Maturity Demystified

I was caught off guard recently when a blogger friend asked me to explain what maturity means, and the qualities one should possess to be seen as a mature individual.

Frankly, it's not the question that got me stumped. It's who he posed that question to that almost made me tumble off my swivelling chair.

Look at me. I am the last person you would ask about maturity - seriously. I have irrational mood swings. I am freakingly emotional. I have that occasional but sudden passionate outbursts. I can be rash and impetuous. And I am a li'l girl trapped in an aging, decaying, horizontally expanding and vertically challenged body.

Ok ok. I shouldn't make excuses for myself. Since you've asked - my dear friend, so you shall receive. My concept of maturity may be warped, so please take what I blog here with a huge spoonful of salt.

Maturity - to me - is a mindset, which in turn will translate into observable behavioural patterns, and materializing in several forms such as responses, reactions, actions and speech. It is a state of the mind.

Simply put, maturity comes from within. It is often determined by oneself, but defined by others.

For example, I may feel that I'm mature because I have been through a lot in life and accumulated pain and experience along the way to emphatize and offer solid advice. I may be mature in handling work issues and politics. I'm less emotional when it comes to focusing on my goals and pursuing my dreams. My head sits tightly screwed on my shoulders when I'm depended upon to offer solutions to critical problems. My sensible and responsible nature reflect the mature me in the eyes of my friends.

On the flipside of the coin, I could also seem immature during the times I throw my tantrums, sulk or exhibit a ridiculously unreasonable behaviour, or any of the other actions I've listed in the earlier paragraphs.  I  falter in the face of challenge and give up when things do not go my way

Many could not resist equating age to maturity. After spending 28years struggling in the real world, I discovered a number of older people I've encountered in the days of my life, work, school and social network are quite a distance from the nirvana state of maturity.

You cannot imagine the childish words that sprung forth from their mouths when they are angry or upset. You can hardly believe your eyes when they react mindlessly to protect their egos or pride. You cannot help laughing at the few who resort to juvenile acts for personal gains.

I don't have to go really far to prove my point. Look around you at the heads of state who fell out of favour with their people; men with graying hair in the likes of Osama bin Laden; historical figures in power who committed some of the world's gravest mistakes. Maturity seems to elude them too, isn't it?

I can't tell for sure what qualities you really need to be deem a mature person. In my humble and baseless opinion, I would think that he would be objective, calm, reasonable, and righteous (morally sound, that is). He would have the ability to differentiate right from wrong, truth from fiction, good from evil. He takes no sides, spreads no gossips, bears no grudges and exacts no vengeance.

I guess whenever I'm on the verge of veering towards the immaturity complex, I can always go back to that one reference who embodies "maturity" in every aspect of his behaviour and thought.

Think Jesus.

One really effective way is to infuse these 4 letters in each and every part of your life - WWJD.

What Would Jesus Do?

"Maturity is achieved when a person postpones immediate pleasures for long-term values." ~ Joshua Loth Liebman

Life Lesson

I whine a lot when things are out of my control. I want to change that, Well something struck me again today. I planned my schedule that I would go to church today before I make it to office, so I went to pick up flowers before going to church (particularly also bcoz I specifically wanted to ask a special angel to intercede for me and that angel now in heaven, while on earth loved flowers). I went to one of those tiny shops on the main road. The florist was not more than 20 years old, someone whose innocence seems unaffected by all the bad things in the world. He was so happy to put together a bunch of roses for me, picking out the best of the best.
I saw a bunch of these flowers and other decorative items made of wood and plastic and what not. I thought they’d look damn pretty at home. So I took a yellow flower. When I paid him for the roses, I reminded him of the flower I took. He smiled and said I didn’t have to pay for it since I seem to like it so much. That just made my day!
I asked him about his work. He works 14 hours a day, from 7 in the morning to 9 at night, every day. 14 hours!! He lives about 20 kilometers away. He eats his lunch there itself. He seemed happy doing what he’s doing. So he had been working for 13 hours straight, from the pleasant morning breeze to the scorching afternoon sun to the crazy night traffic and noise, when he said I could keep that flower because I liked it. Despite a long day’s work with no roof over his head, he found it in him to make me happy.
And there I was complaining about the routine of spending 10hours a day in the office, traveling in a First Class Mumbai local, getting coffee and biscuits, all in a comfortable, air conditioned setting. Even so, by the end of my day, I’m just tired and pissed off and in no mood to make anyone smile.
I keep coming across such simple people who spread joy in their own, tiny ways. People who know, a small thing can go a long way. And every time I forget, I meet another awesome person who reminds me again.
Until next time, love.

