The Sun Came Shining Back! Who’s Talking of Weather? Not Me.

It’s been gloomy and not so good lately. The weather has thrown tantrums all over Mumbai. The wind apparently is on a Hawaiian vacation, the rain of course is engaged in dolling up herself and will take its sweet time to finally walk down the aisle and I don’t see that happening for the next two months. The clouds are drunk, yes, I’m pretty certain, they somehow aren’t qualifying in the gentlemen’s league this time around. I struggled to get some pictures of some of the most talked about monuments here, but just backslid at every attempt. My Nikon gave up. No light, no lens, no pictures, not too complicated, right? Where was the Sun?

I got my question answered when I opened my email (now is the part where I do justice to the title). A kind soul, had kept my share of sunshine safely with him. I had the biggest, the broadest smile on my face. The Sun after all popped out, I had been nominated for the blogger Sunshine Award, it’s true and so uncanny. I had to read the mail 5 times to believe it. And guess what? I AM nominated, can I be any happier? It was so overwhelming that I shed a tear or two and me being the only soul at home at that moment, I started swearing, yep, non stop for 2 minutes, I said it all and it all made sense and so f-f-f-f-funnily good. It’s not a Booker or a Pulitzer, but for me it means nothing less.

I couldn’t help but share this amazing news with all of you. It’s not about the weather as you now understand, really, who cares what the mercury is up to? It’s about this tiny little achievement, it’s about the effort, it’s about being recognized, it’s about all the hard work, it’s about the reassurance that I’m on the right track, it’s about the boost that every one needs, my food for soul, fulfillment, filling up the void and closing the eyes and walking with unbeatable self-belief. Feels good 🙂

I really don’t know if I’ll bag this as I’m not even two months old in the blogging world, but I can’t thank God enough for sprinkling some happiness over me. My friends who are motivating me constantly. The fellow bloggers who are being so gracious in teaching me new techniques and fundamentals of blogging every day (I’ve managed to annoy some), with a smile. My bundle of joy, my daughter and my loving husband for coping up with my weirdness. Many thanks to each one of you. Wait, did it sound like an acceptance speech? Hahaha! Again, who cares? Because I believe, something’s gotta give!

A heartfelt thanks to The Tales And The Travel Of The Tin Man for the nomination.

I love you all!

PS: I’m off to buy trainers as I’m participating in the Worldwide WordPress 5K run from Mumbai. Wanna join in? Yes you can. Check this out.

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Why My Parents Said No To Pets?

 

I was 5 when I fell for a pup. I was 6 when I thought of getting one. I was 7 when I requested parents to adopt one, I was politely refused. As the humble and obedient soul I was, I stayed patient for a couple of weeks. When the urge to pat and feed the puppy couldn’t stay within, I dragged my cute and sulky face back to them. “Are you sure you definitely don’t want a pup? Please re-think, I really really want one and I promise that this would be my last wish on earth”. Guess what? I got a hug instead. Hug and still no pup, bleh!

The school re-opened after the summer break and so did my gate to gossip. A friend from the group came running over-enthusiastically as her father gifted her a Labrador Retriever and that was the best thing to happen to her, she exclaimed! It irked me no end. I was fuming. I looked down and murmured, “I’m amazed! Really? Wrong address? Why? She didn’t even want one, then how come? Now, let me do the thinking and please do not interfere”. The conversation with God lasted about 10 mins. My mind started working overtime and was overloaded with plans of my own. Putting a happy face across, I couldn’t help but think about the skinny and unbothered black dog which roamed day and night in my lane. People from the society would often feed him milk and bread. He would pee on the electricity poles as if that was its birthright (which in a way was). He would bark non-stop at trespassers but would wag its tail without fail whenever I waved at him. There was undoubtedly a connect.

The same afternoon I took ‘skinny‘ home and trust me, to confront my mother was not the easiest of the things. Instead of pushing the door myself, that day I rang the bell hoping to see some unexpected guests. As the fate would have, never happened. My mother, who could stay calm even if there was a fire in her room, reacted when came out.

What happened? – nothing (stepped in).

Do you want to feed him? – no (put the bag down).

Is the dog thirsty? – no (patting the dog).

Do you want to bathe him? – no-no-no-no-no, Ma, its mine. Skinny will stay with us now.

Who skinny? – the dog, this dog, here (and kept stroking it).

She became quiet.

My mother waited for my father to return from the office. Now, the kind of person that he is, he agreeably joined my gang and forgot for a few minutes that the mother had him on a secret mission. They now looked pretty cool with the pup idea and I couldn’t be any happier.

