But….

The word which has the maximum load on its shoulders and the most tears to its name is “BUT”…..

Lekin…

Kintu…

Parantu…

All ready to fire up the imagination and twist and turn and tumble and cause an upheaval of emotions…

Have you ever wondered how just a single world can cause someone’s life to become topsy turvy, or be the cause of unbelievable happiness??

This word is multifaceted, as it encompasses the surprise element. You expect something to happen, “but” something entirely different and diverse takes place…

 
“I love you, BUT can’t stay with you”…

“You failed the written test, BUT cleared the viva and the practical test”…

“You are extremely ill, BUT it is in the curable stage”…

“There is a scarcity of rains, BUT we have found other water resources”…

“He won us the war, BUT lost his life”…

“The world is in chaos, BUT nature is thriving”…

So many situations and dilemmas, but all united by “BUT”…

Since the beginning of humanity, the jerks and stops in the free flow of emotions has been caused by this…

“Mahabharata” could have been avoided, “BUT” for the stubbornness of Duryodhan…

Lions and Tigers would not have been on the verge of extinction, “BUT” for the caprice of poachers…

Humanity would not have caused havoc to this world, “BUT” for the disobedience by Adam and Eve…

Romeo and Juliet would not have died” BUT” for the feud between their families…

Gautam would not have become “Buddha”, “BUT” for the sight of misery, death and poverty…

The world would be a lot beautiful place, “BUT” for the abhorrence and hatred based on caste, colour and creed…

And then I would not be spraying around this nonsense, “BUT” for the restlessness of my feather brain…

I would have certainly liked to continue spouting my thoughts, “BUT” discretion is advisable now, lest I shuffle the brain too much…

The power of Fragile!

Tomorrow is the last day of the Indian festival of Navratri, culminating in celebrating “Dussehra”. The day when Lord Ram slayed the demon king Ravan.

This day is also celebrated for the over powering of the demon Mahishasura by Goddess Durga…

Dusshera signifies two things simultaneously…..
The win of good over evil and the power of a woman…
“Shakti” aur “Sacchai” ki jeet!!!!

It’s said that the demon Mahishasura took a boon from the Gods that he couldn’t be killed by any “Man”….So Goddess Parvati had to take incarnation as Durga to kill him…

Isn’t it true for modern times also? Over the centuries and accross eons, isn’t it the same situation today also?

Whether it’s is a Queen of Jhansi or a Joan of Arc, a Sudha Murthy or an Indira Nooyi, a Steffi Graf or a Geeta Phogat, a J.K Rowling or a Mother Teresa, an Indira Gandhi or a Jacinda Ardern…..Women have to work harder, slog longer, fight more viciously to prove themselves to be at par with their male counterparts…

Isn’t the whole scenario hilarious and sad at the same time?? Women trying to prove themselves to be at par with men? How is it even possible? It’s like trying to stretch and bring the North and South pole at the same line as the Equator…

How and why should opposites be tried to be judged, compared and compartmentalized in the same slot??

When men and women are different right from the chromosome stage, then how could they ever be put in the same zone?

The atrocities happening around the world, against people in general and women in particular; be it based on caste, creed, culture or colour, race or status….The need for incarnation of someone who would pave the way for a modern “Dussehra” was never more prominent.

To show that good still overpowers evil…

That women are also treated with respect…

That there is value of life, whether it beats in the body of a black, a white, a brown or a yellow being; or whether it is in that of a four legged being…All lives matter!!!

This belief and relief…..both are the urgency of today’s world.

And that makes this festival the most relevant of all…..Isn’t it??

Why Maggi and not Spaghetti?

For the longest time in my life, this is the question that I perpetually posed to my maker, every time I stood before a mirror.

 
You see, at the very top of my five foot seven inches is spread a massive bowl of maggi noodles, spread like an arched darkening sky to my very straight structure. In normal language, it’s called “hair” and in poetic, it becomes “the cascading rivulets of curls”…
Whatever name it’s given, for me it was always a product of great misery, both physical and mental…

Physical, as it was a gravitational fight between me and the comb. The comb pulled the locks south and my head jerked north and in between the two poles, the hair screamed and begged and many times was uprooted for good.

Mental, as amongst a sea of flowing, cascading, luminous, luxurious, shining, silky tresses; my top was a mass of curly, messy, billowy, unruly locks; fit to be given in the hands of a specialist, who could wave his magic wand and straighten it out a bit.

Finally, after eons of the self inflicted humiliation and misery, one day I gave up…. Gave up fighting my curls…Gave up the tussle with the comb…Gave up trying to be something that I was not, a woman with luxurious hair…

And lo and behold…

Compliments….of the rarest and the most beautiful kind, came pouring in…

From a “You have stunning locks”…

To a “Where did you have your hair done from?”

To a shocking “Are your curls real?”

And a downright insane one “Are you wearing a wig?”…

And suddenly, the most despicable, abhorrent, unwanted piece of my anatomy, became the most lauded, appreciated and admired one…

A “Stunning Gift” (in the words of someone) conferred upon me by the Good Lord!!!

