Happiness At Your Tips

1. Jumpstart your Day!

Your attitude when you wake up sets the tone for the day. So start your day with a smile and a happy heart. Mornings are best if you want to do some exercising. 30 to 40 minutes are enough to elevate your mood and make you feel better. This should be an absolute must-do on our daily schedule. After all the excessive indulgence of food and drinks and fast-paced lifestyle, exercising will lead you to be more conscious about your body. Exercising need not be restricted to the high-end gyms with the expensive personal trainers. It need not be a HIIT circuit or running a marathon. It could be anything that you enjoy which would make you sweat it out. A yoga session, a game of badminton or tennis, a few laps in the swimming pool, a run around the playground. Anything but something meaningful, something focused, with honesty. The only person reaping the benefits is yourself. Our lifestyles don’t allow the luxury of time to indulge in “me-time”. Let’s not use that as an excuse. If we can make time to sit and relax before the TV, watching senseless, mind numbing programs being repeated in different formats in different channels, I’m sure we can manage a few minutes to do something more useful for our own self. The changes will not be restricted to just the physical but will also extend to our mental health. We will begin to feel nice about ourselves. Our posture improves as we walk tall, indirectly impressing everyone with our growing confidence. The calmness of the mind reflects on the face. All this happens because we decided to love ourselves and spend some quality time on nurturing our weary body, heart and mind.    

2. Food for Thought

While some people live to eat and others eat to live. Neither of the options is a healthy one. Enjoying eating and trying out new things is a passion incomparable. But that doesn’t mean we have to gorge on unhealthy food right from the time we wake up. It’s important to understand food and make the necessary changes towards a healthy balance. Skipping breakfast is an absolute NO. On the contrary; breakfast is and should become the most important meal of the day. Various studies have time and again proved that breakfast should not be avoided. It’s the first meal of the day, after a long gap during the night. A balanced breakfast provides the body with the much-needed energy to start off the day. A well-fed stomach will prevent distraction because of hunger pangs when you should instead be concentrating on work. The type of food we eat also affects our mood; like rich heavy food makes us sluggish and dull. Instead on gorging on oily burgers or chole-bature during the delayed lunch break, develop a habit of having small meals at regular intervals. This way your stomach is always full, and you don’t have to stuff yourself because you are starving. Include healthier options like salads and yogurts. Avoid bakery products which are full of white flour and sugar. Small changes can slowly but surely bring about big differences in our lives.  

3. Don’t be shy. Be heard

It’s nice to express your opinion or thoughts, and not keep them to yourself at all times. There’s a difference between being assertive and being aggressive. Being assertive needs you to be confident of what you are thinking, of knowing what is correct and what is suitable for the situation, of being in tune with the requirements and feelings of the others around. The person who is aggressive would be operating with only himself or herself in mind. This kind of attitude certainly doesn’t help in building a strong team or fostering team spirit. In a team, everyone matters. So speak up. Your thought counts. People who tend to keep to themselves, seldom speaking out, get ignored and gradually fade into oblivion. This leads to isolation, both social and emotional. These people are more susceptible to suffering from depression or low self-esteem. So, first step to feeling better is to talk; talk to your family, your peers, friends and colleagues. Whenever possible, step up and contribute to the discussion, express your ideas doesn’t matter how weird or funny or irrelevant you think they are. Let people notice you. Being heard makes one feel more important and increases our self-worth.

4. Enrich your Life by investing in Experiences

There’s no escaping the realities of life – the mad rat-race, to come out on the top. But is it all you want to do with your life? I mean when you encapsulate your life, it should not be restricted to just going to work and back. Travel, see new places, explore the lesser known. There’s so much to see and explore that even a lifetime dedicated to it is not enough. Studies have shown that travelling is one of most favoured forms of destressing and always ensures a sense of satisfaction. Choose your style. Or pick up a hobby you have been wanting to learn for some time. Join some classes – baking, painting, dramatics, languages. Don’t restrict yourself to the same old rut. Invest time in yourself. It’s the best form of investment, with assured high returns in the form of happiness and contentment. Every time you look back, it’s bound to bring a smile to face. Material acquisitions bring temporary happiness and have a shelf life, which lasts as long as their requirement exists. So, don’t be miser when investing in experiences. Surround yourself with happy memories like photographs and memorabilia from various trips or celebrations, or of your family and friends. It will never fail to bring a smile to your face. Happiness depends on small things, if only we knew where to look.

