Too Blessed to Be Perplexed

Life is too short and too magical to be unhappy. Whether you are a stay at home mom, an office going mom, or stepping into both their shoes while working from home.

Being a stay at home mother, during my maternity leave days was hard, gave me constant learning about how the joys and challenges of motherhood go hand in hand. I used to long to return to work, get some me-time en route, listen to cool music and later enjoy an uninterrupted cup of coffee. At the same time, upon returning to work, those days which demanded more work and had tough deadlines, I was determined to escape and nurse my child, mechanically living the hush hush routine. Now, trying to work from home during these pandemic times is, indeed, harder. My head spins and I feel like loosing my sanity. Working in 25-minute shifts leaves you with a jittery feeling and a gives sense that you are failing both. It fills you with guilt to the brim, the guilt of not attending to either of them enough, and the guilt of entirely forgetting yourself. At the same time, it fills you with joy to be able to see your child growing in front of you and not missing on his activities, to be able to feed him by yourself and him not being stuffed by any of his daycare center's caregivers. Also, no worry to rush home from work is a bliss.

Now that I have done all the three, I know each of these has its own challenges and delights.

This juggling goes on in a parent's life and leaves you puzzled. Nevertheless, every phase of your child's growth makes you feel that he is as dependent on you as much as he is free. Just as every child is different, every mother also is. No one can teach you how to mother your child, you learn from experiences, and your motherhood, rather, your parenthood grows along with the child. Nothing persists, whatever you are doing and however you are doing, be proud of yourself.

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Overloaded Pandemic

"Sharing is caring, sharing is fun. We can all share together..." These are a few lines from one of the nursery rhymes which my toddler keenly watches these days on YouTube. For kids, it simply implies sharing personal belongings or meals. For adults, we can infer sharing work!

In our society, a husband doing household chores means "helping" the wife. On the contrary, wife doing them signifies it as her duty, a thankless job, that came along with the package of the feras of her marriage. A working husband is someone who earns the bread and butter for the family since ages. A working wife, with all certainty is passing her time. We stay in a society where people frown at the mention of a lady not being able to cook, chuckle on hearing if a man does. They generously use the word "lucky wife" on hearing if the husband prepares evening tea for the exhausted wife. In the same society a child is the Raja beta or Papa's Pari, who is allowed to reject home-cooked food, or bargains eating against extra 30 minutes on iPad. The child learns what he/she sees, of course!

Despite of all this, the societal norms are mutating and a faithful balance is being developed slowly but eventually. The newer generations are westernizing and accepting that the burden of household chores are to be bore by the household, and not the house-lady. Exclaiming at a particular gender's participation in the process is subsiding.

Like many, we are navigating uncharted waters: e-learning and working remotely from home; social distancing is taking away everything. Being together is a huge advantage we have as families right now, but we might be too close to it to see it as a gift. It is a real blessing to have each other in this.

In a nuclear family setup like that of ours, taking care of a 1.5 year old child is not a child's play. They say it takes a village to bring up a child. During these social distancing times, our village lies in our household. A growing child needs a lot of attention, and with parents working from home, its a dire challenge. To be able to understand that mother is not just responsible for changing the soiled diapers and handling a crying baby, while the father is sitting on the couch hooked to the TV, waiting to play with the child. In our family, the father is as good as the mother :) We have divided our chores and very well manage them along working from home for our full time jobs. This is how we #ShareTheLoad !

When it comes to daily chores, for which we as urban Indians used to be heavily dependent on maids and cooks, relationships are put to test. My husband chops vegetables and I prepare them. I handle the tantrum throwing toddler, his father cleans the utensils. When I clean the house, he does the laundry. This is what brings harmony in the relationship, and you see your fondness for each other grow on knowing well how your better half understands you, and the family needs. At first, you are awed to see each other doing all that they have never done. Being brought up in a cozy environment, where your parents did all the chores while you sat studying, or pursuing your hobbies, and later depending on maids, all this comes as a shock. Gradually you get used to it, and that's how you grow old together. #ShareChoresMultiplyLove is the mantra.

We never know when these unprecedented times would end. Amidst everything gloomy and the earth still rotating on the axis of Corona, a pinch of affinity in the family is much needed.

Don't forget to watch how Ariel motivates us to  #ShareTheLaundry.

I will #ShareTheLoad and help in household chores in association with Ariel India and BlogAdda

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A Pinch of Humour

Meanwhile,  amidst everything serious, and the earth rotating on the axis of Corona, I thought of adding a pinch of humor and wit to our world !

On planet Facebook, some ladies are nonchalantly sharing their "saree clad" pictures. They call it a "challenge".  Really! If that's a challenge, I wonder then how our mothers and grandmothers had been living such challenging lives. They also say, that these pictures are posted to bring smile on their friends' faces in these gloomy times. I awe at how people are doing data entry jobs for free! On a sarcastic note, how do such moronic ideas click to only certain humans. 

Nevertheless, sarcasm is like electricity, half of the country doesn't get it.

Meanwhile, as one of the popular jokes states, people are busy vanishing maida and sooji from the earth, by demonstrating their culinary talent. Opened Whatsapp status this morning to see one of my friends just burped of Biryani, the other posted 5 photos of some ugly looking deep fried snacks and someone just prepared fresh out of oven half baked chocolate cake garnished with Gems.

Looking at the messages on my Whatsapp and Telegram groups, I got a mischievous idea. I clubbed multiple messages together, copied and shuffled them. This created a humorous chain. Read below to gain a smile -

Any good tailor nearby? Hi, we shifted here yesterday, waiting to catch up...

This is ridiculous, some dog pooped in front of the club house?  Please assemble in front of the Club House for flag hoisting.

My son's crocs are missing from the playground. Please suggest some good temples nearby. 

Can someone suggest the nearest gas agency. The flush of my toilet is not working... ?

Someone has parked their car in my parking. Please contact me if someone wants to buy my 2BHK.

The maid Jaymala has not yet arrived. If someone has a spare granite slab, please DM me. 

Please don't feed pigeons in the balcony. The builder has reserved that area for STP.

What are the charges for vegetable chopping every day? It is clearly mentioned in our sale agreement.

