The Daily Moo

Highs and Lows. Ups and Downs. The Ol' Sine Wave. You know...

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Wed, 30 May 2012 16:15:00 +0000

I am happy to inform you that the muse has indeed not abandoned me. She was on a short vacation. Now she is back.

I do not plan posts ahead. I have nothing written in my drafts. The words just pop into my head and then I have to stop all other work and start typing. That's how erratic it is for me. As everything else in my life, my writing is highly unorganized. Most great writers have ideas/thoughts/something to fall back on. Since I am not one, I had nothing to go to when the muse ran away. So I simply stayed away. I didn't even bother trying or beating myself up about it. I just didn't open my blog only.

Just now, in the middle of dinner, a post started to form itself once more. The old upstairs-machine obviously has some juice left in it so I quickly gobbled up my food and sat down to type. I shall proceed to give you an update on my life in the past month or so.

As many artistically inclined people do (I imagine myself to be one, so please live with it), I suffer from the swings of the mood and quite often, too. Sometimes they aren't so much swings as they are whole flights into outer space. So I have been varying from the depths of depression to the highs of happiness in the time I have been away. No, I do not suffer from Bi-polar disorder or any other such complicated psychological afflictions. I'm just a normal, slightly dramatic, highly emotional human being.

Of the time I was away, I spent a couple of weeks back home at mom's. The highs of this period were:

1. Several dosas with copious amounts of molaga-podi were consumed.

2. Obscene quantities of curd rice with tomato pickle were devoured.

3. Lip-smacking bowls of vanilla ice-cream were polished off every day.

4. Large-scale gossip/story-telling sessions were held with my beloved Patti.

5. Nos.1,2, and 3 balanced out quite beautifully with no.4. No additional body weight was put on.

The recorded lows were as follows:

1. A painful dental surgery was carried out on me that rendered my right jaw completely useless and swollen to the size of a tennis ball. Ok, table-tennis ball. Ok, ok, fine maybe just a tamarind-ball. It still did hurt a lot, though. As proof of my sufferings and valiant endurance, I give you, Exhibit A:

These are the two hard-ass wisdom teeth that formerly resided on my right jaw. They were so stubbornly hard to pluck out that they actually left the dentist sweating. They finally did come out, obviously, but they had their revenge. I was left in a lot of pain that only reduced a few days ago. On the bright side, I did get to eat a lot of ice-cream.

I hope the photograph doesn't disgust you. M assures me that by displaying it, I am effectively committing blog-suicide because no one will ever return to this space. Well, I thought I'd take my chances because I'm pretty darn proud of how courageous I was on the dentist's chair and these are sort of like a reminder of that. So you will just have to look at them and be reminded too.

2. The second and only other low was that I didn't want to come back to Bangalore. As accustomed as I am to living and being alone (having no siblings and all), I just liked the company of family so much that I wanted it to last longer. No, not all the time, of course. But I'd still like to see them every two or three weeks at least. Living alone does have its pros, but not being able to see your family does kinda suck.

So that's most of what happened with me. The freelance writing career is in a sort of a rocky phase right now. I happened to lose a job a few weeks back. And I've been having some trouble with a pesky client. That just sucks the fun out of writing. It's hard to write for people who have no idea what they want, so first they say they liked what you wrote and then they keep asking you to change everything about it. So yes, writing hasn't been giving me much joy either, lately.

Well, in a way this might be good for me because I have been toying with a few ideas for writing projects of my own. You know, the kind where I write for myself. One of them is a new blog and the other is a book. These are just ideas for now. I'm thinking a lot about them. Just thinking though. I guess what's holding me back is a lack of sufficient confidence in my writing skills. I mean, writing a simple personal blog is different. But attempting an entire book? I'm terrified of starting. I don't even know where to start. It's like engineering an entire project on my own, solely relying on my ability to string a few thousand readable words together. My fear is not if people will like it, or even if I will like it. My fear is that I won't be able to do it. So right now I'm trying to gather up some courage to get started. Any ideas?

My Take on Weight Loss - Be Sensible. Be Happy.

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 17:58:00 +0000

I am inspired to write this post today after reading an article on the blog of an Indian author. I have not read her book(s), so I don't really know much about her as an author, but I've only just been following her blog and this particular post of her's has compelled me to write.

The subject of weight loss is very close to my heart. Food, nutrition, exercise (you know the whole story) are concepts I've worked hard at, failed, tried again, failed again for many, many years. I have lost oodles of weight and put it all back again. If anything, I've learned a lot from the process. I've even learned to make peace with the situation, as is evident if you read a previous post of mine on food and eating habits.

Img Credit: Helga Weber

Before I go any further, I'd just like to clarify that I am by no means a 'thin' person as defined by society. I may be called chubby, fat, or even obese, depending on individual perceptions. I choose (well, at least I try hard) not to classify myself; I am what I am. I have made my peace with the fact that my body structure dictates how I look and not the latest trends (did you know that size 0 is no longer fashionable?). I always have been and will be a curvaceous woman. That is the truth.

So coming to this author's article, she's penned down a few (long list of) strategies for herself to be able to lose weight. Reading it made me sad, because I have been down that road. I've written such lists too, tried to be strict with myself, tried to force myself into a certain type of behaviour, but it never did work. Much later did I realize that my entire approach was wrong. Now, I mean no offence to this writer, because her list might actually work for her, and I hope it does. Some of her points are quite sensible, but some I can't bring myself to agree on. I'd like to do a sort of response to her thoughts, based on what I've learned through my experience. I may be wrong, I may be blinded by my perceptions too, so please feel free to disagree with me.

Today, my approach towards health and fitness is very rational and sustainable. Here's what I think/do/follow:

1. Calories.

The concept of calories is very logical and scientific. It's mathematically correct that if your body's BMR is 1500 and you eat less than that, you should be able to burn the deficit in a certain number of days. However, this is not the only factor governing what your body chooses to burn or store. There are additional factors such as hormones that work their magic too. Did you know that there was a week when I pigged out on potato chips and my body burned it all? And there was another time when I was on a strict diet and actually put on weight.

Img Credit: nutrition education

It's important to realize that if your body wants to store fat, it will and if it wants to burn it, it will. The body has its reasons for functioning the way it does.Your best bet is to be sensible and feed it with healthy/wholesome food, eat when you are hungry, and stop eating when you are full. Playing the calorie game is too stressful. It's better to learn to pay attention and understand what your body needs.

2. Sugar Cravings.

Let's face it. Many of us are addicted to junk/sugary foods. So am I. I have spent years trying to control myself like a mad woman. But control only makes it worse. There was a time when I did not touch sweets for an entire year. You'd think that would have helped me. Yes, I didn't put on any weight. But when when the year was up the cravings got so huge that I ended up pigging out big time.

Img Credit: tanvach

What we need to do is get to the root of the issue here. I watched a documentary called 'Hungry for Change' that explained it pretty well. It is really not our fault, we are not bad for craving sugar and fat. In reality, we are genetically programmed to do so. Where there is fat, there is survival - is the law of the jungle. It's just that hundreds of years ago, there was less fat to eat and more (physical) work to do. Today, the fat is everywhere, in abundance, and we don't really have to lift a finger most of the time. It's not wrong that we crave sugar, it's wrong that we have so much of it around to eat. That is unnatural. Don't blame your palate or yourself for being a foodie. Everybody is one. Things like food and sex are naturally meant to be pleasurable, in the interest of the protection and procreation of life.

3. Saying No.

Does not work. Even observing a 2-year-old will teach you this. The moment you say 'no', you know you want it all the more. It's fundamental, really. We always want what we can't have. So forget about saying no to seconds, no to leftovers, no to that divine chocolate cake, no to anything you love. Instead, concentrate on saying yes. Say yes to carrots, yes to beets, yes to greens and also to other vegetables, fruits, grains, legumes, pulses, eggs, nuts, seeds and dried fruit. This is another concept I got from 'Hungry for Change'. Focus on what to add, not what to remove from your diet. Abrupt changes and fanciful diets are very difficult to maintain in the long run. Instead, focus on building good eating habits for life. Understand what your body loves.

Img Credit: achichi

Allow me to illustrate. M and I first put oats into our lives for breakfast. We didn't focus on improving any other meal. It was just oatmeal for breakfast, day in and day out. We hated it, we cribbed about it, we even craved and had some puris once in a while. But then we always kept going back to the oats. After about 3-4 months, we started to health it up a bit more by adding nuts, pumpkin and flax seeds and dry fruits to it. It tastes so yummy today to us that we don't really want to have anything else for breakfast. Plus, it's so easy to make and it keeps us very energetic. Now that the morning meal is taken care of, we have moved on to dinner. We're trying to incorporate Jowari Roti (Millet flat breads) into our night-time meals. It's not easy, as expected. But we're working on it.

Img Credit: needoptic

The concept here is that eventually you are filling yourself with so much of good food, that the bad foods will be automatically pushed out. It won't happen in a day or a week or a few months even, but eventually it will. And when they do go out they will mostly stay out. You will be able to have just a bite of cake and stop at that. It won't be a struggle anymore.

After having said all this, I don't think I need to explain why the 'starve now, eat later' strategy will never work. Telling yourself to stop now and eat once the weight is gone will not work. You know why, right?

4. Exercise.

From point number 2, we understand that two things about our lives are different from the lives of our ancestors. The first is the abundance of food, which we've covered. The second is the lack of physical activity. Our muscles are just not strong as they can be. Many of us are at bad levels of fitness.

So what's the solution? I don't know for sure, but I can tell you this: again, you are at your body's mercy. Some people lose weight if they simply walk to the market and some don't even after slogging at the gym for hours. Exercise is not magic. It will not guarantee that a certain number of kilos will be shed off for sure if you exercise for so many hours, so many times a week. And yet, it is important to get plenty.

Img Credit: synergybyjasmine

What kind of exercise to do? How many hours to do it? I would say that the same principle applies here too: listen to your body. Start off slow, don't be over ambitious. Avoid saying, 'the wedding is in three months and I have to lose 24 kilos so two kilos a week.' It doesn't work that way for most people. The most important thing is to fall in love with your physical activity. If you're crying to go to the gym, it may work but it's not going to be sustainable. If you hate walking, you're probably not going to do it for the rest of your life. Take up the activity you enjoy most and is easy for you to make time for in your busy schedule.

Listen to your body: in time you will understand when it is tired and you have to stop, when you can push it to go that little bit more, and when you must keep it moderate. A work out session must leave you feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, not beat up. Plan to exercise for a lifetime, not just until you lose weight.

5. Stress/Emotions.

This is something I'm still trying to figure out myself, so I'm not going to pretend like I understand how to deal with them. I do know that of course, they play a huge role in a person's health. I also understand it's a vicious cycle. Bad foods (lack of nutrition) make you cranky, and crankiness makes you reach out for bad food. Adding more nutrition may be a good place to try and start to break the cycle.

