As we grow up...we collect lot of tales...but time n energy seldom gives us the liberty to paint and showcase those images we bear in our minds....Fighting relentlessly with time factor specially in a city like Mumbai...I want to rewind my life through these blogs and preserve them forever.....
Chemical Engineer by profession, narrator/blogger/painter by passion, the bewildered girl in me writes her tales in "TALES TO TELL"
Happiness is a state of mind. What makes you happy and what makes
you sad, is for you to decide. I am extremely emotional. I get attached to
everything and being associated with me. Changing accommodation to changing job,
takes a toll on my emotions. I know it is stupid of me, but how to change I don’t
know. In fact India as a whole is an emotion driven nation, from idolizing a
movie artist to celebrating festivals. We get carried away with the emotional
drift. We are happy on petty gains and similarly sad too. But it is not our
weakness for sure. Our emotional thirst, makes us stand apart, we are uniquely poignant and are ecstatic to
be so.
Woolen's Market
As a kid, I remember vividly, every year the Bhutanese would
come down during winters with their huge collection of woolens. Colorful, soft
and furry! And it was customary for all aunties to go and buy some. My mom was
also amongst them. When I recollect the gleam that appeared after they bought
the stuff at their proposed prices, I feel euphoric even today. However, it is
worth mentioning that the bargains, were often long and tedious jobs, demanding
loads of patience and perseverance. Hence the joy of victory was totally
justified. I doubt whether they ever were at gain, but the emotional upliftment
quotient was tremendous.
Street Shopping fun!
As college day scholars, we would often visit the famous street
market nearby called Hatibagan. It was like a project in itself. Like marching towards
the battle ground with a shield and a naked sword. The bargains over a
neckpiece or a stud, took hours. Yet even the extra Five Rupees off, meant
loads of happiness. Afterall the one extra golgappa with extra sev and lemon
juice, tastes better than all the others and leaves us craving for more. More
of taste and more of divine gaiety!
Pure Bliss!
We Indians always love a little more, an extra spoon of chutney with
the samosa or sambar with Dosa, we prefer it that way. An extra dose of
happiness! And believe me, this makes us unique! This crave infuses extra enthusiasm
to stretch beyond limits to achieve, which might look un-achievable from a
distance. Our spirit ranges from buying an ear-ring in a local market to launching
our Mars mission. We do everything for that extra bit of happiness and
accomplishment. And take the world by surprise with the same.
Yummy!
The
little boy sat with his hands folded and half closed eyes. Grandma was busy
chanting mantra and paying homage to Lord Krishna. And the kid waited for the
rituals to be over. Afterall Grandma has prepared some yummy laddoos for God
and he believes he deserves a meaty share for stopping himself from stealing
some. After the puja when she places a huge one on his little palm, he looks
disapprovingly at the wrinkled face. “More?” she asks and places another. The
kid runs to his little sister with a smile and gives her a small share of his
belongings. The little girl looks at her big brother disappointed. “More?’’ he
asks and places a bit more on her even smaller palm. She giggles with gaiety
and gives a little to her doll sitting by her. By some gesture, I or you might
fail to appreciate, she knows the doll wants more and bestows it the luxury.
We Indians grow not only with the idea of getting more, in the
process we also learn giving more. We give more to our relationships and
strengthen it. No wonder we are known for family values. We give more to
professional commitments and achieve many a milestones that bewilder the world.
And hence since we give more, don’t you think our zest to getting extra is
justified. Jokes apart, actually we Indians are emotional enough to derive that
extra bit of happiness both by giving and taking more.
Hence we can safely say that “Paisa vasool” runs in our Indian
veins, making the newly launched Lufthansa Premium
Economy Class exceedingly lucrative to us. To avail this world class
facility, true we might need to pay a little more than normal economy class travel,
but what awaits in return justifies the minimal extra expense. Afterall we all
desire and deserve to live life king/queen size, at least for a little while. And
this facility is just that, world class service and comforts, i.e., a lot more
by paying a little extra. Sounds cool right? For more details click on the
following link (#LufthansaPremiumEconomy):
Let us use this service and derive the million dollar pleasure
of that extra golgappa or that little extra chilies added to our veggies
basket. Let’s us celebrate our art of deriving extra pleasure from that little
extra.
Beauty
is an attitude; costly creams and expensive make up can’t buy that for you. It
is much more than external. It is confidence, it is education and it is good
heart. Yet we cannot completely rule out the urge of looking great physically. And
I absolutely love the idea too. I feel looking good gives you the confidence to
face this world of atrocities and negatives. It helps the best in you to
surface.