That left me wondering, isn’t this the same with our lives too??

We plod on and on and on, towards idiotic goals and stupider dreams, all the time blaming our maker, our parents, our “Kismet” (luck) and everything that comes in between…While not for once sitting down and counting our blessings, searching within for our own “stunning gift”, with which we can also shine and make our mark!

Each and every one of us has been gifted with that one quality, which makes us unique and wonderful. Yet, just as I was besotted with the sea of straight hair around me and wasn’t able to see my oun uniqueness; the same way we all see others and wish and pine for all that we don’t have, rather than that exclusivity, which is totally”Us”…

“No one is you, and that is your super power”…this quote is the sum of all… 

My feather brain could not decipher the cause of this self inflicted judgement…

Maybe it’s because the eyes are so placed that they can see what’s beyond and not what’s within… 

What do you think??

Bitter-Sweet

Being a die-hard chocoholic, there is no other taste that tingles my taste buds as much as the bitter-sweet taste of dark chocolate. With just the right amount of both flavours to initially wrinkle your nose as the bitterness creeps up and then stretch your lips in a smile as the sweetness hits the caverns of the mouth…

This exact estimate of the proportions, to give that perfect taste is something to be wondered about… How can any chocolatier nail it every time? Take for example the “Lindt” chocolates. However many so claimed original copies are available in the market, claiming to have the same taste; it is an open secret that they do not even come close to the original ones. It’s the same difference as between a gemstone and a shiny piece of rock.

Being a fairly good cook myself, I know that cooking is a mix of toughest simplicity and the easiest complexity. The burst of flavours has to be in perfect synchronisation to give that one heavenly bite…

Now, you must all be thinking that I have posted this blog under the wrong heading. It should be in the food section. But here, if I may say, I am clearly misunderstood…

Have you ever noticed the role that “oxymorons” play in our conversation? Where two exactly opposite words are used together to give that elusive effect and meaning to the sentence? I find them seriously funny, as they are unexpectedly expected most of the times.

At times, when I am in a pensive mood, I reminiscence about the tragic comedy called Life and about people’s perception regarding it. Some may find it half full and others may see it as fully empty. Then there are those who have acquired what one may call foolish wisdom, where there is no personal experience, but hordes of knowledge attained through books; where one knows nothing, but can explain everything. The sad part is that this particular type of human specimen come in no small crowd. You can find them everywhere, across continents, races and colours. They are forever ready to shower you with their vast mugged up knowlege, where personal experience or understanding is totally found missing.

For me the only choice has always been to be myself, to act naturally; whether I am in a crowd or alone. That is the only way to discover oneself. The knowledge which comes unknowingly, which we experience, feel, rather than listen to or mug up… that knowledge is worth something, rest all is a clear confusion.

When the deafening silence within turns into a peaceful quietitude; we have arrived!!!

Petrichor

PETRICHOR…

The smell of the first rain…
That soft, serene, sweet smell, which has the reminder of our childhood, when the first whiff of the droplets falling on the sand meant the beginning of all that is fun…

Jumping around in potholes filled with muddy water,

Blocking the drainage holes on the terrace and rolling about in the water accumulated due to that,

Splashing handfuls of rain water on friends and family alike,

Making small paper boats and then competing with friends as to whose boat travelled further without capsizing,

Getting scolded by mom for staying out longer in the wet clothes and sneezing due to the cold,

Getting to eat hot “pakoras”( fried dumplings)…

When youth hits, the meaning of rains become different. Then it’s about romance and love…

The paper boat fights convert into muttering sweet nothings to the loved one,

The “pakoras” get replaced by steaming hot Maggi noodles,

Prancing about in the rain takes the place of splashing in potholes,

Rolling about on the terrace is replaced by drinking hot chocolate while staring deep in each other’s eyes…

With the advent of the 40 carat years, the attraction of Petrichor lessens, especially for women…

Then it becomes all about removing clothes from the clothesline before they get wet and another task is added to the already overflowing household chores,

Groans can be heard due to various demands from the house members for “pakoras” and “maggi”,

The perpetual tension of keeping the young ones in check, so that they don’t go out and get wet, thus catching cold and missing school for some days,

Blocked roads, crazy traffic, slippery lanes, limited vision, extra clothes in the form of raincoats and shoes… everything seems more chaotic and haywire with the unrelenting downpour…

For the elderly, this smell sounds the din of body aches and pains. All the joints and bones crackle and whine due to the excess humidity in the air. The days of digesting fried savouries are long gone by and the gentle pitter patter of the droplets on the window panes, sound more like a cacophony to the ears…

One smell, different noses or we can say, different perceptions…

For some it can be aromatic, infusing joy and pleasure; for someone else, it can be and odour, an unwelcome smell bringing along with it a season of wetness and sticky, muddy land and chaos everywhere…

Petrichor remains the same, feelings related to it change. Isn’t it the same for everything else? Aren’t we all guided by our situations, assumptions, positions in judging the eventualities of life?

I somewhere read these beautiful lines regarding this,
“Life often is not about getting wet in rains, but living with the Petrichor”…