Like I said, it's all still a work in progress, I'm still learning as I go but this is what I've been able to figure out so far. I'm not in a hurry to lose weight, to reach any 'number', and I am really tired of wanting to look like someone else. It's out of this sheer tiredness that I gave up - not working on myself, but I gave up on those ridiculous and impossible expectations. I don't want a thin photo on my fridge, I don't want to compare my body with anyone else's. I don't know if it'll work, but I'm certainly a happier person for it.

Do you have anything you'd like to share or add?

Books || JAYA ~ Devdutt Pattanaik

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 16:50:00 +0000

It was through the episodes of Business Sutra on YouTube that I first came to know about Devdutt Pattanaik. His in depth knowledge of Indian mythology and an uncanny ability to apply those stories to our present-day situations made the series an extremely interesting watch. Of course, I had to read all about him immediately, and when I found out he had authored books too, I was excited. A medical doctor by degree and leadership consultant by profession, Devdutt Pattanaik's true passion is mythology. Among several books authored by him is Jaya - a retelling of the epic Mahabharat. I've never been much of a mythology enthusiast but I must say, "Jaya" is truly un-putdownable.

Until I read this book, I must admit that I had only read the story of Mahabharat in bits and pieces. I knew the main characters, I knew the basic story line, etc., but I had never read it in depth with an intention to reflect on its wisdom and apply it to my life. Having said that, Jaya was a good place to start. The book touches upon the entire story without going into too many details, it manages to give a good glimpse of what the epic stands for along with any underlying symbolism. Devdutt Pattanaik's narration is in simple English, his style of writing is pretty smooth. He also provides footnotes to each chapter/story with his interpretations and thoughts. These footnotes make a lot of sense and provide deeper perspective into the characters and their lives.

The Mahabharat as narrated by Dr. Pattanaik, to say the least, is a fascinating tale. He starts with a brief description of the original author of the epic, Vyasa, as well as its original structure. The epic consists of 18 chapters, and a total of about 100,000 verses. The chapter about the gambling match where the Pandavas lose all their fortune alone has about 4311 verses. To read and make sense of all those verses written in an ancient language is extremely difficult for someone like me, so it's books like Jaya that I rely on. I know there have been several retellings of the Mahabharat so far, but this is the first one I've read from cover to cover, so do spare my enthusiasm for the experience.

Summarizing or reviewing the book would be of little use, since it in itself is a summary of a much larger epic. As I went through the book, there were several little points of 'wisdom' that I stopped to ponder upon. Some of them I even earmarked for future pondering, since of course, there is no end to introspection. Perhaps several other blog posts will arise as I return to the timeless wisdom of the Mahabharat time and again. But for now, I will list out a few things that really got my attention.

It occurred to me as I was reading this book, that the Mahabharat is not very different from present-day fantasy novels, but for its epic proportions. Of course, I'm putting all religious significance aside. No blasphemy intended. Undoubtedly it is a tale of great wisdom that one can learn several things from, but there are also present within it all the elements of fascination associated with the fantasy genre. For instance, the misunderstood/rejected hero - Karna. And of course all the creatures, some of which are friendly to humans and some that are not. Dr. Pattanaik points out:"The Mahabharat is populated not only by Manavas or humans but also by a variety of beings such as Devas who live in the sky, Asuras who live under the earth, Apsaras or nymphs who live in rivers, hooded serpents who talk called Nagas, forest spirits called Yakshas, warrior-musicians of the woods called Gandharvas and brute barbians called Rakshasas."

But then again, it would be a wrong to call the Mahabharat a mere fantasy novel, because it is also a lot like real life. Characters change. They evolve. They learn things. And yet, they forget their lessons and make mistakes. Krishna advises Arjun before the battle of Kurukshetra that the war must be fought for Dharma, out of a mere sense of duty. He understands it then, but it soon becomes personal for Arjun after the death of his son. And at the end of it all, the story is not just about who won the war. The Pandavas may have won, but the story doesn't end there. The true ending is when Yudhishtir, the eldest Pandav, wins the battle over his own anger, his own prejudice, his own self.

A recurring theme in the Mahabharat is that of karma. What is most striking thorough various stories is the fact that what seems like bad luck could end up as good luck, and what seems like a fortune could actually bring ruin later. Dr. Pattanaik observes, "No one on earth can foretell the consequences of any action, however wise he may be." Also, not every good deed brings positive consequences and not every bad deed brings negative ones. For it is impossible to even distinguish between bad and good. A deed that benefits one, may cause a deep loss for another. Such is the ambiguity of life and karma.

The conflict between varna-dharma (taking up the vocation of forefathers) and choosing one's own path in life is another theme that is brought out through the epic. In various instances, those who digress from their family professions have various motives to do so. For some it is desire (Karna), for some vengeance (Drona), and for some (Krishna), it is mere duty - doing what needs to be done.

The Mahabharat is not filled with just beautiful women who please men. The words of Chitrangada, the ugly warrior princess, as she reveals her true self to Arjun, truly speak out to me: "I am not beautifully perfect as the flowers with which I worship. I have many flaws and blemishes. I am a traveller in the great world-path, my garments are dirty, and my feet are bleeding with thorns. The gift that I proudly bring you is the heart of a woman. Here have all pains and joys gathered, the hopes and fears and shames of a daughter of the dust; here love springs up struggling towards immortal life. Herein lies an imperfection which yet is noble and grand."

"Vyasa keeps asking what makes a woman a wife. It emerges that it is civilized society with its laws of marital fidelity that makes a woman a wife. But in the forest, there are no rules. Can a woman still be a wife? It is evident through the story of Jayadhrata that neither society nor forest can make a woman a wife; it is only the desire and the discipline of man that can do so."

The importance of travel is highlighted in the Mahabharat. Of course, not the kind of sightseeing and luxury travel that we do these days. But travel as a means of exploring the world, and also one's inner self. The 12 years spent by the Pandavas travelling through forests was an important period as it changed them in many ways. They met with Rishis who told them stories, they meditated in caves, "saw the sun rise from sacred mountain tops" and bathed in holy rivers and lakes. "The journey gave them a fresh perspective on life."

Draupadi's beauty: "Even though she is innocent, her beauty arouses all men who end up wanting to hurt and humiliate her because she is chaste and unavailable." I can correlate this to a few women I have known in real life.

"That which deludes you to be unhappy can be overpowered by another delusion that causes greater unhappiness." This beautiful truth is explained in the story of Gandhari, who is mourning for the death of her 100 sons. In a moment of extreme hunger, she comes across a sweet mango and forgets all about her sons, even using their carcasses as a stepping stone to reach the fruit. This is the power of maya.

The last chapter is particularly profound. I cannot go into it entirely as it would take very long, but here are the last lines of the book: "Let us all have faith. Let us all be at peace - with ourselves, our worlds, and all the rest there is."

And sure enough, as I closed the book, I felt an incredible sense of peace within me. Reading about the turmoil and conflicts faced by various characters, what happens to them finally in the scheme of life, and the very nature of life itself; it felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. Often one worries over small matters in life. Epics like these put everything back into place, into perspective. Into peace.

Zee Top Ten!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 16:56:00 +0000

When cable TV flooded the Indian household in the mid 90s, entertainment would never be the same again. The days of Doordarshan's Chitrahaar were quickly replaced by a newer and slicker music show - Zee/Phillips Top Ten. Of course, looking back now, it seems quite cheesy.

I think this show was one of the pioneers on cable TV, what with only Zee, Star and Sony channels ruling the roost back then. I suppose it might even have been the very first countdown show in the history of Bollywood Music. Better versions followed suit on MTV and Channel V, but this one stole the hearts of the masses, mainly due to the comic skits that were aired in between songs. It's a program format that you do not get to see these days and frankly, I might just be a wee bit thankful for that.

M and I sometimes like to revisit songs from our growing up years. Just for Laughs. When we were doing this a couple of nights ago, one thing let to another, and soon we had re-created out of memory and YouTube, an entire line up of Zee top ten songs. It was super-fun to watch long-forgotten, cheesy music videos, so I just had to share them here too.

There are the songs I could remember from around 1994-1995, which is when the show first started I think. Outrageous costumes, ridiculous sets, aerobics-style dance steps, the kind of music you thought was cool back then (but will never, ever, not in a million years admit to now), these songs have everything that is typical of the 90s era. Watch, Listen, Enjoy!

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Number 10 - Raah Mein Unse

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The video starts off as any good love song should, with the girl making tea for the boy. Their eyes meet over a cup of chai, and they are instantly transported to the land of romance - Switzerland! So then you get to see lush, breathtaking mountains, a green countryside, and then, wait a second, are those flags?! Yep, hundreds of white flags on thin, long poles - wtf are they doing there? And the heroine in a shocking pink sari, who is playing... no, wait! She's molesting, abusing even - a grand piano. I don't know if she's in the throes of passion or is very, very mad. But she makes you want to stand back and watch. Way, way, back.

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Number 9 - Main Tho Raste Se Ja Raha Tha

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Ah, no 90s countdown can ever be complete without a Gyrating Govinda number, now can it? Sleazy as sleazy can be, lyrics that are possibly even worse than the Kolaveri 'massacre'. Oh well, that's Govinda for you. :D And seriously, teri naani mari tho main kya karoon??

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Number 8 - Mukkala Muqabla

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Honestly, to this day, I have no idea what 'Mukkala Muqabla' means. In any case, this was perhaps one of the better songs of the 90s. At least, Prabhu Deva's dance was and always is worth watching. In case you've forgotten, lemme remind you of the headless sequence. Cutting edge special effects of the 90s, sir!

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Number 7 - Aankhon Mein Base Ho Tum

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Another 90s classic. Featuring - Sonali Bendre... 's legs! Seriously, the tricks they used back then to show a heroine's legs on screen. Teehee :D

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Number 6 - Hai Hukku Hai Hai

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Meaningless gibberish that once again, sold. Catchy tune. Mildly embarrassing to be caught with someone humming it though. Also, Sunil Shetty!!

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Number 5 - Churake Dil Mera

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The one where Akshay Kumar is a monkey! Seriously, why is jumping about like that? And Shipa Shetty's doing some serious aerobics back there at 0:32. Probably rehearsing for her future workout videos. Nevertheless, an immensely popular song back then.

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Number 4 - Ruk Ruk Ruk

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Ah, this one was invariably a part of every single Antaakshari session. The song all kids would belt out as soon as the first 'R' came up, and everyone would join in the fun! It was a fun song, and probably one I could still bring myself to like after all these years. Not bad, Tabu, not bad at all!

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Number 3 - Humma Humma

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It was new, it was exciting, it was 'super-cool'. Almost every kid made it a point to memorize the lyrics of this song back then, no matter if they even understood it or not. I remember learning it phonetically, no idea if I even got some of the words right! Definitely one of the better songs, a saving grace for the 90s.

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Number 2 - Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast

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The song was good at first, but then people played and sang it over, and over, and over again. I'd had enough within a few months. It stuck to the charts for a very long time, though. More gyrating, for your viewing pleasure...

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Number 1 - Didi Tera Dewar Deewana

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I never liked this song, seriously. Not back then, and not now. But it stuck to the charts like, forever. Just like this girl who came first in my class every single time. The song just wouldn't move over. I think it was a topic of discussion at all Indian social gatherings and at school when it finally vacated the no.1 spot.

