Street Symphony


I hear voices in my head
They counsel me
They understand
They talk to me

The song played softly as I went for my evening walk today. It was late and I decided to stay close to home. Although the lane was full of kids of all shapes and sizes I maneuvered my way and managed five leisurely rounds.

It is very interesting to watch these kids while their mothers and care takers engage themselves in healthy bitching about various people ranging from MILs to some young servant in the next lane.

I switched the music off when I realized that the loud street symphony was making it hard for the voices in my head to do their job.

There was this little chap who resembled a tiny Slim Shady with his colorful clothes and funny street hip hop dance . He must have been around two years of age but a great entertainer. 😀  Standing in the middle of the lane  with  finger pointing in the direction of  his young mother and her bitching partner he was performing a gibberish song .

It went something like zzzzzzbbbeeehhhhhhhooooooozzzzoooooo (loud) ttttooooooooobbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrdddddddddddmmlllllll

This whole thing was accompanied by a spot hip hop kind of infant dance.

An Awesome performance 🙂 Not really enjoyed by the disenchanted caretaker who  silently  gazed at nothingness, oblivious to all of us.

I looked at my elder one for some help .

“What do you think he is saying ?” I asked

Parce que j’ai le jeu, mes chiennes !!

uh?

” coz I got game, bitches. “

He explained.

My loud laughter shook the young woman and brought her back to reality . She gave us a stare and  kid walked away.

A little ahead a group of small girls in various attires was jabbering away senselessly . I wondered how  they manage to listen and talk at the same time at such speed. (They start young, don’t they 😀 )

I could just catch some broken words  like

” doctor” “teacher ” Papa” “Mummy”  “naaaah” ” stop” “wait wait” ” (claps) ” school” ” boys” ( giggles) “shut up” “movie” and all other jumbled up  girlie talk.

They jumped up and down like yo -yos  creating  yet another noisy street symphony which seemed to follow you even whenever you went.

The mother of that infant hip hopper and her bitching partner had meanwhile decided to take a stroll along with us. Just ahead of us they exchanged their tearful sagas of being harassed housewives. I was surprised how easily the cuss words came. After every outburst  came a few words of advice and encouragement to fight it out boldly from the listener while the talker went on about what kind of rotten egg her MIL is .

I skirted past them and breathed some fresh air.  The fire-breathing dragons continued  to cherish their bond while we moved on to find the infant again performing at high pitch in front of his home. This time alone. He stopped to look at us as we smiled and ruffled his curly hair.

Suddenly the bicycle gang arrived  spoiling our walk on the moonlit road and to add to our woes they began to do stoppies and drowned all the other voices by their shrill bells and shouts.

We leaned against the parked car and watched the chaos . Adi decided to add some music to the already existing cacophony and switched on his mobile song player at full volume.

Amidst all this noise pollution my eyes caught sight of the most dreaded female of our lane. The staring monster of a woman who resembles Mrs. Trunchbull (Matilda) .

“WTF”

I saw Adi turn around and run upstairs . I knew  what caused this sudden escape but I was determined to give it back to her  this time. So I stayed and stared hard at her as she passed me by. One hand on hips and one swaying by her side.  I kept staring at her back knowing she would turn and she did . I loved the puzzled look on her ugly face.

Smiling I ran up the stairs and gave a high-five to Adi.

I learned a lesson : Never go for a walk in the lane between 6 to 7 unless you want to submit your mind ,body and soul to the devil.

Heirlooms : Treasures From The Yesteryears


When I was a small girl I used to wait for that sun drenched day when mom would open her black trucks and lay out the treasures. The fragrance of cloves which were normally tucked away wrapped in small bundles of voil. The carved wooden boxes with tiny velvet compartments. The heirlooms , the tiny silver spoons and bowls from our childhood , locks of hair and the umbilical cords ( yes she still has them ) all had a special place in my heart.

Ma would sit on the dari or chatai and I would sneak in from behind the door and wait for the cue. ( she has eyes at the back of her head too ) 🙂
Then her sweet voice will drift through like the morning winter breeze filling me with joy and I would rush to sit by her side.

The scene is still so vivid that every time I think about it my eyes fill with tears of joy. There was something magical about all that.

I did a post about it long ago The Black Trunk Do read it.

When my first child was born ma gave me some thing very special.

