Friday Fables - In Heaven We Feed Each Other

While undertaking research for a work related project, I had the precious privilege of going through several parables. These were extremely short stories which were profound enough to put life into perspective. I decided to stalk a few of them here - the Home of my Thoughts. Henceforth, each Friday, I will try to gather some ageless wisdom, wit or perspectives, which I believe, add more value to life. These could be folk-tables, fables, parables or simply, granny stories.

The first in these series is a Chinese folklore, which is an apt comment of the values of love, care and concern for others, and the fact that we are little beings if we are not able to think of our fellow brethren before us. Why this parable was particularly striking was because it echoed an episode of Star Plus' Mahabharata, where the plot of this tale was a riddle for the Kauravas and Pandavas to solve. Needless to say, Kuntiputra won in this incident, which I am pretty confident, was a later interpolation. 

Anyway. The story. 

There was an Old Chinese Man who knew he would die soon and he desired to know what Heaven and Hell look like. He approached a Wise Man in the village with his request who led him down a strange path, deep into the countryside. 
They came upon a large house where they found men seated around a huge table with scrumptious variety of food laid down. The strange thing was, all the men around the table were thin and hungry, because they held chopsticks which were 12 feet long. Getting such huge chopsticks to feed themselves was impossible! This was a scene of Hell. 
The Old Man and Wise Man then went to a similar house, where people were happy and well-fed, despite having chopsticks 12 feet long. When the puzzled Old Man asked how this was possible, the Wise Man replied, “In Heaven, we feed each other.”

PC - Glogster.com

Hurriedly Scribbled #2

This one is a little late, but since my blog crossed 8,00,000 views a few hours back, today's countdown post is very much in order.

So, if someone were to ask you, what was the one thing you discovered in the year of life which just went by, what would you say? Really - its a question to which you must write an answer in the comment box below. What I want to see is if you can actually stop at scribbling one thing down. In an entire year, one could discover so much about himself, about life, about people. Can there actually be that one, overpowering thing which towers above all the other experiences of life, establishing itself in a position of dominance, from where it stands a chance of influencing and shaping your life?

As is apparent, I asked this question to myself. I often do, but I wake up to different answers. As of today, my answer would be, that the 24th year of my life was significant because it was in this time period that I discovered feminism. I am not sure if my discovery was related to unearthing a mini-feminist sitting crouched somewhere inside me, but I have definitely become more sensitive to the misogynistic strains which permeate the air we unconsciously breathe. Honestly put, its troublesome, to see how stereotypes relating to gender and sexuality are just accepted without challenge, and to find yourself become sensitive and reactive to them. Its an honest admission. I reckon I was better off when I could laugh at those of my ilk when others chose to make a joke out of them. This day, I cannot. I don't get messed up with anger, but rightfully indignant I do become when I see biological limitations becoming a curse, and social conditioning getting more regressive by the day. Try as hard as I might, I cannot laugh at what Kapil Sharma puts up as humour. It was funny for the initial bit, but to make a trend of laughing at women, servant class, and obese people - no, it just doesn't work any more. I did hear someone call Kapil the Shekhar Suman of our times, and with whatever little I remember of Movers & Shakers, I tend to disagree. Lets leave the rants at that.

A magazine I edited while heading the Women Studies and Development Cell, back in JMC

I don't like cooking. I don't want to cook. I always knew it was a difficult position to assert, but the fact that I would have to negotiate with not just individuals, rather entire communities to have this fact understood was not known to me. Ask Neha, please, how I routinely burn my eggs even in the simplest of recipes, or how I almost always end up adding extra salt in my maggi, sometimes even twice the amount of that extra salt, and you would know what kind of a culinary cripple I am talking off here. A few years back, I had even heard of a phenomenon called 'Mageirocophobia', which is the fear of cooking, and had conveniently adopted the label, till it was shrugged off by the dust of sookha aata on the chappati I was learning to flatten with a rolling pin. I can finally get them nice and round, but its only as enjoyable as a once-a-fortnight craft activity for me. I would enjoy painting the kitchen walls with vegetable dyes in an equal proportion. Unfortunately for many around me, this was the year I discovered Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, Simone de Beauvoir and Parveen Shakir. I discovered Virginia Woolf and via the might of her quill, I understood the possibilities which would have been snatched from the hands of a certain, fictional Judith Shakespeare. (Among many of my professors, Dr. Baran Farooqi I specifically need to thank here). I learnt how economics influences the social, and how soon the personal starts becoming political. Vague? Well, yet again, a coffee invite is open. By the way, do you have any theories about the origin of the concept of incest? Try researching, some awesome nonsense might raise its ugly head in front of your eyes then.