I wonder if we are going to emerge alive out of this pandemic. Ever wondered that we never remain satisfied with whatever life gives us. What has come, shall go someday. These times, may be good or bad, your perspective, but shall end someday. And that day, we may miss how staying home was a bliss and not a punishment. Though, a balance is a must, but remember there have been days when we longed for staying back, away from the life's race. 

I read this somewhere, sometime -

वक़्त अच्छा जरुर आता है....

बस कमबख्त वक़्त पर नहीं आता...!!

पल-पल तरसते थे जिस पल के लिए...

वो पल भी आया कुछ पल के लिए...!!

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Your Story...

Each one of us is a walking story. All the stories are entwined with each other. You come across other people's stories for a few chapters. Some rendezvous are brief, some last for chapters. Some chapters are wonderful, some are painful. You will have moments when you just want to turn the pages of certain chapters too fast, and want to read a few of steadily and happily. Some chapters make us cry for weeks, the others fill us with a lifetime of joy. A bad chapter may not be the end of your story. Keep reading!

The beginning of your story is always soothing, carefree! You learn so much about yours and others' stories in the beginning. The words keep pouring in at the beginning of the story. Gradually, you get accustomed to your story. This is how it works. You can't change the end, for it's already engraved in the chapters. You have to soak yourself truly into what you see and feel. Some stories end too soon, whereas some last longer. To make your story famous, you have to read it loud, louder, loudest. Nobody can open a certain page of your life and say they know you. Similarly, you may find someone else's story more interesting and blissful from a distance, you never know what their journey was about!

Moments come and go in the lines of those chapters. Nevertheless, you cannot skip chapters. This is how the circle of life works. You have to read each and every line. You have to meet all the characters. We are villain in someone's story, and angels for the others. Stories keep the earth rotating. Some days there is sunshine, and sometimes just frost spread all over. We have to live it all, for there is no means to jump over to the other chapter. Time goes on at its pace. 

It is you who is living your story. You are the hero in your story, and it is unique in all the ways, just like you. The genre of your story may be humor, adventure, mystery or a history. But it can never be a fiction! Your story can definitely be a legacy for generations to come, if you live it so. You have to leave the traces of your moments to make it an inspiration.

Why not multiply the intensity of happier moments in the pages of your story, and read and re-read it! Heal your bruises and replenish yourself while turning each page of your story.

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Life as 30

CAUTION: The content hereafter may damage your optimism, sanity and immaturity.

Today I proudly and successfully complete 3 decades of my life.

I have reached an age where ideally I should not be too excited about my birthday and consider confining myself to my home, avoid birthday wish calls. I must get rid of answering the recurring question on my birthday plans and not to succumb to the pressure of celebrating the day like other homo sapiens !

But it's okay to think adversely and find my ways to be happy :)

I have also reached an age for which they advertise the anti-ageing creams, and when I end up to a beauty store next time, I must apparently pick up an Olay total effects cream, and hair color may be... Despite this, I still get marriage proposals or get called Santoor Mom.

Much has happened and a much is yet to happen. My identity is a married-engineer-working-mom-part-time-writer. Given all my experiences with this planet so far, I have enough Grandma stories to tell to my unborn grandchildren.

My body is ageing, hair fading, dark circles darkening and mental cache filling. I no more "cross the bridges when I come over them". I have to be prepared for that may come over to me.

"पहले मैं होशियार थी इसलिए दुनिया बदलने चली थी, अब मैं समझदार हूँ इसलिए ख़ुद को बदल रही हूँ"

I am permanently unimpressed by a lot of stuff and unaffected by a lot of occurrences. Advices pour in from all directions, but now my brain knows what to absorb and what to reflect.

One bitter truth of life that I learnt is your friends may not stay with you forever, your family shall. The teenage fantasy of "friendships forever" is a forgotten dream now! One gets back to the family over a course of time.

When we were kids, a broken pencil and a lost eraser were enough to call it a bad day. While growing up, life threw challenges called exams and peer pressure. Once you overcome this, you are made to believe that getting into a good Alma mater will make your life better, and that it is the last problem that you shall have on the earth. False. Getting a job happened to be the next great struggle. Next, fight for high packages and better jobs had to be the real and final challenge by the time you turned 25. When thats fixed, a distant cousin's wedding (who later got divorced), had to result into sleepless nights for your parents and eventually happiness-less days for you. Well, looked like marriage was the ultimate solution to all your problems, but then came the demand of having an offspring because you MUST have one, for all obvious reasons. Ahaa, that doesn't bring an end to the life's challenges, but is the advent of it. Every age and phase of life has its own challenges and fun. 30 years are enough to know and learn this.

Despite the ups and downs, leveraging each moment you are breathing and being thankful for all that you have, is the key to a beautiful life.

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Mommyness

Sometimes you look into the mirror and don't recognise the person you see. The tired body, stooping shoulders, greasy hair and a drained mind; the paling skin due to receding hormones and dark circles due to infinite  hours of nursing at nights. Sometimes you feel like you are the only one awake in the world at those odd hours in the night. And then you soothe yourself by saying that there are millions of other moms across the world sailing in the same boat.

There was a time when I was the youngest amongst my team mates in the office, a free bird. I could party anytime, work for long hours and go back home, eat and dive into my books! I often awed at moms around me and wondered on why they were always in a rush, puzzled and weary. I questioned in my mind as to why they left office early, does a child really require that much of maintenance and attention!? I never knew the battles they had already fought even before reaching the workplace in the morning, and that so many others were awaiting them for the later part of the day.

Realising that a tiny human is entirely dependant on you for everything, makes you feel burdened and overwhelmed at the same time, all the time. Holding your pee, you have to be on your toes to provide for the little person, who seems to be growing so slow. There is always a bunch of laundry to be swirled and splashed. The empty tins of baby food asking to be refilled and the stack of soiled diapers waiting to be recycled! The same question that you have to ask yourself every day for the rest of your life is what to cook for dinner. The monotony of life seldom leads to the thought of absconding to my old life, the carefree one. 