Talking
of beauty, I feel nothing looks more beautiful than nature. And anything
derived from its bounteous beauty, is most beautiful. Natural remedies to
maintain skin and hair are the best and can never be compared to cosmetic
products. Natural products don’t have side effects and there effect is long
lasting as well.
We
are three sisters and hereditarily we are blessed with good quality skin. However
I believe the kind of care that our mother had subjected us to, is one good
reason that we are still able to maintain our skins well, in this era of
pollution.
My eldest sister, I believe she has got beautiful skin
Some natural remedies which I feel have maintained our skins and I
want my readers to use are as follows:-
Lentil
Pack: Soak split
red lentil (Masoor Dal) in milk overnight in a refrigerator. In the
morning you will see that the lentils have soaked most of the milk. Now
make a paste of this and keep in an air tight container. Use it daily 20
minutes before bathing and see the difference yourself. Do not use if you
have oily skin. This pack cleans deep rooted dirt and infuses natural
glow.
Glow
Pack: Take a
spoon of honey, a little portion of egg white and few drops of lemon. Apply
on your face and neck and leave for 10-15 minutes. Then wash off and see a
glowing face in the mirror.
De-tan
Pack: Mix gram
flour (besan), curd, lemon juice (few drops) and cucumber juice, then make
a pack. Apply on face, neck and exposed parts of the body. Let it dry and
then take bath. This pack removes the daily tanning and can be used to
maintain good skin.
These are few of my most used home remedies,
which work wonder at least for me. I request my readers to try and get
benefited.
There are many products in Market,
which are naturally made and can be beneficial for our skin. I personally
have used and was benefited by “Vicco Turmeric Cream”.Turmeric
is one natural ingredient that can help to free our skin of many problems, due
to it antiseptic properties. For more details on the above mentioned cream you
can click on the following link:
Also see the video on the same, which
is included at the beginning of my narrative.
I am not beauty blogger, but I love to be
beautiful both internally and externally. As already mentioned it infuses
confidence I believe. Good diet and natural remedies can keep skin glowing and youthful
for a much longer time, than chemical products. So maintain a healthy and organic
life, live beautiful and look beautiful. I will end with a quote by
Rabindranth Tagore “Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in
a perfect mirror”.
“I
was not sleeping, when you pulled the quilt over me, I knew it was you. You did
not sleep too, you waited for me to finish my late night studies and you
gradually walked inside my room, to see if I had the quilt on. It is not the
first time you did so and it is not the first time I pretended to be asleep and
enjoy your fatherly affection with a secret smile.”
“When
I opened my eyes, my head was on your lap. I saw your eyes, they had tears. I fell
from the bike and injured myself. I had bruises all over. It pained like hell
Ma. The only touch that could sooth a bit was yours. When you ran your fingers
through my hair, it was like the effect of tranquilisers that I fell fast
asleep, only to wake up to see your eyes looking at me with love. When I squirmed
with migraine and forced you to sit for hours by my side, you never complained,
you constantly kept caressing with utmost motherly divine love.”
The unconditional love
Growing
up is a process for every individual and it happens naturally. But to
facilitate this natural process, two people come for hand-holding. They strive
their best to make this process, beautiful, remember worthy, praise worthy and
fruitful. They grow an infact from a stage of complete oblivion to have sense enough
to face this venomous world. They are our parents, the shadow of divinity. The
place we feel safest and the most loved. When the whole world dumps us as
worthless, these are the two people who still consider us with reverence. They
still say that we are the best. When everyone around mocks at us for being fat,
short or dark. They call us the most beautiful people on earth. Such is their
love.
What
our parents think of us, their magnitude of affection is not in our scope to
appreciate. They do not us expect us too. But what they expect is an iota of
love and a bit of respect, which is not a very huge demand to be fulfilled. We
might have demanded things that forced them to curtail their dreams, but they
want us to fly high. Their demands are not to cut our wings.
Yet,
it is painful to see some people around who look at their parents with contempt.
Condemn them for their inefficiencies, as if they themselves were born genius. And
consider them as burdens. I really do not know fowl words enough to ridicule or
criticise people like these. When I lost my father, I know the kind of vacuum
it created in my life, irreparable damage. My mother is in Kolkata and I stay in
Mumbai, I crave for her touch to sooth my tired soul. And there are morons, to
deprive themselves of this divine peace of loving and being loved by parents. The
increasing number of old age homes are evidence enough to indicate the sad
direction the society is moving towards.
Is solitude what we give in return?
