open and scurried away.
That was when Dr Rashmi Kamath stopped me. Dr Rashmi was the senior resident in the department, the only female resident amongst a group of six doctors. Looking at my face, she had sensed something was wrong.
"Is everything alright?" she asked me.
It was then that I couldn't bottle it anymore. Fear, panic and anger were bubbling within me. I burst out into angry sobs.
"Shh...Let's go to the canteen. We can talk there," she comforted me.
While at the canteen, I narrated the whole incident. I also confided in her about my decision to leave internship midway. I had three more months in that department, and Dr A.K would make my life hell. He would see to it that I get an extension....especially when I insulted him by dashing out like that. I panicked. It was better to quit voluntarily...that way I still had a chance to complete my internship elsewhere.
That was when Dr Rashmi told me about her experiences in medical school, of the pressures she had to undergo during her internship year, of the discrimination she had to face being the only female in the PG batch.
"You can't run away like that. You will meet a Dr A.K in every college. You got to stand up and fight. Every step from here on will be a new battle. You will meet people like these at every step. Don't give in, and more importantly don't give up," she said.
The next three hours saw both of us talking like sisters...old friends. Dr Rashmi was no longer just a senior resident. She had become my guide, my confidante, my buddy. She told me she had faced a similar situation due to which she had lost a year. She said she had been a coward, she did not want me to be one. She told me she had realized her mistake a little too late. One year was spent reflecting on decisions, sorting priorities and organizing life.
"Quitting is always the wrong decision. Winners never quit," she told me, as we were just about to leave.
I was feeling better after having spoken to her. I had finally opened up to someone who seemed to understand what I was going through...who had once been there herself. Dr Rashmi's encouraging words lit a spark of positivity in me. Dr A.K was in the wrong, I did not have anything to be afraid of. I would not give up, I decided.
As we re-entered the hospital corridors, Dr A.K crossed our paths. A wave of nervousness hit me. Perhaps I still needed time. He still managed to unnerve me. Dr Rashmi noticed that. Holding my hand, she went up to Dr A.K.
"Hello Sir. I have been noticing you are taking special interest in our intern batch. I would want to relieve you of that burden. From tomorrow, they will present their cases to me. I hope that is okay with you."
"Er..uh..Y..Yes...why not?" Dr A.K fumbled. His gaze shifted from me to Dr Rashmi. It was his turn to be nervous now. Her choice of words had made him realize that she knew more than he wanted her to know. He knew she was capable of complaining the matter to the dean.
I, on the other hand, had regained my confidence on seeing his displeasure. Dr Rashmi had convinced me that I was not alone. We were in this journey together.
Years passed, but that day's memory is still fresh in my heart.
Today, I am far more bold and self-assured than I once used to be. I have come a long way. Life has taught me to stand up for what I believe in, because nobody else will. I have learned to face my fears, fight my own battles. I have learned to never allow my faith in myself waver.
Dr Rashmi and I are still the best of friends. We lean on each other for professional and personal advice and suggestions, just like best friends should. We are still together in this journey.
Thinking back, it is never the advice that we depend on people for. It is their company that provides that small little nudge that is required to push our life back on track.
And just like that, a life long friendship is born...
A pocketful of sunshine
"Happiness is like a butterfly which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
What is happiness really? Can we define it at all? Some might try to define it as an emotional state of well-being. Some might say 'Happiness' is being pretty, rich, famous or popular. However, the concept of 'Happiness' continues to be confounding, just like its pursuit.
Different people experience emotions at varied levels. So how can 'Happiness' mean the same thing to all of them?
Personally, I am someone who believes that happiness is more of a personal choice. One can only be happy if one chooses to be happy. However, if you constantly hound life for happiness, its very likely that you might miss it by searching too hard. A watched kettle never boils. Likewise, if one keeps looking for opportunities, he will never find them.
I have often thought about this. Everyone in this world wants to be happy. This pursuit does not have an end. As we get nearer to our goals, our expectations tend to increase. More expectations lead to disappointment. We strive harder to meet new demands. In this chase, our satisfaction and peace of mind takes a back seat. We are constantly running after ephemeral milestones...success, money, fame. But in this rat race, aren't we all forgetting what really matters?
Meanwhile, Happiness, arrives like an unexpected visitor and taps softly on our door and waits for you to let it in. But we are too caught in our lives to notice the tapping. The visitor silently leaves thinking that it is not welcome. We, however, continue to crib in oblivion, losing sleep over something we miss, yet cannot identify. Sleep eludes. Happiness evades. Tomorrow is going to be yet another tiring day, we complain, exhausted and unhappy.
I am only human. I have made mistakes in life. I have lost out on chances only to learn that they will never come my way again. Like everyone else, I too have learned from my experiences.
Somewhere down the line, when winning or losing ceased to make a difference, I realized that what is most important is time well spent. What matters is not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. Life is not about the destination. It is more about the journey, about the scenery you enjoy along the way, the people you befriend, about the lives you make a difference to.
I have realized that happiness is just not a experience of contentment or well-being. It is the very force that drives the world into motion...that brightens up hearts and faces. It is omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient, just like God.
However, for it to make its presence felt, it needs our acknowledgement. It needs us to let go of our fears and embrace it. It wants us to open up our hearts and welcome it...whole-heartedly.
Happiness is a limitless concept...blurred around the edges.. The more you try to encase it the more fleeting it becomes. Hence, I have learned to let it free. We can hardly know when it will arrive, but when it does, I have learned to embrace it with all my heart and soul, breathing in the magic, basking in the pristine simplicity of the emotion..
Below is a list of some things that have the 'Happy Effect' on me: (in no particular order)
Petrichor: This has been one of my very old favorites. They used to call me 'The rain child' back when I was a kid. The fact that I am a 'June baby' might have something to do with why I love the rains so much. The pleasant scent that frequently accompanies the first rain adds that magical quality not just to the surroundings, but also to my mood. Birds flying freely over vast expanses of blue sky: These, to me, signify freedom, freedom that I wish humans bound in the shackles of society will be able to attain someday. Someday, I want to live in a world like theirs, where we are free to choose our own sky.Reading old diary entries: because they remind me of how far I have come.Dinner conversations with loved ones: Good food and good company is the perfect recipe for a happy evening. Seeing the joy on a child's face when he is given his favorite chocolate: Reminds me of the simple pleasures of my childhood. 'Nostalgia' is my happy drug. Writing/blogging: makes me happy. That way, my heart and mind can be best friends at least for a while. Red roses: because they remind me that beauty, love and passion still exist in this world. The chilled Coca-cola in my fridge: An instant stress-buster I know I can always count on. Shooting stars: Wishing on them always fills me with hope. Isn't 'hope' another name for happiness? Libraries and book stores: My favorite place in the world. I can never realize when minutes at a library/bookstore change into hours. Cuddly fat gurgling babies: With not a care in the world, their enthusiasm is contagious. That's the only time you will catch me talking in baby language *blush* This one is a recent one...When my novel 'Twists Of Fate' does well in the sales chart, and readers tell me they loved my book This 'Happy' effect lasts the whole morning, afternoon and night. It's indeed rewarding when your efforts are appreciated.Leaving footprints on wet sand on the beach: There is a special kind of happiness in watching the waves crash away the shore, observing floatsam getting swept away in the clear water, listening to the sound of the sea, collecting sea shells, or even a simple introspective walk alone by the sea side. The 'Eat all you want but don't gain an ounce' happiness: This one is every woman's dream, and I am sure all the girls out there will be able to relate to me when I say this. No matter how short-lived this joy might be, nothing can beat the exhilaration when you tip toe nervously to the weighing scale and discover (much to your surprise and excitement) that you have lost a couple of pounds despite eating out thrice in the previous week. This might last only until your smart-ass spouse/sibling or some other smug family member points out the error in the scale. (At least it makes us happy for a while. Sigh!)The feel of holding a paper-back in hand and reading it as opposed to a kindle or Ipad: Call me old school, but I still adore turning pages by hand, using fancy book-marks to mark pauses, going shopping for book-ends, and making room for new books on shelves in the library. The smell of coffee brewing early in the morning: This always manages to kickstart my day on a happy note. Phone calls or text messages from my favorite people: Distance can never be an issue when friends want to be together, isn't it? We choose to be happy despite the odds.
Having mentioned all these, I have also come to realize that happiness is an emotion very fickle. Something that makes us happy today might have the same effect on us tomorrow...especially if we depend on someone else for it. Broken relationships would stand in testimony of how something that made us so happy in the past has changed into a bitter memory of the present. So how can we make sure that our reason for happiness stays the same forever? Sorry boss! There is no such a guarantee. All we can do is choose to stay happy because it once made us happy. Then step away and move on. Easier said, eh? I know...Happiness is a lock to which the key keeps changing. Disappointing isn't it? Such a traitor, this happiness!However, all is not lost. The keys are all with(in) us. It's just that often times we hang on to an old key way too tight. We keep forcing it into the lock hoping that it will open. (It must. After all, it did so in the past, right?). Sadly, in the process of trying, we forget to try out the other keys on the key chain. We keep feeling dejected, lost., unhappy,..when the truth is, all the while, the solution is in our lap, waiting patiently to be picked.The basic rule is this: When the old key doesn't fit, try another one. Happiness is a choice. We got to keep motivating ourselves to make necessary changes. Life offers us many privileges...friendship, love from our dear ones, self respect, potential. All we got to do is keep our eyes open and recognize each one of these. Acknowledge them. Embrace them. At the end of the day, our happiness depends on the happiness of those we love. Laugh a little more for them. Make them laugh a little more. Find a little more time for your friends. Cook that surprise dinner for your wife. Sacrifice that daily 'Saas-Bahu' soap for your husband. Tell your mother how much you love her. Spend an evening with your dad. Take your kids out to an amusement park. Spread some light in an otherwise monotonous life. Buy a meal for a beggar boy. The next time, the locality kids break your window with their cricket ball, smile and tell them to be careful next time. Go surprise that grumpy old Aunty next door with a friendly hug, or simply offer to share a Coke with her.Carry a pocketful of sunshine wherever you go, and hand it to someone who could really do with it. Spread some smiles around. Happiness is always just a step away.
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
What is happiness really? Can we define it at all? Some might try to define it as an emotional state of well-being. Some might say 'Happiness' is being pretty, rich, famous or popular. However, the concept of 'Happiness' continues to be confounding, just like its pursuit.
Different people experience emotions at varied levels. So how can 'Happiness' mean the same thing to all of them?
Personally, I am someone who believes that happiness is more of a personal choice. One can only be happy if one chooses to be happy. However, if you constantly hound life for happiness, its very likely that you might miss it by searching too hard. A watched kettle never boils. Likewise, if one keeps looking for opportunities, he will never find them.
I have often thought about this. Everyone in this world wants to be happy. This pursuit does not have an end. As we get nearer to our goals, our expectations tend to increase. More expectations lead to disappointment. We strive harder to meet new demands. In this chase, our satisfaction and peace of mind takes a back seat. We are constantly running after ephemeral milestones...success, money, fame. But in this rat race, aren't we all forgetting what really matters?
Meanwhile, Happiness, arrives like an unexpected visitor and taps softly on our door and waits for you to let it in. But we are too caught in our lives to notice the tapping. The visitor silently leaves thinking that it is not welcome. We, however, continue to crib in oblivion, losing sleep over something we miss, yet cannot identify. Sleep eludes. Happiness evades. Tomorrow is going to be yet another tiring day, we complain, exhausted and unhappy.