A silver power box with a geese feather puff for the little darling. It was special because it was my granny’s. My grandfather ( nana) had bought it when mom was born. The eldest of all the siblings. Now 80 years later it lies with me  neatly wrapped in the same voil piece from my granny’s old sari as I had seen it as a baby.

I never got it cleaned though it has beautiful engravings all over just for the simple reason that I wanted to preserve the antique look. The soft powder puff still smells of a fragrant lavender body talc which was used for me. I did not use it for my sons for some reasons so it remained inside the cupboard all along.

I noticed that all children have this habit of exploring 🙂 . One day I found my sons going through the contents ad blissfully  enjoying the touch of soft feather against their skin. I think if I had a daughter the things may have been different. Girls love such things. I do.

Mom  also gave me something priceless. I never saw my paternal grandmother but knew her to a very strong-willed woman. In those times  women of upper caste ( zamindars) were not allowed to step out without escorts and especially in Allahabad where she stayed there were many restrictions. My granny made her own rules and went alone for her early morning bath at the Ganges . This created a buzz in the household and the men did not like it at all but no one had the courage to speak against her. She was a religious woman like many others of her time but a very learned one. She stood for her rights and that of women in her household and made sure the new rules were accepted.

Ma never met her unfortunately . Theirs was an inter-caste love marriage and granny died before dad actually got married.

In her last days she took sanyas and went alone to live in Ayodhya where she stayed on her own till her last breath. A  life of dignity and self-respect.

She was a very talented woman ma tells us. An excellent cook, a woman with a generous heart and an open mind.  She gave me one of the very few things that were handed down to her from dad’s close relatives. ( His parents died before his wedding)

A long hand embroidered strip of black velvet. These strips were made with hand , a very laborious task , to be used as borders for saris .

 

I love the vibrant use of colors and  the fact that it is one of the three-four things left of my grand mom. A priceless piece of hand work. Sometimes I sit with these things and build stories around them. Imagining what kind of life she must have had. This sure  must be made in early 40s if I am correct.

These heirlooms are precious treasurer for me.  I will be doing two  more posts on such priceless things. Priceless not because they are valuable money wise  but because they hold a very special place in our hearts.

When ma fell seriously ill sometime back she called my children and handed them two silver bowls and a sindoor dani ( a silver box meant to keep vermilion powder} . These bowls are from my childhood and she wanted my kids to keep them as remembrance .The sindoor dani is mom’s . Dad had got it for her when they got married. Some day I will tell you about this inter caste love story 🙂

I am still looking out for more such treasures.  Old books  now not in print, baby clothes from our childhood, old B&W pix from mom’s childhood , old music records now a thing of the past and much more.

Keep looking out for the new posts.

Each of these things has a fragrance of the person who is associated with it, love that drifts in air around you and envelopes you in warm embrace.  Each has a story behind it , a memory of that time period . The people are long gone or old like my mom. Some day these very things will stay for generations to see and connect with their past. I don’t know what will happen to them when I am gone but for now they remain with me encased in a cocoon of love.

A fragrant memory.

Seven Random Things About me – A Fun Tag :)


The tag bug visits again.What exactly is tagging ?

Tagging v. A  gripping game played in the Blogosphere where bloggers link with each other for no apparent reason. From  The International dictionary of Blogosphere.

( stolen definitions are always the sweetest 😉  just like stolen kisses)

Zephyr Tagged me to do this Tag long time back and somehow it kept getting postponed. What are the seven random things I want to share with you all ? Well most of my friends know most of the things about me but still I will try to add some flavor to it.

Read and discover.

1. I am a magnet for troubled souls or as my elder one says for ” dukhi aatmas “.

It is a privilege , a curse, a boon I do not know how you will feel but I know that many a times I feel that I am the chosen one for listening to the people with broken hearts, troubled marital life, domestic problems ranging from the homes of my domestic help to those of my friends, frustrated people disappointed with life and many more who need a shoulder to cry on. They come and pour out their hearts ( to the annoyance of the entire family) and I feel like sitting behind the curtain in a confession box saying .” lay bare your soul and become light-hearted). The new addition to the dukhi atma group are young love birds for whom I turn into a love guru. Sigh !!