The above is only a minute fraction of what has been festering inside me since long. It was the most pleasant journey of my life which probably ended up turning me into a feminist. Probably. And no, it is not because of some harsh experiences related to my body or sexuality. Yes, those are avenues of study for anyone wanting to delve into the politics of gender, but this is not the trigger for me. My problems started surfacing with something much more basic, perhaps even trivial to the world - emotions. Caught teary-eyed in certain situations, I realized that my valid concerns were being overlooked, undermined, just because tears, or sentimentality have come to acquire gendered connotations. I was not always PMSing while I was trying to make the world understand what part of me was hurting and why. In case of conflicts, primarily with the other sex, it was always expected of me to see reason, logic, and abandon emotions as they stifle fruitful outcomes. I failed to find logic in situations which had feelings attached at the very core of them. If I cry, I am emotional. If they show temper, they are not. Its sort of baffling, and ridiculous. And this did not end till one day I decided I will not go down to the level of logic till they decided to rise to the level of emotions. The process of othering, which I always found ludicrous, is the only refuge my expressions in this case have come to adopt.

Aaqib Raza Khan and his magic lens, yet again

I have a paper on gender, two days from now. You can see I am decently prepared. Superficially yes, but I'll conquer my syllabus soon.

The 24th year of my life was also the one where I discovered poetry and mythology. And some fantastic relationships. I'll pen them down soon too. For now, 6 days to go!
(This post is an hour late, hence I quote the figure 6)

Rewriting Delhi - Part I

Around December last year, I began assisting Asif Khan Dehlvi in his endeavour named Delhi Karavan, which is a concept traversing through time and space to serve the best of Delhi in front of those who are in love with the city, and are eager to explore it. In my journey with Delhi Karavan, I realized the truth in the oft quoted line - To have travelled is to have arrived. I am more of a ghostly presence there, seldom manifesting in actual events, but lurking somewhere behind the online face of it. The freedom which Asif grants me to explore my city, my way, is what makes even this virtual journey so liberating, and in keeping with the same spirit, I started drafting for Delhi Karavan mini Facebook columns called 'Rewriting Delhi' sometime back. These columns were about how I saw my city, and what is it that fascinated me about it. In the form of stale quintets, I decided to share these columns with you as well, also to know what is it about this rich, ravaged, reconstructed city that you happen to admire.

Here is the first quintet, the first five posts written under #RewritingDelhi 

#1

"Meri muhabbat pe shaq na kar ae sheher mere
Par teri dewaaron par laparwaah si kabhi sachchai bhi dikh jaati hai"

Armed with a new phone in hand, with awesome camera specification, I was eager to click the best visuals from my city - and this is the first that caught my eye in a fast food outlet in Connaught Place. It amused me, yes, but also shook up some funny memories of misogynistic encounters I have had while travelling through the deemed safest areas of Delhi. I love this place I live in, and this is where I want to die - but our city has to go a long way in becoming a safer haven for women. Or so I think.

Some people, I reckon, need to read the writing on the wall.

Spotted inside McDonald's, somewhere in CP

#2

"Panno mein uljhe chehron ko dekha hai kya kabhi?
Tujhmein hi ae sheher yeh apna khwaab sajaate hain"

This lane has a distinctive importance of its own - if you ask me, then more so. This is where the dreams of many an aspirants for the highest jobs in India come to seek salvation. Not just that, this is where an entirely different kind of crowd scurries in as well - and that is the foodie crowd. If you are a chaat-deewaana, it can't be that you have not heard of the Shri Prabhu Chaat Bhandaar in Delhi. Just in case you have not, you must rush here to see the confluence of some serious aspirations with some tangy flavours.

Right beside Dholpur House, the destination for many aspirations

#3

The excitement of devouring these lovely, fried pieces of potato was such that I could not avoid getting the click blurred. But then, that is what #DelhiChaat does to you. Invariably, in all corners of the city, around the next bend, at short distances from each other, you will find jazzy chaat stalls inviting you with all their might to taste the sweet and tangy flavours they have to offer. Golgappas, Tikki, Lachchha Tokri and a spread of some other delectable quick-foods is irresistible. For me, however, these fried potatoes - called Aaloo Chaat - work best. Is it the same for you too?

This is proper Delhi fast food, which no number of Americanised joints can push out. And thats what I will keep believing.

Aloo Chat!

#4

“Kya manzil ki tak mein zindagi basar karoon
Ya is safar ko hi apni manzil maan loon?"

Have you ever felt like taking a taxi to nowhere, to travel for the sheer pleasure of travelling? This picture, by my dear friend, Aaqib Raza Khan gives me dreams, it makes me want to become an explorer. A taxi to nowhere could also be a taxi to everywhere, or so I think.

I don't see many taxis around in the city, except now for those fancy call-cabs, each an advertisement hoarding in itself. But then, this is also how my city is changing, evolving, becoming new.

Aaqib Raza Khan's lens clicks these beauties!

#5

"Ae sheher tu razdaar bhi, dildaar bhi, fankaar bhi
Jo panaah de, na sawaal kare, woh humsafar, woh yaar bhi"

You did not think this city opens its arms only for you, is it? When you head out to capture interesting moments, you find them being played out between creatures of all colours and sizes. Like here. These were spotted lurking on top of a shed in some corner of Dargah Nizamuddin Auliya, caught deftly by the all observing camera of Aaqib.

Are they growling, or romancing? That is where my thoughts end, still wondering.