I am only human. I have made mistakes in life. I have lost out on chances only to learn that they will never come my way again. Like everyone else, I too have learned from my experiences.
Somewhere down the line, when winning or losing ceased to make a difference, I realized that what is most important is time well spent. What matters is not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. Life is not about the destination. It is more about the journey, about the scenery you enjoy along the way, the people you befriend, about the lives you make a difference to.
I have realized that happiness is just not a experience of contentment or well-being. It is the very force that drives the world into motion...that brightens up hearts and faces. It is omnipresent, omnipotent and omniscient, just like God.
However, for it to make its presence felt, it needs our acknowledgement. It needs us to let go of our fears and embrace it. It wants us to open up our hearts and welcome it...whole-heartedly.
Happiness is a limitless concept...blurred around the edges.. The more you try to encase it the more fleeting it becomes. Hence, I have learned to let it free. We can hardly know when it will arrive, but when it does, I have learned to embrace it with all my heart and soul, breathing in the magic, basking in the pristine simplicity of the emotion..
Below is a list of some things that have the 'Happy Effect' on me: (in no particular order)
Petrichor: This has been one of my very old favorites. They used to call me 'The rain child' back when I was a kid. The fact that I am a 'June baby' might have something to do with why I love the rains so much. The pleasant scent that frequently accompanies the first rain adds that magical quality not just to the surroundings, but also to my mood. Birds flying freely over vast expanses of blue sky: These, to me, signify freedom, freedom that I wish humans bound in the shackles of society will be able to attain someday. Someday, I want to live in a world like theirs, where we are free to choose our own sky.Reading old diary entries: because they remind me of how far I have come.Dinner conversations with loved ones: Good food and good company is the perfect recipe for a happy evening. Seeing the joy on a child's face when he is given his favorite chocolate: Reminds me of the simple pleasures of my childhood. 'Nostalgia' is my happy drug. Writing/blogging: makes me happy. That way, my heart and mind can be best friends at least for a while. Red roses: because they remind me that beauty, love and passion still exist in this world. The chilled Coca-cola in my fridge: An instant stress-buster I know I can always count on. Shooting stars: Wishing on them always fills me with hope. Isn't 'hope' another name for happiness? Libraries and book stores: My favorite place in the world. I can never realize when minutes at a library/bookstore change into hours. Cuddly fat gurgling babies: With not a care in the world, their enthusiasm is contagious. That's the only time you will catch me talking in baby language *blush* This one is a recent one...When my novel 'Twists Of Fate' does well in the sales chart, and readers tell me they loved my book This 'Happy' effect lasts the whole morning, afternoon and night. It's indeed rewarding when your efforts are appreciated.Leaving footprints on wet sand on the beach: There is a special kind of happiness in watching the waves crash away the shore, observing floatsam getting swept away in the clear water, listening to the sound of the sea, collecting sea shells, or even a simple introspective walk alone by the sea side. The 'Eat all you want but don't gain an ounce' happiness: This one is every woman's dream, and I am sure all the girls out there will be able to relate to me when I say this. No matter how short-lived this joy might be, nothing can beat the exhilaration when you tip toe nervously to the weighing scale and discover (much to your surprise and excitement) that you have lost a couple of pounds despite eating out thrice in the previous week. This might last only until your smart-ass spouse/sibling or some other smug family member points out the error in the scale. (At least it makes us happy for a while. Sigh!)The feel of holding a paper-back in hand and reading it as opposed to a kindle or Ipad: Call me old school, but I still adore turning pages by hand, using fancy book-marks to mark pauses, going shopping for book-ends, and making room for new books on shelves in the library. The smell of coffee brewing early in the morning: This always manages to kickstart my day on a happy note. Phone calls or text messages from my favorite people: Distance can never be an issue when friends want to be together, isn't it? We choose to be happy despite the odds.
Having mentioned all these, I have also come to realize that happiness is an emotion very fickle. Something that makes us happy today might have the same effect on us tomorrow...especially if we depend on someone else for it. Broken relationships would stand in testimony of how something that made us so happy in the past has changed into a bitter memory of the present. So how can we make sure that our reason for happiness stays the same forever? Sorry boss! There is no such a guarantee. All we can do is choose to stay happy because it once made us happy. Then step away and move on. Easier said, eh? I know...Happiness is a lock to which the key keeps changing. Disappointing isn't it? Such a traitor, this happiness!However, all is not lost. The keys are all with(in) us. It's just that often times we hang on to an old key way too tight. We keep forcing it into the lock hoping that it will open. (It must. After all, it did so in the past, right?). Sadly, in the process of trying, we forget to try out the other keys on the key chain. We keep feeling dejected, lost., unhappy,..when the truth is, all the while, the solution is in our lap, waiting patiently to be picked.The basic rule is this: When the old key doesn't fit, try another one. Happiness is a choice. We got to keep motivating ourselves to make necessary changes. Life offers us many privileges...friendship, love from our dear ones, self respect, potential. All we got to do is keep our eyes open and recognize each one of these. Acknowledge them. Embrace them. At the end of the day, our happiness depends on the happiness of those we love. Laugh a little more for them. Make them laugh a little more. Find a little more time for your friends. Cook that surprise dinner for your wife. Sacrifice that daily 'Saas-Bahu' soap for your husband. Tell your mother how much you love her. Spend an evening with your dad. Take your kids out to an amusement park. Spread some light in an otherwise monotonous life. Buy a meal for a beggar boy. The next time, the locality kids break your window with their cricket ball, smile and tell them to be careful next time. Go surprise that grumpy old Aunty next door with a friendly hug, or simply offer to share a Coke with her.Carry a pocketful of sunshine wherever you go, and hand it to someone who could really do with it. Spread some smiles around. Happiness is always just a step away.
March 20, 2015
A year long affair
I remember you in pulls and tugs,in random kisses, in waves and hugs,
in coffee mugs and cutting chai,
in every hello and each goodbye...
To my lips, a smile these bring,
But my heart refuses to heed and sing...
With January carrying a chilly breeze,
and the month of love being such a tease,
March-April saw both as proud and vain,
May & June as soaked in strawberry rain,
July-August went by so quick,
Came September-October with Cupid's trick,
November heard what we couldn't tell,
December brought in that sweet farewell...
'Our year' we called it, you and me,
But perhaps it just wasn't meant to be...
A bit of us still lives today,
a memory to be cherished and made to stay,
Friendship or love, we couldn't decide,
But in our lives, it will reside...
Miles away yet close at heart,
forever together yet always apart...
Author's note:
I allowed my heart zip and zoom on paper, and it ended up creating this above piece. I couldn't help but smile on reading it, and so decided to post the unedited draft up here. Pretty immature it might seem, but some memories are best kept that way...
Titles, however, might not always be as short lived as they sound! :)
March 16, 2015
My bit of sky--the experience so far...
The journey of a book never ends. It only gets more interesting as time goes by...
I have always been an avid reader. I still am one. However 2014 brought along with it an opportunity to view the world from the other side of the book, to peep at the reader and talk to him through printed words on bound pages that would turn yellow with time and yet stand testimony to something I once spilled my soul into...my debut novel 'Twists Of Fate'.
I started writing 'Twists Of Fate' as a dedication to the beautiful bond of friendship. Ironically, I had kept this a secret from my friends until the very end. I wanted it to be a surprise. It was on 3rd August (Yes, Friendship Day) last year that I created this page on Facebook. I was nervous, anxious and excited all at the same time. Nervous because I was doubtful they wouldn't take it too well (me keeping such a big secret from them), anxious because I was eager to know their reaction, and excited because I knew that the ones who mattered would be too happy celebrating the news rather than dwell on the fact that they were not privy to it. Thus started the journey of 'Twists Of Fate'...
As expected, it was just a small bunch of people who 'liked' the page. The social exile I had been on would be taking its toll. Acquaintances I hadn't stayed in touch with were going to act pricey...ignore me...pretend I was dead. But who could blame them? I hadn't been Ms Congeniality myself. I was guilty of not having commented on my favorite blogs, not 'like'ing updates on facebook walls, and hardly even calling up friends, leave alone hanging out with them in the preceding months. So it was get-back time. Besides I was promoting something that wasn't even out then, to a bunch of people who had stopped liking me. Figure the odds!
Yet, some out of general curiosity and some for old times sake decided to tag along. With regular updates on the page, there begun a tiny trickle of followers. A few old friends got over the initial surprise and showed extra enthusiasm, thus making up for the meager number of likes.
The days that followed were filled with trepidation. I kept worrying my publishers, like it was the first book they were going to publish. I kept checking on the progress of the process. I had promised people it would be out soon. How soon did 'soon' mean? Close friends and family (who were apparently the only ones I could see by my side) wanted to know from me. I wanted to know from my publishers. Besides I kept waking up in cold sweat with nightmares of me being the laughing stock amidst jealous ex-batchmates (C'mon, who are we kidding? We all have those!) for not having lived up to my word and having created much ado about nothing. Thankfully, Mahaveer Publishers did not let me down. The book was out soon..as was promised to me and as I had promised to no one in particular and yet everyone in general.
'Twists Of Fate' finally saw the light of day on the bright and auspicious occasion of Diwali (23rd September 2014). As boxes of copies were dispatched to be delivered to those who pre-ordered, I was hoping that my efforts would be appreciated. That is when I realized how much a book actually means to an author. I felt like I was putting my baby out there, from the safe confines of a protected and pampered environment into one where it would be subjected to the sharp and critical eye of the non-biased bibliophile.
As the book made its way to the readers, I waited...for some sort of reaction, review, feedback. Luckily , I did not have to wait long. While my best friends were competing with each other to finish reading the book, they were blissfully unaware that a complete stranger who was gobbling it up at break neck speed would race them to it. For me, however, it was an exhilarating feeling when my first review came as an email from the stranger who had found her way to my page and pre-ordered the book on a whim. It was one of the happiest moments of my life when she emailed to tell me she loved the book. She wrote that 'Twists Of Fate' had tugged at her heart strings, more because of a personal situation she was herself going through..
The journey there onwards continued in baby steps, with reviews, ratings, and feedback coming in from readers all over.
Book reviews are like precious gems that an author holds very dear. An author can speak to his reader through his book.But it's rather unfortunate that there is no way to know what is going on in the readers mind, unless the reader lays his thoughts before you. Be it bouquets or brickbats, any kind of feedback is welcome. Of course, the bouquets make you happy and the brickbats hurt as hell. But we can always remember the bouquets and learn from the brickbats, can't we? Until now, the readers have been kind. (Knock on wood). Most have appreciated and acknowledged my humble effort, for which I am grateful.
Honestly, no one wants negative criticism. Positive words have a soothing effect, especially on the panic stricken nerves of a debutante . However, I know I must keep improving, because that's what an author is meant to do. An author is supposed to keep getting better...he owes the reader that much.
Realizations are a part of every journey. One essential thing I learned during my journey is patience. Good news comes to those who wait. I learned that people are going to read your book not when you ask them to but when (and if) they want to. I have also learned that overnight success is hardly ever possible. I have realized that a lot of people whom I had considered readers DO NOT read at all. I have learned that people are often ready to spend three hundred bucks for a coffee, but think twice before spending less than half that amount on a book. I have even met people who think buying books is the obligation you have towards the author only if he/she throws a big launch party and invites you. (No! There was no party to launch my book. Consider it a way to sort out the actual 'readers', who will be invited to the mega launch of my next book, from the 'pretenders' who will obviously be not.). I have been approached by a fellow blogger who made me answer an ultra lengthy and boring list of interview questions, send photographs and other details, and was then irresponsible enough to indefinitely postpone posting it on his blog. (It's been months now, and I have a very good mind to disclose all about it in a separate post...Hah!)