So that's the top 10 countdown. Now, there are two more songs that I just had to share, that bring alive the memory of the 90s. Couldn't fit them on the top 10, so here they are as bonus tracks:

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Bonus Track #1

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Haha, just listening to this sends me into peals of laugther. Oh, how we loved this one when we were kids. Now I can't really help thinking my mom was right to have called it the 'picchakaren pattu' (beggar's song). LOL! How she hated it when I sang it all the time.

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Bonus Track #2

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Now this is the one I like to call - The Great Indian Laxative Song. Need I say any more?

These are only representative of hundreds of other songs that defined the 90s. What are the ones that define your childhood the most? Tell me in the comments!

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This Made Me Smile!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 08:11:00 +0000

M and I went to watch Kahaani yesterday.

Sitting beside me were this young couple. Dating, I presumed, from the nature of their conversation. Yes, I shamelessly eavesdropped, I admit. Only a little though, for the movie was too gripping to listen to everything they were saying. Two particular lines amused me to an extent that I simply had to share them here.

Scene in the movie: Vidya Balan checks into the motel/guest house for the first time. When she's alone, she bursts into tears.

Boy (in an incredulous tone): Why is she crying??

Girl (presumably rolling her eyes in the dark): Because she can't find her husband, DUH!!

Scene in the movie: Vidya Balan is pregnant, yet sending her husband away for a two-week assignment in a different city.

Girl (in a puppy voice): You'll also leave me like that, re?

Boy (also in puppy voice): No baby, I'll never leave you re!

After a while, they abandoned all pretense of watching the movie, devoting their time to declaring their affections and discussing love-hurdles. I could only pick up bits and pieces of these.

Overheard:

Boy: How can she not accept it re? I love you so much, I'll take care of you so well. I'll explain to her re, how much I love you.

Ah, the trials and tribulations of young love! On a side note, Kahaani totally kicks Don's ass.

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The Tag

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Sat, 24 Mar 2012 03:01:00 +0000

I'm bad with tags. Really. But then Spiff tagged me with this very nice one that I actually wanted to do. Mainly because it allows me to talk (gloat) about my writing. What writer would want to pass up that opportunity? :D But I couldn't get around to doing it, and now Spiff has declared that she's 'Katti'.

So, I've finally decided to sit down and do it now as a peace offering and also because, well, I think I'm going to have fun doing this.

1. Your Most Beautiful Post

Ahh, this is like a mother choosing her favourite baby. It's impossible, but if I had to, it would be a tie between these two. They're both very similar, and both very, very close to my heart. I truly meant what I wrote, they transport me to a different state of mind when I read them even today.

Love Because
Compassion

2. Your Most Popular Post

Going by Blogger Stats, the most popular would be the one with the giveaway. But that hardly counts for artistic talent, so I'll cheat and talk about my second most popular post. It's something I wrote on impulse really, but yes, it still holds true.

The Indian Marriage

3. Your Most Controversial Post

I'm not exactly the queen of controversy. I'm generally diplomatic and tend to play it safe. Generally. There are exceptions, of course. Here is one of my more 'bold' posts, if you could even call it that. I made a few blatant statements. Do let me know if it fits the bill or not.

Love vs. Hatred

4. Your Most Helpful Post

Don't know if I helped anybody, but I'd have to say, this one:

Getting him Talking

5. A Post's Success that Surprised You

It would have to be the third most popular post according to Blogger Stats. It's the one in which I listed all my favourite blog posts. Surprised to see that people loved it a lot!

And These are a Few of my Favourite Things

6. A Post you Feel Didn't Get the Attention it Deserved

This one got 'zero' comments. Although, I think it was because I was rambling on about death again. Nevertheless, it was on a positive note. No takers at all. Perhaps, now?

At the End of it All

7. The Post you're Most Proud of

Again, I face a mother's dilemma. An extremely difficult choice. I would list at least four or five here. But then, I don't want to bore you with too many things to read. So I'll just have to pick one. And then apologize to the rest. Here it is:

Of Being Bullied

I'd just like to say here that bullying was a huge part of my life growing up. The reason I'm proud of this post is a) simply because I found the courage to write it, and b) because I have been able to not dwell on the past and talk about moving on. I'm not implying here that I'm great or perfect. Nothing about me or my life is perfect. But I've found a way to move on. I'm incredibly thankful and proud for that. :)

Spiff, thank you so much for giving me this tag, it's been super fun going back and reading long-forgotten posts.

I know most of the posts I've listed here are kind of serious. If it's your first time here, I do try my hand at lighter/funnier ones too. Look around and you're sure to spot them. :)

Okay for once I won't be fair and I'll actually choose people to tag for this:

The Girl Next Door
Smitha - Any Excuse to Write
Archana - Myriad Hues
Nil - MeetNil
Phatichar - Malignant Humor...
Rambling of a Single Girl

I tried to pick the ones who've been blogging for a few years, so they could get the chance to dig through their old stuff too. But I'd love to read all of your posts you love, so please do try and share them in the comments!

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EXIT

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 08:31:00 +0000

Warning: Dark post ahead. My 'lady hormones' have been acting up, and I've been kinda down lately. So, you might not want to read if you're looking for some cheer. : (

A fear of the unknown has kept me company pretty much ever since I can remember. A fear of insects also, but in a way, they're unknown too. Know what I mean?

Img Credit: blvesboy

It's hard to put a pin on exactly what I fear the most, but the one concept that I've had a hard time wrapping my mind around is Death. That's right, I fear death. Not so much dying, as death itself. I'm not afraid of the fact that my life has an expiry date, but there are other things about death that I feel highly uncomfortable with.

Like losing my loved ones, for instance. I know death is inevitable, but for some reason in my life, I haven't really lost the people I love. Yet. The only person I loved who died was my Grandfather, but I was very young and we weren't in the same country, so I didn't even see his body or his funeral. That was a surreal time, I don't think I really understood most of it. I just figured out I wouldn't be seeing him anymore on my next visit to India. Apart from him, I haven't yet known death, up close and personal.

So that's what makes it all the more scary for me. I fear losing my family, more than anything else in the world. No, I don't go around acting like a paranoid freak, but deep down inside I have reason to believe that I am one. There are moments when I imagine what it would be like if my mom or dad or M died, what it would be like to look at their lifeless bodies, what it would be like to go through every moment of life without their company, their smiles, their frowns and their words. At times like these, I can truly feel the pain of their loss, even though they're very much still here. It's like a tight grip on my chest, a strange breathlessness, unstoppable tears. Even the person whose loss I'm mourning couldn't comfort me, because no matter what they say, I know they're going to die someday. I know that I'm the lady with the super-long life, who is ultimately going to outlive the rest and watch everyone die. It's just something I know, like knowledge I was born with. I guess I'm pretty much like Mrs. Weasley in this respect, my experience would be no different from hers if I ever encountered a Boggart in a shelf.

But say, I were to die first. Say, I were to be inflicted with this horrible disease that would take me down slowly, one day at at time. Say, I knew I was going to die, at least a month in advance. I think about that sometimes. Oh yeah, that's kind of scary too. But I have a plan. Thankfully, I have a plan. I thought it out, and I wrote it down a long time ago. I'll share it with you today.

When the end comes, the right way to leave the body is in total awareness. This is what my Guru says. However, if I were dying now, I would be frightened of the unknown. Of leaving familiar surroundings and people and moving to an unknown place, all alone, all by myself. I fear the unknown, I fear facing it alone.

If I were to die now, I highly doubt that I would go gracefully. I would most certainly go in fear. This cannot be a good way to die.

To be able to die in awareness, I must be alone, no attachments clinging to me, nothing holding me back. I must make this clear to myself.

So what would I do, if I were told that this is the last day of my life, and by tonight, i would be gone?

Well, for starters...

No drama.

No telling anybody about it. Nothing special. No attempt for closure. No messing with the worldly possessions. No writing letters or talking to people. Most certainly, no Facebook updates.

What I would want to do instead, is to go about my day normally, performing my daily tasks and responsibilities in silence. Not with a sense of attachment, but only with a sense of love and compassion. I would try to remain aware of my every thought and action, while maintaining a distance from them.

I would try to live my last day with a sense of devotion towards the Lord Divine, whose unknown territory I would be stepping into. Perhaps, with some reverence towards the owner of my life who would soon be coming to reclaim it from me. I would pray to the Divine, to help me make my exit in awareness. I would pray that when the final moment comes, I would not struggle to leave the body, I would not want to hold on or stay back, and that I would be able to go, happy and smiling, ready and excited for the adventure ahead. I would pray not to cry for my mother or father or M to be with me, holding my hand like they did on my first day of school, or on the day of my wedding. I would like to be brave enough to make the journey alone, for that is how we come, and that is how, we must all go.

This is the manner in which I would like to conduct my death.

The tricky thing about this is that in all probability, I will not be given a day's notice, heck, not even a moment's notice before being frisked away. How in the world am I supposed to prepare myself then?

The answer, my dear, is simple. This is the manner, in which you must conduct your life.

***

My Favourite Posts, Part II

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 14:17:00 +0000

I can't believe it's already been almost 2 months since I last did a Favourites Post. And to think I actually wanted to do it every week. Well, it's not that I haven't been reading any, I've actually read a lot of great blogs and posts between then and now, I guess I just couldn't get around to writing about them.

Just as before, I'm going to be listing out and talking about the posts that I found interesting and really enjoyed, and not the blogs themselves. So, some may have been featured before, some may be new. And some of the posts themselves may be pretty old, but I've just read them now.

Unreciprocated Love: A piece of 55 fiction, written by Sruthi on her blog, From the Ashes. It's cute and it's got a nice twist. A quick, short and fun read. This girl's got some talent!

An Obsession for Torture: This post is from Myriad Hues, by Archana, about how women torture each other when it comes to food and size. I've only recently started reading this blog, and I must say, she writes so well that I had a hard time picking a favourite. There were three posts that I really loved, but in the end I picked this one, because it talks about something I can so relate to, as can many other women. As I told her in the comments, if I wrote something on the subject, it would pretty much be the same. Oh, and you can check out the other two posts, here and here. Go, fall in love. With her writing, I mean.

Picture Perfect Experiment: A cute story evolved from a picture, this one's by CD, who blogs at Pagal Hain Kya?!!?. When Spiff put up the challenge on her blog, I think CD was the only one woman enough to take it up, and boy did she come up with something great! Watch out for that ending, it's bound to catch you by surprise. :-) Very new and refreshing.

Chapatti-Nomics: This is the first post I read on the popular Sangry Words, a blog by Sangeeta. And although I read more of her posts later that I enjoyed too, this one was a winner for me hands-down. She talks about her love affair with the ever versatile chapatti, and a few funny incidents to boot. Go take a look for yourself.

Avva: A beautiful and heart-warming tale about an encounter with an frail old lady. Priya's spun it beautifully on her blog, Alayam Kanden. I've been reading quite a few travel stories in the past week, and this has certainly been one of the best.