They say, "it takes a village to bring up a child" But there ain't always one! Enormous pressure is put on the parents while we try to make up for what entire communities used to provide. Advices keep pouring in. They tend to judge you on why your child is at the care centre and why you do not nurse your baby that often, why is the baby leaner compared to other children of his age and how he could have been plumpier if the quality of your milk was better! You are being held accountable for all that is not happening and all that is happening! And they brutally push you into a guilt ride.

With my child beside me, I open Facebook and see how my girl gang is out on a holiday and how others are out for an adventure trip which I had never been for long. How from being a voracious reader and movie buff , I've turned into someone arranging baby laundry, surfing for baby poop color indications, exploring recipes for a healthy baby and shopping for economic diapers!

"Turn your face to the sun and shadow falls behind you".

A plumpy child is not always a healthy one, but an active one is. Working mom is never a vamp, she is quarreling with the world each day for the baby's bright future. A daycare baby is not to be sympathethized but congratulated for being independent way before his peers.

All my dismay vanishes when I see the little one grinning at me after a tiring day at work, when the baby chirps mummma and phahhapaa (Papa) unexpectedly, when he crawls towards me and smiles for no reason, when he grows a new tooth or makes a new sound, when he clings to me tightly and makes me feel he is elated on me being around him and that he prioritises me over anyone else. All becomes worth it. He will not be a baby forever, and the innocence would fade gradually. The joy that he brings to us is second to none.  My house feels full when he is around. I am sure he too shall be proud of his parents when he grows up.

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Divit's World at Eight Months

Mom is feeding me some paste with something she calls as purple spoon. Yakk, this doesn't taste great. These big people need to understand my choice. By now I know that feeding time means learning A,B,C,D and Johnny Johnny Yes Papa. And of course, the dog says bhaau bhauu and cat says meoww meoww. The thirsty crow is thirsty everyday, and slow and steady tortoise wins the race daily. I smile on hearing all this, because that makes you people happy and think that I am eating well. Oops! I turned my head towards that big illuminated object on the wall and leaked the paste out of my mouth, to my side. Look at Mumma's eyes, she seems angry... Never mind, all I have to do is smile or cry, either ways, I win!

They call me "Divit". I think that's my name, just like Mumma Daddy's names are Mumma and Daddy.

Mumma and Daddy go to a place called office.These people are talking about their day. I can't make sounds like they do. All I can do is say hummmmm, ummmmaa, bubububu, ahaaaan (clearing the throat), unngeee, giiiiiii, ammaaa, tattattata and so much more.

This world and its objects sound interesting. Those strange things that my tongue touches these days hurt me sometime. But they help me produce new sounds. And I want to chew everything with them. I want to chew my toys, and the bedsheet, and Mumma Daddy's dresses and tresses, the TV remote, my hands and even my feet! How can you really know something if you haven't put it in your mouth!

I am so curious to know how this world works. I want to see and touch and taste and hear everything.

Yesterday I went outside with Mumma and Daddy. There was so much light.There were so many big people. So many things running, some small, some big. Big people were sitting on those running things. Those things were making noise also. There were some big people who were walking like Mumma and Daddy with two feet. I have got 2 extra feet unlike them. I like walking, I mean crawling with those. I also try to stand and walk like these people. But when I try to hold the sofa and stand, I fall down. It hurts on my head and I cry. Mumma Daddy rush to me, lift me and take me to the window to show light and big people. I open my eyes wide to see them. It is wonderful!

Nowadays, Mumma and Daddy play a weird game with me, they hide behind the wall and appear again. They believe I am giggling back because it pleased me. Nah!

At my daycare, Atharv also has 4 feet like me, but Ahaan, Ayub, Amairaah, Kiara, Faaz and the aunties have 2 feet! They are different.

Few days back, something was running out of my nosy all the time. That thing came in my mouth also, it was so tasty. Mummy Daddy were wiping it with some soft soft thing.

Mumma Daddy are taking me into the room where we sleep. I hate sleeping, why do we have to sleep. Mumma and Daddy are saying "Good Night Divit". Oh no, please please Daddy don't pat on my side, please don't sing that lullaby Mumma. It will make me sleep. I have an idea, if I cry I can stay awake for little long. They soothed me. I am turning now, I like to sleep on my tummy. They are patting me again, Oh no, please I want to play. Zzzzzzzz I am not sleeping. No mosquitoe net please... No...zzzzzzz. khrrrrrrrrrrr...

2 hours later.

They are still sleeping, I slept enough. Time to scream the house down. They are awake now, whooppiiee. I am the Boss of the house!

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Diary of a Daycare Mom

His rattles spread on the mattress, his soft toy Tuffy lying alone in the corner, his little pants and those wet nappies waiting to be picked up and a mountain of his laundry waiting to be washed.

I am already tired of packing and labelling stuff for his daycare adventure and googling to know when his first tooth would appear, browsing e-commerce sites to look for his needs, sterilizing those containers for him and preparing his feeds for the day.

It's been exactly 23 minutes since I dropped my 6 month old to his daycare center, sitting on the couch I already feel like it's already hours since I met him, saw his innocent smile, his cheery giggle and that unexpected cry. They call it separation anxiety and I call it motherhood.

I should be taking a nap now. But my heart thuds at the thought of, what if they call and say that your son is crying, and that he needs you, come over and check on him. What if I fall asleep and miss their call. I have anyway forgotten on how to sleep alone.

I have pit in my stomach and lump in the throat, even though I know that he is just 750 metres away as per google map on taking the shortest route. He was in the lap of the caregiver when I bid him goodbye, staring at me while I was walking out and then smiling at the lady. I was jealous of the caregiver, because I am his Mom and no one else is!

Am I a bad mother for handing my baby to someone else at such young age? Is my career that important? Is it that easy to pack his stuff and drop him to that center? 

For the past 6 months and 13 days I had been longing for some "me-time", read and write and pamper myself and do all that I want, and be myself. But in this span of time, I had forgotten that now I am his Mom first and myself later.

I never knew I would be so habitual of this little person in my life. No matter what the world says, no matter how many societal relations he has with family and extended family, I am the one who carried him inside me and I cannot be replaced. No one owns him as much as I do. Call it obsession or love for him.