Two days later, I was told to give away Skinny to my cousins. I was shattered. I felt this unimaginable pain deep inside me which I thought no body could understand.

My father sat me down the same evening. My tears won’t stop. he said he was sorry.

He asked how I felt? – very bad (still weeping).

Can I get you something to make you feel better? – nothing.

Can you think of anything which can replace Skinny? – none.

This really is hurting, yeah?  – yes (wiping the tears).

So you miss it really badly, huh? – I do.

Can we get you another dog? – no, I only want Skinny, just Skinny, can you get him back?

I can but I don’t want to, because I would like you to meet a couple of new friends tomorrow morning. But I already have friends, I want my pup. Darling, I wish I could, but I really want you to meet those new friends. Papa is requesting you for this small favor. I’ll get really happy if you agree. If you want Skinny to be extremely happy and very healthy, please stop crying and wait for the morning. I agreed. He slept with me that night.

The following morning, my father was already up when I woke up. He held my hand and walked me out the first thing.

Meet your new friends he said. – I don’t see anyone here (hoping for Skinny to show up).

Really? – yes, can you?

Yes, I can see 9 friends. – but I can only see 9 pots.

And? – and plants, buds, flowers, leaves, rain drops.

Sweetie, go ahead and say hi to your new friends, please. These small little plants in the pots are your new buddies for life. They have promised me to be with you forever. They will never say bye to you. They will follow you wherever you go. You will never have to give them away to your cousins or anybody. They will never hurt you back even if you hurt them by mistake. Yes, they are your partners for life. They are the best gift I can ever give you, the most precious ones. You will always feel safe with them even if papa is not around. They will be your protectors. They are yours. You will share your life with them. Your stories, dreams, aspirations, sorrows, anything. They love music just like you do and people say they grow faster if they have music around them. And you know what the best part is, they have this superpower to make you smile, all the time. The conviction in his eyes was unbelievable. I locked his words in my heart and followed his directions. As I took a step closer, one of them waved at me, the leaves smiled, the flowers turned at me and asked me to hug, the other started dancing with sheer joy, I was elated! They were ready to enter my home and my life. My partners for life, my buddies for life. And they still are. They always will be.

After a couple of years, I eventually understood why Skinny was taken away from me. My parents knew me well, they had a feeling that I will never be able to get through a situation where I had to say bye to my pet. If I could bond with non living things so intensely and get emotionally attached to them, I guess they had a fair idea about how I could feel about a living being (I had done some unusual things earlier, so!). I don’t mean that plants have no life, they absolutely do, just like us. I have cried a couple of times when I have lost one. Even when someone has pluck the leaves or tore off the petal just for fun. My strength goes some levels down when I see them getting hurt. To the point that I myself have never plucked one, I pick up what I get from the soil. But the charm is that you save a seed and grow another one, you can buy an identical one from the market whenever you want. You can keep the same type or as many as you want. They come, they somehow just manage to come to you. They call for you. They find you no matter where in the world are you. You get signs, just like when you are in love. While walking, while driving, while talking to someone, at a friend’s place, on FaceBook, on TV, reading a book, it happens. When it now comes to pets, there is an invisible wall which stops me from getting too close to any animal or bird. It can be tormenting if I had to stay away from one of my own. Any pet lover can vouch for it. For instance, an extremely close friend of mine, who loves her dog to death and has almost mothered him (I will kill myself before calling him ‘it’, see that’s the effect I’m talking here and guess what? I’ve never had a chance to meet him, and yet the emotional connection) got a little disturbed when I asked her about her dog’s age. And I again felt miserable.

In retrospect, the answer to all the questions my father asked me after we handed over Skinny to my cousins, is Yes! How beautiful is that?

In fact I thought of introducing all of you to my current buddies. Ready? Here you go.

Ms. Orange Hibiscus, from my living room balcony.

Ms. Bougainvillea, from my living room balcony.

Ms. Yellow Hibiscus, from my living room balcony.

Ms. Orange-Red Periwinkle, from my living room balcony.

Mr. Celosia Argentea, from my living room balcony.

Ms. White Jasmine, from my bedroom balcony.

Mr. Red Bromeliad, from my bedroom balcony.

Ms. Pink Periwinkle, from my bedroom balcony.

Ms. Red Hibiscus, from my bedroom balcony.