The Handbrake: Easily one of the best short stories I've read from a blogger (and book) in quite some time. It's sweet, it's simple, and it's smooth. It's almost like wine. You'll float through the story effortlessly, and come out of the experience feeling good. La Femme Nirvana is quite popular, so you might have read this already, but please do if you haven't.

The Casanova: This is another post I came across while reading up on travel experiences for the Indiblogger contest. Again, one of the best I've read. Written by Abhyudaya on his blog Regular Doses, the post tells the story of a real-life creep he met on a train. Abhyudaya is not only funny, I think he has a really nice style of writing. Many writers tend to mess up the ending, but this one is very well done.

The Fleeting Liason: This is again from a blog I've only just started reading, The Daily Ramblings of an Eccentric, by Zeebs. The first post I read, and then I just had to follow. It's not so much what she's saying but the style with which she's saying it. I really like the way she writes, it speaks to me. The post is about her take on relationships.

Blame it on the British: Now, any blogger worth his/her salt should and must already know about the super-popular The Local Tea Party. It's Blog-Crime if you haven't been reading this one. So if you haven't, I command you to go right now, take out an hour and read every single post he's written, ever. And then thank me for an hour well spent. So yeah, I wanted to mention this post, because I so agree with what's been said, again, exactly my views on the subject. Whattay read, I say!

Please do feel free to share your favourite posts with me!

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And, It's a Century!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 12:32:00 +0000

Hello, and welcome to my 100th post! I've finally made it here, after about 4.5 long years. I really like it that this post coincides with Women's Day. So, Happy Women's Day to all you girls out there! In case you haven't been told yet, you're beautiful and you're awesome!

Img Credit: Pierre Willemin

I have an interesting anecdote to share about this day. Well okay, I'll tell it and you can decide for yourself if it's interesting or not. When I was a college-girl, I had this super-awesome habit of bunking all the time, along with my gang of girls. Also, we had this horrible lecturer-woman who was real-life's answer to Dolores Umbridge. No kidding at all. I'm not really in the mood to criticize a woman on Women's Day, so I'll just leave it at that and you can let your imagination do the rest. (If you haven't ever read Harry Potter or watched the movies, kindly Google 'Dolores Umbridge' for an accurate picture).

It was in the 2nd year of college when Miss. Umbridge decided that she wanted to celebrate being a woman. She called all her female students to her office the day before Women's Day and asked us to come dressed in white for the occasion (please do not ask me what wearing white has to do with women). Now, I think the problem was that March 8th that year was a Saturday, and we only had a few hours of special classes scheduled. We hardly attended classes on regular days, so going to a special class dressed in white was like, not even an option to be considered. So naturally, we bunked, and I don't remember the details but I guess we pretty much celebrated woman-hood in our own way.

Ah, the following Monday Miss. Umbridge was in her element. It turned out that we weren't the only girls who bunked, so she was really pretty mad that her little 'initiative' fizzled out. We got this huge lecture from her, finger-wagging, nostrils flaring, and everything. I distinctly remember this one thing she said to us, "You all should be ashamed of yourselves. You aren't proud of being women at all. How could you bunk on women's day?" To which, we were like, wtf??! And then we had a good laugh about it later. So yeah, even after all these years, March 8th brings to me the memories of those good old days.

So yeah, today is a nice day, Women's Day and my 100th post. A lot of reminiscing. Please do go check out my very first post, if you've got the time. It's called "I Love". I was 22 when I wrote it. Reading it now makes me realize how much times have changed, and how girly I was back then! And also that over the years, not many of my loves have really changed. Perhaps a few have been added, but almost none have faded away.

Here's wishing all you lovely ladies a lifetime of love, laughter and happy times. Here's wishing you a warm and blessed life! :)

P.S: Why isn't there a Man's Day. Shouldn't there be one?

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The Frogs of Our Lives

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 07:33:00 +0000

Img Credit: HikingArtist

Prince Charming does not, I repeat, does not exist. Neither does the Frog Prince.

There, I’ve said it. But you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize that the story of the frog turning into a prince with true love’s kiss is actually metaphorical. Real-life frogs of a particular variety, the ‘good’ variety, can indeed transform into something nice, when and only when need be.

So allow me to present to you, a few important things that you need to know about frogs and good frogs, before you end up marrying them.

‘Girl Problems’

You will be crying/PMSing/in the depths of depression/extremely irritable for a completely valid reason that all your girlfriends would get in a jiffy, yet said frog would be totally clueless as to what’s happening to you. He will start off by treating it as some sort of mechanical failure, trying to ‘fix’ it, and you. Wrong, wrong, wrong, right?

The Good Frog: After true love’s kiss and also after many educational sessions, this one can be trained to respond in a more appropriate manner during future breakdowns.

Presents and such

You will have started dropping hints about what you would like for a birthday/anniversary gift at the exact time that is not too late so he has time to shop, and not so early that he might end up forgetting about it. And yes, he will not forget what you said, but said frog will be too thick to get the hint. So after racking his brains about what to get you, he will finally buy something that you neither like nor can use.

The Good Frog: After seeing the disappointment you are trying to hide with a smile, Good Frog will slap his forehead, kick himself for not getting the hint and take you out to buy you what you really want. Yes, this is definitely a possibility after true love’s kiss.

Ahh, Housework…

The thing about most Indian frogs is that they’re spoilt silly by their moms. Also by a few aunts and cousins, who believe him to be the prince he never really transformed into. So in all possibility, he has never cooked, washed dishes, done laundry, cleaned his room, or done anything remotely related to physical labor at home.

The Good Frog: A few sessions of ‘Perspective Cleansing’ later, said frog will realize that the ‘frogettes’ of his generation have pretty much been raised the same way – spoilt silly by theirmoms. A mutual understanding with regards to sharing of household responsibilities can be reached, once temper tantrums have given way to a mature conversation.

Romance, or Lack Thereof

Frogs can be pretty sneaky when it comes to their woo-powers. Actually, stingy is the right word. They will use these powers only to the exact amount needed to ‘pataofy’ (impress) a girl. After girl has fallen for the frog-charms, all romantic capabilities will vanish into thin air, faster than you can say Evanesco! More so, after the wedding bells have sounded. Tell me, what is a poor girl to do without some romance in her life?

The Good Frog: Despair not, my frogette sisters, for all hope is not lost when the Good Frog is around. After making sure that his ‘needs’ are met, it is easy to appeal to him with logic and reason that our needs are important as well. Said frog will then use the powers of Google to come up with romantic ideas and (after botching up a few things), will do something to our liking once in a while.

So there you have it, my two-cents about the Frogs of Our Lives. Of course, I will have several more points to add when little Froggitties come into the picture. Until then, I leave you to ponder some more over these little tidbits of frog-wisdom.

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Mr. R

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 18:17:00 +0000

It's been a year-and-a-half now since M and I made the epic sojourn to Kailash and Manasarovar. Although overwhelmingly brilliant, I simply could not find the right words to describe the journey for a long time. Eventually, I thought it best to document it bit by bit, one wonderful experience at a time. The Lake Where No One Lives came first, hopefully others will follow.

While there are several noteworthy stories to share about the sights we set our eyes on, equally inspiring and interesting were the 40-odd people we shared our pilgrimage with. Names are hazy and easily forgotten, but their faces and their smiles, their words and their deeds, will remain etched in my memory forever.

There was Maa, who had literally turned blue after catching a cold but went on nevertheless. There was Doctor S, who I'd witnessed administering stitches to an elderly lady after she had met with an accident. At the end of the procedure he touched her feet, thanking her for the opportunity to serve her. Both pairs of eyes welled up, rendering useless any further words between them. There was also the girl who made my dip in the Lake possible, who helped me walk into the cold waters with courage I never knew I had.

But most of all, I remember this one man, whom I shall refer to as Mr. R.

Mr. R, with silver-gray hair, was probably in his late fifties. He was the kind of man you could tell was very handsome in his youth, good enough to have been a movie star. His frame was muscular and there was a certain beauty in the way he held himself and took his long strides. As you'd know if you've read some of my previous posts, I take great interest in observing people who catch my fancy, and Mr. R was certainly one of them.

So observe, I did. It was hard not to. Impossible, really. The man was remarkable not just in terms of physical beauty, but also physical endurance. The cold and high altitude that had gotten to me, a person half his age, had seemingly no effect whatsoever on his health and attitude. While the rest of us bundled up in layers, he went about regally in the only flimsy pair of clothes he had packed - as a man on a true pilgrimage would. Due to the lack of hot water, the group abandoned bathing as we gained in altitude. But not Mr. R. He continued to cleanse himself with ice-cold water at every stop we made, after washing his clothes. As he waited for them to dry, he would chant aloud Sanskrit verses on the praise of Lord Shiva.

Naturally, I was not the only one whose attention he had managed to grab. A few considered him a man of extraordinary physical strength. There were rumors doing rounds that he would walk all the way from Chennai to Tirupati and back, once every month. Others in the group said he was a show-off, trying desperately to gain some attention by openly defying the rules. I'm not sure if the whispers ever reached his ears, but they seemed to be of no consequence to him. He seemed set in his mission, whatever he'd decided it was.

It was around 4 am on a dark, chilly morning in Paryang, Tibet, when my intense observations of the past week had actually led me to do something I never expected I would. The group was readying itself for the next leg of the journey, the all important one that would lead to the Lake Manasarovar. I was ready ahead of time, completely uneasy with the climatic conditions, having vomited non-stop from altitude sickness the previous day. It irritated me beyond reason that I had to have fallen sick while on the journey of a lifetime. As I walked out of my room, I tried to gather my thoughts, focus myself on devotion and nothingness. And that's when I spotted in the hallway, a lone figure, seated on a wooden stool. Faint chants told me that the person was none other than Mr. R. Dressed once again in his flimsy t-shirt and pants, he was engrossed in singing the praises of the Lord, while all around him were busy looking for toothpaste and waiting for some hot water to arrive.

I stared. I could not believe it. What on earth had this man done, I burned to know, to have possessed such an extraordinary control over his body. Here was a man, who at the age of fifty could do something that I could perhaps never, ever hope to do in my lifetime. Here was a man who had mastered something that I have been struggling with ever since I could remember - the body. He was comfortable in his skin, comfortable in his discomfort, and for that, there was no way I couldn't have done what I did next. I walked straight up to him, and bowed down at his feet.

At first he didn't notice me. A few seconds later he did, but his chanting continued nevertheless. I shed a few tears, got up and walked away, realizing how far I was from where I wanted to be. Also realizing that maybe not too far, if I could only find a way to bow down to every creation of the creator, just the same way.

Time is Money!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 19:39:00 +0000

Okay, so maybe it isn't, whatever. But I'd still like to stress that time is important and especially when it belongs to others. So, if you are one of those who waste people's time then, well, don't. Take as long as you want in the loo. Do what you want to with your hair. Stay late at work, take a shower before dinner. Hey, it's your life and it certainly is your wish. Just don't waste my time while you're at it, okay?

