This post has been selected by Blogadda as the winning entry for the contest...Love, Adventure and Miracle....
It was only yesterday. Or was it ? Memories came thick and fast. Some vivid, some hazy. Like smoke; only to fade away into thin air. Memories disappeared and yet were present somewhere in the background.
Boredom does strange things to people. It revived the nostalgia for us. In a fit of boredom and in the lap of an empty nest, my husband and I viewed our marriage videocassette after two decades. Even though it was converted into a CD by our son, we had restrained from viewing it. Why, I am not sure. Perhaps due to an unfortunate incident which followed our marriage. So when the husband said, "It will be an adventure, lets hold hands and watch the CD together," I was game.
I prefer to close doors on bad memories or shove them under a veil of assumed amnesia. My husband however, believes that suffering and pain are healers. If they are dealt with effectively, they cleanse our subconscious and make us happy. No wonder he enjoys listening to ‘sad songs' by Rafi,. Yes, even when all is well and the sun is shining brightly. It makes him happy. How, I don’t know. I however, do not prescribe to his philosophy and avoid going down those painful lanes.
Even though I had viewed our marriage photographs taken with the Fuji camera several times, watching the marriage proceedings in action was an emotional roller coaster. It evoked countless memories. If you’re a woman, then the first thing you notice in your old picture is your appearance. Given a choice, I would never wear the same heavy dress which did nothing to accentuate the figure of a young bride. The next shocker was the make-up! It was hardly there. And whatever was there was 'puraane zamaane ka'. My two aunts had painstakingly festooned my forehead with multicolored dots. And the huge nose ring? I could have walked straight out of Jodha Akbar’s set. Arghh…it had hurt so much. Not to mention the crimson shade my nose had acquired.
Immediately after the self-flagellation, I embarked on a self- admiration soiree. The kohl lined almonds with thick lashes sans mascara looked mesmerizing. Why do eyes shrink with age? Damn, the wrinkles! Why do they have to show up uninvited? Why doesn’t the waist-line retain its slender glory? The ravages of time are unsparing.
It was amusing to watch my friends and cousins fussing around me, hovering like mother hens. Why the fuss? I was perfectly confident of holding my twenty kg lehnga on a forty five kg frame. Then I started recalling old acquaintances, “Did you see her? She was my college friend? Did you see that uncle? He was our neighbor.” I felt my throat tighten instinctively as I saw my grandmother sitting pristine in white, watching all the proceedings without a hint of tiredness. Also, I couldn’t help but ache as I noticed that in a matter of two decades my own mother has aged considerably. In the pictures she appeared gorgeous, nattily managing the guests in her stilettos. And only yesterday, she was complaining of knee pain.
Then I saw my smiling dad welcoming the baaratis. Promptly my eyes welled-up and a stab of pain went down the heart. Why do people leave never to return? Not even once! Just for that warm reassuring hug? Watching him on the television in that moment, I could almost picture him entering my living room and caressing my head.
From the corner of my moist eyes, I noticed that my husband was looking at his own father rather wistfully. “You are lucky”, he said. “You have your mother; I lost both of them.” In the pictures on television however, the groom dressed in a white achkan was laughing and jesting with his office colleagues. He was beaming and appeared happy enough for the entire state of Delhi. Why doesn’t he laugh as often? But then, who am I to complain. Even I don’t giggle anymore.
We suddenly fell into silence. To lighten the mood the husband playfully remarked, “It was such an important event. Why wasn’t our son present at our wedding?’
“If he was there that day, perhaps you wouldn’t have agreed to marry me in the first place.”
And we both laughed.
“I dig into aloo and gobhi paranthas everyday,” declared Kareena at the launch of her dietician Rujuta Diwekars weight loss book. As if on cue, another svelte stunner Shilpa Shetty tweeted, ‘Just had a Krispy Kreme donuts yumm!’
Are we idiots or do these wafer thin celebrities derive vicious pleasure in such charades? Either they are fibbing or they are blessed with great metabolism. Or maybe, it is the magic of 108 surya namaskars they profess to perform daily.