When I shifted my base to Mumbai after marriage, my first buy were two indoor palm plants.  I still remember entering my husband’s bachelor pad and being happy in a way as I had a lot of space for my buddies. I couldn’t care less about the kitchen or grocery or furniture or plumbing. My palms gave me oxygen and that’s all I needed and wanted. I feel claustrophobic if I don’t see them around. I talk to them, sing to them, sing with them, share everything with them even today. Give them a chance if you haven’t already.

It’s 4am and my gardener will ring the door bell in exactly 7 hours. His appointment was never planned and it’s completely coincidental that he’s coming for service the same day as this post. I’ll say it again, the connection!

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Are Female Humans Multitasking Or Working On Infinite Levels?

Indian Premier League (IPL) has begun and as I started preparing dinner the other day, I had my daughter’s high chair pulled in the kitchen. She was bibbed and eager to watch mommy’s magic show, once again, as it’s free of charge and highly entertaining you see! Of course, my magic wand has synonyms like knife, grater, peeler, tong, colander, strainer etc. She was also expecting her dinner plate(s) to be ready, mind you, she gets two, one to play with and the other to eat from, so she was served according to her choice of meal, which is anything under the sun, BUT accompanied with curd. There were three pans on three gas stoves, one microwave, one mixer, my kitchen shelves were filled with various dishes and tools. It looked like a battlefield for any third person visiting the area but for me, all in control. Yeah, that’s my play field and that’s how I almost entirely operate. Not kidding!

Feeding the daughter every minute, heading to the first pan then hopping to the second, stirring the third, checking the microwave dish, filling up water, attending phone calls, getting the door, adjusting the TV volume on the way back to the kitchen, wiping daughter’s tray and phew! That is some amount of work, isn’t it? But surprisingly enough, my body somehow has managed to act in that fashion. The cycle never ends. For the fact, it keeps adding up, there’s a morning cycle, an afternoon one, an evening one, so on and so forth. Before I hit the sack, I’m already in the next day’s cycle. Baby’s school, next field trip, dry cleaning, my e-course on photography (which is keeping me upbeat these days), the bio-degradable pesticide I’ve been trying to get for 6 months now. I’m in the center of furor as I often say.

But why only mothers? I think it implies to every female human who has the capacity to take on any challenge or job or responsibility and completing the task with utmost truthfulness. There are friends and fellow bloggers around the world who’ve managed amazingly to create their own cycles without having a baby in their lives and have given their 100%.

It could be an employee at a hotel, working in shift (or double shift as operation structure demands), who has the responsibility to not only do the listed chores but also sail through the night standing at the front desk. This one has to greet the guest with a smile and not letting the sleepy eyes talk to her guest (and that could be the hardest thing to accomplish on planet at 0345hrs. when she has already missed her 15minutes break). Has to make sure that the guest gets the cold towel, then collect the luggage tag, as she takes down the details of the fresh arrival,  the mind never stops doing that extra thinking and battling some usual unanswered questions. Her system is down for night auditing so she wonders if the guest room is ready yet? (and yet another reason to detest the sold out season) Whether or not the housekeeper has done her bit? May be she has, but no confirmation, so! Why is that damn pager not responding? OK, the tongue steps in and shows her magic. Here come the golden words which never fail to impress or involve the guest in a prolonged conversation, and no,  they don’t even exist in the Standard Operating Procedures file but come with experience. But the mind is still engaged with the thoughts. Oh lord! I don’t see anyone at the bell desk too! And it’s almost impossible to locate the duty manager, again! The cashier, yeah, as always had to go and take a leak at this very moment. The concierge is busy at the main porch. The lobby which is rattling and crackling by the day, now seems like a deserted castle. How I wish I could bury everyone at this very moment?  I’m leaving this job right after the handover is done. She swipes the key card anyway and right then, the elevator bang opposite the reception opens up, the house keeper communicates with the secret sign language giving a thumbs up, and all at ease instantly. She finally escorts the guest with a genuine smile this time. On her way back from the floor, she reckons about the hostel rent, dentist’s appointment and applying for the leave for a family wedding.

As we grow up, life throws more challenges and sooner or later we acquire the skills to deal with each one of them. While some of which are immensely toilsome, some by default bring along the solutions. Supported or unsupported, we seldom fail if we make up our minds.