We
Indians are known for our family values and our culture. But what learning this
self centred bunch of loosers are leaving for the next generation? Keeping
parents in expensive old age homes and sending a bit of salary earned in
dollars is not enough for them; they want their near and dear ones near them in
the last chapter of their lives. Gift them that peace and be exemplary to your
next generation. Let the flag of family values, respect and love by carried on
from generation to generation.And
remember you reap the fruits of the trees you sow, so be careful of what you
want to have in store for yourself. I will end with a famous saying “We never
know the love of a parent till we become parents ourselves”. But the sad
part is, some do not realize ever and these are not humans enough.
Give them back a percent of the love you received, it will last them a life
In
India
and abroad different crimes are committed against women. We often tend to link
crimes with the darkness of illiteracy. Lack of education leads to unemployment
and social instability, which in turn pushes to the dark dungeon of the
criminal world! But is it all? What do we call the literate goons around us
then? The class with the privilege of education is not lagging behind from
committing heinous crimes. Even today many families crave for a male child and
treats male and female children differently. And what about the shameful act of
dowry? Can you actually relate this to illiteracy?
When
we were kids, we had moral science class. In that class we were given different
lessons on humanity. We were taught to be righteous, honest, helpful and self
reliant. Education is beyond bookish knowledge I feel, it is enlightenment. It is
knowledge of your weaknesses and overcoming them. It is not merely a degree,
which gets us employment. And it should not be a criterion of how much dowry
you deserve. In our country, female foeticide is a common crime, because
parents feel that the female child is a burden and to marry her away, they
would drown in debts. In contrary, male child will bring back dowry home, which
evidently is a beneficial deal. In many parts of India, parents commit suicide after
marrying their daughters, unable to pay back their debt. What bothers me more is
that, this shameful act is not only prevalent in the low socio-economic stratum;
it is omnipresent on all strata. Infact the parts of India where literacy rate is
highest, are victims of this crime to a huge extent. Now the question is why
this age old practice is not getting eradicated atleast from the families which
are supposedly open-minded? Frankly I have no answer.
There
are many reasons why I love my state, its culture, literature, heritage etc. But
one more thing which is appreciable in West Bengal
is the absence of dowry system, atleast in most parts of the society. If not
eradicated, it is minimised for sure, in literate families at least giving or
taking of dowry is looked down upon. When my parents got married, my father
requested my grandfather, not to give him anything in the form of dowry, not
even a wrist watch. He said he is capable of buying one. That was his answer to
the people who uninhibitedly give or take dowry and cleverly call it as gifts.
This
evil system is not limited to giving dowry, if the in-laws remain unsatisfied
with what ever they get, starts a period of torturing the young bride mentally
and physically. Dowry deaths are extremely common in rural parts and most cases
go unreported. Even in the urban areas, this crime is very much present. There
are many laws against dowry and dowry related crimes. But again they are
misused too.
I
believe as the educated class, at least we should take a call. We should not
encourage giving or taking dowry in marriages or later. A man and a woman
deserve equal status. Parenting a female child let not become a burden. Let the
men understand, that taking dowry actually demeans them, they are not saleable.
They should look beyond the dazzle of gold and diamonds, and learn to respect
their individuality. And a woman should appreciate that she is not just a responsibility
and that she is responsible herself. Let us join hands to eradicate this
derogatory crime from the society and build it for the better.
I have always mentioned of the beautiful township I have grown
up in. Nature was at its best there, too much traffic with too much emission
wasn’t there to spoil the beauty. Wonderfully crafted homes amidst fields,
gardens and even a golf ground made me a nature lover since I was very young.
The climate was bit of an extreme type, very cold winters and hot, dry summers.
But I enjoyed the hues of both. Winter meant picnics, and each year we headed
to different destinations like Maithon, Panchet, Shidhabari, Rondia, Usri falls
etc. But one destination was a favorite gateway for most and that is, Kalyaneshwari Kali Temple.
Since childhood I have grown up watching my parents, taking
all the relatives who came to visit us, to this temple. And even otherwise we
would visit frequently. As known by most, Bengalis believe and count upon a lot
on the divinity of Goddess Kali. When most of the country celebrates the
festival of lights, paying homage to Goddess Laxmi and Lord Ganesh, West Bengal
indulges in the celebrations of Kali Puja.
To us Diwali is synonymous to Kali Puja, when we illuminate the remotest corner
of our houses/lanes and heart with the sparking illumination of love and gaiety.
There are many famous Kali Temples in and around Kolkata like Dakshineshwar Kali temple and KaliGhat.
