im a mixture of a traditional and a modern indian married woman. love all the indian cultures,festivities,cusine and everything indian....simultaneously love to hold a drink while gossiping,to hit the dance floor, dressed comfortably most of the times.
talk,eat,sleep,travel,friends,..you can place that in any order....and yes...thats me
Surprisingly...water was a difficult thing to write about.
such a common commodity,found all around and, spoken so much about it.
Uff !! Gave my mind something to chew aabout for the whole day.
Generally I don't google for info, but today I did. And this is what I found....
Water molecules form hydrogen bonds with each other and are
strongly polar. ... Its hydrogen bonding causes its many unique properties,
such as having a solid form less dense than its liquid form, a relatively high
boiling point of 100 °C for its molar mass, and a high heat capacity.
I am lazing on the banks of a lazy river meandering about the
terrains of a hot village in Karnataka.
My eyes are half
open, as I keep a watch on what’s happening around me. The water is lapping at
my cheeks, making the heat bearable. The fishes are gossiping about the village
women who took a dip in the river to bathe during the early hours of the day. Naughty fishes, I must say. Must be the males… Hehehe… typical..!!
What caught my attention, how-ever, was a young chap in
red-checked boxers, and chappals with
the heels worn off, skipping away to the nearest post box to drop in a letter to his married
sister residing in the distant city.
sweating profusely, and not a tree in sight to shelter him from the scorching
heat. My heart went out to him. ''Poor fellow,'' I thought.
As I continued to laze about, nicely, comfortably, lying
in my double bed, very much within my comfort zone, the sights in front of me
were not very comfortable.
I witnessed an old woman carrying the afternoon’s lunch
pack to her husband and son working in the fields near-by. She was sweating
profusely, and not a tree in sight to shelter her from the scorching heat.
went out to her.
I lay, within my comfort levels, on the banks of the
river, the water cooling me off from the heat.
Are comfort zones good or bad?
As the day dragged on, many more images of people and
animals suffering the heat of the summer was tugging at the strings of my heart
and conscious. I needed to bring myself out of my comfort zone to help my
fellow living creatures. And I did just
that. Now, Out Of My Comfort Zone.
My skin is peeling and making way for my legs to show. I pulled my legs out from my double bed and placed it firmly into the mud packed on the banks of the river. Later my hands made way to grow towards the sky. As I grow, I branch out far and wide, giving shade to humans and animals. I also bear flowers and fruits. I provide food and shelter to the needy, a place to build houses to protect birds and animals from predators and the unfavorable climate. I bring about precipitation and prevent global warming. And so much more. Oh! By-the-way, the human beings have named my legs..Radicles. And my hands are known as the Plumule. And my comfortable double bed is the Cotyledons. I AM A MANGO SEED. Now, that i am out of my comfort zone and helping the planet Earth in so many ways, I can surely say that getting out of the comfort zone helps you prosper and grow without limitations.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
This post is a part of Write Over the
Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Whoa !! what a weekend it’s
going to be. Just the thought is giving me so much of a calm and soothing
Lets see, what’s at the
brim of my mind to be burnt, at the behest of this week’s WOW.(Write Over the Weekend) Hmmmmmm…………………
Ok, so, here goes……
Burn the dance floor. Oh ! What a fantastic Friday Night it would
To be held in the arms of
a person you love. To groove away endlessly to the music which transfers you
from the spectacle d, straight faced, duty bound, workaholic secretary to a happy,
carefree girl deeply in love. Seems like the DJ knows you are here to rock n
Without caring two hoots
to the week gone by or the one which is yet to come. Swaying to the slow beats
and progressing to the high tempo-ed JHINGAA-LA-LA
HO types. Leaves you panting and sweating, yet yearning for more and as if on
cue, he spins another disc and you are not in control of yourself. Looks like
you are possessed by the spirits of the beats.
Music has no language, nor does
the movement of the body to the beats.
Dance away your Blues,,
in the true sense and burn up the floors.
Hee-haw…. Hee-haw… I heard
a donkey laugh. Have you ever heard one? It is believed, that when a
donkey laughs, your wishes come true. And I swear I heard the donkey laugh.
I pulled out a very
pretty royal-blue frock tucked away at the back-most part of the wardrobe. I had
out grown this beautiful dress. Or rather, I shamelessly lied to people that it
Now, on a whim, tried it
on only to see that I have burned away the stubborn fat at all the
wrong places because of which I needed to tuck away that very pretty royal-blue
frock at the back-most part of my wardrobe.
Oh what immense joy burning
fat can give !! Hence, I promised myself,, I’m going to burn up the
rest of the stubborn-as-a-mule fat too. Hope to pull out a few more shrunken
A well-paid job. A handsome
boyfriend. Weekends to burn up the dance floors. A body fat burning spree which
enables me to adorn enviable attires. A bright and happy future. I have all
that a pretty, young girl can ask for.
But, something is knocking at the back
of my mind. What is it that is bothering me but afraid to surface?
And now... finally…I can
Being a primeval Indian at heart, my inner voice is calling out---
nazar lagegaa, kuch karo. (Evil eyes are on you. Protect yourself)
Oh My !! This is not me. How
can I ever hear such nonsense? I’m a modern girl. I live in the 21st
century. My inner self is so damn out-dated. It has no right to dampen my
spirits and hopes for my successful, enviable future.