Granted, I'm not the most punctual of people. True, I've probably kept people waiting a few minutes too, just a few. But no way, never as blatantly as the following examples:

Couples who, when invited for lunch will turn up at 4.30 PM. Need I rant any further?
A person who will claim she is just 10 minutes away and will turn up after 3 freaking hours. Arghh!
People who will invite you to go out to dinner, ask you to come over first, and then take their own sweet time showering and trying on outfits. And then when you think you're finally on the way to that much-awaited meal, they will make stops to run their errands. Double Arghh!

Seriously, I understand that younger folks take their time doing things, I understand that it takes time to get kids ready, I understand that at a certain age time doesn't seem very important. I was not very time-conscious myself when I was younger. But with age, I guess it's not so unreasonable to expect some responsibility, don't you think? At least a sense of respect for other's time and plans.

Despite all the ranting, let me tell you that I'm actually a very, very patient person. I tend to give people second chances, and thirds and fourths, and several more after that. But then it gets too much, sometimes. Perhaps that's what I do wrong. Perhaps I need to skip giving chances and be honest the first time around. Oh, well.

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Food || Chocolate Cake in a Box – Easy Peasy!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 11:37:00 +0000

This Valentine’s Day,

are you married/dating/in a relationship and looking to do something special for your ‘special’ one?

are you single and looking to do something special for yourself?

are you sick of all the hoopla every year and will be busy at work only to return late at night with no time to do anything special, but that’s okay because it isn’t even a special day anyway?

are you one of those eternal chocolate haters who will not touch anything with even a hint of chocolate in it?

If you’ve answered in the affirmative to any of the above, I have just the thing for you. If not, I still have just the thing for you. No matter what your stance in life, this cake cannotfail you. Fine Print: And if it does, well, then you don’t know me and I’ve never heard of you before. :D

It’s Chocolate Cake in Box! Well, originally it’s not made in a box, but I made it and put in a box, and ate it out of the box, and then washed the box and put it away, and hence the name Chocolate Cake in a Box! And let me tell you, it was one of the best comfort foods ever. It is also gender-neutral. As in, people can make it and enjoy with ease regardless of gender. Especially so, if you're a guy looking to impress your woman. :D

I made this cake almost a year ago, when I had lunch with my two best girlfriends. We ordered in some Chinese food that day, kicked back on the couch and chatted away, and later for dessert, there were three spoons and my Chocolate Cake in a Box! Needless to say there was a lot of 'mmming' that followed. :D

So without further delay, I present to you the recipe of my Chocolate Cake in a Box! Okay, I’ll stop saying that now.

There are two parts to the recipe – The Cake and The Ganache.

The Cake -

Believe me when I tell you this is the easiest and least messy cake to make in the world. No mixing bowls, no eggs, nothing!

Preheat your oven/convection microwave/whatever it is you use to bake at 180C/350F for 10 minutes or so.
Take an 8 inch square baking pan/dish/tin or any other shape that would hold the same volume. It must not be greased. In it, dump 1.5 cups maida (all purpose flour), 1 cup sugar that's been powdered, 1/4th cup unsweetened cocoa powder, 1tsp baking pwd, 3/4 tsp baking soda, and 1/4th tsp salt. Mix it all up with a spoon. In order to avoid lumps, you can sift the dry ingredients first.

Next, add 1/3rd cup melted butter (unsalted, room temperature), 1 cup warm water, 1tsp vanilla essence, 1 tbsp lime juice. Whisk it all around so there aren't any lumps in the batter.

Stick the pan in the oven at the same temperature for about 30 minutes. Or until a toothpick comes out clean from the center.

Cool the cake and put it in a Box! Or, just leave it in the pan and eat from it directly. Who cares, really?

The Ganache Frosting -

The name might sound a bit fancy if you've never made this before, but again, it's really really simple. A child could make it.

Take 50 g of Dark Chocolate and 50 g of Milk Chocolate. (Cooking chocolate that's available in any grocery store). You can substitute this with 100 g of semisweet chocolate if you like, or use more chocolate if you like it really sweet. I wanted it rather mild so everyone could enjoy it.

Chop up all the chocolate and place it in a bowl

To this, add 3/4 cup or 180 ml of Amul Fresh Cream and 1 tbsp unsalted butter (at room temperature).

Place a large bowl of water on the stove and bring it to boil. Then place the bowl of chocolate over the bowl of water, and keep stirring until everything melts and forms a smooth paste. It's really quite fun to do this.
Remove from heat and allow it to cool to room temperature. Your ganache frosting is ready!

You can pour this directly over the cake, or do what I did. Whip it! Preferably use an electric whisk or egg beater to save your arm from falling off. But it gets so much more creamier and yummier. Like this!

Note: This recipe has been adapted from this one, at JoyofBaking.

The ganache can be completed as the cake is baking. So once I had them both ready, I simply slathered the chocolate frosting all over the cake and took the box to my friend's. And then we dug in and this is what it looked like:

Huh, well won't you just look at that. Looks like we dug in pretty neatly. But feel free to make a mess as you please. After all chocolate is the tastiest when it's the messiest! :D

Happy Valentine's Day, folks! Lemme know what your plans are.

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Siesta

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 16:51:00 +0000

Img Credit: h.koppdelany

I’m sitting in my aunt’s house, it’s newly constructed. I’m trying to change my clothes. The walls are disappearing. What I thought was a room turned out to be a balcony. I’m trying to hurry up. There are several people in the house, several voices. They are related to me, very distantly. M is nearby. He’s smiling, like an acquaintance. I feel a bond, but the bond is feeble, not as strong as before. A young girl comes up to me, stands beside me. She is dark, sweaty, unattractive, overweight. Yet, she is well dressed. She calls me mum. She’s probably in her mid teens. She tells me she wants to go shopping. I tell her, sure dear, let’s do it. Now? Where do you want to shop, Delhi? Mumbai? Here, in Chennai? You name the place and we’ll go there. I feel the need to indulge her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s been a good daughter. She looks innocent and sweet. I like this girl. She tells me she doesn’t want to go now, because it’ll interfere with her studies. She says she wants to go after the exams, during the holidays before she starts college. I agree. I can’t remember what she’s studying. I just know she’s my daughter, I have no other memory of her. I feel regret.

The scene shifts. I’m sitting outside a huge mansion. It is built in the style of ancient Indian architecture but it’s new. I don’t know what’s the purpose of this building but it isn’t someone’s home. I’m sitting among a group of people and Sadhguru is sitting before us. M is somewhere in the group, not beside me. I suddenly realize I’m missing something, I left it at the hotel. I need to go get it and get back. I start walking barefoot, the path to the hotel is up a small hill. I walk ten steps, near enough so that Sadhguru’s voice on the microphone is still audible. He’s talking about a story, of the enlightenment of Lord Vinayaka, which happened on those hills. As he speaks, I look up and there is a temple of a Goddess on the slope. I realize that I’m standing on the exact spot of Ganesha’s enlightenment. I am unable to move. I need to go forward. I look back, I’m not too far away I think, no one will miss me. I am overcome by the urge to sit down right there. I fall to the ground, close my eyes. A song is playing now, a powerful one. I fall bang into meditation. I go deeper than I ever have gone before. I’m forgetting who I am, I can feel it. The identity of Sumitra is getting all erased, wiped out. Everything is blanking fast. It’s scary, I panic. I want to go back, I have to go back. I force myself to get out of this. It’s like a black hole, pulling me fast into the void and I’m struggling to pull the plug. Finally I yank my eyes open. I’m in my aunt’s house. Changing my clothes. I hear several voices. But I am alone.

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My Loo, My Paradise

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 02:31:00 +0000

Paradise, technically, is probably a place you would never want to leave. If this were true, then my paradise can lie in one and only one place.

The Bathroom.

In order to explain myself, I must start at the very beginning. The apartment I grew up in was a warm and cozy double-bedroom. It was just enough for a family of three - my parents and me. I loved that little home dearly, and I probably still do. The place is so synonymous with the word 'home' for me, that even today my dreams are filled with that apartment, and not my current place of residence. I had a nice room all to myself, but the bathroom was where I got all the real privacy I needed.

Our bathroom was neat and simple; it had a tub, a toilet, a basin and a washing machine. I can still imagine being in it vividly, as though I were there only yesterday. As an avid reader, imaginer, mirror-actor and day dreamer, it was the one place where all my antics would go completely unnoticed. And so I remained there for long periods of time. It was common knowledge in my family that once I went in, I rarely ever came out. People wondered what I could possible be doing in there for so long. Oh, if only they knew how the place came alive for me in more ways than one.

Img Credit: nanny snowflake

Most of all, I liked to read in the loo. Especially during exam-time, when I wasn't allowed to read any story books. I would stuff a book under my shirt and dash inside. Once the door was locked, people were hardly likely to bother me because, well, I was in the loo, doing my business! That's legal, right? So I read and I read, and then I read some more. Coming out with the book wasn't always as easy, especially if someone was waiting to use the bathroom next. So I came up with hiding places - outside the window on the sill, behind the washing machine, the bottom of the laundry basket. Soon, I stopped being bothered to retrieve the books at all, so I always had my stash waiting for me when I sneaked in. This went on for long, until my mother one day discovered a high stack of books sitting on the sill. It was not a good day for me.

While there are several other things I did in there (refer to this post for more info), I find reading in the loo to be the most relaxing and stress-busting activity ever. In fact, I will now sheepishly let you in on a little secret of mine. I have read so much in the loo that now I cannot spend more than 15 minutes in a book store. Because if I do, I will have to go! Seriously, every single time. M says I'm psychologically wired that way for life.

So as you can see, I have had a long-standing relationship with my beloved bathroom. It is the place I go when I am happy or sad, when I must think and ponder, when I must read, or simply to get away. No I really do not need an expensive vacation to get away from the stresses of life, a few hours in the loo will work out just fine. The bathroom is such an important place to me that it is the first thing I look at when we're looking for an apartment to rent, or even in a hotel room. If the loo is good, I am good too.

Img Credit: rockinfree

But I must tell you that I have a dream as far as bathrooms are concerned. A dream bathroom, if you will. That is, if I ever write a book that will make me as rich as J K Rowling, the one thing I know for sure is the kind of bathroom I will build myself. I don't really care about the rest of the house or anything, it could be in ruins for all I care, as long as I get this room right. And I will now tell you exactly what I have in mind (rubs hands together gleefully :D ).

A minimum area of 400 sq.ft.
Two toilet stalls, each with their own door and separate exhaust.
Two wash basins complete with mirrors and appropriate lighting.
Noiseless exhaust systems.
A shower room with glass doors, that also works as a steam room.
A bathtub.
A lounge area, consisting of but not limited to - a soft couch, a fully-stocked bookshelf, a massage table, LCD TV, laptop, WiFi connectivity, a bowl of exotic chocolates, a collection of aromatic oils.
A dressing area that has the softest of silken robes, the fluffiest of towels and the warmest of slippers.
Super-ventilation with sunlight and fresh air pouring in from all sides.

If you cannot possibly imagine the kind of room I'm talking about, please search Google Images for 'Luxury Bathrooms'. I assure you that you will still have no idea as to what I'm talking about. I have myself never set eyes on a bathroom like this except for in my imagination. If you do stumble upon a picture close to what I've described then pliss, pliss to be sharing with me, kindly :)

So now you know why my loo is my paradise. Do you share a special relationship with any of the rooms in your home? Do let me know!