My ex domestic help has two kids. Her husband got severely injured in an accident a couple of months back, he was a truck driver. The family eventually had to move back with her in-laws for the first time to a village in the outskirts of Mumbai. The girl had never stepped out of the city, was born and brought up here, had eloped with her boyfriend (now husband) at the age of 16, got married against the parents and the caste system too. Now, the catch-22 situation here was that the husband’s parents, to the present day, aren’t aware of the fact  that she’s not from their caste, hello? She did manage beautifully for a while but a few weeks post the BIG move, she packed herself and the daughter, left her boy and hopped onto a train to return back to the city without anyone’s knowledge, again, hello? No shelter, no food, no money but yes, heaps of confidence to start afresh. She had the nerve to take that giant leap and start from the scratch. Too embarrassed to approach her mother (a widow), who works at Muhammed Ali Road and 3 married sisters who had abandoned her. She struggles for a week, never gives up and finds a space to live. One burden less, she now was contemplating on calling her husband. Her mind still said NO. I wonder if that was because of the ego or the guilt or the shame? In a few days, the daughter gets free admission in the school, thanks to the government’s Anganwadi initiative.  Everyday became a new battle. To get through the day perhaps was a whale of a challenge. I remember her saying that there was a day when she sat in front of the stove, crying endlessly and praying the food to miraculously appear before her daughter returns from school. She ultimately grabbed a job and started working in a workshop near the dock. The same day, she called her husband and cried her heart out. The preponderance of this humongous family in a not-so-familiar place was killing her, the lie about her religion was killing her, so she took off. Post that she initiated the process of reuniting with her sisters, bringing her boy to the city, starting sewing for extra income.

So, are we really multitasking or do we feel that God’s mind overworked and imploded after all and he turned into a plagiarist and maintained the same base for all the stories for each one of us?

The above stories are related to a variety of walks of life. Willingly or unwillingly, all the female humans are effectively working on infinite levels. The angle, the pressure, the need, the aim could vary but at that moment, the structure, the way forward remain the same. Physically, psychologically, emotionally each female human is striving to thrive on their own terms. Well, that’s the closest I can go to answer this.

And leaving you all with my warm wishes for Easter. Enjoy your hot cross buns and have a cheerful Eastertide!

A little piece of art done at my daughter's play school. The wings are her palms' impressions.

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I Drayed On The National Cleavage Day!

When I saw NCD trending on twitter yesterday, my first reaction was, “Heights of shallowness, so is this what we’ve come to now?” I immediately picked my mobile & rang my husband and yelled, “It’s national cleavage day in some parts of the world today, it’s trending in Mumbai, I’m fuming, it’s annoying me no end!” He interrupted and said, “And you should definitely write about it”. All calmed down in a snap, I started to read about this outrageous celebration (my earlier thought).

As per Wikipedia, it started in 2002 and I hadn’t heard of it until yesterday, which doesn’t come as a surprise because I’m sure that most of us here in India were not really aware that such a day existed.  The wiki page doesn’t provide detailed information but I felt pretty good reading about it. It was sort of relief that it wasn’t just some stupid hash (#) thing started by a group of perverts on twitter. Yes, the National Cleavage Day exists & it’s celebrated predominantly in the US & South Africa. The concept was conceived by Wonderbra & sponsored by Cosmopolitan along with the former. Every dime collected from the bras sold by the company in the same month, goes to an NGO in South Africa.

I captured a screen shot from my twitter account yesterday when I saw NCD trending, take a look!

National Cleavage Day Trending On Twitter.  Location: Mumbai, India. Date: 30-March-2012.

It’s interesting to see the reactions here.

  • First tweet is from a radio station in UK – Trying real hard to not go the pervert path, but the wink at the end doesn’t come as a savior.
  • Second tweet is from a girl in London – Funny, forceful and furious. She has my vote.
  • Third is from a girl in Corby, UK – Wild.
  • Fourth one is again from a girl in London – Carefree and going with the flow.
  • Fifth is from a boy in Tadley, UK – Dude, wishing the day was OK, but ‘Rawr’? No points.
  • Sixth one belongs to an Adman in London – This one had a funny & surprising twist. He added a picture of two guys/politicians/businessmen/corporate heads (couldn’t recognize) in business suits with open mouths, that is still acceptable. It’s harmless.
  • Seventh is our own MTV India – Classless, tasteless, disrespectful and now desperate, they have gone many levels down to just anyhow get their TRPs high, shame! As if Vidya Balan cares what they write!
  • The last is from a person in Warrington, UK – This one is my favorite. Why? Click here!