Were you beautiful today?

I’ve been waiting for the favourable moment to rant about this and I’ve no shame in sharing this stuff I wrote a few days back and why should I? So, this is it. Here I go–


Everyone needs to have a good look at the aura but subtle connotations of “pretty” – it’s someone who’s complexion is usually light. Yes, we’re all in denial about that – but have a good look at fairness creams and Beyoncé/ nicki bleaching their skin and Jourdan Dunn making headlines for being a “black model” on the cover of vogue uk – why is that even news?


I recently walked into Bodyshop to buy basic moisturizing lotion that makes my face look uniform. The first thing I got handed was one that was 2 complexions fairer than my sun-kissed self. I told her I wanted one that was EXACTLY my complexion- Not one shade light, not half a shade light. I mean, I loathe girls looking like Queen Elizabeth from their foreheads down to their chins. I’m very happy being the sun honey brown, and I think that the skin that wraps your bones has nothing to do with how fabulous people truly look when they’re sure of themselves just as they are. I mean, have you SEEN Lupita? Woo-man!

Dumb to heroic!

So there are these pigeons that come to my neighbour's terrace every evening to be fed their usual grains and water.
Yesterday, one pigeon got tangled on a little ball of thread that was stuck on one of the powerlines (I wonder how it got there in the first place) This pigeon was hanging from it and struggling to fly it’s way out but just made it worse by getting more tangled in it. Fellow pigeons were of no help as they kept fluttering around (you know how dumb they can be)
Before I could think of any way to help this bird, these men below my apartment, construction workers, made arrangements on the middle of the road and in about less than 3 minutes, rescued the pigeon. Carefully, they took off all the thread this bird was tangled in. Happy, wounded pigeon joined the other dumb pigeons.
Yes, it might not be the greatest heroic act in history. But to stop what you are doing to help another being is the greatest heroic act to me!
These men and those fatty pigeons have taught me something today!

The Ugly Cake

On my fifth birthday, I saw a big, ugly cake in a bakery. It was Chocolate, layer on layer and white icing on the borders with yellow somethings on top and grand and I liked it. It was expensive and my mother couldn’t afford it. I knew that, but I wanted it to be my birthday cake. I was easily distracted and we went back home. It was almost dinner time and I asked for the ugly cake again and again. Mummy took the keys told me to look after my brother and left. She came back home with a bag in her hand and went straight to the kitchen. Then she helped me change into a dress and as she was braiding my hair, very gently she told me it wasn’t very nice of me to ask for an expensive cake despite knowing what we were going through. That we could’ve celebrated with a small cake. That she loved me very much. That greed isn’t good. That it’s important to be understanding.

 And then a little later she came out from the kitchen with a big brown box and a big smile. The ugly cake was mine, but I didn’t feel so good anymore. I looked at my mummy and then I looked at the ugly cake. I experienced love and hate at the same time. I felt loved. I hated myself. Mummy lit a candle on the ugly cake and asked me to make a wish. I don’t remember if I did. I just remember feeling terrible as she sang the birthday song and clapped. I blew out the candle and I cut the ugly cake. It tasted as ugly as it looked. I remember feeling ugly inside. I don’t remember the rest of my fifth birthday.


A few months later, I witnessed death for the first time. A lady who lived in the same chawl that my friend lived in and had a grey side wall had set herself on fire. I never did like that chawl anyway. She was dead and her family was crying. People were whispering all kinds of thing, which I didn’t understand. She was dead and everything else was a blur. A few weeks after that, I witnessed a suicide attempt. Her blood was warm and she was pale. She was screaming and crying. She was alive and everything else was a blur.
There are many things I’ve forgotten, willingly and unwillingly. Sometimes even photographs aren’t a reminder of a certain memory. I don’t remember easily and I forget easily. But there are some things I will never forget. The ugly cake is one of them. Death is another. At five, I learnt two things. That greed brings unhappiness. That death isn’t a choice, but life is.