That brings me to a delicious paradox. The two biggest sellers in any bookstore are the cookbooks and diet-books. The cookbooks tell you how to prepare food, and the diet ones tell you how not to eat any of it. I have never ever bought weight loss books. Well, I don’t have the patience to follow weird diets. I mean who has the time to shop for exotic berries, Pepino melon, avocado or lettuce on a daily basis? And who has the patience to dish out weight loss salads? Fad diets are quick fix solutions. The weight comes back with vengeance once people go off the fad diet. Also if I start 108 surya namaskars, the husband will have to go without food. Okay, fine. I accept that I am lazy and impatient. Perhaps the dogged ones go all the way. Kudos to them.
With famous nutritionists and weight trainers at your beck and call, maintaining chiseled bodies is a tad bit easier. Hrithik says, “If I can do it, so can you.” Surely! But you Mr Roshan did it with the help of Kris Genthin, an international weight trainer and Maracia, a renowned nutritionist. Plus the celebrities have only one mission in life – to look good. I mean looking good is their business. But for lesser mortals who juggle daily chores, losing mind comes more naturally than losing weight.
When I feel stressed and upset , I do not have the luxury of a nutritionist who will fix a broccoli soup or a trainer who will coax me start cardio exercises. In all likelihood I will raid the refrigerator, take out scoops of butter scotch ice cream stored for unannounced guests, pour some chocolate syrup which the son loves, and gorge on it until I feel better. And feel even more upset afterwards. Surely it is not a mere coincidence that stressed spelled backwards is desserts. Kismat mein oats and cereals ho to how can one gorge on donuts?
Recently at a book store, I browsed through Kallie Purie’s new book, ‘Confessions of a Serial Dieter’. Frankly I couldn’t even browse through. While leafing through a book a few lines can compel me to either sink in or jump out. Purie’s diet book had an assortment of diets and complex regimens which are not for sloths like me. If Purie is honest when she says that she tried 43 diets to find her happy weight, I salute her patience.
Rujuta Diwekar, another nutritionist became a bestselling author after her first book on weight loss. It was evident from the sales, that losing weight is a top priority for most urban folks. However, the question to be asked is: How many readers actually lost weight after reading the book? And more importantly how many readers were able to maintain their ideal weight? After any weight loss diet, people regain all the weight they lost because permanent weight loss needs a change of habits and not diets.And changing habits is a tedious process. There are no miracle cures. I have watched umpteen weight loss shows by Oprah and her ilk. And after watching Oprah recently at the literature fest, her countless weight loss shows over the decades seem such a waste.
I don’t believe in losing mind over losing weight; unless one is obese or unhealthy. It is best to keep the plan simple. Firstly, it is important to remember that Input = Output. Second, body weight depends on your metabolism. It is important to maintain a healthy lifestyle, control thyroid malfunction or hormonal fluctuations if any. And finally, since most women are emotional eaters, stress management plays an important role.
On a lighter note, LMAO is a great way to reduce weight in the hindquarters. "Practice safe eating — always use condiments."
It had to be spam. Why else would someone send me an e-invite for the largest literary festival in Asia- pacific, the Jaipur Literary Fest? I deleted the mail.
The following day, I received another one. It essentially said, “You have been invited to represent thousands of Bloggers in India. Please confirm your presence.”
Delete again.
The next day, I received a phone call. Someone was speaking on behalf of the organizers. “Madam, please confirm your presence so that we can register you on the panel of speakers and issue security passes. You are a part of our interactive session, immediately after Salman Rushdie where he replies to questions on his book, ‘Midnight’s Children’.”
I was not so imagining this. I cleared the lump in my throat and mumbled, “Yes, I will be there.”
Diggy Palace, Jaipur. Wow!
There was so much to be done. Air tickets, speech, dress, bookings etc…After all, I was on a panel, representing esteemed bloggers in an interactive session.
Finally, years of writing paid off. So what if I earn zilch from blogging. The pride of being a part of a festival widely acknowledged as the Kumbh Mela of Indian and international writing, was a definite high. And what’s more? I could rub shoulders with celebrities like Oprah, apart from reputed writers like Amitav Ghosh, Fatima Bhutto, Gulzar, and Jhon Elliot who are going to be a part of the festival.
Okay. Stop right now.
Tell me what are you thinking?