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The Truth About Relationships

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 15:27:00 +0000

It feels good to get back to my blog after a nice, long break. The mind's refreshed and brimming with ideas now. M and I had been to Chennai this past week, visiting with my family - cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. We had a great time bonding with everyone, it was a happy and welcome break from being alone most of the time in Bangalore.

Photo Credit ~ left-hand

The best part of our visit to Chennai, I would say, is the stuff I got to learn about relationships. M and I do not have siblings and hence don't have any family bonding to do on a regular basis. We're pretty much on our own always. My extended family lives in Chennai and the last time I'd spent any time with them was a good half-a-dozen years ago. So as an adult, this was the first time I got to see what relations are like up-close, other than what I'd learned from my parents as a kid.

During my growing-up years, what I witnessed most around my grandma, mom and her siblings in the name of family bonding was mostly, gossip. People were always talking about someone who wasn't there at the time and it was never really anything good. There were too many misunderstandings to even keep count of. So my general opinion of extended family was really quite distorted. Though I never did make it known, I was always skeptical about the meaning of a family, when all everyone ever did was bitch about each other. I grew up not liking those discussions, and tried my best to stay out.

But this time, I really did see a very different side to my family. It think it was more so because my mother and her siblings are now older and have taken a back seat. It's more the generation of my cousins and their children and to a large extent, things are very different today. I ended up thinking that if this is what family is like, I'd love to be a part of it.

So I'd like to share with you the three most important truths about relationships I learned during this visit.

Truth #1: People are Basically Good

The things we hear on the news and other sources around us have possibly convinced us that the world is a bad place to live in, and that we have to watch out for ourselves. We're always warned of being robbed, duped or assaulted. I'm really not familiar with statistics when I say this, but in reality I think the contrary is true. In reality, most people are actually pretty good.

Photo Credit ~ Katerha

I spent a lot of time observing and understanding the way people talk and behave in the past week. I've also spent time in pitting people against what is being said about them behind their backs. And the truth, I feel, is that people are just plain good. Misunderstood, yes, but most certainly not as bad as they are made out to be.

What people certainly are, is defensive. The fear of getting hurt has basically robbed us of the ability to trust, and hence we doubt the motives of everyone around us. We also misunderstand the most basic of actions, failing to realize where certain words or behaviour might be coming from.

So the first truth is this: If you are able to get past the many guards and walls that people have built around themselves as protection, you will find that they are really as sweet and vulnerable as puppies. Yes, most people are really just good.

Truth #2: Affection is to People, as Pollen is to Bees

Deep inside each and every one of us lies a desire for recognition and appreciation. What people want out of relationships is to be understood, for others to be on their side, to see the world from their point of view. In short, everyone is looking for affection.

Photo Credit ~ PSS

An age-old wisdom that I've been hearing about ever since I can remember is that when you live in affluence, people will flock around you. Examples have been quoted from time to time, in order to drive this point. And yet, I don't see this to be true. In fact, the opposite is true. The more affectionate you are, the more people tend to enjoy your company. I'm a great believer of Mithe Bol, roughly translated to sweet or polite words, that are of course, not fake.

I was really quite surprised with all the affection that M and I received from my family. They all had gifts to offer us along with home-cooked delicacies, which was a wonderful gesture and completely unexpected. Far from the monetary value, what we saw was the thought behind the gestures and we were totally bowled over by everything that was done for us.

And so, the second truth is this: It's nice to be nice, even when you are being truthful, even when you are saying what you have to say. People appreciate being treated with the respect and courtesy that they deserve and this is what it takes to build great relationships.

Truth #3: It's Best to Turn Off the Super-Sensitive Radar

As we all know from our own individual experience, where there are relatives, there is bound to be an abundance of comments, advice and judgement. This is really a universal law of sorts and something that cannot be escaped. In fact, since every one is in the same boat, your relatives might be thinking the same of you. We are all guilty of having made comments on the lives of others at some point of time. There's no denying this.

So, what's to be done? Nothing, really. Acceptance is what makes everything easy. If you learn not to take anything seriously, and take everything in your stride, you will see that judgments and advice are a very small part of life that take up very little time. They are only blown out of proportion in our own minds, when we incessantly dwell upon them.

Other things that are common when relatives gather are comparisons and complaints . Sometimes people miss out a person or two while offering something by mistake, sometimes people genuinely haven't heard you because they were preoccupied, sometimes people were tired and didn't make that second dish for lunch or could only make you idlis for dinner, sometimes they might have miscalculated and the rice wasn't enough, or they forgot to offer you a bedspread or towel and you had to ask for it, sometimes people select the wrong color or material of clothes they gift you - these are really very, very silly things that I have heard people complain about for years and years.

So the last, and perhaps the most important truth about relationships is this: You really have to know when something is silly and let it go. You need to look at the larger picture, at how much effort has gone into something and how much people have done for you out of their own capacity. While appreciation goes a long way, nitpicking takes you nowhere.

Photo Credit ~ Arbron

So these are the gems of wisdom I've gathered from the past few days I spent visiting with my relatives. What would you like to add/subtract/confirm/oppose to/from these? Any of these apply to you and your family? Do let me know in the comments below.

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Useless Confessions - III

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 17:26:00 +0000

I have to start this confession with a confession. I got nothing!

When I planned out this series in my head, I had three separate incidents in mind. But somehow, over the past three weeks, the third one has managed to slip out of my woozy brain. I can't remember it, no matter what. I spent the whole day yesterday racking my upstairs, but it just wouldn't come back to me. I can remember other stories, but they're just not as interesting. I know I should have written this down when I remembered, but I was lazy and now I don't have it. I'm so sorry to disappoint.

But of course, there are a few useless confessions I can still make. About my greatest useless fears. Now, I know there are people who think fears are useful because they help you do better in life, but believe me when I say that my fears are basically, utterly and absolutely useless. So today I'll talk about one of them.

This fear is so silly that I'm even ashamed to admit it. But yes, I'm afraid of Ghosts. I always have been and, I know always will be. Can't even remember when it started. I'll just go list out a few crazy fears I've had about ghosts over the years. Go ahead and laugh all you want, don't be shy now.

My first nightmare was of a little girl - who was headless. A large part of my childhood I was pretty scared that girl was going to show up in my room in the middle of the night.

I made up this thing about a phantom who rode a horse, broke in to kid's rooms through the window at night and stole them away. No idea where I got that from, but I spent many a sleepless night over him. Not your typical knight-in-shining-armour stuff, eh?

Someone in school told the story of Bloody Mary. That if you go to the bathroom, switch off the lights, close your eyes, turn around three times saying Bloody Mary, a crazed woman would appear with an axe and chop off your head. Now after this, every time I went to the loo, nothing came to my mind except Bloody Mary. You know, like the song that gets stuck in your head and doesn't go away. I would just rush through my business and dash out as soon as I could.

In my Grandma's house, I was usually allotted the diwan in the hall to sleep at night. And the hall window was right behind my bed. They kept it open at night during summers. So if I opened my eyes and turned around, I could see right outside the house. I was so dead scared that the bell would ring and I would turn around to see some chudail woman standing at the window, smiling her devilish smile.

The Ring. One of the scariest movies I've ever watched. I actually used to get scared that something would crawl out of the TV when I was up studying late at night.

Things have changed a bit, now that I'm older. Yes, I'm still scared but a little less and I've noticed a pattern. There are some houses/rooms where nothing happens at all, I'm never scared and I rarely get bad dreams. Then, there are a few places where I just cannot sleep once I'm left alone. It's just too involuntary to even know why. I just try to have someone with me in such places.

In spite of all this, I still do watch horror films. You know, like I'll be flipping channels and one of them would be playing a horror flick. And then I'll be too tempted. I know it'll scare the bejesus out of me and I won't sleep again for the next week or so, but I'll just have to watch it.

Geez, this post makes me sound like such a nutcracker, doesn't it? Tell me you have some irrational fears too, won't you?

Read up on my other Useless Confessions, Part I and Part II

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And These Are a Few of My Favourite Things!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 17:37:00 +0000

Photo Credit: {eclaire}

Blogs! I have come to love so many of them. And each week I discover new ones, all the time amazed at the beautiful posts people come up with. I read somewhere that blogging promotes mediocrity, but I don't really think so, when I see the super-talented people out there who now have the power to publish their own material.

Being a mediocre writer myself, who is struggling to gain a better understanding of the art each day, I am no real judge of who writes what well. But I thought it would be fun to share with you all, my dear readers, some of the endearing posts that I read each week. Just like we tell each other about great books, we should tell each other about great blogs, no?

I want to do this each week but I'm not sure if I will be able to, I'll try, nevertheless. I will be writing about the posts and not the blogs, the difference is important I think, because every writer has their finer moments, and their not so fine ones. So I may mention the same blogger more than once, or whatever, you get the idea.

So let's get started! A few blog posts I've read in the past week, that have kept me engrossed and interested in random order:

Note: These are not necessarily posts that were written in the past week, I just came across them in that time frame.

It's Fungi This post is by Srikanth who blogs at 'Journey of Life'. He talks about a walk he took one evening and saw something that compelled him to return the next morning with a camera. The unusual, yet beautiful sighting is documented with lovely words and some simply-superb photographs. It was a refreshing read.

Look What We Found Written by The Girl Next Door, right here in Bangalore. Wish she lived next door to me, I'm so craving some good ol' girl-bonding :( Anyway, she's written a great description of some amazing Bangalorean street food, that got my mouth watering right away. I gotto try this place as soon as I can.

Parenthood, and all that Jazz This is not one of her latest posts, but the one that struck me the most as I was going through her blog. She's Smitha, a 'confirmed Blogomaniac' who needs just Any Excuse to Write. In this post she articulated quite well the predicament her daughter was facing at school, and how she handled it. A common scenario faced by many parents, I suppose. The post is very much well worth the read.

Confidence Is The post is what the title suggests, oozing with confidence. The picture at the top says it all. As a person with a similar build, I could never pose for a self portrait with such an attitude. Nevertheless, Rashmi's words had a nice effect on me the day I read it, a bit of the confidence seeped in through my brain cells as well, working its magic. We girls should write and read such posts more often!

Awakening the Social Animal Okay, I so I cheat a bit, I read this more than a week ago, but I couldn't help mentioning it. The post is so reflective of the late-twenties-something girl that I have evolved into. Piya introspects at Yesterday Once More, inspired by a profound quote from Winnie the Pooh.

Heads You Win; Tails I Lose Another gripping work of fiction from none other than the talented Phatichar. I would describe it as unputdownable, but since it's a blog, I'd say it was un-unscrolldownable. :D

A Helping of Buddha Vikas wrote this at Vicky~Pedia, as a part of the KFC Fiery Grilled contest on Indiblogger. How he managed to find a connection between KFC and Buddha is something baffling to me, but he did and with awesome style. This is some amazing talent if you ask me, I would be very surprised if he did not win.