Inside Dargah Nizamuddin Aulia, again clicked by Aaqib

PS - If you liked what you got to read here, more will come your way, soon!

Meanwhile, why don't you follow @DelhiKaravan on Twitter, or hop onto their Facebook page by clicking here.

Pyaar is PACH

Dear PACH

You know writing to you means a lot to me. A lot more than these letters are ever able to convey to you. I always thought of you as this grand entity, to whom I could write a lot of letters, about the kind of difference you make to my life - and you would give my letters a cursory glance, a benign nod at most, and then forget about it, allowing it to sink somewhere in the deluge of fanmail you get. But you, PACH, you're different. Nervous and excited, as I entered your ninth carnivalesque gathering, little did I know that you would have ready for me letters and notes and colours and brush-strokes - an entire collection of artistic treasures in response to all these words and love-filled gestures I have sent your way. Its only someone with a heart as large as yours who could have managed it - yes, you!

"P aur CH ki shaadi se kaam achchhe hue hain
Mubarak ho aapko, PACHche hue hain!"

 

Remember that day you were born? Oh, I am talking of your rebirth - not in that faraway land, but in my own backyard. That was the day you filled me with mirth, and filled three other quiet quills with inspiration. Yes. You were born as an inspiration, or better still, you were born to inspire, to motivate, to instil in tentative minds an urge to explore their dormant creative facets. I am not kidding - you can ask them around. Yes, you can ask those very faces who were waiting to burst into cheers and laughs from behind the colourful door at Bade Bhaiya's house. Tell me, aren't you glad that genuinely amazing people like Bade Bhaiya, Bhabhi, Sripriya and Amma associate themselves with you? That they not only open the doors of their house, but also of their hearts for you? That their love reaches you not just via the warm reception you get, but also through the aroma of most sumptuous, home-made food that is laid down specially for you? That Manmohan bhaiya always manages to find time to share his compositions with you despite having ultra-busy schedules? Also, aren't you, like, totally flabbergasted to have someone like Sandeep bhaiya add dollops of exuberance to your already lively existence, and then, to have him invite you over for a snug session somewhere in the chilly month of December? Yes yes, I know you are excited to go over and revel in the mutual exchange of happy, positive energies - but there is time till we get to that. 

Bade Bhaiya - "Larger Than Life"

S P Uncle, Manmohan Bhaiya and Sripriya -
I consider myself lucky to have met them :) 

I am not able to get over the love that poured out of sweet dish which Amma made for us. And the subtle cheer which Ambika bhabhi carried in her personality. And also the wisdom which poured out of S. P. Uncle's simple versus drawing a contest between technology and traditions. This time when we all met, there was a perfect confluence of enthusiasm and sagacity - an experience that can only be felt, not delineated. When the teacher and taught are present in the same room, with no walls separating them - as spectators what you get are little hints into what 'perfection' in life comprises of and what the true definition of a 'blessing' is. It all happens when you go places, PACH. And you are zooming around at a pretty mind-boggling speed. You still give us ample time to sit down and savour moments and allow them to seep deep into our beings. How you manage such crazy, magical, impossible, contradictory acts - well, its time I stopped asking you that banal question. 

When excitement was on its uphill journey 

I hope the superboss does not mind this little transgression I am going to make while whispering something into your ears. I remember this day I gave my mother a long-ish letter, written in my unbelievably grotesque handwriting, with a lot of random crayon strokes forming the background. She said nothing, merely read it and smiled - and this day, I know she was happy and proud. But more than either of them, she was surprised - because she did not think I was capable of such expressiveness (and yes, I am trying hard not to sound vain, but PACH, I know you understand. PACH always understands). I wrote that letter for no specific occasion; only because I felt like doing it, and invested great hours into perfecting each sentence, so my mother understands how important she is to my life. The sense behind narrating this non-eclectic incident to you is to try and approximate the immediate thought which occupied my head between the end of surprises and beginning of introductions. PACH, you surprised me. Well, I know thats what you intended - but no! Its not the surprise that surprised me - your capacity and capability did. Your skills and warmth did. Your eagerness to love did. Your will to share did. Your remarkable maturity did. The gleam in your eyes did. So much more did. I feel like telling you what I often tell Anup - whoever gave birth to this phenomenon, it now has acquired a life of its own. It just knows where to go, how to progress. 

"Poore PACH ka jama chittha, ek jagah chipkaya hai"

You have little idea of what you pulled off. Given a week's distance, I am in a better position to understand and appreciate the spectacle. To Neha, I need to say - I cried. I should have been howling, but I could not understand half the buzz which surrounded me. Its a great feeling to be subdued once in a while - take my word for it. I might try and repeat the mommy metaphor here - but, you get the drift. 

One day, we'll read and not eat this one :) 

Dear PACH, how does one pack so much together? Do you know what all? Drama + Mad laughs + Chocolates + Feelings + Love + Tears + Sugar + Bling + Disbelief + Riddles + Poems + Colours + Energy + Creativity + Blessings + Beauty + More disbelief + Even more love + Wishes + Fishes + Hugs + Tales + Some more love... and I'm cutting short this list only because I am too sleepy. You can still know that you made me feel infinitely special. I can go ahead and say that this was one piece missing from the jigsaw of life. Only you were capable of putting it there with all crazy, gaudy shades. 