Being apprehensive about his well being would last forever. Kids never stay with their parents forever, but a part of them stays in us till the end. And it's just the beginning. The sooner I let him practice being away from me, the better it would be.

Perhaps, the world may blame me for being a harsh mother, a career oriented woman or a parent paying others to bring her child up. My conscience might shake for a while and question me. But I will stand strong and do what it takes to make him a better person.

Because I am not a bad mother, I am doing this to make him independent, disciplined and a good human, and focussing on my career so that I give him a wonderful life.

I am sure my son will be proud of me when he grows up and reads all this.

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किसका आधार मेरी पहचान

इस लेख का उद्देश्य रीतियों या व्यक्तियों पर नहीं किन्तु नीतियों पर कटाक्ष करना है।

प्रिय बदलती हुई सरकार/ पुनः लौटती हुई सरकार,

मेरे 4 माह के बेटे की पासपोर्ट अर्ज़ी इसलिए रद्द कर दी गयी क्योंकि मेरे आधार कार्ड में मेरे नाम के साथ अब तक मेरे पिता का नाम जुड़ा हुआ है। मेरा surname शादी के बाद भी मेरे पिता का ही surname है और मैं अब तक सभी सरकारी दस्तावेजों में मैं w/o की जगह d/o से ही जानी जाती हूं। और इसलिए मेरे बेटे के दस्तावेजों को अधूरा करार दिया गया।

मैंने सोचा था "मेरा आधार मेरी पहचान" है, किन्तु वर्तमान में घटित घटना से ज्ञात होता है मैं किसकी बेटी या पत्नी हूँ ये मेरी पहचान है। मुझे ना ही अपने साथ अपने पिता का नाम जोड़ने में शर्म आती है और ना ही अपने पति के नाम से जुड़ने में कोई झिझक। तो यह तो मेरी इच्छा पर होना चाहिए ना कि मैं किसका नाम अपने आधार में जोड़ना चाहती हूँ। हालांकि मैं भी मेरे पिता और पति की तरह एक स्वतंत्र करदाता हूँ, लेकिन मेरी अपनी पहचान रखने का मुझे कोई अधिकार नहीं है।

वैसे भी मेरे पुत्र के आधार में तो मेरा नाम आना नहीं है, तो उसकी अर्ज़ी रद्द करने का कारण मैं कैसे बन सकती हूँ। हालांकि उसके जन्म के पूर्व, जन्म के समय और जन्म के पश्चात एक माँ के तौर पे जो तकलीफ़ें मैंने सही उनके इनाम स्वरूप मुझे हर मदर्स डे पर एक कार्ड मिल ही जायेगा, आधार या पासपोर्ट का कार्ड नहीं, ग्रीटिंग कार्ड। मेरा बेटा फिर भी मेरे नाम से नहीं जाना जाएगा। वो सिर्फ उसके ननिहाल में उसकी माँ के नाम से जाना जाएगा।

इन सब के उपरांत यदि मेरे पिता का नाम मेरे आधार में लिखा भी है तो मैं समझती हूँ कि उसे बदलने का क्या औचित्य है, मैं तो हमेशा मेरे पिता की ही बेटी रहूंगी ना। मेरे अनुसार शादी के ख़र्च में 50 रुपये आधार में "सुधार" के लिए भी जोड़ देने चाहिए। या फिर हमारे देश में जैसे 6 माह का मातृत्व अवकाश होता है वैसे ही "पहचान परिवर्तन" अवकाश भी होना चाहिए जिसमें की हर वैवाहिक महिला अपने सभी पहचान पत्रों में पिता के नाम से जुड़ने की त्रुटि को सुधरवा सके।

मेरे पास और लिखने का समय नहीं है। मैं चली अपने आधार, पासपोर्ट, वीसा, ड्राइविंग लाइसेंस, बैंक एकाउंट, पैन कार्ड, क्रेडिट कार्ड, डेबिट कार्ड, आफिस रिकॉर्ड,  PF, वोटर पहचान पत्र इत्यादि में "सुधार" करवाने। गनीमत है सोशल मीडिया एकाउंट्स में परिवर्तन अनिवार्य नहीं है।

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The Joy of Seeking

Inspired from a Quora post on the same topic. 

Just imagine you woke up one fine morning, some stranger comes to your house, celebrates their birthday, cuts a birthday cake, you and the other family members are instructed to encircle them and clap mechanically while singing the birthday jingle. The happy-go-lucky person smiles and enjoys, is being pampered and dressed up like a prince or princess. You blankly stare at them. You are bestowed with chocolates and food of their choice. Unwillingly you consume that. You are entitled to shower good wishes in return. What do you feel from inside? You get suffocated with the realization during every such celebration that you could have been in their place, but you are not. Your birthday could also be celebrated like theirs, but no, you are different, under privileged. You are supposed to be an onlooker, a part of their celebration. They bid you bye and add another scar to your little innocent heart, and you curse your being.

This is a trend these days that to inculcate the joy of giving in the new generation, parents take them to the orphanage to celebrate their birthdays. Definitely it is a good way to induce morals and philanthropy in them. Already, the kids these days are brought up in a nuclear family structure and that too most likely as a single child. This means they are segregated from the joy of  caring and sharing. They are so much pampered that they get everything they ask for. This way they do not understand what being deprived of something means.

Apparently, taking them to orphanage for birthday celebration incorporates a sense satisfaction by sharing their happiness with the less privileged ones.

Unfortunately, it has become a fashion wherein we overlook the other side of the coin. 

How great it is to feel glad assuming that you are spreading happiness, to choke someone's conscience on the pretence of charity! Should we celebrate our birthday with them or their birthdays with us?

Happiness is a relative concept. What satisfies you might suffocate someone. 

"No one becomes poor by giving." - Anne Frank

I have seen people doing acts of charity and then posting pictures of the deed on social media. In doing so their prime focus is to accumulate publicity and enduring unfair "profit by giving". Do noble cause such that even your left hand mustn't know that right hand has done it.