My Encounter with the Inevitable Again, I cheat. Keirthana has a profound conversation with her inner-self, somewhat inspired by the last one between Harry and Dumbledore. Made for a very interesting read. Some important revelations came out of it too.

That's all for now, folks. Don't forget to tell me about your favourite posts!

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Useless Confessions - II

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 16:54:00 +0000

This post is the second of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about them is that they're utterly useless. It feels good to write about them, though! Check out Part I here.

***

I was about 8 or 9 years old. We hadn’t gone on our usual trip to India during summer break, we had stayed behind. After dad went to work, mum and I went to a local health club for a few hours every day. A summer kids camp was on that year at the club, so we kids were packed away while the ladies splashed around in the pool and did their aerobics.

It was a fun camp for the most part. The organizers were mostly American housewives who were pretty good at engaging children in various activities. The kids at the camp came from various backgrounds – there were British, American, Arab, Indian (of course) and even a few African kids I think. We all mixed well for the most part, although I do remember a few curious stares and strange questions from the white kids. Some of them were polite and well behaved, while others were downright rotten.

I remember visiting an Ice Cream factory that summer as a part of the camp. There was also a trip to an Insect Zoo. The American kids had brought jars to take pet insects home. The very idea seemed repulsive to me then. We had games in the pool and the gymnasium and several other activities. I played baseball for the first time in my life. I just couldn’t get the hang of it. J

We had a couple of art classes that summer. One of them is where the story of my confession unfolds.

All the kids had assembled in a conference room at the club. The ladies took out several art kits and opened them, explaining to us what each item was meant for. Metal wires were to be twisted into loops and dipped in paint to look like petals. Several petals would be put together to make a flower. The flower then had to be stuck onto a board that made the base. That was the project.

The ladies began distributing the material. Turns out they were a few boards short, and some of the kids didn’t get any, me being one of them. I was pretty pissed. I thought the lady deliberately hadn’t given me a board so the white kids could have enough. I’m not sure why I felt that way. Maybe I had witnessed something of that sort earlier. Or maybe it was just my imagination at work. I can’t remember now.

Anyway, I was pretty mad. I glanced around the table, and then I spotted it. There was a board left unattended. It was just lying there, with no one around to claim it. I couldn’t believe my eyes at first, but I slowly began inching towards it. When I finally reached it, my hands itched. I knew it belonged to someone, I knew it was wrong to take. But I so badly didn’t want to be left out. I didn’t want to be the one to show my mom a half-baked art piece at the end of the day when all my friends had good ones. So I gave in to the temptation. I grabbed it and ran.

Back in my seat, I glanced around the room again. My little act had gone unnoticed! Thereafter I kept very quiet, silently working away at the instructions. Only for a while, though. Soon, somebody had started bawling in the room. I looked up to see a girl standing at the very spot of my crime. It was evidently her board I had taken. She cried and cried and cried some more. People consoled her but she refused to be consoled. She actually threw a tantrum, stomping away in fury. A part of me wanted to give it back, but then I had gotten stared already and I didn’t really fancy approaching someone throwing such a hissy fit. So I let it go.

Eventually they found her a makeshift board made of thermocol. She was silent the rest of the day, sullen and moody. I remember feeling guilty about it, I’m not the sort who likes to make people cry. The art had lost all its joy for me. It was the last time I’d ever taken anything that wasn’t mine.

So there you have it, yet another useless confession off my chest. Nope, no one knew about this until now. One less thing to take to the grave!

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear about them. Stay tuned for part III, coming up same day, next week.

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Thank You Purvi!

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 10:58:00 +0000

I'd just like to make a quick note of thanks to Purvi, who graciously passed on her Versatile Blogger Award to me, among others. Thank you girl, that was a very sweet gesture.

I know most of you already know her for her blog is quite popular. For those of you who don't, Purvi is an amazing art, fashion and food blogger, who documents her beautiful work at Purvi's Creative Hub. The wall art pieces that she showcases through her blog are intricate and nothing short of lovely. True to the name of her blog, Purvi is extremely creative. The girl paints with coffee! Can you believe that? I can't even paint properly with regular paints. Go check out her blog for more information on her work.

Now, I'm supposed to write random facts about myself. Well, I think I write a lot about my life and this blog is strewn with several such random facts so I don't want to be repeating myself and boring you all.

I'm also supposed to pass on the award to 15 bloggers. It seems unfair to choose only 15 among the many beautiful blogs that I read. I would anyway be writing about the blogs and bloggers I love in the posts to come, focusing on one at a time. So I think I will pass on this one too. :)

Thank you once again, Purvi!

Stay tuned for Part II of my Useless Confessions, coming up later tonight!

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Books || Growing Up Bin Laden

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 17:08:00 +0000

Note: The contents of this post might be perceived as sensitive by some. Please understand that I come from a very neutral point of view, free from prejudice against any religion. My intention is absolutely not to offend anybody from any walk of life.

When I first got to know about this book through The Hindu’s Literary Page, I knew I had to read it right away. There are few things that hold my attention as much as the topic of terrorists. I’m always interested to know about the people behind the acts of terror that we see and hear about. What kind of people are they? What drives them to do what they do? Why don’t they ever give up, even when they fail? What makes them so passionate, that they are willing to sacrifice life, even their own?

It was the answers to such questions that I was seeking when I first opened the book. Until I turned the final leaf last night, I was literally hooked on to the journey into the lands of the Arabs, and later that of the Pashtuns. All through, I learned many startling facts about the man who was until recently, the world’s most wanted – Osama Bin Laden.

Growing Up Bin Laden shows us a glimpse of the life lead by Osama, through the eyes of his wife and son. The book is co-authored by Najwa Bin Laden – his first wife and first cousin, Omar Bin Laden – his fourth son from Najwa, and Jean Sasson – an American writer who recounts their stories. It was written a few years before Osama Bin Laden’s assassination.

Through this book, I was surprised to learn that as a boy, Osama was held in high regard by his family - as quiet, studious, staunchly religious and extremely well mannered. No one could ever have guessed that this boy would one day be responsible for the death of so many people around the world. Although their marriage was arranged, Najwa and Osama had fallen in love before they were wed, as they often spent time in each other’s company as cousins.

The book presents us with two very personal and paradoxical roles played by Osama, as a husband and as a father. While he appears to have succeeded in the former, as is evident from Najwa’s account, in the latter he seems to have failed. The pages of the book are filled with stories of Osama’s neglect of his children, and how Omar was very keenly aware of it. On the one hand he permitted his wife to leave him and their home in Afghanistan when she requested it and on the other, he encouraged his sons to voluntarily sign up as suicide bombers.

There is no doubt about the fact that Osama was a highly intelligent man. A mathematical genius, if you will. But he was also ruthlessly stubborn. And a believer of violent Jihad. A powerful and dangerous concoction was always in the brewing, and the political situation in the Arab world only fuelled the fire.

Through the book, Omar bin Laden tells us of his father’s missions, his true motives. The following words were spoken by Osama, directly to Omar:

"First we obliterate America. By that I don’t mean militarily. We can destroy America from within by making it economically weak, until its markets collapse. When that happens, they will have no interest in supplying Israel with arms, for they will not have extra funds to do so. Their defeat and collapse may not come in my lifetime. It may not come in your lifetime, but it will come. One day Muslims will rule the world. That is God’s plan, Omar, for Muslims to rule."

Osama’s life vision was that “the entire world should be Islamic.” Omar goes on to confess that he felt “not one jolt of passion” for his father’s life.

It also came as a surprise to me that Osama was a frugal man. Although born into one of the richest families of Saudi Arabia, his wives and children were not permitted to use modern conveniences such as air conditioners, refrigerators and televisions. He believed that these would be a hindrance in the practice of true Islam. No, I suppose he was not greedy for power or wealth. He was only a man so driven by his belief in his interpretation of religion that he was willing to put everything at stake. Absolutely everything.

Which makes me wonder. I mean, put aside the fact that he was a terrorist. Put aside everything ‘evil’ he’s done. I know it’s hard, but let’s. What remains is passion. The man did whatever he believed was right. Without a day’s hesitation, without a day’s lethargy, without a day’s rest. How many of us can claim to be able to do that, with whatever we are passionate about in our lives. How many of us ‘good’ people can go about life with that kind of fire in the belly – to do the opposite of what he did. For the number of passionate ‘evil’ doers there are out there, are there an equal number of passionate ‘good’?

Of course, this doesn’t justify what he’s done. It’s just an observation, my observation.

Growing Up Bin Laden certainly makes for an excellent read. It provides the quality of a gripping novel of fiction, it’s a book one would find hard to put down. The sad thing is, the stories in it are true. And enough to give you goose bumps all through.

I’ll leave you with a few more quotes. The book is available on Flipkart, here and Amazon, here.

“During all the years of our marriage, Osama had always said that any of his wives were free to leave any time they felt the desire to do so.

Osama saw me several times before I left. He made a particular point of telling me, as he had when I had gone to Syria to give birth to Nour, “I will never divorce you, Najwa. Even if you hear I have divorced you. It is not true.”” – Najwa Bin Laden

“I often wonder if my father has killed so many times that the act of killing no longer brings him pleasure or pain. I am nothing like my father. While he prays for war, I pray for peace. And now we go our separate ways, each believing that we are right. My father has made his choice, and I have made mine. I am, at last, my own man.” – Omar Bin Laden

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When the Maami Wore a Burkha

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 18:15:00 +0000

Passing time at the doctor’s office can be a big bore. Especially if you don’t have a good book or an interesting conversationalist for company. It’s usually my mom or M who accompany me and they’re no fun. Doctor’s lounges transform them into zombie-like versions of themselves, they simply stare into space, holding on to their chins, a small frown between the brows. No amount of my pestering can snap them out of it.

So over the years, I’ve devised several ways to amuse myself. The best one is observing people. I’ll admit it, I’m one of those loony girls who will stare until you’re wondering if there’s something stuck in your teeth. I know it sounds creepy, but I can’t help it, I just find people fascinating. I take in all the details, right from what they’re wearing to their tiny mannerisms, and then I make up stories about their lives in my head. Silly ones.

Some people look incredibly Indian, while others look like they might be from anywhere in the world. This always gets my attention. I wonder if this is so because of their genes, their dressing or their attitude towards life. So I give them a mental makeover. For instance, if there’s this ultra-hip girl in tight jeans and heels, I imagine what she would look like if she lived 30 years ago, in a sari, hair tied into a tight plait, and a big red pottu on her forehead. I do the same for guys, imagining them in a lungi and well-oiled hair. It’s funny to see in my head that they all fit pretty well into Indian costumes. Very rarely do I see someone who just doesn’t look Indian from any angle.

I do the opposite as well, put traditionally-dressed people in modern attire to see if they could ever ‘adapt’. Most of them would, my conclusions tell me. Cross-religious dressing is fun too. Like a imagining a woman in a burqa dressed like a Tamilian maami and vice versa. Sounds blasphemous, I know. But I guess it’s just my way of removing the tags people have created for themselves, realizing that essentially everyone is the same. Okay, that was too meaningful. This is a silly post. Moving on…

Yesterday I found myself waiting yet again, while the super-busy doc kept seeing medical reps. It was exasperating, of course, until my eyes fell on this person and then he had my complete attention. I found him so fascinating, I almost had the mind to walk up to him and say, Excuse me sir, I find you fascinating. I now severely regret not doing that.