This picture carries one of the rarer, photographed smiles of
perhaps the most prolific poet I know - Navin Dutta. I'm learning from him, each day. 

He just might be narrating his letter to his future wife here.
Wonder how many would be scurrying in his direction after hearing him out. 

I came back home and I cried. Shamelessly. I cried remembering the surprise and the things that followed thereafter. I couldn't get over the fact that people from such diverse backgrounds and experiences sat down together and shared anecdotes without any fear or inhibitions. My favourite part of the day was when a voice that has alternately and ironically been called the fairer, but second sex found expression in a poem which contained echoes from a pleading womb. A few of us related incidents where our gender became our curse, but then, the elders in the gathering assured us that things are changing - that daughters are the glory parents are eager to embrace. PACH, I felt secure among all those good people, and I am carrying the satisfaction of having arrived at a good and pure place in life. 

Nautanki! But bahut pyaari wali

Aastha didi - why could have I not met you sooner?

This letter is not even close to its end, but, I would quote the tiny princess of PACH here and rest my quill till the next (festive) tryst with you. Also, because I am sleepy and will drop dead in next five minutes. So, as Aavika says - "Kuchh baatein adhoori rehne diya karo, mann bhara rehta hai."

You see that guy in his staple red shirt?
I am proudly his fan! 

There, right there are seated some of the most awesome poets Delhi has been witness to. 

PACH, among the many epithets you've acquired, I love it when they say - Love is PACH, and PACH is love (I heard both). I'll thank you once again, with a kiss this time. I am happily, crazily in love with you. 

More love, 
Saumya
(Panda)

Alter ego. Happily so!

PS - We're meeting next a day before Diwali. You're all like family now, and it only makes sense to share some sweets and hugs with you on this grand, bright, merry occasion. No firecrackers, unless they are of the Mago variety which cause laughter mayhem whenever lighted. Even if you have never been to PACH, and are reading about it for the first time, trust my word and book this Saturday for us. Drop a mail to poetry@pach.in for an invite. We're looking forward to you all! 

I wish I had preserved this!

Heights of craziness is this - gifting me Afremov. How?

(Thanks Kamal!)

The Sin of Wastage

(The following post was written for Scroll 360 on the occasion of World Environment Day, celebrated each year on June 5th. I wanted to share it with the readers of my blog here because of the issues it raises and the awareness it attempts to create)

Ouch! That much of waste is sure to hurt. It does. No, it does not hurt you. It did not hurt me till sometime back, but now, each time I see a morsel of food being fed to the bin, my heart screams out in protest. Do you know whom all that perfectly-eatable-passed-of-as-trash food hurt? Those significant millions languishing in Asia, Sub-Sahara Africa, and even in otherwise prosperous nations, whose skin is just clinging desperately to the bones as a last ditch attempt to stay alive. They have nothing called flesh on their body. All they have is an ignominious stripping off of basic human rights of living. Even as someone begins broaching the topic of food scarcity and food security, it is impossible to not recall to mind the simple words of the Mahatma – Nature has enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed.  

            I am a foodie – a big one, mind you! There is a favourite anecdote my mother often relates in front of family gatherings, much to my absolute mortification. As a child, a really small one, I had once gone for a wedding where I was too short to be able to reach the extravagant culinary displays. What was in my reach, was however, a bin, where people were dumping their food-laden plates. Next thing my parents discover, I am not just eating out of it, but relishing the food too! I was rescued, mildly rebuked for a minute, and then I found myself amid loud guffaws. What was amusing, however, for a gathering with no crease of remorse on their faces for wasting criminal quantities of food is actually a way of life for an unreal number of people out there in the world. We all have that one moment where we see a significant change in the way we perceive the world, that makes us look within, that moment when something breaks inside us only to give way to something better. My moment came while reading an old case study, where acute food scarcity in southern India had driven a man to consume his own faeces. Try as hard as I might, I can never shake off that image – and I would love to impose it on the minds of those who throw away eatables as a routine.

            Why is today a good day to talk about food wastage and the need to put curbs on it? Well, that is because today is the World Environment Day, as declared and observed by United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP). The WED was conceptualized in 1970s. Besides carrying the intrinsic message of saving the environment, it also observes distinct themes each year to address agendas of pressing concern. This year, UNEP has declared ‘Think. Eat. Save.’ as the theme to be followed for WED across the globe. Ian Somerhalder, the hot and irresistible Damon Salvatore of Vampire Diaries fame, is the celebrity face of the ‘Think. Eat. Save’ campaign. He also runs a foundation the aims of which, as he puts it, are as diverse as the plants, humans and creatures of earth face. In a UNEP release, Somerhalder quotes, “It is absolutely nuts that 30 per cent of all food is thrown away. That translates into $48.3 billion. Can you imagine what we could do with $48 billion. Can you imagine the decrease in pesticides, water and land use if we no longer needed to produce that 30 per cent that is just ending up in the bin?”