But like every scenario, this journey has a beautiful bright side too. A few wonderful friendships have been discovered along the way. I have received amazing feedback, thanks to which I now know whom to choose as my beta readers the next time around. I am now socially more active on Twitter and Facebook,which tell me that for every two utterly ridiculous and foolishly stubborn bigots, there are twenty-five extremely creative and highly progressive minds tweeting away their opinions in the hope that it will bring about a change some day.
I had a lovely time answering questions for interviews at Godyears, Readomania, Sruti's Book Corner etc.
With all these refreshing experiences, I soon learned to enjoy the positives and ignore the negative aspects of the journey. I decided to focus less on the cloud, and concentrate more on the silver lining. It wasn't long before I decided to throw out the road map. I was going to dive in hook, line and sinker.
I am not sure if life really works out best when unplanned. But what I know for sure is that when you plan out things and they don't work like the way you want them to, you are disappointed. Taking one day at a time always helps. I learned to keep my expectations at bay. Good news was starting to slowly pour in. 'Twists Of Fate' got ranked in the first 100 Amazon bestseller list for a while. I was stopped by a stranger on the airport and asked to autograph his copy of the book. These are probably small things to a lot of authors. But to me, they made my day. I'd be grinning like a Cheshire cat every time someone complimented 'Twists Of Fate', when someone told me they were ordering extra copies to gift their friends. My baby was being acknowledged.
Cut to present day. The icing on the cake..yours truly is nominated in the category of 'Literary Diva' for the Author's Ink Literary Awards 2015. Check out my interview here.
The results depend on 50% judges decision and 50% voting.
Voting ends 18th March (tomorrow) midnight. So please hurry and cast your votes now. All you have to do is click on the link here and vote for one nominee in each listing until you reach mine...i.e 'Literary Diva (best writer female)'. Once you are there, find my name (Priyanka Naik) and vote. Err...Simple, isn't it? *blush*
On a more serious note,
If you believe in friendship and have friends you cannot imagine life without...
If life has ever made you wonder about fate and its conspiracies...
AND if you think you can trust my word and give my debut attempt a chance to prove itself, then please do pick up this book :)
Twists Of Fate' is available at Amazon and Flipkart.
Yes, the journey of a book never ends, and I hope to meet you somewhere along the way...
I have always been an avid reader. I still am one. However 2014 brought along with it an opportunity to view the world from the other side of the book, to peep at the reader and talk to him through printed words on bound pages that would turn yellow with time and yet stand testimony to something I once spilled my soul into...my debut novel 'Twists Of Fate'.
I started writing 'Twists Of Fate' as a dedication to the beautiful bond of friendship. Ironically, I had kept this a secret from my friends until the very end. I wanted it to be a surprise. It was on 3rd August (Yes, Friendship Day) last year that I created this page on Facebook. I was nervous, anxious and excited all at the same time. Nervous because I was doubtful they wouldn't take it too well (me keeping such a big secret from them), anxious because I was eager to know their reaction, and excited because I knew that the ones who mattered would be too happy celebrating the news rather than dwell on the fact that they were not privy to it. Thus started the journey of 'Twists Of Fate'...
As expected, it was just a small bunch of people who 'liked' the page. The social exile I had been on would be taking its toll. Acquaintances I hadn't stayed in touch with were going to act pricey...ignore me...pretend I was dead. But who could blame them? I hadn't been Ms Congeniality myself. I was guilty of not having commented on my favorite blogs, not 'like'ing updates on facebook walls, and hardly even calling up friends, leave alone hanging out with them in the preceding months. So it was get-back time. Besides I was promoting something that wasn't even out then, to a bunch of people who had stopped liking me. Figure the odds!Yet, some out of general curiosity and some for old times sake decided to tag along. With regular updates on the page, there begun a tiny trickle of followers. A few old friends got over the initial surprise and showed extra enthusiasm, thus making up for the meager number of likes.
The days that followed were filled with trepidation. I kept worrying my publishers, like it was the first book they were going to publish. I kept checking on the progress of the process. I had promised people it would be out soon. How soon did 'soon' mean? Close friends and family (who were apparently the only ones I could see by my side) wanted to know from me. I wanted to know from my publishers. Besides I kept waking up in cold sweat with nightmares of me being the laughing stock amidst jealous ex-batchmates (C'mon, who are we kidding? We all have those!) for not having lived up to my word and having created much ado about nothing. Thankfully, Mahaveer Publishers did not let me down. The book was out soon..as was promised to me and as I had promised to no one in particular and yet everyone in general.
'Twists Of Fate' finally saw the light of day on the bright and auspicious occasion of Diwali (23rd September 2014). As boxes of copies were dispatched to be delivered to those who pre-ordered, I was hoping that my efforts would be appreciated. That is when I realized how much a book actually means to an author. I felt like I was putting my baby out there, from the safe confines of a protected and pampered environment into one where it would be subjected to the sharp and critical eye of the non-biased bibliophile.
As the book made its way to the readers, I waited...for some sort of reaction, review, feedback. Luckily , I did not have to wait long. While my best friends were competing with each other to finish reading the book, they were blissfully unaware that a complete stranger who was gobbling it up at break neck speed would race them to it. For me, however, it was an exhilarating feeling when my first review came as an email from the stranger who had found her way to my page and pre-ordered the book on a whim. It was one of the happiest moments of my life when she emailed to tell me she loved the book. She wrote that 'Twists Of Fate' had tugged at her heart strings, more because of a personal situation she was herself going through..
The journey there onwards continued in baby steps, with reviews, ratings, and feedback coming in from readers all over.Book reviews are like precious gems that an author holds very dear. An author can speak to his reader through his book.But it's rather unfortunate that there is no way to know what is going on in the readers mind, unless the reader lays his thoughts before you. Be it bouquets or brickbats, any kind of feedback is welcome. Of course, the bouquets make you happy and the brickbats hurt as hell. But we can always remember the bouquets and learn from the brickbats, can't we? Until now, the readers have been kind. (Knock on wood). Most have appreciated and acknowledged my humble effort, for which I am grateful.
Honestly, no one wants negative criticism. Positive words have a soothing effect, especially on the panic stricken nerves of a debutante . However, I know I must keep improving, because that's what an author is meant to do. An author is supposed to keep getting better...he owes the reader that much.
Realizations are a part of every journey. One essential thing I learned during my journey is patience. Good news comes to those who wait. I learned that people are going to read your book not when you ask them to but when (and if) they want to. I have also learned that overnight success is hardly ever possible. I have realized that a lot of people whom I had considered readers DO NOT read at all. I have learned that people are often ready to spend three hundred bucks for a coffee, but think twice before spending less than half that amount on a book. I have even met people who think buying books is the obligation you have towards the author only if he/she throws a big launch party and invites you. (No! There was no party to launch my book. Consider it a way to sort out the actual 'readers', who will be invited to the mega launch of my next book, from the 'pretenders' who will obviously be not.). I have been approached by a fellow blogger who made me answer an ultra lengthy and boring list of interview questions, send photographs and other details, and was then irresponsible enough to indefinitely postpone posting it on his blog. (It's been months now, and I have a very good mind to disclose all about it in a separate post...Hah!)
But like every scenario, this journey has a beautiful bright side too. A few wonderful friendships have been discovered along the way. I have received amazing feedback, thanks to which I now know whom to choose as my beta readers the next time around. I am now socially more active on Twitter and Facebook,which tell me that for every two utterly ridiculous and foolishly stubborn bigots, there are twenty-five extremely creative and highly progressive minds tweeting away their opinions in the hope that it will bring about a change some day.I had a lovely time answering questions for interviews at Godyears, Readomania, Sruti's Book Corner etc.
With all these refreshing experiences, I soon learned to enjoy the positives and ignore the negative aspects of the journey. I decided to focus less on the cloud, and concentrate more on the silver lining. It wasn't long before I decided to throw out the road map. I was going to dive in hook, line and sinker.
I am not sure if life really works out best when unplanned. But what I know for sure is that when you plan out things and they don't work like the way you want them to, you are disappointed. Taking one day at a time always helps. I learned to keep my expectations at bay. Good news was starting to slowly pour in. 'Twists Of Fate' got ranked in the first 100 Amazon bestseller list for a while. I was stopped by a stranger on the airport and asked to autograph his copy of the book. These are probably small things to a lot of authors. But to me, they made my day. I'd be grinning like a Cheshire cat every time someone complimented 'Twists Of Fate', when someone told me they were ordering extra copies to gift their friends. My baby was being acknowledged.
Cut to present day. The icing on the cake..yours truly is nominated in the category of 'Literary Diva' for the Author's Ink Literary Awards 2015. Check out my interview here.
The results depend on 50% judges decision and 50% voting.
Voting ends 18th March (tomorrow) midnight. So please hurry and cast your votes now. All you have to do is click on the link here and vote for one nominee in each listing until you reach mine...i.e 'Literary Diva (best writer female)'. Once you are there, find my name (Priyanka Naik) and vote. Err...Simple, isn't it? *blush*On a more serious note,
If you believe in friendship and have friends you cannot imagine life without...
If life has ever made you wonder about fate and its conspiracies...
AND if you think you can trust my word and give my debut attempt a chance to prove itself, then please do pick up this book :)
Twists Of Fate' is available at Amazon and Flipkart.
Yes, the journey of a book never ends, and I hope to meet you somewhere along the way...
March 3, 2015
The 'Soylent' wish
I don't quite like the name. But I have to admit, I love the concept!
I'm talking about 'Soylent', the new age supplement for the laborious task of not just planning and cooking a meal but also eating and clearing the dishes thereafter.
As a child, I loved watching 'The Jetsons'---the animated series that revolved around an utopian world where everything was uber technologically advanced (as against its extreme counterpart, 'The Flintstones' that was yet another favorite). I dreamt about robotic contraptions and alien discoveries that would make life as interesting and convenient as in the futuristic 'Orbit City'.
But childhood fantasies can be nurtured only for so long. I grew up, and this fascination was grudgingly pushed aside by life's monotonous practicality.
However, years later, I can now see a part of my dream coming to life. Those of you who watched the Jetsons or are a huge fan of Willy Wonka might recall the small pill (consumed by the Jetsons) or the piece of gum by Willy Wonka that constituted a five course meal. Well, did you ever wonder what would happen if dreams met reality?
Rob Rhinehart did...
Say hello to the 'Meal Pill' or a touching discovery to the same effect.
For those who haven't heard about Soylent yet, it is a nutritional drink that is supposed to be the perfect meal substitute. For those of you concerned about the taste, it is said to have a rather bland and slightly sweetish taste. So rest assured, you won't gag on it...unless of course you recall the movie 'Soylent Green' while consuming it.
People who have tried it claim that they felt no hunger absolutely for the next five hours after the drink...even while they passed by their favorite patisserie or had a whiff of their favorite food.,
For those who are very excited about using it as a weight loss meal, hold your horses. While the use of Soylent might be accompanied with some weight loss (obviously), this drink is mainly designed for those who are constantly gorging on superfluous food stuffs to match their nutritional requirement. The only reason I have an issue with this fantastic product (other than it costing the moon) is its nomenclature. It reminds me of this freaky movie. Weird sense of humor these Americans have, no? First they drive you to think in a particular direction, and then keep telling you not to think that way. Sigh!
Anyhoo, controversy-free as it is so far, I am now looking forward to more updates on this Meal-drink that will herald the end of food.