If we merely think about using our earnings for our family, we are no different than an animal. Even an animal protects and provides for its family. I assume that if you have got resources enough to read this post, you surely have enough to help the underprivileged. If not money, share knowledge, contribute towards their education or like. Knowledge multiplies on sharing, unlike wealth! And as they say, "Give a man a fish, and you feed them for a day. Teach a man how to fish and you feed them for a lifetime"

Remember, the hand that gives is the one that receives. It's a saying in Hindi "देने वाले का हाथ हमेशा ऊपर होता है, और लेने वाले का नीचे " ( The giver's hand is always above the receiver's hand).

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Our New Youtube Channel: MPKooktales

Hello fellas. They say "Happiness is to be able to eat what you please."

We, Piyush and Mansi have started our Youtube channel, featuring our cooking experiments. We love to eat, and eventually love to cook. Our newly found passion for cooking had to be captured in camera and hence, to be shared with all. This led to the idea behind starting this channel. With this channel we bring to you mouth watering food as easy recipes, with taste of MP and of course, India. Hope you like our cooking tales at MPKooktales :)

On this channel, we have featured variety of food recipes, particularly Indian food. The variety includes Indian curries, milkshakes, tea time snacks, breakfast recipes, desserts, healthy food and a lot more.

I've received so much of appreciation for my writing by far. Hoping to receive the same for our new youtube channel- MPKooktales. Please subscribe to our channel and press the bell icon to receive notifications of any new videos being posted. Don't forget to like the videos, share them with friends and family. Your feedback is precious to us, do add in your comments to the videos. We'd love to hear from you!

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भावना का एक्सचेंज ऑफर

इस लेख को पढ़ने के पहले ये जान ले कि इस विषय पर मेरे विचार पाठक के विचारों से भिन्न हो सकते हैं। हर व्यक्ति की श्रद्धा अलग होती है और उसका ईश्वर से जुड़ने का माध्यम भी। हो सकता है जिन अनुभवों से मुझे तृप्ति मिलती हो अन्य व्यक्ति को ना मिले। इसलिए करबद्ध निवेदन है कि मेरे मत से किसी की भावनाओं को ठेस पहुँचे तो क्षमा करें।

हमें बचपन से सिखाया जाता है भगवान से एक्सचेंज ऑफर और ब्लैकमेल का व्यवहार करना। हम भगवान से कुछ इस प्रकार आदान प्रदान करते हैं-

हमने आपके लिए व्रत किया, इसके बदले हमें कुछ दीजिये। 

ये वाले भगवान से इस चीज़ की प्राप्ति होती है तो चलो इनकी भक्ति करते हैं, दूसरे काम के लिए दूसरे भगवान के पास जाएंगे। 

भगवान से डरो, प्रेम मत करो | उनको इसलिए मानों क्योंकि तुम्हें मानना चाहिए।

हमने आपको 1 रुपया, 2 रुपया या 10 रुपया चढ़ाया, आप हमें गाड़ी बंगला दीजिये। 

जिसने हमें सब कुछ दिया है हम उसे क्या कुछ रुपये देंगे। कहीं सुना था- "चढ़ती थीं उस मज़ार पर चादरें बेशुमार, लेकिन बाहर बैठा कोई फ़क़ीर सर्दी से मर गया"|

फ़र्ज़ कीजिये किसी व्यक्ति ने अपनी माता के लिए किसी ऐसी भाषा में पत्र लिखा है जो आप नहीं जानते। उसने आपको वो पत्र दिया और कहा कि इसे अपनी माता को सुना देना वह प्रसन्न होगी। क्या आप अर्थ जाने बिना, किसी अन्य भाषा मे लिखा हुआ पत्र और किसी अन्य व्यक्ति द्वारा की हुई उसकी माँ की प्रशंसा को यूं ही अपनी माँ को सुना देंगे? नहीं ना। तो फ़िर बिना अर्थ जाने धार्मिक ग्रंथ या आरती या मंत्र का पाठ कैसे कर लेते हैं। अपनी भाषा में अपनी श्रद्धा अनुसार अपने ईश्वर से प्रार्थना अथवा वार्तालाप क्यों नहीं करते।

क्यों ना हम अपने ईश्वर से अपेक्षा किए बिना भक्तिभाव से जुड़ने की चेष्टा करे। जो प्राप्त हुआ उसका धन्य्वाद और जो हमारे लिए उचित हो उसकी प्राप्ति के आशिर्वाद कि आकांक्षा करे |

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so.)

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The Facebook Faces

Sitting in office cab? Waiting for food at restaurant? On the potty seat? At every other place you bow your head these days. I mean, stooping towards your mobile device.

There are only two places where you have to survive without a phone - on a flight and while you bathe.

The other day I was walking up the stairs of a plush skin clinic of our locality and texting at the same time, I actually bumped into the glass door at the entrance and hurt my forehead. The female attendees were aghast and amused at the same time. Eventually, they had to control their laughter, since I was their customer!  

Warning: You may get offended on reading this post, please refrain yourself from reading further if it happens.

Disclaimer:  This is a satire and aims only to create some fun and is entirely my way of looking at the social media universe, esp. Facebook.

Ques: What is Facebook to me?
Ans: Seeing hundreds of friends doing data entry jobs for free!

Ques: What are Facebook faces?
Ans: Simple, the one that they show you on their profile.

They range from being selectively social, social, excessively social, horribly social, entirely unsocial.

Variety of Activities on Facebook-

1) Posting photos, unlimited photos..
They post an album containing 32 cheesy couple photos behind the tree and in front of the tree. One from this side, other from that side.

Tourism has increased exponentially ever since social media came into picture. Most people go on holidays only to post updates and pictures on social media. This increases pressure on others to plan their vacation better than them, so that they can also broadcast their updates. And the vicious cycle goes on...

Posting photos of a new born baby who was in the mother's womb an hour back, unable to open eyes, syringes stung on its body, still in the incubator. This fellow has already grabbed 148 likes and 56 comments of being cute and innocent and adorable, looks like mom or dad. I wonder if it can ever be otherwise? Does a new born ever look horrible or cunning or hate-able?

2) The DP game -Forgive me girls, but the next big thing is the duck face DP which you finalized after clicking some 20 selfie snaps. No matter what, your face will remain the same.