5.  Let the Challenges test you and make you Stronger

One who said life was a walk in the park, has either never lived or hasn’t been born. Life is all about challenges - big, small, beautiful, horrible, enriching, depressing, learning, unlearning. In short it is full of experiences. And it is these experiences that make us who we are. Challenges are seldom easy and often test you. The only choice you have is to face them. Running away does not make them disappear; they just become more daunting and overwhelming, waiting to devour you. So the simplest thing to do is to first accept it and then work towards resolving it. Procrastinating or ignoring it magnifies the challenges at hand. This leads to unnecessary building up of anxiety and stress. Work on the problems. What needs to be done, how to go about it, when to start work on it, etc. - all these questions require your attention. Making a list always helps organise your work and also makes it look doable. Prioritise the jobs for better results. Find out what calms you – many agree that listening to music is therapeutic. Try it. Maybe listening to your favourite tunes will make the work more enjoyable, and assist you in completing a task that was otherwise a dreary challenge. Look at it as a path to rediscovering yourself, learning more about who you are and what you are capable of.     

6. Be Grateful.

Feeling grateful is the first step towards becoming a better person. We need to understand that we do not work in isolation. There are many seen/unseen people assisting us as we go through our day. So often we tend to take things for granted and notice them only in their absence. Being grateful makes us more humble and empathetic. One is better able to appreciate others and look beyond ourselves. Our daily lives are structured and moulded to make us the centre, self-involved and selfish people, with little time for anyone or anything else. And time is off premium value. In these circumstances learning to be grateful is important. It is not only the acknowledgement of the contribution of others in our lives but also creating an awareness about our surroundings. Start off with simple changes like smiling more often, being nice to people you meet, greeting them with a positive vibe, using those magic words we all learnt at school, saying thank you and please generously, and most importantly being grateful. There’s enough anger and negativity without you trying to add to it. So try sincerely. You will notice the wonderful results soon enough, encouraging not just you but others, those who have benefitted from your benevolence, bringing forth more such changes.   

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Not Another Social Gathering

Gathering of any sort, where there are more than a few unknown faces, is certainly not for me. I prefer the comfort of friendly known faces where each one is stripped of his or her mask. I enjoy and cherish the time spent with the few friends I have.

Social interactions are not one of my favourite activities and I have over the years put in the very best efforts to be as inconspicuous as possible. And what gets my goat is the first thing people, the unknown, never-met-before, ask is if I’m on FB or Instagram or twitter?  I mean ask me my name and interests and hobbies and qualifications and I can start connecting with you. But why the social media handles (I hate this word - I mean handle to what, my life, your control?) excuse me Mr/Ms Sorry-didn’t-get-your-name, don’t you have anything better to do than to peek into my life?    

I joined FB after a lot of persuasion and cajoling from my friends since all, yes all of them without fail, are inhabitants of this virtual world. Even my ground floor neighbour has sent me a request and I’ve met her just a couple of times when going to my car. Thankfully my dhobi and sabjiwalla haven’t sent me any requests (I'm still reconciling to my maid sending me Whatsapp messages and forwards!)

So back to attending social events. Yeah would love to attend some book releases and something related to books. Had attended a few when I was working for a publishing house. Thoroughly enjoyed the interactions. (Even more the wonderful spread of snacks and beverages. Absolutely heavenly!) I did make some contacts there, actual contacts where I physically sighted the person, introduced ourselves, exchanged cards and later kept in touch. But that’s it. I prefer this kind of connecting. I attended a book reading once. I came back with a bunch of complimentary unsold or unpopular books by the same publisher. Some were interesting but the rest went into the trash bin. 

So, yeah, I guess social events are not my scene till it’s something that gets MY attention, not my social media handle’s!  

Book Review of VOYAGE OF THE DAMNED – Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan-Witts

The opening phrase on the cover describes it as “a shocking true story of hope, betrayal and Nazi terror”. It’s that and much more. It’s about people. Good people, bad people and, the worst of them all, the indifferent people. Voyage of the Damned is another beautiful book describing the Nazi politics. It brings to light an important point, which normally tends to get ignored in most of the books with similar settings, that not every German was a Nazi or Nazi follower. There were good Germans, who were proud of being Germans and were also good human beings.

The book is about a shipload of Jewish passengers, escaping persecution by the Nazis. Some of the Jews had been released from concentration camps and given a few days to move out of Germany. In the case of them being found after the stipulated period, it was back to the concentration camp and the gas chambers. Some of the passengers were luckily not arrested but were trying their best to escape from Germany before the Gestapo caught up with them. Some were trying to escape alone, some with their families. They came from diverse background. Some were well established professionals and had enjoyed moving with the crème-de-la-crème of the society. Some belonged to the middle class, working hard to provide their families with a decent life. But it didn’t matter what they did in another lifetime. Their biggest, and only, crime was that they were JEWS. And that made them the target for oppression and exploitation of the worst kind.