The divine form symbolizing woman power, Ma Kali, is worshipped in
many avatars as well. Of which Smashan
Kali is one, the ferocious form ready to behead even the shadow of evil. Whenever
I talk of Ma Kali, a novel comes to my mind and a dialogue from that. Famous Bengali
Novelist Tarashankar Bandhopadhyay’s
cherished and widely acclaimed novel “Dhatri
Devata”. Based with the backdrop of fight for independence, the main protagonist once goes to witness a Smashan Kali Puja and asks his friend, "what is the way we pay Homage to this Goddess?" his companion logically answers "Jayanti Mangala Kali". But our hero says "NO, Vande Mataram." I get goose bumps whenever I read through these lines.
To us, Ma Kali is a source of inspiration and source of constant power. So whenever I feel lonely and defeated, I think of Ma Kalyaneshwari. The serenity of the place remains with me, although I did not visit it for years. The stalls leading to the place, the smell of peda and the temple, everything is etched prominently and wonderfully in my memories. Located at the bank of Barakar river and very near to the famous Maithon Dam, this temple forms the starting point for the people who want to have a day spent in Maithon or Panchet dam areas. But my favorite spot is the small temple at the backside, where Ma is said to have put on her Sankha ( the white bangle symbolizing marital status, in Bengalis). This small temple faces a little water fall, which swells in the monsoons. I loved that view.
The entrance
Inside the temple premises
The small temple facing the falls
The little falls which swelled in monsoons
Waiting for my wish to be granted
A colour riot, the tree of belief
Suddenly I really felt the urge to share about it with my readers. The pics shared are google images, I don't have any to share from my own album as they are back home in Kolkata.
When I was in College, I for the first time lived city life. I have
grown up in a township, amidst nature’s extravagance. The hustle bustle of city
life fatigued my imagination. I had never wished to be there. But as we say “Man
proposes and God disposes”, true it is! Against my dreams of living in tranquillity,
situation forced me to experience the City of Joy, which was not a reason of joy to me,
atleast then. My college was in Shovabazar, and I took the metro rail service
from Dum Dum to my college. In my efforts to adjusting to this alien
atmosphere, I seldom noticed anything around. It was just me and me. Even in
this fight of survival of dreams, I noticed a girl. Many times when I walked
out of the Metro Station in Shovabazar I noticed her.
She was barely 15 years old I guess. Dark complexion, bright pair of
questioning eyes and a pair of red lips! Her face seemed much fairer, compared
to the other exposed parts of the body. Evidently she was heavily pancaked with
cheap beauty products. Her attire audaciously provocative, mostly nets, cheap
synthetics with low neckline and all! I wondered who she was, before my friends
told of the infamous red light area nearby called “Sonagachi”. It is Asia’s largest red light district and houses thousands of
sex workers in hundreds of brothels. Frankly after that revelation, I never
looked back at that girl.
Strangely, recently I was searching for some good documentary and
came across the one I have shared. Almost instantaneously it reminded of that
pair of red lips and a fang of guilt hurt my conscience. I thought I was mean
to be thinking like an ignorant and belittling that kid in my mind. She is not
as privileged as I am or the people around me. May be she was sold to some
ruthless pimp for merely a few hundred rupees by her own father or uncle. May
be she was kidnapped from an affluent family like mine at a tender age and
forced to lead this life of misery. May be she was an innocent and helpless
victim of human trafficking.
When I sit and introspect, I feel depressed. If I believe in God, I
also believe that if he has bestowed blessing of a normal life to me, then that
must be with a purpose. He wants me and you to work for this downtrodden and
neglected part of society. At an age when we used to study and live in comfort,
these kids spend the day in hunger and night in derogate. Before actually
knowing their sensuality they are sexually abused and exposed to diseases like aids.
But when I brainstormed and tried to find a way of how to help them, I was
blank. So I thought that atleast I should share the video with my readers, atleast
start requesting everyone to stop looking at these unlucky ones with hatred and
atleast try to see through their pancaked face and cheaply embellished outside,
the real and hurt them.
The following poem is dedicated to that girl:
“She stood there by the road with a poker face,
I seldom spared a look, my life is a race.
Her lips were red but her eyes had pain,
But none looked at the agony her efforts were all in vain.
Her childhood had no games, no doll house no doctor kit,
Instead hungry days and demeaning nights, when her teeth did grit.
Books were distant dream and pens had no use,
Of the world outside the dark brothel, she had no news.
Every morning is dark for her and nights darker,
While the cruel blows that hurt her soul, get sharper and sharper.
Her father sold her for a handful of notes,
Her dreams, her life all went afloat.
Today we hate her and bestow disgrace,
But what is her fault, she had no control on what took place.
So let us all spare them a look of concern and cease being so heartless,
Atleast let them live, let them dream these daughters of darkness."