            Now, do not take these statistics lightly. What is being implied above is that almost one third of the food production of the world goes waste. Waste! And in measures big and small, we all contribute to it. Now, try reading the last few lines of the second paragraph of this article all over again, and think how criminal it is to be a party to something which is avoidable by little, conscious efforts on our part. Especially being inhabitants of India, that instance could not have dwindled in our memory where large-scale rotting of grains in India was reported against a backdrop of repeated dismal performances on indices of child health, nutrition and mortality.

Blame it all on the government if you please, but check the next time you head out to splurge money on junk, part of which contributes to unhealthy fats in your body, and the other part of which contributes to overflowing trash cans. Go out to buy fresh veggies every once in a few days – make sure you buy only as much as you can guarantee will not rot in your latest refrigerators. You could also call up your mother or grandmother for interesting recipes on how to use leftover food from fridge to make interesting delicacies. I was glad to see an entire episode of MasterChef India dedicated to reusing leftover food in unimaginable ways, a method even Sanjeev Kapoor endorses in the many recipes he prescribes for his followers. If there is no one else to guide you, contact me. My mother, recently, churned up yummy masala fritters made with nothing more than boiled rice and vegetables which were left from a day earlier. Interestingly, there is a day observed by my grandmother, called ‘Basoda’, where she eats only food from a day before. I might not know the myth, but the thought behind observing the day is both, cool and rational.          

In my understanding, even waste is not waste. What is the most common image of waste in our heads is the best source of nutrients for soil when used as manure. I hope everyone understands that technically, you cannot throw waste ‘out’, because there is no ‘out’, unless you know some technique of launching it in space, that too, not without consequences. Using kitchen waste to make compost is an age-old technique – only we’re too busy to follow it. May I ask why? Is it because you are sure that a cataclysm will skip your generation and strike the next, from which you snap all ties of kinship?

This is what UNEP website says – ‘According to the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), every year 1.3 billion tonnes of food is wasted. This is equivalent to the same amount produced in the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. At the same time, 1 in every 7 people in the world go to bed hungry and more than 20,000 children under the age of 5 die daily from hunger.’

I wish you all a very happy World Environment Day, and exhort you all to take some decisions which is retrospect, you are all very proud of. Days like this remind us that time to act cannot be postponed indefinitely. Perhaps time to act is now.

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A Little Trip Back To JMC

When I left those extra-tidy surroundings, I was glad another chapter in life was over, and that I had survived gracefully through it. I was eager and excited to unravel the next stop-over in the long journey of life. Time spent in JMC, I knew, would always be special to me; but I was almost definite that I am not going to miss college. That is how I became of late. Eager to move on, curious to explore the next level.

That said, I have to admit, that I each time I have gotten a chance to go back to college, I have literally pounced on that opportunity, at times even with a childlike enthusiasm. A corollary to this is that each time I have not been called back to be re-associated with endeavours which I began/participated in college, I have felt a gentle stab of envy, a minor pang of hurt. Truth is, I have always looked forward to going back. In the past year, on four amazing occasions, I was called back, and how dearly I cherish all those four days.

This post is not significant for its content. It is for its nostalgia. I went back to JMC on 31st January (also my father's birthday) to be a part of Model G20 Summit, organized under the auspices of ComAcumen '13 - the Commerce Department festival. I had co-chaired a similar conference in 2011 for Commerce Department, then along with a civil service veteran, Mr. P. Venkatesh. That is one experience I hold very dear. I feel proud while remembering how friends, strangers, peers, juniors, teachers, supervisors, guests, competitors and organizers, all seamlessly blended together to create a spectacle which immediately was imprinted in each person's psyche, and remains so till date.

The 31st January conference was a little different, a little new, but had much in it which I reflect back on and smile proudly about. It had the champion debators, in the form of Nithin and Shobhit - people I have admired and learnt from. It had a demure girl representing Saudi Arabia, who by instinct wanted to stand up and talk of women's rights and education. It had Sakshi and Anmol, two dear friends who've occupied more than necessary place in my mind purely out of warmth and affection I hold towards them. It had angry, belligerent delegates, and then it had Keshav, who represented innocence and sincerity in a committee of precocious talent. As endearing aberrations, it had the delegation of Australia promoting Australian tourism, and the invisible delegation of Italy, doubling up as a make-shift pudding stall.

Like always, what my pretty organizers stand out on was hospitality. Cakes and coffee to start the day and some homemade sweets to end it, I can go on being proud of the lovely ladies who invited me to JMC, and it would still be less. Monica, Aanchal, Manavi and Rohini - four girls I have known for excellent work in the past, all living up to their reputation, and also bearing my subtle bouts of fuss. This list cannot be complete without the mention of Akshay, my charming Vice-Chair, who saw me happy, who saw me cringe, who saw me recover and who saw me agonized, and amongst it all, he took my back and helped me carry on a decently successful show. For everyone I recounted, and who slipped mention, I have the sincerest of wishes. Hope to see you all very soon, but in a different setting :)

Here are few frames from the lens of photographer Shreya. 