St Louis was helmed by Captain Gustav Schroeder, a man who took pride in his work and the efficiency of his crew. A thorough gentleman and decent German soul who “loathed the Nazi ideology” so much so that he briefed his crew to treat the passengers with the same attention that they offered their regular passengers. The crew respected their captain and did their very best to make the passengers comfortable once onboard. There was, unavoidably, a party leiter onboard along with a dozen party workers. Their only job was to constantly remind the passengers about their status and the Nazi dominance. On the part of the Nazis, under the instructions of Joseph Goebbels, who was their Minister of Propaganda, propaganda agents had been sent to Cuba to create an anti-Semitism atmosphere and spread misinformation about the arriving refugees.  

The ship sailed from Hamburg on May 13, 1939,  for Havana in Cuba. The book covers a few passengers and their experiences, both before and after, embarking the ship. After an uneventful passage they reached Havana and that’s when trouble started. They were not allowed to come alongside at the port as the Cuban officials did not find the visas issued to them ‘correct’. The truth being that the propaganda machinery had successfully planted doubts in the minds of the otherwise compliant nation. Days of negotiations between the rehabilitation committee and various government officials went round in circles but to no avail. The desperate passengers sent cables to as many world leaders as possible to help them out. US was adamant about not taking any more Jewish refugees for political reasons. UK and France were in two minds. The ship had to sail out of the Cuban territorial waters to avoid any further complications. They sailed around aimlessly, with depleting fuel and food stocks, while the refugee rehabilitation committee worked relentlessly to get some country to accept them. Finally the governments of Belgium, Holland, France and England agreed to take the refugees. The story ends with the passengers being sent to the various refugee camps in the respective countries. On Jun 21, 1939, the last of the refugee passengers stepped ashore in Southampton amid great fanfare. 

The narration is crisp and to the point. The events were described as they had actually happened. The humanness of the ship’s passage touches you as you feel their happiness, sadness, desperation, frustration, anxiety, hopelessness and despair. Each one them, the passengers and the crew, was a victim of circumstances beyond their control and understanding. One cannot ignore the efforts put in by the crew. They were commendable and brave. Going against the Nazi policies and helping the Jews was not for the fainthearted. It’s a well-documented and researched narrative, given along with photographs and timeline. A must read for all who enjoy the World War II genre.

Time to Think

I have been feeling very disturbed the last couple of days and I really don’t know why. I tried thinking about it but every time I would zero in into a cause, it didn’t make me feel any better. So I tried to go through as many reasons as possible to figure out the reason for my unrest. Then it slowly dawned on me. It was not a single reason or reasons. It was the generally apathy and stupidity which I had to endure daily when reading the sensational headlines. I have to read the morning newspaper in the morning daily or my day doesn’t start. And what do our front pages offer? After turning over two or three pages of full scape advertisements for luxury apartments or phones or online shopping festivals or even grocery shopping, when I do finally reach the “first” page of the news, it shows some silly headlines. I mean how does one start off the day on such a note? I really want to ask my other newspaper reading friends does this bother them too or have they too become immune to such things?

Gau rakshaks, social vigilantes, farmers. The list of well-meaning citizens is endless. To get what they want they resort to senseless and often unnecessary violence, all in the name of asking for what is their right. Right? No. No farmer in his right mind would ever think of destroying his produce. It’s the result of his hard work and sweat. It’s not easy money. So when I watched pictures of cans of milk being spilled by smiling, camera-friendly “farmers”, I just couldn’t get it. Trucks filled with farm produce getting spoilt waiting for reach the markets could have been sent to some of the remote areas where children are dying of hunger. Wouldn’t they have then made a point, a very strong point, with the unfeeling government? That they, the farmers, are the providers, nurturers, and their grievances should be given a fair hearing. What one doesn’t do for keeping the chair! Sad!!   

We seem to have developed a taste for witch hunting of late. And the favourite is the Army. Any Tom, Dick and Harry can pass a judgemental comment from the confines of his or her air-conditioned accommodation. But to understand why they do what they do, one has to be there. The human shield became a big issue. Wonderful, you well informed citizens. But why didn’t you speak out when the trouble makers used women and children as shields and fired from safe confines of some of the houses? Oh you couldn’t because they would’ve come and shot you in your homes. I feel bad for the Army, the CRPF, and for each one them wearing the uniform. They didn’t sign up for this. It’s because of them, their courage and sacrifices that today YOU are able to safely type away on your iPhone and macPros. They should make military service compulsory for every healthy citizen. Our powers to be will be the first to object. They will use their wily brains to wriggle out of it. Their baba log will have every health problem that is possible to stay out of the uniform. And then they will say – Army kuch nahi kar raha hai! Ha, patriots!!