3) The DSLR guy.. And every person who buys a DSLR assumes himself to be a PHOTOGRAPHER and then creates a photography page, uploads photos of poor hungry people, flowers, clouds, sunset and sunrise. 

4) Quotables -Most annoying is the bombardment of quotes on how they want us to live our life. It feels more like they are pacifying themselves or justifying their being.

5) The FB story of a spy- And then there are people with guest appearances, or call them spy. They come, view your posts, hit like and run away. They do not pain their fingers by typing or posting something.

6) Angels and princesses - Some girls are self proclaimed princess and angels which they show by appending or prepending these words with their Facebook Face's name. For example Angel Pooja, Priya Princess.

7) Facebook groups- If you are not the fortunate one, you will be forcibly added to one of the "all women" group or a community's group. They might sell leggings with matching dupatta or baking classes in the town at discounted price, or performing their daily ritual of wishing good morning with the image of a god at 4:00 AM in the morning.

8) The Marriage Magic -Facebook has this new feature wherein every time I open it, either one of my friend is married, or attending a marriage, has been blessed with a baby or is engaged.

9) The Twitterati Influence- And lately, the non-twitter facebook users have found that posting hash tags will help them appear witty or trendy. Some samples-  #chaiWithFriend  #bestTimeEver #feelingBlessed #blessed  #funTime #fun #happyMe #enjoyedAlot #dreamComeTrue #lyf #mylyf #hubby #bestHubbyEver...
My response- #doYouKnowTheMeaningOfHashTags
#doYouUseThemBecauseEveryoneElseDoes
#bringingTwitterOnFacebookKya
#whoCares.

10) World's Bestest Husband -One amusing kind of stuff I see on birthdays and wedding anniversaries is to read how that friend's kuchiku-swthrt-mmuaah-supporting husband is the "world's bestest husband", on her first birthday with her, and as if she had a dozen more best husbands.

11) Autoplay feature- One horrible feature of facebook is autoplay for videos. Imagine you are secretly peeping into your phone in the office and while you are scrolling, suddenly the audio gets played for one of the videos which is about how to reduce belly fat, or a recipe video on how to prepare besan barfi. You might want to bury your face below the table then!

As they say, social media connects you to folks at a distance from you but distances you from those around you. There has to be a phone-life-balance.

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The Perfect is the Enemy of the Good

"If a man is called to be a street sweeper, he should sweep streets even as a Michaelangelo painted, or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause to say, 'Here lived a great street sweeper who did his job well."
-Martin Luther King Jr.

Sometime back last year, PV Sindhu and Sakshi Malik adorned the name of India with medals in Rio Olympics. Apparently, the streets of Indian cities lay galore with flex banners painted in passport size pictures of politicians welcoming and congratulating the proud winners. That makes me wonder, what about those 118 other athletes who represented India but were less fortunate than Sindhu and Sakshi.

Undoubtedly the conclusion is- "No one ever talks about you if you don't win! Either be the first or the forgotten".

Success is boolean- Similarly, either you succeed or you don't. If you are doing good, you are doing injustice to the better. Although there has to be a tradeoff between what you are, what you think you are, what you should be and what you think want to be. At that point satisfaction comes into picture.

As Voltaire quoted- Le mieux est l'ennemi du bien. (The perfect is the enemy of the good.)

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Pyarelal aur Premwati ki Navratri a.k.a Valentine Week

So we are in the middle of the Valentine's festival. The first one to intimate about this was the bombardment of Valentine's jokes and memes on Whatsapp. Of these the best was- wo kya kisi ko rose denge,  zindagi jinki roz le rahi hai.

Although it's for "couples" (in double quotes), but this is an occasion where feminism dominates. It's an attack on the pocket of THE men, especially, teenagers! Sincere homages to Mr. Pyarelal who is vulnerable to the year's second big financial crisis apart from Premwati's birthday! Because every sweetu, jaanu, shona, babu has to repay their debt of being called so.

Pondering on how and when did it all begin? Long back, there was no lovey dovey genre of Valentine's day, but now it is. And not only this, it brought along with it a whole week comprising of Rose day, Chocolate day, Teddy day, Hug day and a few more. Of them, the most cost effective one for the cupid-struck Pyarelal is Rose day (barring the mention of uncensored K*** day and Jaadu-ki-jhappi day for obvious reasons).

Imagine if they start having a converse series of days for the loote-hue-aashiqs (the abandoned lovers) like romeo day, thappad day, daaru day, friend-zoned day, girlfriend-bani-bhabhi day etc. You never know!

Are the ladies out there giving me the look of the sajish-karti-hui TV serial MIL!? Sorry, but no sorry. For the guys, teddies, chocolates and roses are not the sole expressions of love to the fair gender, may be catalysts.

If you come across a gift shop, the whole interior these days is in red, the so-called colour of love. If you are in school, you have to be doubly sure your family remains uninformed of how you used the pocket money this month! Or you are gone.

Yesterday the devotee in me felt like stepping into a flower shop outside a temple to get flowers for offering to god . To my surprise, even they were running short of flowers. Dear god, it's off season for you, please wait!

Thanks to Bollywood movies for making this phony, cheesy, highly romanticised and commercial expression of feelings, compressed into a single day's celebration. By the way, Kaun kehta hai pyaar ek baar hota hai tumhe jitni baar dekho utni baar hota hai. True?

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Bengaluru's Road Riddle

Helmets helmets everywhere, nobody is going anywhere...

According to a statistics published by a leading daily, Bengaluru has over 60 lakh registered vehicles. That is, one vehicle for every two people. Adding to this are transport vehicles, office cabs, office buses, 6600+ city buses (best to my knowledge). 

There is a common factor that binds all the Bengalurians, and that is traffic, and complaints about traffic. I am one of them (expressed the experience on From Baby to Bhabhi here)

Complaining is easy! Blaming the authorities and government is easier! Cooperating with the inevitable is the easiest! I believe in Dale Carnegie's quote from How to Stop Worrying And Start Living - "It is so, it can't be otherwise." Therefore, keeping frustration aside, I am presenting my humorous perspective on the bumper-to-bumper traffic of the city. And yes, this post occurred to my mind while I was struggling to cross an ever-red traffic signal one fine day.