However, have you ever considered what will happen if 'Soylent' becomes the next big thing. Imagine a world where this convenient meal substitute is freely available to all at a very nominal cost. Imagine us hanging out with a bunch of friends, chatting merrily over glasses of Solvent. Coffee-table books would be addressed as 'Soylent table' books. Candle light dinners would be easy to arrange with two tumblers of Soylent (and the candle on the table of course) being the only required preparation. Her face would glow in the candle light as she slowly sips the colloidal solution until....OMG! The ring! (She'd never see it coming esp with the viscosity of that liquid.). We could all start our day with a glass of 'Soylent' and happily go on without thinking of food until the next meal (which would be...any guesses? TADAA!! 'Soylent' again!)
Besides, no woman in the world would have to hear she is a bad cook, and there would never be any culinary failures. *jumps with joy*
Of course, here we are busy being selfish and ignoring farmers who toil all day with the sweat of their brow to yield a produce, on the sale of which their lifestyle depends. If everybody opted for 'Soylent', then this would not just mark the end of food, but also herald frustration and desperation amongst our feeders who annually plough, till, sow and reap a rich produce for our consumption. If everybody fed on 'Soylent', what use would this produce be? Fertile land would go waste. Market rates would dip. But then again, if 'Soylent' was made economical and available to everyone, maybe these earnest and hardworking farmers could sell their land and buy packets of Soylent to feed on, no?
What did you say? I am talking like Babbar Saheb? "Complete meal for Rs 12 (maybe?)...Noooo..Not Vada Paav...THE COMPLETE MEAL-PILL"
In a futuristic world (not so far away), we would only have to worry about three things Soylent, Kapda aur Makaan (kyunki 'Roti' toh hone wali hi nahi)., Tanmay Bhat, are you listening?
Oh, and how could we forget our very favorite Masterchefs, what would they do if the world decided to guzzle down entire 5-course meals in a single drink? What would Gordan Ramsay have to say to that? Would he be happy binning preparations of 'Soylent' instead of the little-less-than-exemplary dishes made by the contestants? Would our very own Desi 'Sanjeev Kapoor' be alright with sniffing the concoction before tasting and judging the best mix? Would the snobbish 'Ranveer Brar' (Yes, the one who makes cooking seem like rocket science) be happy to comment on the slight differences in the way the powder has been mixed to create variations of the same peculiar preparation? Would 'Vikas Khanna' still grin in the same cute way after he is made to down a glass prepared by each contestant?
Well, well, well...
Now you see why 'Soylent' will never make it...why it will never reach the common man in India...the one who perhaps needs it most.
But at the end of the day, this whole 'Soylent' episode has taught me to realize that the futuristic world she dreamt about as a kid, is just a stone's throws away. So let me get back to dreaming about a bubble-top spaceship in which I will travel to work some day.
After all, nothing happens unless first a dream...no?
I'm talking about 'Soylent', the new age supplement for the laborious task of not just planning and cooking a meal but also eating and clearing the dishes thereafter.
As a child, I loved watching 'The Jetsons'---the animated series that revolved around an utopian world where everything was uber technologically advanced (as against its extreme counterpart, 'The Flintstones' that was yet another favorite). I dreamt about robotic contraptions and alien discoveries that would make life as interesting and convenient as in the futuristic 'Orbit City'.But childhood fantasies can be nurtured only for so long. I grew up, and this fascination was grudgingly pushed aside by life's monotonous practicality.
However, years later, I can now see a part of my dream coming to life. Those of you who watched the Jetsons or are a huge fan of Willy Wonka might recall the small pill (consumed by the Jetsons) or the piece of gum by Willy Wonka that constituted a five course meal. Well, did you ever wonder what would happen if dreams met reality? Rob Rhinehart did...
Say hello to the 'Meal Pill' or a touching discovery to the same effect.
For those who haven't heard about Soylent yet, it is a nutritional drink that is supposed to be the perfect meal substitute. For those of you concerned about the taste, it is said to have a rather bland and slightly sweetish taste. So rest assured, you won't gag on it...unless of course you recall the movie 'Soylent Green' while consuming it.
People who have tried it claim that they felt no hunger absolutely for the next five hours after the drink...even while they passed by their favorite patisserie or had a whiff of their favorite food.,
For those who are very excited about using it as a weight loss meal, hold your horses. While the use of Soylent might be accompanied with some weight loss (obviously), this drink is mainly designed for those who are constantly gorging on superfluous food stuffs to match their nutritional requirement. The only reason I have an issue with this fantastic product (other than it costing the moon) is its nomenclature. It reminds me of this freaky movie. Weird sense of humor these Americans have, no? First they drive you to think in a particular direction, and then keep telling you not to think that way. Sigh!
Anyhoo, controversy-free as it is so far, I am now looking forward to more updates on this Meal-drink that will herald the end of food.
However, have you ever considered what will happen if 'Soylent' becomes the next big thing. Imagine a world where this convenient meal substitute is freely available to all at a very nominal cost. Imagine us hanging out with a bunch of friends, chatting merrily over glasses of Solvent. Coffee-table books would be addressed as 'Soylent table' books. Candle light dinners would be easy to arrange with two tumblers of Soylent (and the candle on the table of course) being the only required preparation. Her face would glow in the candle light as she slowly sips the colloidal solution until....OMG! The ring! (She'd never see it coming esp with the viscosity of that liquid.). We could all start our day with a glass of 'Soylent' and happily go on without thinking of food until the next meal (which would be...any guesses? TADAA!! 'Soylent' again!)
Besides, no woman in the world would have to hear she is a bad cook, and there would never be any culinary failures. *jumps with joy*
Of course, here we are busy being selfish and ignoring farmers who toil all day with the sweat of their brow to yield a produce, on the sale of which their lifestyle depends. If everybody opted for 'Soylent', then this would not just mark the end of food, but also herald frustration and desperation amongst our feeders who annually plough, till, sow and reap a rich produce for our consumption. If everybody fed on 'Soylent', what use would this produce be? Fertile land would go waste. Market rates would dip. But then again, if 'Soylent' was made economical and available to everyone, maybe these earnest and hardworking farmers could sell their land and buy packets of Soylent to feed on, no?
What did you say? I am talking like Babbar Saheb? "Complete meal for Rs 12 (maybe?)...Noooo..Not Vada Paav...THE COMPLETE MEAL-PILL"
In a futuristic world (not so far away), we would only have to worry about three things Soylent, Kapda aur Makaan (kyunki 'Roti' toh hone wali hi nahi)., Tanmay Bhat, are you listening?
Oh, and how could we forget our very favorite Masterchefs, what would they do if the world decided to guzzle down entire 5-course meals in a single drink? What would Gordan Ramsay have to say to that? Would he be happy binning preparations of 'Soylent' instead of the little-less-than-exemplary dishes made by the contestants? Would our very own Desi 'Sanjeev Kapoor' be alright with sniffing the concoction before tasting and judging the best mix? Would the snobbish 'Ranveer Brar' (Yes, the one who makes cooking seem like rocket science) be happy to comment on the slight differences in the way the powder has been mixed to create variations of the same peculiar preparation? Would 'Vikas Khanna' still grin in the same cute way after he is made to down a glass prepared by each contestant?Well, well, well...
Now you see why 'Soylent' will never make it...why it will never reach the common man in India...the one who perhaps needs it most.
But at the end of the day, this whole 'Soylent' episode has taught me to realize that the futuristic world she dreamt about as a kid, is just a stone's throws away. So let me get back to dreaming about a bubble-top spaceship in which I will travel to work some day.
After all, nothing happens unless first a dream...no?
February 17, 2015
My million dollar recipe
What can go possibly go wrong with good old Maggi instant noodles
,
eh?
This popular instant snack has been saving too-lazy-to-cook Indians world over from going to bed on an empty stomach. It has been my savior during the bleakest of hostel days. It has soothed my anxious nerves before the weakest of exam hours. It has stood up for me every single time. Hence, no matter what jealous Maggi competitors have to say, I, Priyanka Naik, will always be an undying fan and grateful loyalist to this easy and tasty snack.
So, coming back to the point. What can possibly go wrong with this two-minute preparation? After almost two decades of making instant noodles, and declaring myself a 'Maggi Chef' in my own kitchen, I was hell sure that no one and I mean NO ONE, (leave alone the great Masterchef, me) can ever go wrong in making it. This little yellow packet is not just indispensable but also a 100% success formula for hungry stomachs and tired minds. All you need to do is, empty the contents in boiling water, add the taste maker and wait for it to cook.Voila! Delicious noodles ready, right?
NO! Wrong!
Not every time...especially not with yours truly.
After all, yours truly has always been Mr Murphy's favorite muse, hasn't she?
So let me tell you how it all happened. *rubs palms and gets into story telling mode*
Well, last night, I decided to fix myself an instant dinner. Now the first thing that comes to my mind when I think instant is Maggi. Good old faithful Maggi. So, in I popped into the kitchen and out came the cooking pan, pair of scissors and the traditional knight in yellow armour. Little did I know that this one single area of expertise (yes, cooking Maggi I mean) that I gloated would never betray me, would stab me in the back. Mr Murphy often visits me when my common sense is out for a walk...the good-for-nothing wimp that he is.
But like every bad experience, there was a lesson I gleaned from this disastrous accident too---I learned how not to make Maggi noodles. *grins proudly*
On the bright(er) side, I now know a fantastic recipe for a preparation that could be put in use when I am old and grey, when my reflexes are weak and my teeth have fallen out. Well, I am sure I'd be just as lazy then, maybe even lazier. If I manage to stick around to such a ridiculously wise and senile sensitive age, I am pretty sure I'd be well equipped with Maggi packets as well.How silly it would seem if I gagged on a noodle. What would happen to my cool image et al? Now that I have this secret recipe, I don't need to stress over that anymore. YO!
Hey, but let's not be all selfish. It's not all about me, you know. I am sure the recipe I have discovered (all great inventions were discovered by accident, you know) could also qualify for a very convenient and easy to make formula food for babies. Hey, all you young mommies out there, I hope you are reading.
So here goes. Below is the above mentioned recipe in ten easy steps. (Sharing it on the blog only because I love you all soooo much)
Heat water in a pan (as suggested on the back of the pack). Empty the contents of the pack Go to answer the door bell. Realizing that the guest who has entered will take a while to leave and not wanting to cook when he/she is around, slowly sneak into the kitchen and turn off the stove. Cover the pan containing the soaked noodles and leave the kitchen with the intention to resume what you have left half done, once the guest leaves.After a good 30-45 mins (unexpected guests generally takes that long to leave. but in case he leaves early, you can get distracted by a TV soap or something), re-enter the kitchen only to find the thin noodle strands miraculously bloated. The water in the pan would have disappeared by then, and remember, you haven't even added the taste maker yet.Add more water. (Obviously!) How else is the taste maker going to dissolve? It's not chaat powder that you can sprinkle on, remember? Yes, so add more water, about the same quantity you added in the first place.Now add the taste maker.Stir vigorously, more out of panic from perceiving that the noodles have attained a pale, bland looking appearance instead of the predicted dark yellow color. This step can be accompanied by wondering whether to add turmeric powder to enhance the look. (Desperate times call for desperate measures.) But don't give in to that thought. Why? Err...I dunno. I didn't, so you don't!Cook on alternate high and low flame until all the water evaporates.Garma Garam Mushy Maggi tayyar!!! Be proud and dig up in a hole to bury the messy concoction!