Oh and how can I forget my dear gau rakshaks, the new sword wielding protectors of the holy cow. Thank god my grandparents sold off the cows they had at their house or god knows what all they would have had to do to prove that they are good caretakers. It’s total nonsense I tell you. If they are so worried about these cows then do something for them. Build them shelters, educate and train people. But then all this takes effort and more importantly is neither financially profitable nor will get them their two seconds of fame. Cows have always been holy to the Hindus. I don’t understand this new fanaticism. If they really want to lynch and kill then do it to all those rapists who do not think twice about their victim, age is certainly no bar for them. Kick them, castrate them, hang them. Do anything and the citizens of the country will thank you. If a holy cow can invoke such passions then why don’t they feel the same way when something happens to the women? Are they on an even lower social stratum then these animals? Instead of concentrating on banning beef eating and cow slaughter, maybe we should first deal with the real threats to the society. Totally misplaced priorities. Very sad state of affairs.

I know it reads like the ranting of another cynical Indian. Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. I don’t know. All I know is it’s the voice of my frustration, my inability to do anything. One can fight anything but not something as abstract as non-existent IQs and nationally acceptable apathy. My humble request to the occupants of the fourth estate – the next time you are covering any incident, please brush up on your adjectives. We have had one too many “gruesome, horrifying, chilling” news to deal with.  

      

Book Review of SITA - Warrior Of Mithila

So, the wait was finally over and I slept peacefully after devouring the second book of the Ramachandra series. This book delves on the other significant central character of the epic Ramayana, Sita. It’s written in the same simple, easily flowing signature style of the author. No big words, no heavy philosophy, just simple interactions of the regular people, which though are not as simple or straightforward as they appear. 

It’s the story about how King Janaka and his queen Sunaina found the baby Sita in the woods, resisting the wolves, fighting to survive. It took one strong woman to recognise another. Sunaina nurtures and moulds the little Sita to become the future ruler of the small kingdom of Mithila. Sunaina's dreams for Sita and Mithila are intertwined and become the core of the mother-daughter relationship. 

What I liked about the book was how the character of Sita was developed. She’s no longer the docile, subservient pati-parneshwar woman who meekly followed her husband into the jungles without as much as a word of protest. From the very beginning Amish has focussed on the individuality of Sita, as a strong, self-willed, intelligent,  sensitive, pragmatic individual. Even as a child, she had clear ideas about right and wrong. Her feisty nature is evident when she breaks the royal seal which Kushadhwaj, king of Sankashya, brings with him when he tries to assert his superiority and manipulate Mithila into becoming its vassal. Amish brings out her planning and strategizing strengths from time to time. Not demure beauty waitng for her prince charming, Sita manages to get Ram to Mithila to participate in her swayamvar. Her heart may skip a beat whenever she’s with Ram, yet it’s her head which works overtime trying to evaluate every action. Both as a husband and as Vishnu, if Ram had to be her partner, he had to pass through a series of evaluations to meet her expectations. That Sita was also an able diplomat was brought out in several instances in the book. The way she handled the sensitive ego of the Maharishi Vishwasmitra, avoiding confrontations with Maharishi Vashistha, and convincing the Ayodhya princes about their participation in the swayamvar. It all needs dexterity and subtly which she exhibits with aplomb. Sita has being created as the perfect combination of beauty, brains and brawns. Yes. She could fight like tigress, has the stealth of a cat and the eye of an eagle. 

Now for the drawbacks or things I didn’t like. For starters, there were too many references to our present society and social conditions. Similarities like the gang rape and brutal murder of Manthara's daughter is very similar to the infamous Nirbhaya case. Or the mention of Jallikattu, the controversial game from Tamil Nadu which burned the headlines for a long time. Or the constant jibes referring to "India" and our lack of respect for rules and laws of the land. What was most jarringly out of place was the use of “India” instead of Bharat. I mean, I don’t think India even existed then; it was Bharat. Such socio-political innuendoes were not palatable, at least to me. Comparison to the Shiva trilogy is unavoidable and inevitable. Yet the one thing that stood out distinct in the earlier series is the way the society was described and developed that it made the reader feel as if he or she was living there. It engulfed the reader in its flow and rhythm. This kind of connect was missing in this book. There was something seriously amiss. Maybe the characters were incomplete and aloof. Or the flow of the story was not keeping up with the characters. Or maybe an absence of some form of seamless continuity.