1) In Bengaluru, distance, unlike other parts of India, is not measured in minutes but real kilometers v/s the number of vehicles on the road. In other parts of India, you say "Bhai 10 min ka raasta hai. Abhi aata hun." On the contrary, here you say, "Bhai 2 kilometer ka distance hai, kabhi na kabhi to pahuch hi jaaunga." Moreover, you will always miss the Vicco Turmeric advertisement at the start of a movie.

2) You can never be the first person on a traffic signal. Apparently, you are always so far from the signal that you can't make out whether it is red or green. You miss the count of how many times it changed the colour.

3) If you drive a two-wheeler, you can vroom vroom only on the zones that four wheeler or heavy vehicles leave for you. No lane is dedicated to you and hence, you are as free as a bird. If a car driver keeps safe distance, two wheelers slip in between, thinking the driver gave them way!

4) "Helmet aapki suraksha ke liye hai"- people here understand well. If not, the traffic police will suck even the last penny from your pocket as fine. FYI, no credit cards or paytm is accepted!

5) Slow and steady wins the race. Remember the childhood tale of rabbit and tortoise. Here the pedestrian is the tortoise who reaches earlier than any of your luxury bike or car. While the rabbit is still perspiring to see the signal turn green, the pedestrian has effortlessly went across. 

6) Blowing horn does imply only one thing - "Hands Up! I am overtaking you" In rest of the India, you blow horn to request the preceding vehicle for side. But here the poor guy has no side to give side.  

7) There is no rush hour and empty roads are a myth. Oh, you think you are clever to skip the peak rush hour. Sorry but no sorry, the peak hours start early morning and end at night.

8)  Coal tar for your car. They construct roads only with coal tar, no cement at all. Bengaluru's rains and infinite number of road users do not allow the roads to live long. But yes, the repair work is appreciable. They repair the roads overnight.

9) Mini heart attacks come in the form of cabs and buses. When they pass from nearby keeping hairline distance, you feel like buying a helicopter on EMI, or getting a life insurance.

10) You don't always need to accelerate your bike. Using your foot to make it a bullock cart is recommended. Avoid stepping on others' feet while you do that. Pro tip- Get branded shoes.

Best luck for your next tide, oops! ride.

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so.)

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Our Shanta Bai is Not a Thief

Wednesday. 8:40 AM. Ding Dong. Look who's at the door- our very own Shanta Bai. That's the name I have given to our maid because, with my scarce knowledge of Kannada and her zero knowledge of Hindi, I can't ask her name!

A few seconds later. The kitchen is purging with the customary sound of her washing the utensils and the fragrance of ready to be savoured ginger tea. We courteously asked the old lady if she needs warm water to wash utensils, saying "bisi neeru bekaaaa?" (Kannada). She cracked some joke in her language and giggled at our intentions, leaving us puzzled. Apologetically, we barely could afford a smile.

8:50 AM. Ding dong. I and hubby questioned  each other with our eyes-doing-the-talking -"who is it?", as we do not expect any other visits on a usual day. 

I was brushing my teeth. Hubby opened the door only to find our Khooni Padosan waiting. eeeehh... I mean our next door neighbour. Oh, you are wondering why I call her Khooni Padosan? Mrs. Khooni Padosan , a lady in her early 40s, according to me is suffering from hyper-negativity-towards-the-planet-and-its-creatures (if they have discovered one such disease yet). She can retort at anything and everything, like the landlord, her husband, her sister-in-law, the road, weather, keys of the apartment entrance, municipal corporation and even mosquitoes.

She was explicit enough to blame our Shanta Bai for having picked up her Sennheiser earphones from the staircase. Worst thing, she did not suspect, she declared the verdict- "your maid has picked up my earphones from the stairs". Strangely, she was sure about it without any proof. 

Meanwhile, I am still brushing my teeth and the hubbub of utensils being harassed prevails. Our innocent bai who was unaware of our Hindi conversation continued with what she is employed for.

Hubby came in. Checked his bag. The earphones he had picked up from the stairs on the weekend, suspecting them to have fallen from his bag, originally belonged to the Khooni Padosan. The same earphones which she had declared as stolen by the maid. He and I own two pairs of earphones of the same brand. So our twin earphones had another sibling on the building floor!

To live happily-ever-after and save Shanta Bai from her curse, we hopped to her flat and returned her property, narrating our version of the case of accidental lifting of the abandoned item. Also, added that Shanta bai has already undergone our series of anti-theft tests and that she never bothers for anything except salary hike, daily tea and a pack of Parle-G every fortnight. Not only this, she makes sure that we close our door while she leaves, for which she has to shout at our recklessness, at times. She is motherly.

Moral of the story- Dear moron, investigate and inquire before you blame our Shanta bai or any poor person of theft.

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so.)

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Nothing But Hunger!

Peeping out of the window of the fourth floor of my office sipping from my mug of green tea this winter afternoon, I was simply observing the traffic and mortals on the road. I noticed something. Something which is very usual for most of us.

A street vendor stood across the road with his cart, beneath a luxurious showroom. The cart carried corns (roasted corns is what he supposedly had been vending). Let's name him Bhuttaswamy.

Bhuttaswamy was a middle aged, wearing white shirt and gray pants, waiting for his customers. Amongst the hundreds of vehicles and pedestrians that passed by, on that forever busy signal of Bangalore, none seemed to be hungry enough. I wandered is this how this man is going to stand there throughout the day, in HOPE. We mint thousands or even lakhs of bucks a month, and these people have to stand there with a handful of corns, 20 bucks per piece (this is the generic rate throughout Bangalore)! Diversity, they call it. Ahhh! look this fellow on a luxury bike just stopped and spoke to Bhuttaswamy for what may be a duration of 40 seconds. And, without buying, he drove away. Probably, he found the corn expensive!

On my side of the road sat another middle aged lady, let's call her BEGAni. Her hands carried an infant, malnutritioned indeed. My sight reflected her to be a beggar, possibly! The busy road and the travelers didn't pay heed to her either. One in 50 shelled out a coin or two for her, only when the signal was red.