For all those who want to know what followed the above such episode last night, well...nothing much. I normally do not like sharing my Maggi with anyone, especially with my nasty older sibling. But the Maggi I'd so lovingly cooked yesterday simply could not be eaten alone. I had to share the love with her. Sadly, she never believes me when I'm in such a generous mood, and so did not appreciate the sentiment. Her reaction after the first bite reminded me of the famous shower scene in 'Psycho'. Lucky for me, I was not trapped like the heroine in the cubicle and could run away if necessary.
Nevertheless, between emotional threats of children going hungry in Somalia and sentimental dialogues of 'Anyone can make mistakes', I managed to force feed the family into gulping the bolus (that looked nowhere like Maggi by the time it was done) without choking. Half the concoction went into the thrash can. But like I said earlier, we see the bright side of every situation.
I now have a success formula that I am planning to sell to the company for a million bucks.
'New Maggi Noodle Mush--for the toothless & the constipated...'
Don't be shocked if you see the 'Noodle Mush' recipe being promoted anytime soon. And once that happens, don't forget to feel special...you got to read it here first! *blows kisses to everyone*
Keep experimenting.Cheers!!
This popular instant snack has been saving too-lazy-to-cook Indians world over from going to bed on an empty stomach. It has been my savior during the bleakest of hostel days. It has soothed my anxious nerves before the weakest of exam hours. It has stood up for me every single time. Hence, no matter what jealous Maggi competitors have to say, I, Priyanka Naik, will always be an undying fan and grateful loyalist to this easy and tasty snack.So, coming back to the point. What can possibly go wrong with this two-minute preparation? After almost two decades of making instant noodles, and declaring myself a 'Maggi Chef' in my own kitchen, I was hell sure that no one and I mean NO ONE, (leave alone the great Masterchef, me) can ever go wrong in making it. This little yellow packet is not just indispensable but also a 100% success formula for hungry stomachs and tired minds. All you need to do is, empty the contents in boiling water, add the taste maker and wait for it to cook.Voila! Delicious noodles ready, right?
NO! Wrong!
Not every time...especially not with yours truly.
After all, yours truly has always been Mr Murphy's favorite muse, hasn't she?
So let me tell you how it all happened. *rubs palms and gets into story telling mode*
Well, last night, I decided to fix myself an instant dinner. Now the first thing that comes to my mind when I think instant is Maggi. Good old faithful Maggi. So, in I popped into the kitchen and out came the cooking pan, pair of scissors and the traditional knight in yellow armour. Little did I know that this one single area of expertise (yes, cooking Maggi I mean) that I gloated would never betray me, would stab me in the back. Mr Murphy often visits me when my common sense is out for a walk...the good-for-nothing wimp that he is.But like every bad experience, there was a lesson I gleaned from this disastrous accident too---I learned how not to make Maggi noodles. *grins proudly*
On the bright(er) side, I now know a fantastic recipe for a preparation that could be put in use when I am old and grey, when my reflexes are weak and my teeth have fallen out. Well, I am sure I'd be just as lazy then, maybe even lazier. If I manage to stick around to such a ridiculously wise and senile sensitive age, I am pretty sure I'd be well equipped with Maggi packets as well.How silly it would seem if I gagged on a noodle. What would happen to my cool image et al? Now that I have this secret recipe, I don't need to stress over that anymore. YO!
Hey, but let's not be all selfish. It's not all about me, you know. I am sure the recipe I have discovered (all great inventions were discovered by accident, you know) could also qualify for a very convenient and easy to make formula food for babies. Hey, all you young mommies out there, I hope you are reading.
So here goes. Below is the above mentioned recipe in ten easy steps. (Sharing it on the blog only because I love you all soooo much)
Heat water in a pan (as suggested on the back of the pack). Empty the contents of the pack Go to answer the door bell. Realizing that the guest who has entered will take a while to leave and not wanting to cook when he/she is around, slowly sneak into the kitchen and turn off the stove. Cover the pan containing the soaked noodles and leave the kitchen with the intention to resume what you have left half done, once the guest leaves.After a good 30-45 mins (unexpected guests generally takes that long to leave. but in case he leaves early, you can get distracted by a TV soap or something), re-enter the kitchen only to find the thin noodle strands miraculously bloated. The water in the pan would have disappeared by then, and remember, you haven't even added the taste maker yet.Add more water. (Obviously!) How else is the taste maker going to dissolve? It's not chaat powder that you can sprinkle on, remember? Yes, so add more water, about the same quantity you added in the first place.Now add the taste maker.Stir vigorously, more out of panic from perceiving that the noodles have attained a pale, bland looking appearance instead of the predicted dark yellow color. This step can be accompanied by wondering whether to add turmeric powder to enhance the look. (Desperate times call for desperate measures.) But don't give in to that thought. Why? Err...I dunno. I didn't, so you don't!Cook on alternate high and low flame until all the water evaporates.Garma Garam Mushy Maggi tayyar!!! Be proud and dig up in a hole to bury the messy concoction!
For all those who want to know what followed the above such episode last night, well...nothing much. I normally do not like sharing my Maggi with anyone, especially with my nasty older sibling. But the Maggi I'd so lovingly cooked yesterday simply could not be eaten alone. I had to share the love with her. Sadly, she never believes me when I'm in such a generous mood, and so did not appreciate the sentiment. Her reaction after the first bite reminded me of the famous shower scene in 'Psycho'. Lucky for me, I was not trapped like the heroine in the cubicle and could run away if necessary.
Nevertheless, between emotional threats of children going hungry in Somalia and sentimental dialogues of 'Anyone can make mistakes', I managed to force feed the family into gulping the bolus (that looked nowhere like Maggi by the time it was done) without choking. Half the concoction went into the thrash can. But like I said earlier, we see the bright side of every situation.
I now have a success formula that I am planning to sell to the company for a million bucks.
'New Maggi Noodle Mush--for the toothless & the constipated...'
Don't be shocked if you see the 'Noodle Mush' recipe being promoted anytime soon. And once that happens, don't forget to feel special...you got to read it here first! *blows kisses to everyone*
Keep experimenting.Cheers!!
January 29, 2015
Garnier Pure Active Neem Wash---Your Zit Kit!
Around a fortnight ago, I received a call from the 'Best Friend'. She was hysterical.
"Out of all the days in all the months in all the years, it has to happen now," she wailed.
"Relax Dimpy, Take a deep breath. Now exhale," I said.
There was silence at the other side.
"You can tell me now," I giggled, familiar with similar episodes in the past. The last time Dimpy had been so upset was when her favorite lipstick shade had sold out.
"No Pri. This time, the problem is really serious," she breathed. "Pushky's folks are coming to see me."
"Wow!!! But isn't that a great thing?" I was confused. My friend Dimple was in a long term relationship with the man of her dreams, Pushkar Solanki, and it was about time things moved to the next level. Dimpy would often tell me that Pushkar and she would even have heated arguments regarding the same issue. Coming from an orthodox family, Pushkar did not know how to spill the beans to his folks.
However, it seemed Pushkar had now not only told his folks about his long term relationship, but also managed to convince them to come and meet the girl. I was happy for my friend. It seemed to me like it would be a 'Jhat Mangni Pat Byah' scenario. But I still couldn't understand the reason for panic.
"It would be. But unfortunately, the timing is all wrong. It's 'Spotty' time," she cried.
Now for those of you who'd think Dimple might have been overreacting again, trust me, she was not!
'Spotty' is an old nick name which we had fondly coined for her back in our school days, Like all major events, Dimple had responded to it first with anger, then denial, then resistance and finally acceptance. The name had stuck on just like the breakout of pimples that would unfailingly appear few days before her periods that were as regular as clockwork. The spots on her face caused more concern than a positive pregnancy test, and we would often kid by calling it the unsafe period of social activity.
It was during these few days every month that Dimple would not make any kind of outdoor appearance. She would try and stay indoors as much as possible. She would shirk away from gatherings and functions, develop camera phobia, run away from meeting new people, and try all sorts of liniments and homemade concoctions on the crop of red pimples...all in vain. Hormonal assays had shown there was nothing wrong with her hormones. The irregular eruptions proved that the zits had a mind of their own, leading to Dimpy stressing and hiding whenever they made their appearance. Had we not known her that well, we would have labelled it as another case of 'menstrual exclusion'.
"Damn! When are they coming to meet you?" I asked, now feeling sorry for her.
"Right on time. I just can't believe my luck. Pushky says that have already booked their tickets. When I told him about it, he laughed and said it was okay. But you know it's not, Pri. It's so not. It is going to be my first impression with my to-be in-laws."
I understood what she was saying. This was an occasion she had been waiting for since ages. All these years, Dimple would have died for just one meeting to impress her in-laws with. I knew they would approve of her once they met her. All their anger would melt when they realized what a sweet person their only son had chosen to be their daughter-in-law. Dimple could charm her way into any one's heart. But right now, she lacked confidence. With so many years of bad experience with oily skin, there was no way my consolation would be effective, even if it meant I tried every single day for the next two weeks. Pushkar's angry parents would be here in a fortnight, around the same time as the mad break out..
"Chill Dimpy. We will come up with something," I tried in vain. I myself was unconvinced. Having been witness to Dimpy's breakout's in the past, I had been a partner to her woes of egg-white, honey, curd, lemon, apricots and all other sorts of face packs, that did nothing else but leave her smelling like a rotting fruit basket in a garbage can. She had even tried taking blood purifiers, but had given up because she could not stand their terrible taste.
That very evening we met up with a skin consultant friend who suggested different treatments for acne. While it was a good revision of my medical knowledge, I realized that a busy life and daily stresses had caused even me to neglect my skin. The only reason that I did not have these regular eruptions that Dimpy experienced was because she had an excessively oily skin type to begin with. I did have whiteheads though, which were a type of acne, just not as obvious as the papular and pustular variant (thankfully).
'Dr Skin' (yes, we have nick names for every one) told us that it was quite common to experience a break out during menstrual cycles. She also told Dimpy that excessive stress causes worsening of acne (which Dimpy readily agreed with from past experience. I thought it was more cause for worry since the anticipation of meeting Pushkar's parents was only adding to her stress.) When asked about cosmetics, I also realized that Dimpy used an oil based foundation which isn't suitable for acne prone skin.
We discussed chemical peels, laser, Dermaroller for scars, and other therapies which normally cost the moon, and Dimpy was afraid she would have no money left for her wedding trousseau. Besides nothing was guaranteed. So we decided to give that a skip and stick to the basic and least harrowing.
On returning back, we stopped at my regular beauty store to pick up my usual Garnier skin natural sun control moisturizer and Fructis fortifying shampoo. That is when I noticed another product from my favorite range of beauty products...a face wash---Garnier PureActive Neem. Tube in hand, I searched for Dimple and finally found her sulking at her reflection in the display mirror.
I took her aside and showed her the product I had in hand. It was a conveniently packaged flip-top tube from Garnier. On knowing it was an anti-acne face wash, I had immediately googled to see wonderful reviews.
Dimple was overjoyed on reading it contained real Neem Leaf and Tree Tea Oil extracts:
"Just what I need," she said pointing out to the mechanism of action at the back of the tube.
1) Fights germs: washes away problem causing bacteria to help prevent pimples.
2) Fights Pollution: deep cleans pores to remove impurities caused by pollution.
3) Removes excess Oil: it washes away excess oil which attracts dirt, germs and bacteria.