Majority of people around the world today talk about cleavage and breasts in a demeaning manner. The size is what matters, the shape is what matters, there is no end to the gossip. There are many girls with complexes & many with insecurities about their own body, about their own personality & about their own talent because the world of men around them has stopped seeing beyond the cup size. Why go far? For instance, when I did my reading about this topic, all the prominent & so-called respectful news papers of the world had half nude pictures of the female actors glued on their websites. There was nothing meaningful correlated to the National Cleavage Day message. Indian websites for a case in point, had their own list of actors. Why were they celebrating NCD again? We don’t even have such a day in the calender, morons! Where is responsible journalism? Oh! I remember, went down the drain, long time back.

I somehow stumbled upon an article on NCD from The Sun, UK. I rate this one as the worst. I found nothing valuable in it. What has happened after all? Have the women lost their senses? It’s a man thing (as they say) being lecherous, but why have the women confined their brains to such thoughts? Is that all we got? Something that hurts me the most is that the campaign saw a lot of women with such awful reasons to justify the NCD. Do we really think Mother Teresa, Oprah Winfrey, Meryl StreepMargaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi, Julia Gillard, Christina Lagarde, Beyonce Knowles, Anita Roddick, Indira Nooyi, Maria Sharapova and many more, have achieved such phenomenal success because of their cleavage?Rubbish!

The research on the topic pushed me to check the website of the NGO Wonderbra supports. I’m rather surprised that it doesn’t mention anything about Wonderbra or Cosmopolitan, not in the partners list, not in the fund-raisers list, not the in the thank you list, no logo, nothing. I did the same with the Wonderbra website, I became desperate to a point that I convinced myself to subscribe to their newsletter. Surprise here too, nothing about the organisation they support, makes me wonder why? All they did yesterday was to create a poll on who has the best cleavage? Please enlighten me if they did some charity work too.

While some have fun on such occasions, some get a chance to flaunt their assets, some get mad and furious and some even retaliate. I somehow while writing this blog, tried to contemplate on the positives & negatives of  the NCD.  At the end, it was clear in my head. The whole idea of highlighting women’s cleavage & making it a day to celebrate is nothing more than a marketing instrument in my opinion. We are not dumb, we know our body, we know what we have, we know what we are made of, we know when to reveal, we know when the show time is over, we know it all because we gave birth, that is precisely how the human species began. The reason is us.

I do not support this day. Women might have different explanation for using their cleavage on numerous situations in life, but is that still ethical or appropriate enough reason to come up with such bruised marketing technique? I tend to disagree.

PS: I did unsubscribe from Wonderbra! 🙂

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I’m Opening My Diary For You!

So, I said I carry music in my veins, which I do. I said I love gardening, which I do. I said I love being a couch potato & watch television without a break, which I do. I said I love photography, which I do. But you know what, there’s more to everyone and yes, there’s more to me. There are a number of things which I did or still do or will do apart from the ones mentioned above.

I’m more than sure we’ve all had our share of alone time or ‘own’ time, where you take a 360 degree view of everything around you, you spend a minute & then repeat the same, you don’t see a thing move, no movement, all steady. You look at the floor, it’s clean, the fans on the ceiling are sparkling, the windows, um, well, the house help did her bit a few days back. The cupboards are arranged. The kitchen is insect-free & the containers are exactly where they belong. No grocery to order either, so you turn.  Here comes your book cabinet, you quietly escape as the book you started reading is still waiting for you to finish and you politely talk to the book and say,  “Today doesn’t seem to be the day, I’ll come back, cross my heart’’. You come to your bedroom and no, you are neither weary enough to take a nap & nor so ebullient enough to grab your bag & go shopping. You have a sip of water, and open the drawer thinking perhaps it needs some work, and indeed, it does!

Once the cleaning begins, your hand reaches out to an old diary, a secret one may be. You remove the settled dust on it, can’t wait to open, and there, the smile comes, the eyes sparkle, forget the bed, forget the cushion, you just sit on the floor & start flipping the pages. Some words from the dictionary with meanings written right opposite, some phone numbers, some random names you can’t recollect, some recipes scribbled with a pencil, some Ayurveda remedy for some allergy, some faded ATM slips, a faded restaurant bill, some appointments, some grocery items, a to-do list, and some sketches, wait sketches? Yes, of course you sketched. Don’t believe yourself? Please do. I did too.