The battle of voices
Finally, I fall prey to the inner voice. Mentally I run through the
mazes of ancient memories of my childhood days at Granny’s place.
3 dried red chilies, 5
black pepper corns, 7 grains of crystal salt, 9 mustard seeds and a black
woolen with 11 knots made in it. All this is to be placed in a new black
muslin cloth and tied tightly with a black sewing thread. This potli is now to be placed on burning
The pungent smoke emitted and wafted far away from me, will take away
the ‘’evil eyes’’ or nazar. I have burned up the evils that were
Now I am free. I am
I carry a high flying-
fluttering flag, stating I have the willpower to burn
up the dance floor in order to burn my body fat, so that I can fit into my
pretty, skimpy outfits.
I make no reference about me being
a primeval Indian at heart, and my inner voice calling out--- nazar lagegaa,
kuch karo.,, because I’m a modern girl living in the 21st century.
Story making is an art, just like any other art form. To some
it’s an inbuilt mechanism whereas some others need a Vroom- a start-up kit. Mothers
are a natural pro at this, with the built-in app. To feed, bathe, soothe , or
put the infant to slumber… a new wave
of imagination weaves forth effortlessly. Children then carry the story-telling-
Here’s a bit of the imaginative weave from a Big Brother
to a Baby Sister….from Anirudh to Anandita.
Once upon a time, long-long ago, there was this planet
where no man had dared to go. On this unknown planet, the only occupants were Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE and Miss.CAVITY DRILLER. They
were surrounded by rotting mountains and slippery walls.
Inside, it was as
dark as it could possibly get and cold, smelly, slime-y, worm-y, and
atrociously ‘’un-visit able ‘’. Mr. GREENAPPLE
PIE and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER were busy
drilling holes in the mountains and making the place as rotten as possibly
The walls and mountains could take the torture no longer.
They sent out distress signals to anybody who could save them from the ghastly
clutches of the two deadly space demons-- Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER. The signals were loud,
clear and piercingly sharp, sent from their secret device called Delminator
SAVE US .. Ohh… SAVE US….ANYONE…. Please Help Us….
SAVE US .. Ohh… SAVE US…from these deadly monsters.
These ultra-sonic S.O.S. signal
waves spread across the Milky Way and reached Princess FRESHBREATH and Prince LONGLASTING. They mounted on their super-sonic
TURBOBRUSH and sped away to rescue the walls and mountains of this unknown
planet in distress. They were armed with
the most strongest weapon the COLGATE-PALMOLIVE to
terminate the worst enemies called Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER.
Just simply kholo, dabao aur turbobrush pe lagao…….
The DISHOOM – DISHOOM began
Magic was created !
Lo and Behold ! This
was a cake walk.
The rotting mountains on this unknown planet were sparkling white again. Just like it was
before the alien attacks began.
The slippery walls were pinky-pink and squeaky clean.
No more a smelly, slime-y, worm-y, and atrociously ‘’
un-visit able. ‘’ planet now
The “Magical Space Adventure’’
ends on a happily ever-after note.
Hail Princess FRESHBREATH and Prince LONGLASTING.
USE COLGATE…. BAR BAR …….dishoom dishoom….
Our sincere thanks to our alien characters
Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE - Plague
Miss. CAVITY DRILLER - Germs
Princess FRESHBREATH – Cavity Eroder
LONGLASTING – Calci Lock Protecter
Rotting mountains – Teeth and Slippery walls-Gums.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for India Bloggers by Blogadda
have just 9 more months!’… she tells herself.
Giving her an aura of being at peace. She will
complete 50 years of age.
Thus starts her second innings.
50th Birthdays are made in heaven. To be
distributed to the priceless species on earth.
But.. What the hell !! Why is this 50th event so special?
Is it because it occurs only once in a 100 years? When it arrives for the
second time, its called a centenary. J Whatever the reason… it is
a much awaited one for sure. 'I have just 9 more months.'... she reminds herself
Now, this woman is definitely not the coy teenager nor a first-time
inexperienced harassed mother of a toddler. No more a demure wife, often
treated like a doormat. Crossed every bridge, as it approached. Through the
course of this journey called life, has braved the ups and the downs of experiences.
She has borne the rubs and digs of the snooty-snobs of society. Has learnt the art
of cosmetics, to camouflage her pains. She has got over the fear of a dentist’s
mean looking chair. Made a few friends, who accepted her with her deficiencies –and
moulded her to some perfection. Overcome a horde of other petty situations. Each a
milestone in its own way. Making her strong, humble, observant, patient and
learned all at the same time.
Giving her an aura of being at peace. She will complete
50 years of age.
have just 9 more months!’… She tells herself.. Come on December.
Thus starts her second innings. The golden era begins. A caterpillar cocooned, now turned into a confident
butterfly. All ready to fly and scale new heights. Do the things that was
warped into a tightly packed dream.
To turn into a
saint? Far from it..
Scuba diving to para sailing to bungee jumping. and the
sorts. Will watch her as the years roll by. The pages are ready to be inscribed
onto. Longing to be a person she always yearned to be… just in 9 more months…
Making plans and organizing and dreaming of her Oh.. so happy
Hoping, Wishing and praying to God to make this forward
journey a successful, happy, healthy and
a content one.