Oh yes , the virtual ones. Poor souls. I feel very strongly for my virtual troubled souls and jokes apart I do feel blessed that I can bring some solace into their lives even if it is for some short period. It  is a responsible job and trust me  very difficult too.  The worse thing is I get so emotionally involved with each one of those troubled souls that in the end myself become One big dukhi aatma .

Well ! Each one of us has some purpose to serve on this planet earth. Maybe this is one of the things I have to do before I conk off.

2. I am youngest of the three kids in the house.

🙂 This makes me very happy and my hubby very concerned. As if it was not enough to have two brats that he got blessed with an absolutely crazy child woman. It is fun to relive the childhood with my boys. they tease, play, scold ( oh yes) 😦  and bond so well with me. I feel loved and so warm from within to have such strong-willed , loving sons who are my best buddies too. The eldest of us three kids  is actually the youngest. ( my second son) and the elder one actually is almost my age. lol

Confusing ?

Kids think I am a chinky gansta when I dress up in low waist three quarters and carelessly thrown in Tee. They tower over me so I become choti matee or small ma or hamster when I curl in and make funny faces while reading or working on my laptop. It is fun. Fun because we have bridged that generation gap and think alike even though we all know where to draw the line.

Many of their friends are my buddies too and think I am a ” cool mom ‘  and that feels good. At least some one appreciates.

we play, go bonkers at night ( we are night creatures), have our own secret language, we are complete foodies, love to watch horror movies, Adi and I are totally into spirits, werewolves, ghosts, supernatural and he being the elder one provides all the major info on each subject. I am just a student. Sometime we just go crazy and laugh till our tummy aches.  It is a circus out here and we all go paglot and suglot which of course is not at all appreciated by the man of the house but them life is all about living it to the fullest.

I have been able to realise and relive many of my childhood things just by letting my inner child walk along with me, absolutely free.

It also helps me forget the pain and hurt of a life I lead.

3. I hate it when people interrupt mid sentence and start telling their own story and then try to finish the sentence  for you every time you open your mouth, and it happens with me all the time. It is the most irritating annoying thing I know of.For heaven’s sake can one have one uninterrupted statement. Stop reading people’s mind.

4. I speak and write  for a change . Although I am not always able to bring that much-needed change in my life and maybe I am not that tough to stand up against all that I go through in my home I think my opinion counts and one more voice against the issues which are usually pushed under the carpet or need our support to bring a change in the mindset of people  is important.

Be it Marital rape, child abuse, crime against women or men, guy rights, sex education or any such issue

you can read them all here  Writing for a change

5. I love to draw on a  fogged up mirror . It is one thing my son loves too so many a times we leave messages for each other to decode and its fun. I usually make a graffiti or leave a quote or an emoticon like a heart or devil depending on my mood. Talking of moods, it is also a place to vent your feelings 🙂 . try it

6. I am a chocoholic and never ever share my chocolates with anyone. I love  dark bitter chocolates, After eight and orange flavor are my favorite apart from the liquor filled ones .uuuummmm

Give me some bars of chocolates and a few books and I can live forever on that. Of course a laptop can be an added delight just in case I feel like blogging. Netaddict that I am.

7. some more random stuff

I love snakes, raptors, spiders, insects and all that the nature offers. I feel that we should open our heart to all that is around us and connect with it. I feel that we are all free-floating souls and once in while our heartstrings get attached with some one some where whom we have never seen and yet we seem to feel the pull. I feel that the universe has immense power and if we trust the process of life it guides us and we are able to decode its signals. I rely on my gut instincts and believe that the  inner instincts are alway right. Society for me is double-faced so I make my own choices and as far as possible do not give in to so-called ” social” norms , values, pressures. That is what I teach my kids. Worshipping God for me is loving and respecting oneself and the life in general.

All those reading this please consider yourself tagged .

Of chocolates and secret hiding places


Who moved my chocolates?

“Life is like chocolate, it’s the bitter that makes one appreciate the sweet”


The scene opens at T’s Den 😉 ).

The main Male protagonist visibility shaken by the events of the day is speaking on the phone with his MIL. The anxiety writ large on his face.

The main Female protagonist is furious and is holding a court . The accused or for now I can call them suspects are her two teenage children.

The offence – robbing their mom off her two precious bars of dark chocolates .