On the whole, was a wonderful book. Certainly, worth the wait. Looking forward to reading the third instalment. It’s about Ravana (have read the promotion booklet which was sent along with the book). Ravana is one of my favourite characters from the epic. Became my favourite after reading Anand Neelkantan’s book “Asura”. Anyways, keeping my fingers crossed and waiting with bated breath.    

Book Review of Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane

Book Review of Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane

The current breed of Indian writers is a brave lot. They are not scared of experimenting with the set-in-stone mythologies which have been part of our ‘cultural upbringing’ diet for generations. The Rama of Ramayana and Krishna of the Mahabharata have been humanised, making their follies look more acceptable; Ravana is no longer the blood thirsty brute nor are the Kauravas just power hungry brothers. Instead of just concentrating on these handful of central characters, a lot of writers have rewritten the mythologies from the view point of the women in these plots. This point of view is refreshingly contradistinct and forces the reader to look at the same oft-heard stories from a totally antithetic and colourful perspective.

I recently finished reading the Lanka’s Princess by Kavita Kane. It's Surpanakha's story, told from her frame of reference. Each of her family member is no longer set in the pre-set molds but is described by Meenakshi, or Meenu as she is fondly called. The events in the book unfold and we hear about the same mythological tales from someone who was instrumental in making the events happen. Mythology apart, the book also delves deeper and looks at the status of women in the society. The millennia were different but the circumstances and situations remain very much the same. Women were the pawns; marriages were for political reasons more than for love.

The most striking part of the book is the protagonist, or more suitably the anti-hero(ine). Meenakshi is not the quintessential beauty but it’s her strong personality which is her most alluring characteristic. She has a mind of her own; she’s opiniated, head strong, self-willed and extremely passionate. It’s this passion that leads to her subsequent downfall. She has her own fixed ideas of right and wrong, and refuses to see it any other way other than what suits her. Kavita has successfully created a character one would both love and hate at the same time. Meenakshi was rechristened Surpanakha by her mother Kaikesi, who detested her from the moment she was born, who saw her for what she was - an evil mind with a vitriolic tongue. Surpanakha’s only objective in life was to avenge the murder of her husband, Vidyujiva, even if it meant the annihilation of her family. Her hatred for Ravana far exceeded the love she felt for everyone put together. Her jealousy and hatred for him overshadowed every happy event in her otherwise ignored life. Her single minded dedication, patience (as she waited years for her plans to fructify) and commitment to see the destruction of Ravana and Lanka gives both the chills for the cold hearted execution and awe inspiring respect for the manner she single handledly  went about the whole operation. Anyone who crossed her path, or her, was in her cross hairs. This included Rama and Lakshmana for spurning her advances and mutilating her. Even after the decimation of her brothers and destruction of Lanka, she headed to Ayodhya to avenge her humiliation by the Dasarathputras. Here she met her match in Urmila, her wise wife of Lakshmana, who made her see the senselessness of her  pursuit of vengeance. Her advice to learn from her pains to better her life opened Surpanakha's mind to a more giving and embracing attitude which melted away her pain. The book ended in a more or less expected manner where she sees the mistakes she has made and accepts them, without blaming someone like she always did.

The narration was beautiful. Meandering through the stories we know, retaining their essence yet creating a whole new view point. It’s like seeing parts of the Ramayana through a kaleidoscope. Each character was well defined.The rakshasas were not disfigured ogres; Mareech and Subahu were men of knowledge, Taraka was a beautiful learned asura queen. Ravana was a larger than life person. A flamboyant charmer with good looks, a scholar of Vedas, Upanishads, tantravidya, astrology and occult sciences and could play the rudraveena; Kumbha was the huge lumbering giant with an even larger heart, the most sensible and humble of all the siblings; Vibhushan was all brains with no spine, his knowledge restricted to the books and not to life

I enjoyed reading the book. It made the epic look more interesting and dynamic. The dormant characters suddenly were drawn out in flesh and blood and appeared real. It’s in short a woman’s struggle to seek justice for the wrongs done to her, or so she thought. Her suppressed anger, indestructible prejudices and relentless pursuit of justice make up the core of the narration.

Recommend read it at least once for its refreshing perspective.      

Revisiting Resolutions 2017

We're already two months into the new year and I decided it's not to late to revisit my resolutions which I had made last year. Yes its true, I'm not joking. I had in all my excitement made some simple resolutions in the beginning of 2016, with the naivety of being able to follow them through. What I didn't know was that life loves throwing bouncers at us every now and then. And inspite of years of trying to dodge them, we mortals still haven't learnt to predict them or even avoid them. Anyways the bottom line of my story is that I don't know where the last year went. It just zipped past at a pace I still haven't come to terms with. It's all a blur. Too many things happened, some simultaneously, some giving a breather in between. And before I could figure out what's happening, I was writing 2017 in the date. I still keep fumbling with the year like I just woke up from a deep slumber and found instead of a Prince Charming, a new calendar! I don't want to think about it anymore. Forget it (no pun intended). No regrets.