1. Why her? I have noticed typo-errors and grammatical mistakes in her posts. Plus, she is not even a published writer.
2. If this is the quality of writers being invited to the literary fests, thank God I was not invited. What has the world come to? Mediocrity is being applauded all around.
3. Someday, even I will be a part of the festival. There is hope for bloggers.
4. Why is she bragging about the invitation? Anyway, who is she to represent me?
Gotcha! Okay, I was fibbing. Apologies for that imaginary ride!
I am NOT an invitee at the Jaipur literature festival. I am simply a fence sitter who is watching all the brouhaha over Rushdie being a part of the literary festival. When every third malnourished child in the world is an Indian, the media and the neta log are busy discussing Rushdie’s presence on Indian soil. Misplaced priorities?
If some people enter your living room uninvited, pakaao you to death, even as you frantically press that remote, what do you do? I flip television channels like a maniac, yet some faces refuse to leave me alone. They haunt me on subsequent channels. Their acts, perfectly choreographed for the sake of television have become my nemesis. And for the sake of my sanity, I sincerely request the following divas and dudes to disappear from my television this year.
Master of Verbosity
Mani Shankar Aiyyar - If ever there was a medal for mastering the art of ruffling feathers and creating controversies, Mr Aiyyar would bag the gold medal. He is disenchanted with his own party, yet defends it with all the intellect and pedagogy at his disposal. Honestly, I am tired of political verbosity. How about a break from NDTV Mr Aiyyar? But then, what will poor Swapan do? What will happen to all the verbal pyrotechnics played on NDTV prime time?
Hollywood Hoaxes
After Anil Kapoor’s two-minute avatar in ‘Mission Impossible’ and Mallika Sherawats blink-and-you-miss presence in the ‘The Myth’, I am not inclined to see any Bollywood star as a glorified extra eulogizing his /her Hollywood arrival on television. Anyway, Mallika has to descend back around New Year, to milk her old item numbers. And then she has the gall to make outrageous comments on television, “My jhatka’s priceless”. Seriously?
Smug Wizard
Ravi Shankar Prasaad - Where does his smug expression come from? Even though he professes respect for the opposition, he wants his opponents to curl up and die! Thank you, Mr Prasad for unleashing the moral lectures on behalf of your party. Since your actions are not in alignment with your righteous words, why not take sanyas from television? After all, how many slanging matches of scoring points can I watch?
Buff Queens
The trio of Poonam Pandey, Veena Malik and Ms Sawant can go take diving lessons from the cliff where Osama was thrown in the sea. Anyway, since they wear nothing and do nothing, they are giving rise to more dumb wannabes like Pooja Mishra. If the trio needs male company, they can take Himesh Reshamiya along. The guy has guts. And if Himesh promises not to torture me with a new movie this year, the girls can take other inmates of Big Boss.
Unconvincing defender
Mr Chandan Mitra, how about sticking to ‘The Pioneer’? Just because the BJP rewarded you with a Rajya Sabha seat, you defend the indefensible for them. Thank you, but we can see through the cobweb of words which you so passionately love to weave. You would be advised to refrain from proclaiming that ‘Two wrongs make a right’. They don’t.
Indignant Loyalist
Honestly, I love Renuka Chaudhary. She is sooo amusing. She has the knack of conversing with her eyes, her shrugs and her smirks. Yet, I wish she disappears from my television because she trivializes serious debates. And also because I don’t trust her! She is the female Kapil Sibal of UPA – with a lethal beatific smile.
Picture this.
In a prime time debate on Lokpal, Shazia Ilmi of IAC asks Ms Chaudhary about her governments intentions regarding fighting corruption. After some inane punches Ms Chaudhary rolls her eyes, and quips, “Why don’t you fast against dowry deaths and female infanticide?”
How lame? Any connection between dowry deaths and corruption is tenuous at best.
The Incorrigible Diggy
He is either pandering to his vote bank, or playing to a gallery, or indulging in plain sycophancy. His comments on RSS and Anna are like a wretched record, that keeps playing over and over again, except that each time it sounds even more raucous.
I am sick and tired of the bitching fests, sensational comments and slanging matches of scoring points. Words, verbosity and rhetoric have become meaningless for me. Debates have become demoralizing. More so after the Lokpal fiasco. How about a maun vrat for a year? Come back with vengeance in 2013.