The Winners - Nithin (far left) and Shobhit (far right) - we did not expect anything less from them!

The Runners Up - Anmol and Sakshi - and two of my favorite people from this circuit. 

Best Delegate - Keshav - where talent and humility coexist 

Paying heed to, arguably, my favorite delegate in the committee 

Now, 5 of my favorite frames -

Been there, said that

The girl whom I want to see soaring high, for she has it in her - with Aanchal Malik

My charming Vice Chair - Akshay Purohit - in moments, he was the elder among us two. 

With Monica and Aanchal and flowers. They put faith in me, and I put it right back in them

With Rohini, Aanchal and flowers - Madam Rohini was perhaps the only one who understood the eccentricities of my working, and who loved (loves) me for it. 

Lesson - Never be apologetic for your awesomeness. 

Drink With A Tzing!

Product Review- TZINGA Energy Drink

I am yet to understand in full the surprises and subtle benefits my blog can potentially send my way. While I was still trying to establish my reputation as a zealous reviewer of books, a request to review a new Energy Drink in the market caught me off guard. Happy am I to say that after being contacted in person by an enthusiastic representative from Hector Beverages, I availed this opportunity to taste and give my opinion on Tzinga- all three flavors of it.

Since I am reviewing a beverage for the first time, I feel like doing it in an organized form. Lets go step by step.

The Packaging
Quite a few times, I had seen black colored pouches of Tzinga on food kiosks while walking out of metro stations. They seemed smart, easy to carry and dispose, but I only never ventured near buying them thinking that they might be exorbitantly priced like other energy drinks across the market. That, of course, was a myth I carried, busted only recently. A thumbs up for the packaging- neat, easy, disposable, attractive- and helps save some costs too, am sure. 200 mL, the volume of pouches I received, is also a decent doze for energy drinks to be sold in. Also, the manufacturers claim this packaging is environment friendly- hence another bonus!

The Flavors
Tzinga comes in three flavors- Mango Strawberry, Tropical Trip and Lemon Mint. Besides containing caffeine, the staple of all energy drinks, this drink boasts of containing ginseng and guarana and a host of other natural ingredients. Where this drink scores heavily against its competitors is on the taste factor. Most energy drinks do not find favor with people whose taste buds play a hyperactive role in deciding what is to be injected in their system. Of the many energy drinks I have had, a certain blue colored, bottled drink I felt like throwing up because it tasted worse than the bitterest medicines I have consumed.

However, with Tzinga, the taste was a total win! A cousin I shared the drink with without telling her its name mistook it to be a fruit juice. Now, going flavor-wise,
Mango Strawberry- This was a relative disappointment. Tastes okay, a little bland but. With mango and strawberry mentioned as the key flavors, somehow, you expect a very lively combination of tastes to greet your tongue. Contrarily, a slight let down is what I felt this flavor to be.
Tropical Trip- This was the next I tasted, and it totally banished any disappointment I had with this product. Zesty is what I would call this flavor. It even leaves a nice aftertaste in your mouth.
Lemon Mint- Easily the best flavor in my opinion. The best, perhaps, to beat this cruel heat. It has the tangy element of lemon as well as the cooling taste of mint. Perfect combination for a perfectly refreshing drink for a hideously scorching afternoon.

The Kick
Well, that's what energy drinks are supposed to give you, right? I am a regular caffeine addict, surviving primarily on its most basic domestic manifestation-coffee; so I might just be incapable of gauging the kind of effect caffeine is to induce in humans. I have had 600 mL of Tzinga since the morning, and all I can say is, er, I just feel bright enough to type away happily.

The Price
The Indian middle class is obsessed with numbers. So when we are to review a product, the price tag at its back is nearly always the point at which we start. Amazing quality at exorbitant price is useless for us, average quality with cheap pricing is a boon. With Tzinga, you are getting awesome quality at an awesome price. Why I never ventured near the jazzy pouches of Tzinga displayed at food kiosks was because I assumed, wrongly of course, that they would be priced similar to other available energy drinks in the market. Not the case! 20 bucks is all you need to shell out to sip on these amazing drinks from an ambitious start-up.

If I were to give a rating, like I give to books, that would be 4.5/5.
Strongly recommended to everyone who does not have medical compulsions to avoid caffeine. Lemon Mint is going to be a staple for me now on.

(Product reviewed on request from Hector Beverages)
Know more about the product at  http://tzinga.in/

My favorite among all three flavors!

The Girl Who Asked For Too Many Surprises

I wish this post were a short fiction about this little girl with mischievous gleam in her eyes and a soft, innocent smile on her face who went around asking people for gifts without specifying what she wants. But sadly enough, this post is not a story about that girl, unless a few people might think that that girl's description possibly applies to me. Does it? I don't know, but I have a queer feeling in the pit of my stomach which says that some people might agree to the above stated. Few of those some people might be the closest friends to me. Oh, and aptly enough, those are the people, and not the girl herself, who are the subject of this post.