Welcome 2017. My resolutions, made in January 2016, remain steadfast and remainded me of the tasks cut out for this year. The one major resolution I had made passionately and with absolute strong-willed intent was to become more conscious of my health. I guess this is an ailment which all of us who have crossed the dreaded 40s are inflicted with. After years of indulgence and neglect, the body starts showing the after-effects. The last year, the invisible 2016, didn't help matters. So now is the time for action I decided on the cold January morning of 2017. I searched, located and cleaned my sneakers, tried out my gym pants (thank god for the breathe-easy material, they fit even after all the extra kilos and inches!), updated my playlist on my iphone. I was all set to go, no one or nothing was going to deter me this time. The alarm was set. As I got ready to go to bed, I worked out the routine for the morning. My kids would leave for school and then I would hit the road. Maybe run for a couple of kilometers. Perfect. All set.

I woke up with the first ring of the alarm and was raring to go. Everything went as planned. I did a few warm up exercises and started the walk/run. And then it happened. A few minutes into the walk (I had still not started with the run, thank god!), I was huffing and puffing and looked ready to collapse. I braved on, blaming the cold air, my old shoes, the uncomfortable socks, the ill fitting clothes, anything. But after a few more minutes, my brain wouldn't think of any more excuses. It was just gasping to survive. I had to admit to myself that this was not working out (what a choice of expression!!). I was too out of shape. I had to start from the scratch. I could no longer give those fat aunties condescending smiles and privately enjoy their unsuccessful efforts at losing weight. Hate you, Shilpa Shetty! 

Got back home, feeling depressed, defeated and severely dejected. Come on, come on! rethink, replan, redo the plan of action - I kept repeating to myself so as not to slip back into the comfortable lifestyle that I had been enjoying for the last couple of months. So, ok! The next step I decided to try out was to exercise under supervision. Actually it was more to ensure that I kept to the plan. I joined the gym in our society and went all prepped up to work out a good sweat and watch those calories burning away. Ha! not so easy babe! After two days, I was reminded of Sanghi ma'am and her Bio classes in school. How many muscles (or is it muscle groups?) are there in our body? I just don't seem to remember, however much I tried. Every body part screamed out for mercy, every muscle begged to be let off. As for me, I was wondering what was I doing - I mean voluntarily getting ready and heading for the godforsaken gym which was located, ironically, on the first floor of the community centre. Looking at those stairs (of course there's no lift!) one had to push oneself further, motivate oneself to climb up those stairs and into the gym, to be welcomed with a big smile by the taskmaster, I mean the gym instructor. My torture didn't end there. My gym instructor would push me harder, after knowing about my history of fauji training and marathons (full, half, quarter, whatever) and outdoor activities. And I couldn't even curse him because inspite of being the tall, overpowering hulk with rippling muscles, he was such a soft spoken person that listening to him over the loud music was itself an effort. Another effort. Also I guess because my mind would be so numb with exhaustion and concentration that thinking anything was impossible. Kind of reminded me of my days at the Naval Academy where it was easier to just follow orders instead of trying to understand and make sense of them.

Anyways, I'm still very much alive and certainly not in a very much kicking state. I just had this overwhelming urge to pour out my grievances on paper. Hence this blog. My biceps and triceps are crying for compasson as I type. Well if you don't hear from me for some time, you know the reason why. 

Here's to the never give up spirit. Hope you all also have a wonderful and healthy 2017. Maybe a little less painful. But then again - no pain, no gain. Till then, stay healty.    

Days of simple happiness

A lot of my online friends,(well, I seem to have more of them than the real life ones!), have taken the 100  days of happiness challenge. Sounded weird to me. I mean, can you really limit the number of days you can be happy, or appear to be happy? What about the rest of the days of your life? Aren't we supposed to be happy then? Or was I missing the point? Then one of my 'real life' friend explained the concept to me. It's about finding, or trying to find, a source, a reason, an idea or anything that brings happiness to you for a specific duration, say in this case a 100 days. She dared me to do it for a longer duration of time, if I could. It's the easiest challenge I had accepted till date, or so it appeared till I started it. Finding a reason or idea or anything that brings a smile to our face or touches our heart in our daily life is not easy. Not because it's not there, but because we close our minds to it. So caught up are we in our automaton lives that we don't have the time or the inclination to enjoy the small pleasures. That's when, after two failed attempts to start and sustain my challenge, I decided to give it a final dedicated shot. Like my friend said, "It's all up here, in your mind!"  So here I'm, trying to find at least one instance of happiness in each day from hereon for the next hundred days.