The question that baffles MP is How can the mother control the kids if she herself is equally childish ?

Childish ?????

The FP is pained. Only those who have passion for the sacred thing called chocolate or chocolat as the French call it can understand the feeling .

Sensuous, silky, bitter, sweet, nutty, fruity, intoxicating aromatic chocolate.

The arguments continue and the tension mounts . The suspects plead not guilty  but their plea is brushed off .

The MP is still trying to find some logic and calls his wife’s mother for some much-needed help but discovers that  the chocolate crazy MIL is proving to be of no help and is actually siding by his tantrum throwing wife.  He is not amused. He curses and slams down the phone .

The boys have taken a vow of silence (any thing you say will be held as an evidence against you) and are pretending to look as innocent as they possibly can.

The questioning continues.

The bars of chocolate in question were hidden at a secret (supposed to be secret) place to be eaten at leisure at some perfect time but now that box stares at the owner. Empty. Not even some leftover crushed pieces. No sign of any evidence.

The situation is grim .

After  long session of one woman verbal onslaught everyone is tired.With damp eyes and broken heart the FP declares that the suspects are grounded till they confess or at least find the culprit.

There is a loud protest and slogans about child abuse and freedom of children and their rights .They all fall on deaf ears.

The court is adjourned .

The MP tries to put in his efforts to calm the situation but there seems to be no end to the flying tempers .

The boys want the sanctions to be lifted. The FP wants her prized possessions back. The MP wants peace on at least one Sunday of his life.

FP decides to take a day off from the kitchen and pulls a quilt over her head and sulks. NO Chocolates,  No FOOD.

The suspects bang the door to their cell (room) and accuse each other of having put the other one under suspicion.

The MP picks up his car keys and rushes out in rage .

Uneasy Silence descended at T’s den.

The scene closes.

Scene 2 opens with the MP placing two new bars of liqueur filled dark chocolates on the table with strict orders to the boys to lay off them.

After an endless wait the FP finally decides to work on her beloved  PC and leaves the sulk bed to come to the other room.

Her eyes catch the gleaming bars of deliciously sinful bars of chocolates on the dinning table .

With rising emotions she picks them up and places them close to her heart. In a matter of a moment all her anger, hurt and pain  melts away.

Such are the magical soothing effects of chocolate.

There is a sigh of relief from MP who knows that it is time for one more happy ending .

The suspects sit on their beds waiting for the verdict.

FP finally gathers her emotions and sets them free of the charges under Benefit of doubt.

The younger of the two boys gives a tempting mischievous smile to his mother, who in turns hugs him fondly but one thing is clear.

Nothing in the whole world can make her share her chocolates, you have to earn it to eat it .

Afer the incident the kids learned some new state of the art tricks to outsmart their mom. They say every generation is better than the previous one. 😀 My kids certainly are proving it right and my mom never fails to give that evil smile that says .. “I am loving every bit of it,  you deserve it all honey.”

Zephyr’s post Hide and Seek reminded me of my childhood days when mom tried her level best to hide food stuff  like laddus, toffees, burfis, cookies, chocolates and other such sumptuous delights and I would always ferret them out. It was a great advantage to a die-hard foodie like me that my elder brother had lactose intolerance and all the sinful basundi, ashrikhand and other yummy stuff came my way including the nuts and raisins which he disliked in the smooth flowing kheer etc.  but still I resented that ma should make that extra effort to hide laddus ets.

She would tell dada where exactly she had managed to hide the laddus for him and he would look at her with pity, knowing the box would certainly be empty. I never disappointed him. Ma still hid things.

The fun part was that the places she decided as the safest easiest to find. Something to do with my being super sensitive sniffer. It was not just the usual things that mom had to hide, unusual stuff like imli, anardana, etc needed much more protection. The case of the missing imli ( tamarind) remains a popular story that ma loves to narrate to my kids when I complain of their  hide and seek adventures.

As a little girl I loved to eat raw tamarind and ma would hide it at most unusual places and one day when she would be off and in mood to make that delicious aamti or sambhar  she would call dada to recover the goods only to find that her plan had failed . She would only find traces of the tangy delight and some pits. 😀

I would close my eyes ,ears and pretend dead till the storm died down. Never had I imagined that I would get boys who would shame me with their awesome skills of not only finding the hidden things but also hiding them.