An old wish fulfilled, due to my cousin's crazy affection for me. Thanks Tapan!

I sang, and danced, and shouted around since weeks before my birthday as to how excited I am for it. Few smiled, few scoffed, mostly people ignored. My birthdays in school days fell during holiday season and during college days fell in the exam season. In short, the timing of my birthday was a recipe for disaster for a girl who takes such keen interest in dates and looks to celebrate even the most insignificant among them. However, something special was in store for me this time around. Without waiting, like I usually did, for people to create that perfect birthday ambiance around me, I went ahead and did it on my own. I bought myself trinkets. I saved up to buy some grand gift for myself. I fooled around a lot. I allowed myself to have an impossible wishlist and secretly sneered when people thought what a perfect lampooning crackhead I am. I went out and risked things and people beyond my comfort zone. God knows what all I did in order to feel like an idiot, but a happy idiot this time around.

However, this birthday was different in many respects from the previous ones. It is not a facebook addict's typical line I steal when I say I had the best birthday ever. 'Tis true. Reasons galore, few I would like to share.

This was my first birthday where I got to see three whole cakes dedicated to me. Now that is HUGE by any standards I have set for myself in life. The cake season was on the wane in my life till it was revived this year by three very thoughtful sources-best being the one my family brought in for me.

Fruits and glaze and cream and chocolate- dad does know the best! 

A regular chocoholic, I had never quite eaten anything like this one. Oh wait, what was its name, again?

A third cake had manifested itself in front of my eyes via the people who have been a source of tremendous consistency in my life for past some years. Their presence was almost a certainty for my day, and I did revel in this lack of unpredictability. Despite having studied in a girls' college, I have had many boys as (almost) my college mates, and the ones I would specifically thank for embarrassing, but entertaining me on my birthday are- Mujeeb, Mittal, Diwakar, Namit, and Mudit. Pampered and cared for- among them I feel safe.

That one expression describes most of my expressions- but the people thanked above have much their own interpretations and sound and visual effects for the same.

An odd yet special little bond had happened to develop between my and a young student at an event I had once went as a judge-cum-chariperson to. A precocious ninth standard student sat among confident college goers and unleashed on them his intellect and oratorial skills with baffling ease. More than inside, my relationship with Anup grew outside the committee. In a very sweet gesture, from a person so far away from my immediate landscape of life, manifested itself in my inbox. Red and bright and warm. Needlessly said, I loved it!

Another surprise awaited me in my gmail inbox. It was a masterpiece of crazy creativity sent my way from a girl who has been a part of my heart ever since I can remember. Her artistry lent me, not smiles, but guffaws. In a gesture commensurate with hers, I would thank her by accepting her perceptions of me as reflected in this ingenious poster. Thanks Niyati Kochhar!

Two extremely endearing gifts came my way from the girl I call my Goddess, with whom the readers of my blog would only be too well aware. Cheistha Kochhar is one hell of a talented woman, the kind whose talents cannot be bundled together in a single category or genre. On demand, she got me a painting and a flower arrangement she herself assembled. Here is a glimpse of them both.

As weird as it might sound, but I have never gotten something which can lexically be described as a surprise on my birthday. This time, hence, I went around telling people to surprise me. For once, I am glad that the only girl I did not ask to surprise me took my words seriously. Cheistha brought together few of my dearest friends to create what would remain my favorite memory from all the recent events. As I was still absorbing the presence of Pallak Jagga (the sunshine, as friend better than the best) around me, I was greeted by two nonchalant figures waiting for me at a restaurant table, one of whom was supposedly sick and another out of town. Saurabh and Rohan were perhaps all I needed to make the celebrations not just complete, but special. From these two, a few things still remain due.

Two cups of coffee later, when I was finally returning home in the metro, thinking that the best is now over, a brawl broke out in the metro coach I was traveling in. A twisted middle aged men was hurling abuses in front of his daughter and wife over the occupation of a seat at an older and more decent couple. When I might have felt bitter and angry or scared, I felt happy for having witnessed a scene in which right and like-minded set of people came together to support the ones being humiliated by the abuse-spouting uncle. I smiled inwardly and decided to thank everyone, aside from those bold but polite people in the metro, who made sure I was happy on the day I most wanted to be.

Tarique and Sumit and Gopan- Thanks for all the pampering.
Cheistha- Thanks for just being yourself
Pallak- Your one smile is enough, but thanks for a long familiar hug.
Mudit and Diwakar- Thanks for getting me paintings in the perfect color.
Mittal and Namit- Thanks for creating an Awww Moment
Saurabh- Thanks for just coming. And the two cups of coffee.
Tapan- As I said, thanks for the crazy affection, a frame and a new friend.
Rohan- For smiles, and pleasantness, cheesiness and that refreshingly fresh tone of yours.
Manan Bhaiya- Thanks for the consistency in taking my wishes seriously.
And Mujeeb- Thanks, for too much to be simply put in words.

"Reach high,

For the stars lie hidden in your soul.