I was going through the same cycle last week. After making a quick visit to Delhi minus the husband & plus the infant. I took rest for a couple of days. The trip was badly planned, didn’t get too much sleep and the early morning flight added to my fury. The daughter threw up twice on the road and I was left with smelly clothes along with a pinch of embarrassment, but that happens with kids, so I’m cool. We returned safely, husband joined us the same evening, a good end to the two-day hectic trip. Now, coming back to the cycle, I caught hold of my old diary a few days back & thought of sharing it with all of you. I had sketched and I know I’m not at all good at it. It was done with a pen on a tiny diary, imagine! So, please blame yourselves if I don’t match your expectations. Also, I modified it with a not-so-close-friend of mine, ‘Technology’, to make it look at least presentable and not blurry on a public platform. So, here you go!

I remember my drawing teacher making a white swan on the green board. For the first time ever she used colored chalk. All the students in the class were fascinated by this new development. I even bought a box myself the same day after school. It was the second grade.

My parents had the similar sort in our old home. An oval-shaped full length mirror with bronze flowers as the borders. I grew up looking at myself several times each day in this old-fashioned mirror. We never covered it. The veil that you see in the sketch is my imagination of a bride leaving her veil on the mirror, right after the wedding ceremony, to spend the night with her soul mate. There’s always a story hidden behind a picture?

Not as scary as you might think it is. Me, my sister & brother watched a lot of “Scooby-Doo” cartoons & movies together. Somehow the haunted castles & the trees stayed fresh in my memory. This is the one where the branches would become the gigantic monster arms. It’s making laugh though.

I guess this one speaks for itself. It’s my state of mind, baffled one time, puzzled the other, disoriented too! So, what to do?

This one was done when I committed to myself to not get bothered of all those who don’t matter to me, my family or my work for that matter. It’s not very often one would see the very valuable organ in good use. (Talking of the mouth here). I’m immune to all the gossip & bad mouthing.

On our recent trip to Hong Kong, Macau & China, we had the chance to go to the incredible Ocean Park. It has the most amazing rides, an outstanding water & fire show, a stupendous aquarium, memorable performances, numerous outlets to eat & hot air balloon rides and much more. This one will always remind me of the good times we had there. I’m definitely going back.

My daughter took fancy to this bird when she was not even 10 months. The Penguin walk made her laugh and even roll on the floor at times. She was crawling then and now that she runs, she tries hard to imitate me well enough to make me roll on the floor. This one was for her when she fell ill sometime back.

My first visit to Vrindavan last year. I observed that Lord Krishna can be without his flute, his cow, his Chakra, but never without the Peacock feather. I could be wrong, but somehow this asset always struck my mind. May be it’s my love for birds or  may be that the colors of the feather are so striking that the image never left my mind. A place full of madness & immense faith.

Many years back, during the renovation, I accidentally put my feet over the wet cement. My feet, my memorabilia, my permanence. Perfect with this one is a song by Rabindranath Tagore, ‘Ekla Chalo Re’.
If they answer not to thy call walk alone,
If they are afraid and cower mutely facing the wall,
O thou unlucky one,
open thy mind and speak out alone.
If they turn away, and desert you when crossing the wilderness,
O thou unlucky one,
trample the thorns under thy tread,
and along the blood-lined track travel alone.
If they do not hold up the light when the night is troubled with storm,
O thou unlucky one,
with the thunder flame of pain ignite thy own heart
and let it burn alone.

Please tell me if you know any place better than your own home. I love those white fences in front covered with climbers. Would love a combination of purple & pink on white.

My father has a huge inclination towards drawing, sketching and painting. He could never do justice to his passion as he took the responsibility on his shoulders for the family at a very early age. But the recurrence of one of his favorite pieces of art in our drawing books has left a remarkable impact on my memory. He drew this tree in almost every drawing book that all of us had. He would color it  differently ofttimes. And I, can never match that. For my father!

Freedom, space, music, respect, understanding, appreciation, equality, dancing, caring, and sharing are some of the key ingredients to love. That’s my key to love!

This is perhaps the oldest of the lot. Done a couple of years ago. I wanted to draw a perfect sketch of just the face of a Female Human and I could never get it right. I did this, and something clicked, something happened inside me, it shook me, it spoke to me, reached out to me, it gave me power, it gave me a boost, I felt healthier, I felt collected and ready for the world. This Female Human is perfect for me, and there is absolutely nothing hormonal about her.

It was the toughest blog so far, it took me time to collect all the sketches and put my honest thoughts across. This will always be an out of the ordinary post for me. I cherished every word I wrote. I will do more sketches and will also try to advance my skill. I now feel light after letting myself go. It’s great to have all of you around. I’m thankful that you share your time with me. I can hardly voice my feelings toward each of you.
Hope you enjoyed!