The next day, I was coming back from an ATM with my colleagues and was walking by the road side, rather the part which the vehicles had left for pedestrians. This young girl, nearly 12 years of age was selling pens, 2 for 20 rupees, each of which was 1 feet in length. Let's name her PENwari. On seeing us coming, she gestured her hands in the direction of her mouth expressing she is hungry. The pens were cheap, but her hunger wasn't! I bought a pen from her. Penwari's merchandise later lied lazily somewhere at my desk. Nevertheless, it might have mattered to Penwari apparently.

A few metres walk on the same road, and there appeared another girl of similar age. Let's call her MAANGshri. She, literally was chasing folks on the road to transfer some money from their wallets to her palms so that she can be devoid of hunger. Those folks were shooing her away, trying every possible motion to get rid of her. Painful was the scene. Not because they didn't give her any money, but because Maangshri was begging. She seemed to be a healthy and normal human, no deformities at all. What is it that made her to beg! This planet has a lot of blue collar jobs, and she is employable. 

Unlike Begani and Maangshri who were looking for shortcuts to earn, Bhuttaswamy and Penwari are the ones who are doing something to earn their living. People will keep begging until we give away alms to them.

I have a habit of carrying a few packets of Parle-G in my bag. Whenever I see someone begging on the traffic signal, I hand them a packet rather than giving money. They do not have bank acccounts to stash money, but a hungry tummy. I cannot feed them forever, but am rest assured that the child on the signal doesn't have to stay hungry at least this time.

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so.)

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ये नोट कल हो ना हो !

एटीएम की लंबी कतार में लग कर जब खुद ही का कमाया हुआ 2 हज़ार का एक नोट मिलता है तो इतना हर्ष होता है मानों कोई जंग जीत कर आये हो। फिर जब उसी 2 हज़ार के नोट का छुट्टा करवाने के तरीक़े ढूंढने की जुगाड़ में निकलते हैं और अचानक कोई दूकानदार ईश्वर का अवतार बन के इस नोट के बदले सौ के नोट देता है तो ऐसा लगता है मानो सर्वस्व को पा लिया हो। जब हम हमारे पास इकट्ठे चन्द 1000 और 500 के नोट को बैंक में जमा कर आते हैं तो ऐसा सुकून मिलता है मानो लाश को ठिकाने लगा आये हो।

फिर जब टेलीविज़न पर गांधी परिवार के राजकुमार को दिल्ली से मुम्बई जा कर एटीएम की कतार में लगे देखते हैं तो रूह कांप उठती है।

जब मफलर वाले साहब को उनकी योग्यता के प्रतिकूल ट्वीट करते हुए पाते हैं तो समझ नहीं आता की एक तरफ़ा वाद विवाद भी कितना मनोरंजक होता है।

और विदेश यात्रा से लौटे नेताजी को भाषण के दौरान आंसू बहाते देख मन किसी टेलीविज़न सीरियल की बहू की याद दिला देता है।

इसी बीच हर न्यूज़ चैनल पर 8 पासपोर्ट साइज़ के चहरे और एक थोड़ा बड़ा साइज के न्यूज़ रीडर का आपस में संवाद और अपनी मति का प्रदर्शन करते देख हम हास्य और रहस्य की मजधार में खुद को झूलता हुआ पाते हैं।

ईश्वर की अनुकंपा से व्हात्सप्प और फेसबुक पर हो रहे सुचना एवं प्रसार की अतिशयोक्ति में हम निरंतर मुस्तैद रहते हैं।

किसी गरीब को अस्पताल में नोटों के अभाव में तरसते देखा और एक दुल्हन के पिता को बारात को चाय पिला कर लौटाते देखा, तो मन आहात हुआ यह सोच कर की आखिर इसका ज़िम्मेदार कौन है और शिकार कौन।

खैर ये सब छोड़ें साहब, हम तो चले एटीएम। क्या पता ये नोट कल हो ना हो !

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so. I wrote this to present the whole picture from my perspective and to encourage constructive thought process for a better and progressive nation. The views are based on my limited knowledge of the ongoing situations and are only for fun)

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Endoscopic View of Real Beauty by Twitterati

Meanwhile they were participating in a beauty contest on twitter. I mean, a contest wherein the organizer was giving away vouchers to the winners based on answers to a series of beauty related questions.

The contest's question #1 was about what real beauty is.

It was exasperating to see prompt answers by the participants, flooding with sugar coated definitions of real beauty, all in the race to win the contest!

Quoting a few of those tweets below-

"For me Real Beauty is about taking stand for yourself."
"Real beauty means the lovely soul.."
"Real beauty is not what the eyes can be hold, but what the heart can be hold"
"Real Beauty is being Strong. It's about putting your opinions and not afraid of what 'Chaar log kya Kahenge' "
"True beauty is reflected in one's soul—being truthful, honest, helpful, and trustworthy. "
"Real beauty is not synonymous with outer look.. it is deep within."
"Real beauty is something that is born inside and gradually grows to the outside"

After reading the last couple of responses, I was wondering how do you dig "inside" and certify the "inner beauty" of someone. May be the lungs of the person are beautiful, or is it the food pipe, or is it about the 7 meter long beautiful acid-filled-intestine! Wait... that requires endoscopy... 

It was jaw dropping but amusing to scroll infinitely and see the extent of generosity of people on the contest board! Seeking the FREE shopping voucher from the fashion brand was all they striven for, I believe.

So, I was curious to explore the literal meaning of "real beauty". Merriam Webster dictionary says beauty is-
The quality of being physically attractive; the qualities in a person or a thing that give pleasure to the senses or the mind

The dictionary doesn't feature the word "real" alongside "beauty". But they don't give "fake" meanings either.

Pun aside, simply stating, I am unsure how many of the participants would ever recall and for that matter, go with their homemade definitions of the real beauty. Because in real sense, it's all about physical beauty in this real world! Have you ever seen a matrimonial ad stating- "looking for ugly girl, must be beautiful inside."?  And I don't need to type in the rest :). Think yourself...

(Disclaimer: This post does not intend to harm, defame, or hurt the sentiments of any person, gender, religion, political party, news channel, religious belief, god or to whomsoever it may concern. I sincerely apologize in advance if it is so.)

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