Dream,

For every dream precedes a goal."

-Cheistha Kochhar

Fledgling Affection

"So, what would be the top five things you do if the 2012 fiasco were to happen?"
Kanika Chaturvedi left this query for me @twitter a day before. I had never given it a thought. If the world were to end, as has been predicted in some quarters, in the year 2012, what would be top five things I would want to do? The high bred among my stock of friends would snub the query, as useless confabulations of some vacuous brains. But it was an interesting note to have welcomed in the year 2012 with. So, I tweeted.

The first interesting detail I would remember from the year 2012 would be the following five points, which are the innocent first thoughts to have entered my brain. I find them naive and cute at the same time, and I am copy pasting them straight from twitter. Of course, with slight bit of my musings accessorizing them at their tail end.

#1 I have letters to write. I want to finish them before the world ends.

As said earlier, I love the whiff of paper. There are certain traditional paradigms, which, I wish, had not been hijacked by the technology which establishes itself as an omnipotent deity at present.  Writing letters is a romantic's delight! Quite obviously, hence, it is mine. There are some I started on. Some are pure cheese and corn mixed together to let my special ones know they are special. Some others are important confessions of guilt, hurt and anger which I wanted to convey to dear kith after putting thought and heart in it. They lie incomplete. But they are cozy reminders of how much I value those who make my world. And if it were the world, my world coming to an end, these I intend to complete as a first priority. Sounds bollywood-ish? Well, that's what I grew up watching. (

#2 There is a large chunk of Italian Cuisine I still have to taste. Learning it won't make sense anymore.
To call myself an inveterate foodie would be an understatement. I recently started falling for Italian cuisine, realizing quite late that luscious Italian culinary specialties are naturally made for me. I am 'cheesy' and 'corny' in my thoughts and writings, may be also in my appetite. Those dollops of cheese of a dozen different kinds, that creaminess, that subtle aroma of herbs, and the generous quantities of corns and mushrooms in different preparations- this is stuff that dreams are made of. Give chocolates and give me cheese- I won't have a single regret before dying then.

#3 There are some people I met via WSDC/EOC interactions, who are in need of urgent smiles and warmth. They will take my attention.

Hugs and smiles in copious quantities, to everyone walking past by. On a serious note though, being at the helm of organizations like Women Studies and Development Cell and Equal Opportunity Cell made me come across some faces and some stories that can touch anyone at the softest spot in their heart. These were stories of courage, of despair, of honesty, of losses, of dreams, of daring, of tears and of smiles. The faces behind these stories, some at least, don't need, but deserve some genuine smiles and warm hugs. 2012 or not- this one thought I intent to keep. At some places at least, we should not procrastinate.


#4 I dream of a novel. To compensate hastily, I will compile Nascent Emissions into a book, printed with a jazzy cover, & kiss it when done.
It was supposed to be a secret dream, but the moment I posted on twitter, being a published author no longer remained secret, but it still remains a dream. I realized it a moment too late, but the thought of the alternative devised to suit the requirements of ending time filled me with mirth. Nascent Emissions forms an important part of my subconscious, I realized. And why should it not? It has been a companion for the most special of my thoughts and ideas.

#5 I will marry!

Oh yes! This, I will. Now is not the best time to write on it, because I am filled with the visions of passion which surface when Elizabeth Turner (the heroine of a compelling Barbara Bradford historical fiction which I am reading currently) meets her love and is consumed by it before she can take another breath. However, this is perhaps the most important part of my top five. So, even though the visions are their, describing them is a near impossible task. I can only share a chuckle and some knowing smiles with other fellow romantics, females specifically, for they would know why this wish. All this romance, it has to go somewhere, isn't it?

Thanks Kanika Chaturvedi, for being the idea behind this post. More gratitude for giving my these silly smiles and thoughts. Not all of them are silly though. He was an intelligent man who asked us to live each day as our last. To do a few things mentioned above, and a few more things which are pullulating inside my brain, I do not really need to wait for the end of the world. What should be done, must be done. So, except for the marriage bit, I shall do all. Its a better note to begin the year on, rather than resolving to lose weight, because, as Sonal Kalra puts it, 'woh hota toh hai nahi'.

And now that I mention her name, I am also reminded of the fact that I wanted to dedicate my first post of the year to the people I love. But Ms. Sonal Kalra stopped me. In her casual yet persuasive tone, she churned out another priceless set of calmness tricks, this time on the first day of 2012. Her article, titled Are You Ready To Fall In Love? was about just that, falling in love, not with anyone, but your own self. Her fabulous quill yet again worked its magic, and made me want to dedicate the first post of they year to myself. I will heed her advice and not spend the year seeking the approval of others. I will make sure I have my own.

“To fall in love with oneself is the beginning of a life long romance.” –Oscar Wilde

PS- All this new blissful affection, its my new year gift for myself. I believe in gifts, remember? I hope you all do to :) Love and best wishes for a great year(s) ahead! Even though my most clairvoyant friend thinks this is the last, I'm happily assuming the opposite.

Mere liye :)