Blackmail is the only thing that sometimes works with them when I discover something missing. Unfortunately both my boys have developed exactly the same tastes as me and every time a drama like the one above takes place I feel guilty of doing all that I did as a kid. But these are the joys of childhood I guess. Childhood, did I say ? ;D

Well, you can’t blame someone for doing this,  it’s all about having undying passion and love for that particular delicacy.

It’s jungle rule here.

Take care of your stuff,.

Beware of the robbers.

Eat or drink as soon as the thing enters home to avoid being left out.

Eat your fill 😀

Keep cordial relations even with the enemy, you never know when you will need allies.

Discover new unthinkable places to hide your booty and

If you can not do any of this just show who is the authority here. 😉 That pretty much works.

One of the best places to hide chocolates is the vegetable tray in the fridge. Just put the bar or box there and load the veggies on top of that. Till now it has worked. 😀

The idea is to keep changing the secret hiding places every now and then and always keep your super sniffing nose clean 😀

Being a daughter, old age and the empty nest


This is a Blogadda Spicy Saturday Pick

Best Spicy Saturday of 2010. Top 25 .Yay

“Mother wait a little longer,
Till my little wings are stronger,
Then I will fly away.”

When my first-born Adi started school he was barely three. I remember how happy he was on the first day of the pre school on that fine winter morning. All dressed in a new set of clothes, carrying a small colorful school bag and a million dollar smile in his eyes which travelled to his lips the moment we reached the school gate.

He just ran inside and suddenly realising that he had forgotten me, turned and waved. I gave him a flying kiss and just as I turned to go back I felt the first pang of loneliness. My child had taken first step away from me in a new direction which led to his own world where I will be just a spectator.

I held back the tears and smiled. I had given him the wings now it was his turn to soar.

I don’t think I really felt that I had taken that first step towards ” empty nest syndrome”. It was all about Adi discovering, exploring and learning. That is what we were taught as little kids. To blossom.

After four years Shubhang came into my life and again the same process of preparing him to expand his horizons began and soon he too started his play school. Both the boys were very fond of their school and never missed a single day. Life was opening it’s gates for them one by one and each one of them was taking a new step every day just a little further from me.

It was at that time I remembered my parents  and how they  had given their unconditional support and love  for me to spread my wings and fly.

Now at the age of 78 she is alone. My father passed away four years back and since then I have seen struggle between the independence she is used to and the love and support she needs due to frail health and old age. My parents always believed in living independently and while my dad was alive they stayed on their own inspite of raised eyebrows and wagging tongues. Everyone thought it was my brother’s moral duty to look after the aging parents and he never shrugged from it but  dad believed in “not being dependent” till they can manage.

They left for Pune and stayed in Athashree , a unique housing complex only for elderly. The decision made the relatives gossip. Although it was their own decision and I think a right one then also everyone made us feel guilty. The place was well-connected, and had all the facilities but because Old Age Homes are such a taboo in our society that both of us kids had to listen to hundreds of accusations.I don’t know why sending old parents to old age homes has such a negative connotation in India. Sometimes we are left with no option.

Putting children on guilt trips is not right in my opinion. Some children do leave opportunities, like my hubby did , to stay with their parents  but ultimately how right it is , is the question.

With my father gone , my mom wanted to live independently and pursue whatever she had dreamed of. Travel, attend concerts, plays, meet friends, and much more but the idea of her staying alone in a big city scared us.

I felt for the first time the disadvantage of being born as a daughter. Why is it that once a girl is married her role in her parent’s life finishes and it is the always the male child who is suppossed to look after and care for the old parents. I realised that for every visit, for calling them to stay over when dada was busy or touring, for going out with mom , I had to seek permission and face lot of questioning and hear continuous saga about why I should bother about them when my brother and his wife  are  there, once married I was supposessed to only look after my parents in-law. Daughters are ” paraya Dhan” once married off they belong mind ,body and soul to the their husbands and in-laws that’s the norm and I question it very strongly. Why should a girl leave per parents who gave her birth, taught her the basics of life and made her what she is today ?Twice when one of my parents was ill and brother needed help, I was forcefully, accusingly denied to go and care for them by my in-laws. Things changed a bit when my ma in law herslef fell ill and I came to her rescue. Still she very grudgingly “allows” me to go see ma when I am needed by her. As if she is doing me a favor by allowing me to visit my old mom. How disgusting that is.