Having used Garnier products since a long time now, I trusted it enough to believe its effectiveness. Besides, we did not have anything to lose. Dimpy had tried all the home remedies and care routines in the past. But there had been no significant effect. Here was a face wash that promised to help us deal with the harmful stresses that pollution and a busy life have on our skin. Reducing the excess oil would prevent the accumulation under the skin follicles, thus reducing eruptions. Also, our age old sciences vouch for the purifying effect of Neem. I recalled my Grandma boiling Neem leaves in my bath water every vacation spent at our ancestral house.
Besides using the face wash, I suggested that Dimple go on a detox diet. Dr Skin had adviced her to stay off oily food, as eating healthy was very important for skin care. Plenty of water was to be consumed.
"Oh yes, I am ready to starve as long as it works," she promised, her dramatic self again.
Dr Skin had warned us of the side effects the topical antibiotics and retinoids could have on the skin. Besides the cost factor of the laser and Dermaroller therapy, the topical skin products could leave redness, skin rash, and some other serious side effects as well when used long term.
Dimpy had left the skin clinic, a little dejected. But on finding this Neem Face Wash, her chances to a clearer skin looked promising. Accompanying Dimpy to the skin clinic had also made me aware of the effects of environmental pollution had on my skin. So I billed an additional tube of the face wash for myself.
Since then Dimple has been following a cleansing and purifying routine. She has been following a healthy diet of fresh fruits and vegetables. She has switched over to makeup products that are not oil-based, even this she uses she uses occasionally, taking care to wash and dry the make-up sponge and brush clean after every application. She drinks around three to four litres of water every day and practices yoga to relieve stress. End result, the eruptions have been very few and far in between. Her skin has been showing significant changes.
I met her just a couple of days back, and she no longer seems nervous anymore. Pushkar's parents are going to arrive in a week's time, but I noticed that she is no more jittery about it. When asked about it, she told me she is going shopping for their visit. It was nice to see her glowing.
"Pri, I feel beautiful," she said. "I don't know if Pushkar's parents are going to approve of me or not. I don't even know if my face is ever going to be completely zit-free. But what I know for sure is that I feel great about myself...just like I felt when I first met Pushky." She let out a mischievous giggle.
Then taking out the face wash from her hand bag, she gushed,"This has become a must-carry now. I don't leave home without it."
"Yes, I can see the improvement," I grinned and hugged her good luck. I knew she would be busy the next few days now. Mr and Mrs Solanki were about to be floored by their soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
On returning home, I was smiling to myself thinking about Dimple. It was nice to see Dimpy being so stress free and confident again. I had hardly seen her like this before, except when around Pushkar. Somewhere I felt that we owed it to her, the return of her confidence. The jabs during school days, all in good humor, suddenly begun to seem crude. 'Dimple and her pimple' , 'Spotty' etc were plain inhuman even coming from friends.
'Beauty is only skin deep,' I could hear my grandma saying. But then why did she make me bathe in neem leaves every morning? Probably because she knew that the world does not see it that way. .
Perhaps because she was aware that even though beauty was only skin deep, a hurtful word could slash you deep within your heart and mar your self esteem forever.
I took out the Garnier PureActive Neem Wash from the cabinet. Standing in front of the washroom mirror, I flipped open its cover and squeezed a little on my palm, and inhaled it long and deep.
"So, this is what confidence smells like," I smiled and proceeded to gently massage it on my damp face, avoiding the eye contour area.
'Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder,' an inner voice reminded, making me smile again. As I rinsed thoroughly, I felt a strange tiredness slip away.
I felt fresh...from within!
---------------------------------------------------------------
The post has been submitted as an entry for the 'Garnier Pure Active Neem' contest on Indiblogger
If you liked the post, please vote for it here
"Out of all the days in all the months in all the years, it has to happen now," she wailed.
"Relax Dimpy, Take a deep breath. Now exhale," I said.
There was silence at the other side.
"You can tell me now," I giggled, familiar with similar episodes in the past. The last time Dimpy had been so upset was when her favorite lipstick shade had sold out.
"No Pri. This time, the problem is really serious," she breathed. "Pushky's folks are coming to see me."
"Wow!!! But isn't that a great thing?" I was confused. My friend Dimple was in a long term relationship with the man of her dreams, Pushkar Solanki, and it was about time things moved to the next level. Dimpy would often tell me that Pushkar and she would even have heated arguments regarding the same issue. Coming from an orthodox family, Pushkar did not know how to spill the beans to his folks.
However, it seemed Pushkar had now not only told his folks about his long term relationship, but also managed to convince them to come and meet the girl. I was happy for my friend. It seemed to me like it would be a 'Jhat Mangni Pat Byah' scenario. But I still couldn't understand the reason for panic.
"It would be. But unfortunately, the timing is all wrong. It's 'Spotty' time," she cried.
Now for those of you who'd think Dimple might have been overreacting again, trust me, she was not!
'Spotty' is an old nick name which we had fondly coined for her back in our school days, Like all major events, Dimple had responded to it first with anger, then denial, then resistance and finally acceptance. The name had stuck on just like the breakout of pimples that would unfailingly appear few days before her periods that were as regular as clockwork. The spots on her face caused more concern than a positive pregnancy test, and we would often kid by calling it the unsafe period of social activity.
It was during these few days every month that Dimple would not make any kind of outdoor appearance. She would try and stay indoors as much as possible. She would shirk away from gatherings and functions, develop camera phobia, run away from meeting new people, and try all sorts of liniments and homemade concoctions on the crop of red pimples...all in vain. Hormonal assays had shown there was nothing wrong with her hormones. The irregular eruptions proved that the zits had a mind of their own, leading to Dimpy stressing and hiding whenever they made their appearance. Had we not known her that well, we would have labelled it as another case of 'menstrual exclusion'.
"Damn! When are they coming to meet you?" I asked, now feeling sorry for her.
"Right on time. I just can't believe my luck. Pushky says that have already booked their tickets. When I told him about it, he laughed and said it was okay. But you know it's not, Pri. It's so not. It is going to be my first impression with my to-be in-laws."
I understood what she was saying. This was an occasion she had been waiting for since ages. All these years, Dimple would have died for just one meeting to impress her in-laws with. I knew they would approve of her once they met her. All their anger would melt when they realized what a sweet person their only son had chosen to be their daughter-in-law. Dimple could charm her way into any one's heart. But right now, she lacked confidence. With so many years of bad experience with oily skin, there was no way my consolation would be effective, even if it meant I tried every single day for the next two weeks. Pushkar's angry parents would be here in a fortnight, around the same time as the mad break out..
"Chill Dimpy. We will come up with something," I tried in vain. I myself was unconvinced. Having been witness to Dimpy's breakout's in the past, I had been a partner to her woes of egg-white, honey, curd, lemon, apricots and all other sorts of face packs, that did nothing else but leave her smelling like a rotting fruit basket in a garbage can. She had even tried taking blood purifiers, but had given up because she could not stand their terrible taste.
That very evening we met up with a skin consultant friend who suggested different treatments for acne. While it was a good revision of my medical knowledge, I realized that a busy life and daily stresses had caused even me to neglect my skin. The only reason that I did not have these regular eruptions that Dimpy experienced was because she had an excessively oily skin type to begin with. I did have whiteheads though, which were a type of acne, just not as obvious as the papular and pustular variant (thankfully).
'Dr Skin' (yes, we have nick names for every one) told us that it was quite common to experience a break out during menstrual cycles. She also told Dimpy that excessive stress causes worsening of acne (which Dimpy readily agreed with from past experience. I thought it was more cause for worry since the anticipation of meeting Pushkar's parents was only adding to her stress.) When asked about cosmetics, I also realized that Dimpy used an oil based foundation which isn't suitable for acne prone skin.
We discussed chemical peels, laser, Dermaroller for scars, and other therapies which normally cost the moon, and Dimpy was afraid she would have no money left for her wedding trousseau. Besides nothing was guaranteed. So we decided to give that a skip and stick to the basic and least harrowing.
On returning back, we stopped at my regular beauty store to pick up my usual Garnier skin natural sun control moisturizer and Fructis fortifying shampoo. That is when I noticed another product from my favorite range of beauty products...a face wash---Garnier PureActive Neem. Tube in hand, I searched for Dimple and finally found her sulking at her reflection in the display mirror.
I took her aside and showed her the product I had in hand. It was a conveniently packaged flip-top tube from Garnier. On knowing it was an anti-acne face wash, I had immediately googled to see wonderful reviews. Dimple was overjoyed on reading it contained real Neem Leaf and Tree Tea Oil extracts:
"Just what I need," she said pointing out to the mechanism of action at the back of the tube.
1) Fights germs: washes away problem causing bacteria to help prevent pimples.
2) Fights Pollution: deep cleans pores to remove impurities caused by pollution.
3) Removes excess Oil: it washes away excess oil which attracts dirt, germs and bacteria.
Having used Garnier products since a long time now, I trusted it enough to believe its effectiveness. Besides, we did not have anything to lose. Dimpy had tried all the home remedies and care routines in the past. But there had been no significant effect. Here was a face wash that promised to help us deal with the harmful stresses that pollution and a busy life have on our skin. Reducing the excess oil would prevent the accumulation under the skin follicles, thus reducing eruptions. Also, our age old sciences vouch for the purifying effect of Neem. I recalled my Grandma boiling Neem leaves in my bath water every vacation spent at our ancestral house.
Besides using the face wash, I suggested that Dimple go on a detox diet. Dr Skin had adviced her to stay off oily food, as eating healthy was very important for skin care. Plenty of water was to be consumed.
"Oh yes, I am ready to starve as long as it works," she promised, her dramatic self again.
Dr Skin had warned us of the side effects the topical antibiotics and retinoids could have on the skin. Besides the cost factor of the laser and Dermaroller therapy, the topical skin products could leave redness, skin rash, and some other serious side effects as well when used long term.
Dimpy had left the skin clinic, a little dejected. But on finding this Neem Face Wash, her chances to a clearer skin looked promising. Accompanying Dimpy to the skin clinic had also made me aware of the effects of environmental pollution had on my skin. So I billed an additional tube of the face wash for myself.
Since then Dimple has been following a cleansing and purifying routine. She has been following a healthy diet of fresh fruits and vegetables. She has switched over to makeup products that are not oil-based, even this she uses she uses occasionally, taking care to wash and dry the make-up sponge and brush clean after every application. She drinks around three to four litres of water every day and practices yoga to relieve stress. End result, the eruptions have been very few and far in between. Her skin has been showing significant changes.
I met her just a couple of days back, and she no longer seems nervous anymore. Pushkar's parents are going to arrive in a week's time, but I noticed that she is no more jittery about it. When asked about it, she told me she is going shopping for their visit. It was nice to see her glowing.
"Pri, I feel beautiful," she said. "I don't know if Pushkar's parents are going to approve of me or not. I don't even know if my face is ever going to be completely zit-free. But what I know for sure is that I feel great about myself...just like I felt when I first met Pushky." She let out a mischievous giggle.
Then taking out the face wash from her hand bag, she gushed,"This has become a must-carry now. I don't leave home without it."
"Yes, I can see the improvement," I grinned and hugged her good luck. I knew she would be busy the next few days now. Mr and Mrs Solanki were about to be floored by their soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
On returning home, I was smiling to myself thinking about Dimple. It was nice to see Dimpy being so stress free and confident again. I had hardly seen her like this before, except when around Pushkar. Somewhere I felt that we owed it to her, the return of her confidence. The jabs during school days, all in good humor, suddenly begun to seem crude. 'Dimple and her pimple' , 'Spotty' etc were plain inhuman even coming from friends.
'Beauty is only skin deep,' I could hear my grandma saying. But then why did she make me bathe in neem leaves every morning? Probably because she knew that the world does not see it that way. .