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Mother’s Day!

I would like to wish all the mothers around the world, a very happy Mother’s day.

Here’s what I have to say about the two most beautiful Female Humans/Mothers I’ve ever known. I’d say undoubtedly, I AM LUCKY!

My mother blessing me while bidding good bye after the wedding ceremony. It was tough! Very tough!

The one who carried me inside her for nine months, gave birth & when she held me in her arms for the first time, she looked into my eyes, kissed me and said, ”You are the most precious gift I have ever received, thanks for blessing me as a mother, I owe you my life”. She eventually became my best friend, a friend I could be honest to. I still move to her for comfort.
Her positive approach is infectious. Her calmness is endearing. Her toughness can make any man cry.  Her determination & will power are not somethings one would take for granted. She talks to the almighty for me and it always works, yes, her vibes have a unbeatable connection up there. She has her head on her shoulders. She fears nothing.

Mama with Diyas. Since we stay in different cities, Diwali is one festival we make sure to celebrate together. One of the things we enjoy doing is, buying gifts for friends & family.

The one, who with a smile said, I’ll carry you from here on. She welcomed me in to her world with open arms. Her eyes spoke a thousand words, said, ”It’s a new turn & a new journey altogether, just put a smile on your face & see the world change”.                                                   Her smile can melt any heart. Those hands, which are never tired. Her patience is immense. Her work never ends. She’s always on the roll. She definitely has a funny bone. She can crack up unexpectedly & make the room go bonkers with her one liners. A charmer on the whole.

Can’t imagine finishing the Mother’s Day blog without mentioning Mother Teresa. Here’s one poem by her, which both the above mentioned ladies believe in. I’m not there yet, but will undoubtedly give it a try & consume it too. It’s hard, you know. Saying that, it doesn’t mean that I don’t share the same belief, I do!

 

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‘Samantha Jones’: A character I adore, but can never be her.


She’s witty & wild. She’s fearless & fiery.

She’s sultry & such a smooth-talker. She’s daring & detached.

She’s independent & inviting. All in all, a kick-ass combo!

Samantha Jones, is one of the four friends from the most famous & controversial sitcoms of US television, ‘Sex and the city. When I say I can never be like her, I know I can’t, don’t wish to be & I mean it. Even if you forget for a moment, that I’m an Indian. I’m talking personalities here. Ask any of my close friends, they’ll tell the same.

Why do I get a broad smile on my face the moment she pops out?

She’s an imaginary friend that a person like me would want by her side in crucial & mournful situations in life. Her sense of humour can make me hold my stomach, laugh hysterically, & then eventually throw up at times (she can be sick too!). I wait for her to blurt out the dirty thought on every sane thing her friends talk about. One would be dopey enough to expect ‘I agree’ from her. There has to be a ‘sex’ angle to everything. That’s the only language she understands, she can write a book on menopause, orgasm, positions, sizes & sex toys, and I’m not exaggerating. She has experiences & opinions of her own & isn’t afraid to put them across the table. If New York was a wilderness, she would be the wildest cat that ever existed there.

A fantastic PR career, an office with a glass door splashing her name (& font size big!), good or may be brilliant money, designer wardrobe including all the A-list brands of clothes and shoes (I’m avoiding lingerie here), exquisite salon & spa treatments and of course, eating out in the best restaurants in Manhattan. She obviously has the power to fetch the front row seats passes of every freaking fashion week happening in the city of New York. And yet, I refuse to accept even THIS part of her life, I think I’m weird. No, I know I am.

Concerns with Samantha:

  • She cannot walk on the road holding a man’s hand. There goes romance out of the window.
  • She definitely has co-dependency issues. There goes marriage out of the window.
  • Don’t even try & talk about kids in her presence. She has the ability to make you feel miserable, and she will, right there, without wasting a minute. There go kids out of the window.

She’s unsympathetic yet emotional. She’s materialistic, extremely practical & holds no qualms about being one. She cares a great deal for her friends & Carrie in specific, as she had the guts to come out and attend her book launch party, post a horrific experiment with the chemical peel which left scars all over her face. She has stood up for her friends, has shed tears for them & has put herself into grueling situations for them. She has a great sense of fashion, a little off beat at times, which works well for her. She definitely can fake confidence. It amazes me the way she gathers herself, walks the same way with same body language, head held up high minus the inflated nostrils, immediately after an embarrassing incident. This woman has the charm which can make even a vegetable-seller feel sexy.