That really irritated me. Why do we expect the girl to look after the guy’s parents only and leave her own to their own destiny? How many times is it that a guys takes interest in caring for his in laws?

When I got married into a traditional orthodox family ( mine was a supposed love marriage , I knew the guy but not the family), on every step I discovered how further I was getting away from my own parents. It was a transition I had to make from a daughter to a daughter in law and trust me it is not easy at all.

Many parents expect the kids to sacrifice their happiness for the sake of the their ego and that leave me speechless, because I always think that Parenthood teaches selflessness, to love and respect your kids unconditionally.

There are always two extremes , of children throwing parents out in their fight for property or any other issue and the parents accusing children of  leaving them behind ”  to pursue their dreams. Both the situations are sad. Why can’t their be a solution. There the role of housing societies for elderly comes.

Coming from a liberated, modern background of free thinkers, it hit me hard to accept and mould myself  most of the times unwillingly to age-old customs, rituals and doctrines. The battle continues. Having no financial independence has limited my say.

Job opportunities  take children away leaving old parents to themselves and in such cases if there is not much choice why not opt for such a society where elderly people stay and enjoy life with all facilities, safety and medical care.

Here in our society people are too rigid to go to counsellors, to live in homes for the elderly, to pursue interests and plan their own lives after retirement and once kids start living their lives, whether living with them or  far away. Parents thing they own their kids and treat them like puppets. one statement that I often hear in my in law’s home is ” we have given them birth, educated them , spent so much on them, now its time to pay back. “.. I often think how cruel this mentality is and what effect it will have on children and their future.

I feel parents should give their children their identity and wings to fly and children. In our society it’s a sad situation for both girls and boys. The goal of the parents is to get the daughter married and here I talk of the majority of parents and for boys they have a set pattern of educating them to get them on some job depending on their ability and then demand the payback of all their years of raising them up. They are slaves who have to follow every thing parents tell them from job to marriage to their choice of girl and then how to lead their lives without becoming Joru ka Gulam ( thanks IHM for the phrase). They never let go , clinging on to them, judging each decision kids take especially the mothers for they have little else to involve them in later years.

Erma Brombeck says.

It is those mothers who cannot accept the loss of the supervisor’s role who turn themselves into controlling mothers/mothers in law in later years. Adults should not only teach their children to be independent and rejoice in it, they themselves should learn to be independent and rejoice in a job well done too.

I always wonder who eventually becomes their Budhaape ka sahara , the DIL or the son? While he continues to enjoy life as before , she leaves her job and sits at home to care for them and listen to their taunts. The fact that feel unwanted is nothing to do with old age , I know friends who keep complaining about their school going children esp sons and how they make the parents feel unwanted so the question of old age loneliness is nothing to do with feeling of being unwanted.

There is always a comparison to joint families of their times but now a days where there are 1-2 kids and nuclear families  the old-fashioned thing can’t work out and that becomes beyond their closed understanding.

There are parents who have progressed and moved ahead with changing times but what’s the percentage ?

We are all conditioned to the thought of ” not to let go” and that creates the problem and old people have difficulty in filling the void.

I feel blessed that my parents gave me an upbringing where I can detach myself from my kids and let them be. When Adi turned 18 this year I posted a post for him. I gave him roots and wings as a present.

Life is a bitter-sweet symphony and one loves to be wanted but not really at the cost of the happiness of our children. I hope the mind-set would change and kids will be treated as people and not just a part of the parents.

As Gibran says ,

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”

I love my mom, go and meet her at times, care about her and so does my brother in his own way but from parents to children we are all independent beings above all relationships. The teachings I got from my parents I have instilled in my children inspite of all the pressures from my orthodox in-laws and I hope the kids too will never hold their children captive, physically or emotionally.

Blogging , writing , music, travel I have a lot of things I would love to pursue when my boys go away . What is your plan ?

Agony and Ecstacy


It was the night of Pain. It came slowly and gently. Caressing the entire body, making it numb, overpowering it. I was aware of it’s coming. I was conscious of the pain. I accepted it and slowly gathered my positive healing energies to befriend it.