Let me start of by talking about something that always brings a smile to my face, and heart, and stomach - food. Yesterday's weather was perfect for a drive, to be outdoors. So we decided to go visit the temple town of Annavaram. A quaint sleepy town, with its raison d'être being an old temple situated happily on top of a hillock. It was a favourite getaway earlier when I was staying alone. This visit was going to be different because we were going as a family. The two hour drive was blissfully uneventful. At the temple, a few extra hundreds ensured speedy, unobstructed darshan of the deity and we were done. Now for the more important things at hand, lunch. We walked into the first restaurant that we crossed as soon as we got out of the temple gates. It was a typical South-Indian mess, a fuss-free place with only one item on the menu, the self-sufficient veg-thali. This guy was a little more entrepreneurial and offered idli-chutney also on the menu. There were tables all around and people sat down where ever they found an empty place. We luckily got a table for four and settled down to have our thali. The adventure began when instead of plates, the lady got us banana leaves and placed it in front of us. She sprinkled some water on it and was gone. The girls went crazy. How could they eat on THIS? Then came the round of serving with one boy serving only chutneys, then another came and served us the curries, sambar, rasam, dal and pulusu, then came the papadams, and finally the lady came back and heaped our plates with hot steaming white rice. Yuuummmmm...it was pure heaven. That inconsequential gastronomical spread had done what I was wrongly seeking inside the sacred sanctum. I found what I had come looking for - inner peace and happiness. I didn't wait for the others to start and immediately dug into the hot rice while the others were trying to figure out from where to start. It was one of the best, most satisfying meals I've had in a long, long time. There's no fuss, no frills yet it's the most fulfilling experience. I'm sure every true-blue South Indian will identify with this incomparable experience.

Gives a happy feeling! Food always does. 

Boys Don't Cry ... Really??

  

The other day while watching TV, I saw the ending of an ad where the once-upon-a-time big-screen diva Madhuri Dixit was saying something about boys don't make others cry. As I had not seen the complete ad, this little teaser intrigued me and I wanted to see the whole of it. I sat in front of the idiot box, like an idiot, waiting for the ad to reappear.  It was sometime before I was able to break free from its hypnotic grasp and think. Heck! I could search for it online! God, never felt so dumb! But I guess I have many who understand the power TV has on many of the powerless zombies like us. Anyways, back to the issue at hand. So I searched online and found the ad I was looking for. It was a beautiful concept created  into a thought provoking ad by Vinil Mathews. 

The beauty of the ad was in its simplicity. It addressed such a basic prejudice we all are conditioned to accept as 'normal'. Gender stereotyping. Boys are the stronger sex, hence cannot cry. We have grown up listening to that reaction so many times that unconsciously we too say it, even without realising it. In this ad Madhuri says it, so I'm hoping many more men would have at least heard her out. Boys don't make other cry. Really? I would love to believe it myself. 

Our social conditioning and gender stereotyping is so, so deeply entrenched in our psych that we look upon the men, or to be politically right the males, as the stronger sex. In India, mothers dote on their sons because they carry the family name forward, thus keeping the lineage going. Fathers adulate their sons, irrespective of their capability, talent or character, because now they, the fathers, are assured a place in heaven as they have a son to light their pyre. Sisters are made to keep in mind that it's the brother who calls the shots, so keeping him happy has its perks. Wives, well, the lesser said the better, after all he is the 'pati-parmeshwar'. So in short, each one in the family treats him as an irreplaceable asset, almost a Demi-God status. So what happens when you get so much attention? Well, you learn to take all this for granted; you treat everyone around you as menials, whose duty is to serve you. 

Growing up on this staple diet of confused and convoluted thinking can distort ones attitude towards the other sex. The scene of the husband abusing his wife is not fake or unreal. That's the real ugly truth. He doesn't give a damn to what she feels. He's right in his thinking because that's what he's learnt from the time he was in his mother's lap. So the suggestion made by the ad is very correct, and required. For the men to be made more sensitive towards the others, they have to be made to feel that the others too are equally important. Be it socially, within the family, at the workplace, or anywhere. Other people, not only the women but also other men, are as human as they are. They too feel pain, hurt, denial, humiliation, anger, frustration. Once these men understand that they are not the focal point of everyone's universe, they will better understand the others. And this can be done only, and only, if they are told about this right from the time they are born. Treating them as just another family member, another sibling, another child, will make them truly belong to the family, and not as the poster boy for the family. 