Samantha’s Anecdotal Incidents:

  • During an AIDS test, when asked about the number of sexual partners she’s had, her reply, ‘’Pause, pause, pause, pause, I’m counting, pause, pause, pause, long pause, um, this year?”.
  • When she was gifted a pearl thong by one of her serious boyfriends, she walked up eight floors as couldn’t wait for the elevator, to not to miss a chance and catch him cheating on her. Wait, it was rather punishing to walk along the pearly thong, and yikes, she takes them off on the way.
  • While trying to milk a cow, the milk comes straight on her face, her reaction, ‘’I usually get a warning before that happens’’.
  • Imagine, this woman can confuse a neck-massager for a vibrator, and then, will go to an extent to return it as it won’t work satisfactorily, well, inevitable!

No one has ever said these words with so much character, but Samantha:

  • Hi, I’m Samantha Jones!
  • Well honey!
  • That’s fabulous!

Interesting turns in Samantha’s journey:

  • Lesbian relationship, which after all came to an end. She was born to experiment, or I’d rather put this as ‘sexperiment’!
  • Threesome with a gay couple which again turned out to be a failure, leaving her in the middle of nowhere, her eyes went left & right like a ping-pong game, except, this game had more balls.
  • Fighting breast cancer with so much ease. In the hospital bed, all she thought of was to dress up fabulously in an upcoming movie premier.
  • Hair struggle post chemotherapy & a speech about breast cancer which interestingly enough also leads to her wig removing act in front of the audience, following a standing ovation.

I definitely have one pretty evident thing in common with SJ; we both get piqued at emotionally needy people. Oh please, for God sake, get a grip.

She’s one of the female humans, who was born ready to face the world, who commands power, isn’t wary of being alone or dying alone, facing one challenge after another and getting stronger and stronger by each minute. Head help up high, there is unarguably nothing hormonal about her.

My Favorite Samantha quotes:

  • ”I will not be judged by you or society, I will wear whatever & blow whomever, as long as I can breathe and kneel”.
  • ‘’I don’t believe in the Democratic Party or the Republican Party, I just believe in parties’’.
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Neha Mendiratta Khullar

    
  • A ‘Female Human‘, to begin with. (Not too much of a surprise there, huh?).
  • I dream, all the time.
  • Love living, in fact, at times it’s all about closing the eyes & breathing.
  • Never bored.
  • Carry music in my veins.
  • Pretty creative.
  • Amateur photographer. (Sprinkling a little modesty here).
  • Mother, wife and a daughter too.
  • Ex service industry professional with over 8 long years of exquisite stories to share.
  • First time blogger.
  • Like nature, yes, like! Saying that, my life would go black & white if there is no green around me. Love plants. Gardening comes naturally to me, it’s in my DNA. Thanks, Dad!
  • Detest numbers/calculation. Let’s just say I’m not a ‘Finance’ person, at all. It gives me an ache.
  • Dev Anand and Shah Rukh Khan fan but it’s impossible for me to not to adore Jack NicholsonOwen Wilson & Gerard Butler. The list doesn’t end here, just takes a break. I’m a movie buff! A sitcom buff too!
  • Hang on, I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mention any Female Human in the above list, right? Here, I get goosebumps when I read or watch anything about Mother TeresaOprah WinfreyMeryl Streep etc. Again endless.
  • Why am I here? I’ll let my blog do the talking. And promise, I’ll try to be as realistically honest as I can.
  • Why ‘Female Humans‘? Here’s the answer. At least it says we ARE humans, so that was the point of convergence. It’s all about us here.
  • Don’t ask me what inspires me, I might just say something incongruous.
  • There’s definitely more to come. I’ll talk through not only texts but music, movies, videos & pictures too. Um, or when I want to surprise all of us, will do some poetry as well.
  • Lastly. It’s a new beginning, it’s the first step, a new chapter and a new challenge. It’s incontestable that I’ll make mistakes, I’ll fall, I’ll get scratched but not at any condition will I stop trying. Here for good!
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The hopefuls.

I dedicate my first post to all the hopeful bunch of female humans. When you make up your mind and are absolutely ready to take that one step which can topple your life, for good, your sixth sense strikes to … Continue reading

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Let’s get in touch!

We can get it in touch via,

Email: reachnehaatwork@gmail.com

GTalk: Neha MK

Facebook: facebook.com/reachnehaatwork

Twitter: Neha_MK

Skype: Neha Mendiratta Khullar

Meebo: FemaleHuman

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