Perhaps because she was aware that even though beauty was only skin deep, a hurtful word could slash you deep within your heart and mar your self esteem forever.
I took out the Garnier PureActive Neem Wash from the cabinet. Standing in front of the washroom mirror, I flipped open its cover and squeezed a little on my palm, and inhaled it long and deep.
"So, this is what confidence smells like," I smiled and proceeded to gently massage it on my damp face, avoiding the eye contour area.
'Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder,' an inner voice reminded, making me smile again. As I rinsed thoroughly, I felt a strange tiredness slip away.
I felt fresh...from within!
---------------------------------------------------------------
The post has been submitted as an entry for the 'Garnier Pure Active Neem' contest on Indiblogger
If you liked the post, please vote for it here
January 24, 2015
The Dreamcatcher
"It's a surprise. Don't cheat," Jason said to Sarah, as he blind folded her.
With that, he revved up the engine and set the car in motion.
Jason and Sarah were childhood friends. Today, seated in his shiny black Sedan, she wondered what the surprise could be. She smiled to herself as glimpses of their friendship flashed before her blind folded eyes.
It was Sarah's 11th birthday. She had stopped celebrating it ever since her parents had died in that awful plane crash. She had been living with her grandmother ever since. The last birthday she had celebrated was when she was five, the year the accident had occurred.
Sitting in a quiet corner of her room, eleven year old Sarah had imagined herself in a pretty little pink dress covered with lace and sequins, distributing sweets to all her friends at school. In reality, no one had remembered to wish her except her grandmother and pimple-faced Jason. Jason had made her a shoe box and her grand ma had got her some messily packed candy. Sarah couldn't complain. That was all they could afford. Her friends would receive fancy gifts and clothes on their birthdays. Sarah had cried herself to sleep that night. In her dream, she saw fairy lights. A string of dainty little lights in brilliant colors....in shades she had never ever seen before.
The next morning saw her wake up smiling. She couldn't recall the exact dream. All she remembered was that she was happy...and of course the magical fairy lights, she would never forget those.
When she was fourteen, she had participated in a ballet concert at her school. She had really pinned up all her hopes on the prize--a small battery operated digital television set. Sarah wondered how it would be to have a TV. She knew her grandma could never afford one. But she was ashamed to reveal this wish to anyone at school. She had put her heart and soul in the practice. She was so sure she'd win. But as bad luck would have it, she tripped over a wire in the middle of the performance. Red with embarrassment, she had run off the stage. She had locked herself in her room and would not open the door for anyone. Amidst angry sobs, she had told Jason that she would never dance again.
In high school, she had wished good old 'heart throb' Nick would ask her to prom night. Her grandmother had fished out her mother's gown from an old trunk that was locked away in the attic. A little alteration had been needed....a nip here, a tuck there, and it had fit Sarah perfectly. That night she went to sleep thinking of Nick. As she entered a deep sleep, she felt something inside her changing. It was if Nick was being extricated from her thoughts. She had woken up feeling unusually happy, but could not recall anything of the mysterious dream. On reaching high school, she discovered that Nick had already asked Katy to the prom. Heart broken, she confided in Jason again. That evening Jason stayed back with her watching reruns of her favorite soap. He said it made him feel 'gay', and that made her laugh all the more.
Sarah's chain of thoughts was interrupted by a sudden screech. The car had stopped. It was time to step out.
The front door was opened, and Jason gently held her hand and let her out of the car.
"No looking," he reminded her again.
"Where are we?" she asked, her curiosity heightened.
"Hang on a minute," he said, a smile in his voice.
It was time to open the blindfold. Jason carefully removed the cuff from her eyes.In front of Sarah, was a cozy looking cottage with a wooden door. She looked at Jason, giving him a questioning look.
He smiled at her and inserted a key in the lock. The door fell open. The inside was furbished with trendy upholstery. There were spotless lace curtains adorning huge french windows. The mauve walls were adorned with breathtakingly beautiful paintings and modern artifacts. There was a small TV set in one corner, just like the one she had wanted to win years ago. On one wall, was a cuckoo clock, similar to the one she had once dreamed of. She wondered if the cuckoo would fly out chirping her name, just like it did in her dream. There was a table laden with neatly wrapped gifts. Sarah counted. There were eighteen in all, one for each birthday she did not celebrate. A full sized shiny looking glass adorned one corner of the room. Sarah blushed as she recalled complaining once to Jason about a cracked hand mirror. As she gazed at her reflection in it, Jason sneaked behind her and gently slid a gold chain around her neck.
Around it was the most beautiful 'ballerina' locket she had ever seen.
All of a sudden, there was a flash of color. Sarah looked up to see an iridescent spray of the most amazing hues in the universe. She followed her glance towards the source which led to strings of fairy lights just like the ones she had dreamed about on her eleventh birthday.
But how on earth did Jason get to know about all this, she wondered. She closed her eyes again and tried to recall the dreams she had dreamed as a child. In a far corner of her mind, hadn't Jason always been a part of them?
The day she failed at the dancing contest, the day Nick ditched her, the exam she had flunked, the gold bracelet she couldn't afford, Jason had been with her all along. She had just not taken notice of him then. He had stayed in the background, collecting bits of her dreams, to present them back to her as a lovely collage some day. He had made her dreams come true.
She had heard of the 'Dreamcatchers'...the celestial characters her grandmother would talk about. They were a group of magical creatures who possessed the superpower to catch dreams from humans. They could change into any form they wanted. They were masters of their choice, and creatures of habit.
Were these fictional characters from her bed time stories real, Sarah now wondered. Could Jason be one of them?
She turned to look at Jason who was standing right behind her, like he had always been. For the first time today, she gazed into his eyes. She could see her dreams reflected in them.
As she continued to gaze longingly into his eyes, she felt a strange pull towards him. For the first time in her life, someone had made her feel important...someone had made her feel special...feel loved. She felt happy. It was the same happiness she had experienced in her dreams.
"I have never known love," Jason whispered to Sarah. "But if there is something called 'love', it must surely feel like this."
Sarah blushed. The fairy lights twinkled on, their spectral hues sending magical ripples around the room.
"I have never been happier," Sarah smiled, and they both hugged each other. It had started raining outside. The air inside smelled of lemon and lavender. Everything around them felt magical. So did their love.
Sarah felt her eyelids turn heavier. She was feeling sleepy. She lay on the four poster bed that she had always wished she had. It was exactly like the one she had read about in fairy tales. The pillows were like clouds under her head. That night, she had a dreamless sleep.
The dream catcher sat beside her all night long, guarding the smile that played on her lips. He did not even realize when he had dozed off.
When he woke up next morning, she was gone. He was in his own nondescript home. He peeped outside his bedroom window to see the bright summer sun. His rusty old cycle stood in the messy shed, waiting to be mounted.
Jason pinched himself. He rubbed his eyes. Where had it all vanished? Where was Sarah?
Had he just returned from a dream or entered into one, Jason wondered. Had the Dreamcatcher not yet learned to catch his own dreams?
Just then, his cell phone beeped. It was a text from Sarah,
You won't believe what I dreamt up yesterday, it said!
Jason smiled. Someone up there was playing tricks on him, reminding him that there was no greater Dreamcatcher than love!
With that, he revved up the engine and set the car in motion.
Jason and Sarah were childhood friends. Today, seated in his shiny black Sedan, she wondered what the surprise could be. She smiled to herself as glimpses of their friendship flashed before her blind folded eyes.
It was Sarah's 11th birthday. She had stopped celebrating it ever since her parents had died in that awful plane crash. She had been living with her grandmother ever since. The last birthday she had celebrated was when she was five, the year the accident had occurred.
Sitting in a quiet corner of her room, eleven year old Sarah had imagined herself in a pretty little pink dress covered with lace and sequins, distributing sweets to all her friends at school. In reality, no one had remembered to wish her except her grandmother and pimple-faced Jason. Jason had made her a shoe box and her grand ma had got her some messily packed candy. Sarah couldn't complain. That was all they could afford. Her friends would receive fancy gifts and clothes on their birthdays. Sarah had cried herself to sleep that night. In her dream, she saw fairy lights. A string of dainty little lights in brilliant colors....in shades she had never ever seen before.
The next morning saw her wake up smiling. She couldn't recall the exact dream. All she remembered was that she was happy...and of course the magical fairy lights, she would never forget those.
When she was fourteen, she had participated in a ballet concert at her school. She had really pinned up all her hopes on the prize--a small battery operated digital television set. Sarah wondered how it would be to have a TV. She knew her grandma could never afford one. But she was ashamed to reveal this wish to anyone at school. She had put her heart and soul in the practice. She was so sure she'd win. But as bad luck would have it, she tripped over a wire in the middle of the performance. Red with embarrassment, she had run off the stage. She had locked herself in her room and would not open the door for anyone. Amidst angry sobs, she had told Jason that she would never dance again.
In high school, she had wished good old 'heart throb' Nick would ask her to prom night. Her grandmother had fished out her mother's gown from an old trunk that was locked away in the attic. A little alteration had been needed....a nip here, a tuck there, and it had fit Sarah perfectly. That night she went to sleep thinking of Nick. As she entered a deep sleep, she felt something inside her changing. It was if Nick was being extricated from her thoughts. She had woken up feeling unusually happy, but could not recall anything of the mysterious dream. On reaching high school, she discovered that Nick had already asked Katy to the prom. Heart broken, she confided in Jason again. That evening Jason stayed back with her watching reruns of her favorite soap. He said it made him feel 'gay', and that made her laugh all the more.
Sarah's chain of thoughts was interrupted by a sudden screech. The car had stopped. It was time to step out.
The front door was opened, and Jason gently held her hand and let her out of the car.
"No looking," he reminded her again.
"Where are we?" she asked, her curiosity heightened.
"Hang on a minute," he said, a smile in his voice.
It was time to open the blindfold. Jason carefully removed the cuff from her eyes.In front of Sarah, was a cozy looking cottage with a wooden door. She looked at Jason, giving him a questioning look.
He smiled at her and inserted a key in the lock. The door fell open. The inside was furbished with trendy upholstery. There were spotless lace curtains adorning huge french windows. The mauve walls were adorned with breathtakingly beautiful paintings and modern artifacts. There was a small TV set in one corner, just like the one she had wanted to win years ago. On one wall, was a cuckoo clock, similar to the one she had once dreamed of. She wondered if the cuckoo would fly out chirping her name, just like it did in her dream. There was a table laden with neatly wrapped gifts. Sarah counted. There were eighteen in all, one for each birthday she did not celebrate. A full sized shiny looking glass adorned one corner of the room. Sarah blushed as she recalled complaining once to Jason about a cracked hand mirror. As she gazed at her reflection in it, Jason sneaked behind her and gently slid a gold chain around her neck.
Around it was the most beautiful 'ballerina' locket she had ever seen.
All of a sudden, there was a flash of color. Sarah looked up to see an iridescent spray of the most amazing hues in the universe. She followed her glance towards the source which led to strings of fairy lights just like the ones she had dreamed about on her eleventh birthday.
But how on earth did Jason get to know about all this, she wondered. She closed her eyes again and tried to recall the dreams she had dreamed as a child. In a far corner of her mind, hadn't Jason always been a part of them?
The day she failed at the dancing contest, the day Nick ditched her, the exam she had flunked, the gold bracelet she couldn't afford, Jason had been with her all along. She had just not taken notice of him then. He had stayed in the background, collecting bits of her dreams, to present them back to her as a lovely collage some day. He had made her dreams come true.