I immediately started my Sherlock-Holmes-wannabe-type investigations. The man was visibly in his early to mid-forties, owing to gray strands, bags under his eyes, and a large paunch. He was pretty fair by Indian standards. I was guessing Muslim, and he confirmed it by answering his mobile in a pronounced Urdu twang. By then, I was hooked.

What drew me to him was that despite the telltale signs of aging, his face had retained a boyish sort of aura. He wore a perpetual frown, as though he was confused about something. Reasonably well-dressed, and yet I couldn’t help thinking that he was charmingly careless about things. I shamelessly listened in on his conversation, turns out he had forgotten his file and was asking someone to get it for him. Aha! One of my observations turned out right.

His gait and mannerisms suggested a certain amount of affluence, yet the powerful personality that comes from a successful career was missing. He kept glancing nervously at a crying baby in the room, as though he would have liked to do something to cheer her, but wasn’t too confident of speaking up. The man with the baby dropped his pen, and Mr. Boyish-charm immediately stooped down to pick it up. Ah, my object of observation had a good, helpful heart, I concluded.

My fun was interrupted when the doc was finally ready to see me. And then I forgot all about him, until now.

So this is what I do, more often than not. Not just at the doc’s, but at bus stops, railway stations, airports, pretty much anywhere I’m waiting. Please somebody tell me this isn’t too creepy. Oh well, it’s okay if it is I guess. The world needs more creepsters like me, or so I would like to believe.

One day, I’m going to muster up the courage to speak to the people I find interesting. Hopefully, when I do that, I will come back and tell you all about it.

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Useless Confessions - I

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 15:51:00 +0000

This post is the first of a three-part series I'm doing on Confessions from my past. The thing about these confessions is that they are pretty much useless. But I'd like to have people know about them anyway!

***

I was little, very little. I don’t remember how old. I could walk and talk, but I was little. Keep that in mind, okay? Okay.

We were on a plane, me and mum. I don’t remember if we were coming or going. This is a very vague memory, almost like a dream. I was thirsty, I asked mum for water. She told me to go up to the stewardess and ask for it. Moms in the 80s had some new-fangled ideas about teaching their kids to be independent. Does this still happen?

So, I got out of my seat, went to that little place up front where all the stewardesses disappeared into. There were a group of them standing around, talking, laughing. I barely reached their knees. They looked very pretty in their silk blouses and short skirts and pantyhose and those smart caps they wore. I went up to one of them and tugged at her skirt.

The rest of the memory is sort of hazy, like in slow motion. She looked down at me and smiled. I said something that included the word ‘water’. She smiled even wider and nodded. Then she led me to this water dispensing thing, filled a small paper cup and handed it to me, before returning to her friends.

The cup was full and difficult to handle, I think. I took a sip. And then the unthinkable happened. I dropped it. One neat ‘splat’ and the cup was on the carpeted floor, water splashed all over. My heart was pounding, I was scared. The low hum of the aircraft was all I could hear, it was deafening.

I picked up the cup gingerly, walked slowly up to the stewardess and gave it back to her. She smiled yet again, took it from me and returned to her conversation.

And then I ran. Back to my seat and my mom, where I believed I was safe.

“Did you get your water?” asked mum.

“Mhmmm,” I nodded.

Every time I saw that stewardess come up the aisle, I was shit scared that she was coming to scold me, or rat on me to my mom. But she never did. I continued to feel pretty awful though, as though I had done something terrible. That was one flight I was very glad to get off.

I’ve never told anyone about this, until now. I had planned on taking my secret to the grave, but oh well, now I can go with a clear conscience.

***

Do you have useless confessions to make too? I'd love to hear them! Share in the comments, or do a response to this post on your own blog. :) Stay tuned for part II, coming up same day, next week.

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2012 Happenings

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 15:32:00 +0000

In my last post, 'Reflections', I openly challenged the year ahead. I believe my precise words were, 'Bring it on, 2012!' Perhaps I was being a tad idiotic, perhaps I should have been a bit more respectful, for the 2012 fairy godmother appears to have taken my words too literally. I received a nice shocker right at the stroke of midnight.

No, it wasn't a beautiful white ball gown, or a Pumpkin-turned-chariot, or even a pair of glass slippers. It was nothing like I expected it to be. Ladies and Gentleman, as celebrations erupted in this part of the world welcoming the arrival of a brand new-year that has been proclaimed to bring doom to planet Earth, the thing that I received was a nice, long lecture from my mum. About why I should be having kids this year.

I'm not kidding. This is exactly what happened. M and I were up, doing this and that. We hadn't planned on calling anyone at midnight. Eventually, the clock struck 12. We looked at each other, smiled. Our arms outstretched, we moved towards each other, expecting to receive warm hugs. Instead, we froze mid-hug, when the phone rang. Smiles turned to frowns, and then quizzical expressions followed. We dropped our arms and M went to answer it. My parents.

I couldn't believe they had stayed up till midnight, but apparently my dad had insisted that they wish us first, before going to bed. So M spoke to Dad, Mom spoke to M, I spoke to Dad... That was all sweet and nice, I thought, until I spoke to mom. And then the lecture started. Let's just leave it at that.

For those of you who are wondering, no I'm not against having kids, but I don't know when it'll happen. It'll happen, I know that for sure. One day, I will magically know that I'm ready and everything will fall into place. It could be tomorrow, a few months later or whenever, I don't know. I believe parenting is a calling, and when it calls out to me, I will rise to the occasion. Anyway, baby-planning as a topic demands a post of its own, so I'll leave it at that as well.

The First Day

1st Jan turned out to be nice. We did go to Woodstock for breakfast, except that it turned out to be brunch instead. The poor guys were severely understaffed, owing to the fact that the previous night's party had gone on until 4 AM. Nevertheless, the food was yum yum, as usual. So, no complaints there. I actually wanted to take a pic to share with you guys, but I was too famished to even remember by the time food arrived.

We then went shopping for a scarf, but I ended up buying an omelette pan and a pair of house-pants. I call them house-pants for lack of a better term, but they are the most comfortable pair I've ever slipped into. So comfortable, that I never want to take them off again. I love my new pants.

The Second Day

I started a new workout regime today. It's real fun. Can't wait to do more!

More News!

In other spectacular 2012 news, one of my good friends has taken up a whopper of a new year's resolution. She calls it Mission Impossible, and I think the title is befitting. It is so amazing, and I think she's amazing for even attempting it. Hold on to your pants, I'll tell you more.

Rafath (that's her name), is one of my good friends from Google. The first important fact of relevance here is that she is a totally heels-crazy gal. She writes a shoe blog, where she showcases beautiful designer heels that are absolutely drool-worthy.

The second fact is that she has been trying to lose weight for some time.

So in a brilliant strategy that kills several birds with one stone, she has decided to put the two together. She's started a challenge to lose a certain amount of weight, failing which, she will be giving away all her heels. For free! Yes, you heard me right. For every kg of weight she does not lose every fortnight, she will be giving away one pair from her amazing collection of heels.

Oh, and she's blogging about it. So please go and read all about her mighty endeavour, here. She's already put up the first pair of heels on the altar - gorgeous red suede platform pumps.

Oh, and there's a double-incredible-nail-biting twist to this. An anonymous reader has promised to gift her a Giuseppe Zanotti pair, if she is on track for three months. Now I don't know much about heels, but going by her reaction it's pretty huge, and it's gotten her all the more pumped (no pun intended)! All we know for now is that the mysterious generous benefactor is male (oooh!), and presumably, rich. :D

That's all the exciting new from me so far for this year. How have your first two days of 2012 been?

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Reflections

noreply@blogger.com (sumitra) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 17:09:00 +0000

I’ve been reading a lot of bloggers talking about the year gone by and the year to come. Read so many good posts that now I’m tempted to do it too. I normally don’t look back or make too many resolutions for the future. But let’s see how this goes.

Photo Credit: Snapclusion

2011.

Jan

Spent the first month of the year in preparation for a Yoga retreat, so it was mostly a cleansing kind of diet/lifestyle. I had to eat a lot of fresh foods and I was practically meditating all day. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the most peaceful of months, I got to meet the several demons that live within me. It was like an upheaval of sorts.

Started a baking blog, that was pretty short lived.

Feb

Went to the retreat, it was an 8-day silence program. Confronted the demons. Killed some. Turned out sitting for 8 days with only just my thoughts, attempting to achieve true silence is pretty much one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. It was frustrating, I even wanted to run away. But there were moments when it was good, and then it was really really good. Came back with new perceptions, new understanding, the silence within me deepened, and so did my gratitude for life.

March

The beginning of a new life, in a new city. This was totally unexpected and unplanned. A few last-minute decisions and we found ourselves in Bangalore. 10 days in the company guest house, not a thing to do, no cleaning, no cooking. Was like heaven. Went around exploring, house hunting.

April

Shuttling back and forth, getting things in order, settling down. Reaped the true benefits of the silence program. Encountered a major personal and emotional setback, but brushed it away with ease. I was proud of myself!

May

Played tourist. Walked around. Ate well – Dosas and coffee mostly. Turned out people love Bangalore in the summer. Relatives came over, had a great time with them.

June

Finally started settling in. In-laws came to visit. They were majorly bored, mostly because we do not have a T.V. Took them around the city, they liked the weather and the vegetables.

July

Parents came over. At this point, we were having someone over every 2 weeks. Felt good though. Mom didn’t let me do a thing! Ate a lot of dosas. Discovered CTR and Vidyarthi Bhavan. Excellent.

August

I hated Bangalore. The weather made my allergies wreak havoc in my nostrils. I was sick most of the month. Birthday passed uneventfully. Hit two-eight. Two more years to the big three-O. Found out I didn’t feel any different. My brain lacks the capacity to feel old.

September

No respite with the allergies. Started blogging regularly. Settled in some more and started freelance writing as well. Took M to the ashram, it was lovely and I was genuinely glad that he liked the place. A new-found love for Sherlock Holmes happened, M and I watched the entire 1984 series on YouTube. Also discovered JustBooks and my reading has increased ever since.

October

The month was just one big sneeze. Nothing more to say.

November

Anniversary! The allergies settled down. M and I finally managed to get into a schedule. Exercise began to happen. Health began to improve. Life got better again.

December

Regular exercise for M and me. Both of us feel great. Eating healthy and well. Watched Dirty Picture, MI4, Don2. Loved the first, second was meh, puked all over the third. Decided to reward ourselves to a big, beautiful breakfast at Woodstock (our favourite place, hands down) on New Year’s morning for all the hard work we’ve been putting in. We’re dreaming and drooling all the time now :D

Over all, it’s been a year of solitude. Began in silence, ending it alone. Lived alone for the first time in my life. Discovered several things about myself, pulled my socks up and got more responsible. Refreshed and rejuvenated, all set to take on a new year. Bring it on, 2012!

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