Anyway, the world will be over by Dec 12, 2012.
The Curious Case of Rampal
Rampal, a poor farmer always thought that the idol in his village temple had supreme powers. However, after repeated media reports he realized that his God was not supreme. There was something called the ‘Parliament’ that was supreme. Naturally Rampal wanted to see the Supreme Body. On reaching Delhi he was told that that the parliament had been disrupted. A disheartened Rampal decided to witness an ‘all party meet’ for a close ‘darshan’ of the supreme members who throng the hallowed precincts. But Rampal was denied entry at the all party meet. A disheartened Rampal sat on a hunger strike outside the meeting venue.
Some excerpts from the all party meet:
Chairperson: Baith jaiye, baith jaiye. Shant ho jaiye.
M Ban-nerjee: No. Our stand is a clear NO.
Chairperson: Madam, please listen to the agenda of the debate before giving your reactions.
M Ban-nerjee: I don’t care about the agenda. NO means NO. However, if you give us a Bengal package we can re-think. Derek will explain things on my behalf. That you will end up even more confused after his explanation is another matter. This Rampal fellow is a Maoist.
Chairperson: Honorable members, today we have to debate whether we should allow Rampal, ‘a commoner’ to witness this all party meet.
Bring-loo Yadav: Arre who is this Rampal? How can he claim to represent the peepool of this country? I am yet to recover from the nightmares of Lokpal and you are talking about Rampal.This appears to be some inter-nasnal conspiracy.Arre Mr Karat pleej check if this fellow Rampal is a CIA agent?
Behen Illusion-wati : Why should Rampal witness this meeting of supreme members ?According to the wishes of Manyawar Kanshi Ram ji, I will allow Rampal free entry in any of my parks. He can also click pictures next to the marble elephants.It will solve all his problems.
Sush-mother ji: We strongly oppose the entry of the common man. Today he wants to be a mute witness; tomorrow he will want to participate in the discussions. When we were in power, Congress had objected to the entry of Dharampal, hence we reject the entry of Rampal. How can the ruling party forget their promise of 'the sense of the meeting'?
Now-shake Singhvi: We rejected Dharampal because you had rejected RajPal in 1976. Let me tell you that Article 999 says that no ‘Pal’ with religious connotations can witness our meetings. Let me also quote clause 444, which says that members are not bound to respect the ‘sense of the meeting’. Please note Sush-mother ji, that clause 444 is separated by a semi-colon and not a comma. Hence the ‘sense of the meeting’ stands nullified.
Bring-loo Yadav: (Shouts) This is my nasun, our nasun. Arre bhai, even angrez left my nasun before I was born. Tell Rampal to win an election and then come here. Bhe will not allow communal forces inside the Parliament.
Chairperson: Baith jaiye, baith jaiye. Shant ho jaiye. Those in favor of Rampal’s entry may say Aye.. ..
I think the noes have it, the noes have it.
Softy Singh Yadav : (mumbles for full thirty minutes) Is Rampal a dalit, OBC, Christian or minority? Tell him to change his name to Rahimpal. I will then personally escort him to the meeting.
Sush-mother ji: This is wrong. You are advocating a second Partition. We will not allow this.
Ca-pill Sibal: (with angelic innocence) But YOU invited Rampal for this meeting, how can you go back on your promise? Who has created this Frankenstein monster called Rampal? Let me quote article….
Sush-mother ji: We invited Rampal with conditions. Now the conditions do not suit us. And since we reject Rampal’s entry, you have lost all moral right to rule this country. Your PM must resign.
Bring-loo Yadav: Aree bhai, I have come to know that Rampal has nine wives, how can we allow non-minority pepool with nine wives. Tomorrow all his nine wives will want to become Chief Ministers, then who will be responsible?
Mr. Bring-loo Yadav's deputy tears Rampal’s application in anger. Both Softie Yadav and Bring-loo Yadav walk out of the meeting.
After two decades of deliberation, when Rampal finally got permission to meet the supreme members, a registered letter reached his village. His wife told the postman, “Owing to huge debts, Rampal committed suicide five years ago.”