She had heard of the 'Dreamcatchers'...the celestial characters her grandmother would talk about. They were a group of magical creatures who possessed the superpower to catch dreams from humans. They could change into any form they wanted. They were masters of their choice, and creatures of habit.
Were these fictional characters from her bed time stories real, Sarah now wondered. Could Jason be one of them?
She turned to look at Jason who was standing right behind her, like he had always been. For the first time today, she gazed into his eyes. She could see her dreams reflected in them.
As she continued to gaze longingly into his eyes, she felt a strange pull towards him. For the first time in her life, someone had made her feel important...someone had made her feel special...feel loved. She felt happy. It was the same happiness she had experienced in her dreams.
"I have never known love," Jason whispered to Sarah. "But if there is something called 'love', it must surely feel like this."
Sarah blushed. The fairy lights twinkled on, their spectral hues sending magical ripples around the room.
"I have never been happier," Sarah smiled, and they both hugged each other. It had started raining outside. The air inside smelled of lemon and lavender. Everything around them felt magical. So did their love.
Sarah felt her eyelids turn heavier. She was feeling sleepy. She lay on the four poster bed that she had always wished she had. It was exactly like the one she had read about in fairy tales. The pillows were like clouds under her head. That night, she had a dreamless sleep.
The dream catcher sat beside her all night long, guarding the smile that played on her lips. He did not even realize when he had dozed off.
When he woke up next morning, she was gone. He was in his own nondescript home. He peeped outside his bedroom window to see the bright summer sun. His rusty old cycle stood in the messy shed, waiting to be mounted.
Jason pinched himself. He rubbed his eyes. Where had it all vanished? Where was Sarah?
Had he just returned from a dream or entered into one, Jason wondered. Had the Dreamcatcher not yet learned to catch his own dreams?
Just then, his cell phone beeped. It was a text from Sarah,
You won't believe what I dreamt up yesterday, it said!
Jason smiled. Someone up there was playing tricks on him, reminding him that there was no greater Dreamcatcher than love!
January 18, 2015
While you weren't looking...
What do you do when a box full of gulab jamuns from your sweet meat shop slips from your hand and falls on the road?
Curse yourself for what happened and scurry away to pack a fresh replace for the delivery?
Go get a broom from your shop nearby and sweep it into the thrash? ('Swacch Bharat' and you wouldn't want stray animals calling a gathering in front of your sweet shop for a feast?)
Or Traumatized by the incident, stop delivery of gulab jamun's forever?
Zoom in the picture above, and you will witness one of the rare occurences in history when an innocuous little citizen (aka 'Me') beautifully captured one such 'Wrong number' from the safe confines of her car parked nearby. Let me fill you in with the details *rubs her hands in glee*
So it happened like this.
After having a relaxed Sunday lunch, the family decided to go out for ice cream. Too stuffed to even step out to make a choice, I decided to stay back in the parked car.
"Get me anything except dark chocolate," I instructed the family.
"What if there is nothing except that?" they asked. Well living in Goa, we have learned to expect the most outrageous circumstances.
"In that case, get me DARK CHOCOLATE," I smirked.
The family rolled their eyes and were on their way, muttering something under their breath about lazy me and how I could do with a bit of exercise, which I chose to ignore.
I got back to texting 'Looney Tunes', my friend group on Whatsapp.
My attention had hardly wavered from my cell phone until I heard a soft thud followed by a collective groan from nearby. Immediately I looked from my car window and noticed a man on a scooter looking down at his feet and frowning. I recognized him to be the delivery boy from the nearby sweet shop. My gaze instantly shifted to where he was looking, and what I saw made me wince.. Scattered below at his feet was a boxful of perfectly golden sugar soaked gulab jamuns. Even in that sorry plight, they looked so lovely and inviting.
Slightly vexed at the clumsiness of the delivery boy in handling the delectable sweets, I continued to observe. This initial reaction was instantly followed by an empathic one. Mistakes can happen with anyone, I thought.
"Poor guy. He is surely in for a dressing down from the owner," I thought to myself. "Maybe I will go and buy a box of fresh gulab jamuns from the shop just to make up for his slip."
I was about to open the car door and step out to do the needful, when I saw another man come out from inside the shop. He whispered something in the ear of the fore mentioned guy and handed him an aluminium tray (that I recognized as one used to display the sweets in the shop).
This was my cue to stay on and watch what happened next. So without a sound, I sat back looking closely at the drama that was unfolding at a distance.
The two men glanced left and right to see if anyone was watching. When they realized that the coast was clear (they did not notice the pair of eyes watching them from a safe distance).
Much to my disgust, they then bent over and started picking up the gulab jamuns one by one, choosing the ones that were intact from the ones distorted, and placing them carefully on the tray that was promptly produced from the store.. I watched with horror as a third man stepped out to inspect the job. This was when my cell phone came in handy.
When the family returned with the ice cream, I proudly proudly pointed out my discovery. They were aghast at the sight. We had a healthy discussion on the way home. While someone said that he might be picking the Gulab Jamun's out for disposal, the other pointed that this didn't seem true as the tray that was being used looked exactly like the trays that were displayed in the shop window. I, on the other hand, wanted to know which disposal method involved carefully picking only the best fallen Gulab Jamun's by hand?
The pics were transferred to 'Looney Tunes' and we all swore to steer clear from the shop. Here was a place that was well known for its sweets and savories. This was clearly not done.
I am normally a peace loving person. I always abide by an imaginary fourth monkey (the one with eyes shut, ears plugged and hands over the mouth---the sum total of Gandhiji's famous three). But in situations like these, the cute little fourth chimp gets transformed into a mad orangutan
Honestly, I strongly believe there should be no compromise when it comes to public safety. If this can happen in a small place like Goa, it is possible almost anywhere. Basic education teaches us not to eat anything off the floor, even at home. But what about situations like these we aren't aware of?
In a country like ours, where almost every common road and street is strewn with filth, right from human piss, chewed up paan, spit, cow dung etc, do you think we have achieved that degree of a 'Swacch India' where spilled food is suitable for consumption?
On reaching home, I was thinking about the incident. Maybe I should have stepped out of the car and reprimanded them instead. Why didn't I stand up against it?
"Why would you ask for trouble? You were alone and they were so many. Nothing would come out of it anyway," my inner voice counter questioned.
But a part of me was ashamed of myself. Maybe I could have stopped them from delivering those soiled gulab jamuns. If I could prevent even one person from consuming them and falling ill, it would have been worth the effort. Isn't being a silent witness to a shameful act as much of a crime as committing the act?
There was a huge mental debate before posting this write up. One voice within me thought I should stay away from conflict. What has happened has happened anyway. But there was another voice within me that said 'Go right ahead. Post it so that it does not happen again. Post it so that people are aware. Post it so that when someone like you is witness to a shameful act like this, they raise a voice for public safety.'
I decided to heed to the second voice with the promise that I will take better and more prompt action next time.
Curse yourself for what happened and scurry away to pack a fresh replace for the delivery?
Go get a broom from your shop nearby and sweep it into the thrash? ('Swacch Bharat' and you wouldn't want stray animals calling a gathering in front of your sweet shop for a feast?)
Or Traumatized by the incident, stop delivery of gulab jamun's forever?
Zoom in the picture above, and you will witness one of the rare occurences in history when an innocuous little citizen (aka 'Me') beautifully captured one such 'Wrong number' from the safe confines of her car parked nearby. Let me fill you in with the details *rubs her hands in glee*
So it happened like this.
After having a relaxed Sunday lunch, the family decided to go out for ice cream. Too stuffed to even step out to make a choice, I decided to stay back in the parked car.
"Get me anything except dark chocolate," I instructed the family.
"What if there is nothing except that?" they asked. Well living in Goa, we have learned to expect the most outrageous circumstances.
"In that case, get me DARK CHOCOLATE," I smirked.
The family rolled their eyes and were on their way, muttering something under their breath about lazy me and how I could do with a bit of exercise, which I chose to ignore.
I got back to texting 'Looney Tunes', my friend group on Whatsapp.
My attention had hardly wavered from my cell phone until I heard a soft thud followed by a collective groan from nearby. Immediately I looked from my car window and noticed a man on a scooter looking down at his feet and frowning. I recognized him to be the delivery boy from the nearby sweet shop. My gaze instantly shifted to where he was looking, and what I saw made me wince.. Scattered below at his feet was a boxful of perfectly golden sugar soaked gulab jamuns. Even in that sorry plight, they looked so lovely and inviting.
Slightly vexed at the clumsiness of the delivery boy in handling the delectable sweets, I continued to observe. This initial reaction was instantly followed by an empathic one. Mistakes can happen with anyone, I thought.
"Poor guy. He is surely in for a dressing down from the owner," I thought to myself. "Maybe I will go and buy a box of fresh gulab jamuns from the shop just to make up for his slip."
I was about to open the car door and step out to do the needful, when I saw another man come out from inside the shop. He whispered something in the ear of the fore mentioned guy and handed him an aluminium tray (that I recognized as one used to display the sweets in the shop).
This was my cue to stay on and watch what happened next. So without a sound, I sat back looking closely at the drama that was unfolding at a distance.
The two men glanced left and right to see if anyone was watching. When they realized that the coast was clear (they did not notice the pair of eyes watching them from a safe distance).
Much to my disgust, they then bent over and started picking up the gulab jamuns one by one, choosing the ones that were intact from the ones distorted, and placing them carefully on the tray that was promptly produced from the store.. I watched with horror as a third man stepped out to inspect the job. This was when my cell phone came in handy.
When the family returned with the ice cream, I proudly proudly pointed out my discovery. They were aghast at the sight. We had a healthy discussion on the way home. While someone said that he might be picking the Gulab Jamun's out for disposal, the other pointed that this didn't seem true as the tray that was being used looked exactly like the trays that were displayed in the shop window. I, on the other hand, wanted to know which disposal method involved carefully picking only the best fallen Gulab Jamun's by hand?
The pics were transferred to 'Looney Tunes' and we all swore to steer clear from the shop. Here was a place that was well known for its sweets and savories. This was clearly not done.
I am normally a peace loving person. I always abide by an imaginary fourth monkey (the one with eyes shut, ears plugged and hands over the mouth---the sum total of Gandhiji's famous three). But in situations like these, the cute little fourth chimp gets transformed into a mad orangutan
Honestly, I strongly believe there should be no compromise when it comes to public safety. If this can happen in a small place like Goa, it is possible almost anywhere. Basic education teaches us not to eat anything off the floor, even at home. But what about situations like these we aren't aware of?
In a country like ours, where almost every common road and street is strewn with filth, right from human piss, chewed up paan, spit, cow dung etc, do you think we have achieved that degree of a 'Swacch India' where spilled food is suitable for consumption?
On reaching home, I was thinking about the incident. Maybe I should have stepped out of the car and reprimanded them instead. Why didn't I stand up against it?
"Why would you ask for trouble? You were alone and they were so many. Nothing would come out of it anyway," my inner voice counter questioned.
But a part of me was ashamed of myself. Maybe I could have stopped them from delivering those soiled gulab jamuns. If I could prevent even one person from consuming them and falling ill, it would have been worth the effort. Isn't being a silent witness to a shameful act as much of a crime as committing the act?
There was a huge mental debate before posting this write up. One voice within me thought I should stay away from conflict. What has happened has happened anyway. But there was another voice within me that said 'Go right ahead. Post it so that it does not happen again. Post it so that people are aware. Post it so that when someone like you is witness to a shameful act like this, they raise a voice for public safety.'
I decided to heed to the second voice with the promise that I will take better and more prompt action next time.