#StartWithTheBoys is  fantastic initiative which is the need of the hour. With the increased cases of rapes, it only brings to forth the glaring reality of our skewed stereotyping of the genders. For women to be treated as human beings and not a non-entity, it is important boys be made more gender sensitive. A tall order given that centuries of social conditioning has now become an accepted norm, especially in the Indian context. But a start has to be made, and it has started. Let's be part of this change. 

Do round rotis taste better than non round rotis

Rotis are rotis. Round or otherwise. It will always have atta and some water to make it into a soft dough. The shape becomes relevant in the context. I mean the ingredients remain the same, well most of the time, unless you decide to become adventurous and improvise. You know like add some thing extra like freshly chopped dhania or some finely grated veggies which would otherwise be unpalatable to the kids. So I guess the shape and size do not really matter. Yeah if you ask this same question to a hungry person, you can expect a very predictable answer. Just gimme the roti Amma! Round, square, triangle, or any other polygon that you can think of. Just give me the damn roti. Well for a person suffering the pangs of deprivation and denial, any edible consumable is welcome. Colour, shape, texture, vintage etc. are of no consequence or importance to the starved being. What's relevant is it is consumable. Period. 

Hot just off the tava soft rotis are the fastest and surest way to reach the gastronomic heaven. No ambiguity there. Umm ..serve it with a sinful blob of butter and you do the greatest service to the insatiable palates. It earns you enough compliments to want to go back and create more such pieces d'resistance. Most of the Indian households , especially those north of the vindhyas, need the assurance of these simple, unassuming, delectable rotis to feel satisfied about their dinner. You know that alls fine with my world feeling. The weariness of the day, the fatigue when struggling to earn the very same rotis for the family, the struggle to provide two square meals ( square meals of round rotis!?! Strange!!) , everything seems so irrelevant when the first morsel enters the mouth. Life seems so blissful and complete. God is generous and merciful. Every Lalita Pawar incarnate would bless her good-for-nothing daughter-in-law for these gems. Maybe not aloud but happy she will feel. 

So I guess the shape doesn't matter. What matters is the how hungry is the consumer. 

Proud to be an Indian ...always

I saw her on YouTube. A most impersonal first meeting. Thousands more would've seen her too. But images of her stayed in my mind all night, making it a long sleepless night. When I switched on the TV next day for the morning news, there she was again. Dressed in a tan color overcoat, looking over her father's coffin, draped in the Indian tricolor. Alka Rai is all of twelve but she carried herself as a woman. But when she broke down, I did too. The pain was too deep to escape it. I didn't know Col Rai. Now, would never know him. But by watching his proud daughter I wished I had a chance to know him.

Col Rai was killed in another of the many encounters which are a daily phenomenon in the lives of the Army men posted in the troubled regions in J&K. His death too would have got a few lines coverage in some corner of some page in the national dailies, unnoticed by most of us. What changed the whole scenario was the show of sheer grit, pride and love exhibited by his little princess. As she stood next to her father's coffin, she shouted the war cry of the Gorkhas! The somber, sad surroundings were suddenly electrified into a highly charged atmosphere where everyone felt as one. The men of the unit stood united in their shared pain. They shared the pride of their slain warrior's family. They felt honored to be part of that large family of the Gorkha regiment. I felt it too. I felt pride at being associated with the uniform, of having the honor of having worn it, of a sense of belonging. It's a feeling hard to describe but easy to feel. What struck me was the way that little girl reacted. She felt this the best way to honor her slain father. To shout the oft-heard warcry of the Gurkhas. She wouldn't have felt this way had her father not felt the same way. Children learn what they see at home. If she had seen her father not take pride in his uniform, in his job, in his duty, she would never have reacted this way. 

It was a wake up call for all of us. So caught up are we in the daily grind that we forget some basic essentials of being a human being. We forget the value of life. We forget how fickle and unpredictable it is. The house still not back into normalcy after the celebrations for his receiving the gallantry award when it was jolted into shocked silence by his untimely and sudden death. That's life. That's death. Totally and absolutely unpredictable.  No one wants this, maybe except for one Mr Geelani, who sits esconed in the warmth of his shawls and Indian hospitality. Anyways, it made me think about the vagaries of life. 

Pride in being a human being first, pride in our work, pride at being blessed with family and friends. These are things we tend to overlook. No, it's not the feelings of a self centered, ego centric narcissist. This is the kind of pride one feels in gratitude. This is what makes us more consciously responsible. More emphatatic and giving. Makes us feel like pushing ourselves to excel and better ourselves. That warcry set the tone for that young girl who till then lived in a dream.  She will henceforth want to do better so that her father can feel as proud of her, as she does of him. 

But do we need to go through so much pain to realize our potential? Or the value of others around us?