I allowed the natural forces to heal my body. My senses were alert, I became the pain for that moment. The physical pain is part of life but it is the psychological pain that needs to be tackled.It needs to be dissolved. When my mind took over the physical pain it turned it into the psychological pain and created a problem. Thinking about it always does. Reality never is a problem but the ideas that come with it are the real source of problem. If you are able to dissolve that pain you start living in that moment.

Psychological pain is a thing of past as the mind exist only in the past or future, reality exists in the present.

Osho says

“The mind and body are closely related and not antagonistic towards each other as other religions depict them. They tell you to deprive the body of its needs by fasting and torture it to enrich the soul. Osho says exactly the opposite. Love your body, talk to it, share your problems with it and it will respond.”

So I talked with my body and asked it and myself if I was holding up any grudge, any tension or any suppressed emotion. Consciously I started to dissolve it but I needed professional help. My Akka is a pranic healer and has done many distant healing sessions for me.

I called her and explained . The pain, the heat ,the drained out feeling everything. She advised me to have a spoonful of onion juice to cure the inner heat and relax. Slowly the pain started to melt away.

How did it happen? What is pranic healing?

I need to do a write up on this soon. It has helped me in past too, in conditions of extreme discomfort and pain. I found that it brought immediate relief to me.

Pranic Healing is an ancient science and art of healing that utilizes prana or ki or life energy to heal the whole physical body. It also invloves the manipulation of ki and bioplasmic matter of the subject’s body.

It not only makes you­ aware of the aura aro­und the­ huma­n body -­ t­he ­’chakras’­ (energy centers) and their effects o­n our health, but also teaches us how to feel or scan the­ aura and determine which parts of the chakras may be affected. By learning about energy, we become more conscious about its ubiquitous presence.

I learned that by focusing on a specific area, or specific illness I was able to reduces it’s symptoms. Having faith in the healer and her therapy helped me concentrate and release the discomfort. Guess it is time to learn the art.

I have been doing healing myself but do not know what to call it. I have seen my son’s temperature go down, even distant healing had proved very beneficial but one needs to learn the correct method and maybe if my mind and body are receptive to the healing energies around me, I should learn to use them for friends and family.

Awareness, acceptance and loving oneself is the key to good health.
So the pain subsided and i found the reason. Maybe I was stressed and fatigued emotionally, mentally and physically and the more I though about it the more I suffered.

Time 10 o’clock in the morning.

The board results are finally out and Adi has done wonderfully as expected by him. The best gift to him is that the friend whom he was teaching and who had no chance of even clearing the boards got 62%. It made both the kids so proud of their hard work. I saw the happy smiling faces and said a little prayer.

It is a good thing to be humble and helpful. Adi has these qualities and it makes me feel good as a parent.

The party is due now for all the friends and Sunday seems a good day for it.

Here’s wishing them luck for the future.

Rock on guys !!!

The agony turned into ecstasy and the body in a state of lovingness, healed itself completely.

Life is beautiful once again and it is because I am beautiful within..

A NaBloPoMo post

I WON !!!!! YAY!!!! A Thank You Hug to All


The feeling is yet to sink in. 😀 .. After weeks of networking I finally made it to the top three and won the third place in the Mother’s Day blog Contest organized by IndusLadies.

Here is my entry which got me the prize

I Am What I Am Mamma Thanks To You(Indus Ladies mother’s day blog contest entry)

This entry got the maximum number of blog comments and was picked up by BlogAdda as

Spicy Saturday pick

I thank BlogAdda for the recognition it gave me as a blogger.

It was an out n out networking competition and many prolific writers participated in it. Some entries did not reach the top ten or top three due to lack of proper networking but they do deserve a special mention here .

Pal of Crocodile Tales

Ugich Konitari Guppa
are the two which really were awesome posts and deserved to win .

I would like to Thank IndusLadies, Ritu ( my friend, mentor and organizer of the contest), all those wonderful friends who voted for me, my kids and their friends who did major chunk of networking for me, Indiblogger and other communities,My firends ,communities on social networking sites like like Facebook, Orkut which supported me all through and most of all My Mother without whose love and unconditional support this would not have been possible.

A perfect mother’s Day gift for me 🙂

So here is a PKJ to everyone (pyar ki jhappi)

Thank you and Cheers!!!!!!!!!

Time now to celebrate 😀