Life is full of ugly cakes and choices.

Ten Reasons I Want to be Reborn as a Girl

In today’s world where anyone and everyone with the slightest hint of fat on their chests and/or a vagina is being violated, physically and mentally, being a woman is pretty much a challenge. Parents all over are terrified that their daughters will be ripped out by some monster waiting in the dark.
Girls themselves are scared yet determined not to give in while some have armed themselves with pepper sprays, penknives and karate moves to save themselves if the need ever arises. Suddenly the media is full of pictures and quotes about women who have been wronged, ignored or worse, misunderstood, demanding that society pays for their sins. There is a sudden rise in ‘feminists’ who are tearing down one manhood after another.
Yes, suddenly, the world is concerned, scared and determined not to lose to the whims of this patriarchal society. Yet, as we fight a collective fight, everyone forgets the individual. Has anyone asked a single woman how she feels? Yes, yes, we read interviews of empowered women all the time. Blogs full of women flaunting their femininity like a weapon being brandished by a warrior princess.
But, what if you were given a choice? Would you want to be reborn as a woman again? I would. Why, you ask me? I say, why not? But anyway, here goes.

• Boobs. As unflattering and uncomfortable they might be, I like the way they are always jutting out and hampering free movement. I mean, have you ever heard a man complain because a woman bumped into him from behind? On the other hand, it is almost criminal to bump against a woman with an erect penis. And gross too. Ew.

• PMS. Which other species on earth has the right to be cranky five whole days of a month without any explanation or apologies? TELL ME! Yes, none. We women can scream, cry, kick and punch you, verbally, physically, emotionally and otherwise and the moment you dare complain, we can just pout and spout, “PMS, baby” and all is well.

• Which brings me to my next point. Periods. While most women will curse themselves for this monthly monstrosity and swear to pull out their fallopian tubes every month, it is a sign that your insides are working fine. I know, the irony of bleeding and cramping for good health is more than enough to tear out your hair but hey, at least the reports are almost always on time!

• Clothes. There is a dizzying array of outfits we women have access to. (At least the ones who are fashionably acceptable.) From colours to hues to shades to styles to kinds to types. WHEW! I don’t even know 10% of them.

• Fans. Men want to be us. Literally. Uh, not so literally but yeah. I don’t know many women who would make a fake profile to be a man. But I know many men who hide behind the ‘pallu’ of a woman who might not necessarily be theirs. And all because we have more idiots flushing their unwanted attention on us.

• Messages like “Mk me ur frn list”, “cnt add u. snd me rqst”, “ur sooooooooo butful” to whatever. I mean, LIKE WHAAA? SWAAAAG. Women RULEZZ!

• 1150 likes on a pic. Stare at a faraway place. Purse your lips like you’re pooping. Click. Add a few filters. Add a caption like “I can hear you but why are you so far away” adding as many smiley faces you can. If you are a woman, trust me, you will be ‘like’d.

• Get away with questions like “Does Nexus 5 have a camera?” with a smile and fluttering your eyelashes. Never has the world criticised a woman for her ignorance. In fact, we are the only species which is encouraged to remain dumb.

• Free (un) wanted advice. A classic play of the society, a woman is always being advised. By men, other women, plants, sunlight and even furniture. EVERYONE has something to tell her.

• Right to joke about the above things. Let’s face it, I will be hated for this. But then, at least ONE person would laugh at it. However, if a man had posted it, the poor guy would have been slaughtered.

So, I will, again, be born as a woman and face this cruel, cruel world. Happily.

The humanity of chewing gum.

I have been walking with chewing gum stuck to the soles of my footwear for four days now. The damn thing just refuses to come off and I have tried everything from scraping it against a wall to soaking my beloved flip-flops in hot water.

We humans have so many issues to discuss, crimes to judge and people to kill that the little things escape our attention. When is the last time you thought of keeping a respectable amount of space between you and the person in front of you in a queue? I know ‘respectable’ is an opinion, but somehow most of us prefer to have ourselves breathing down someone’s neck.

I guess it is because some of us also have the habit of butting into whatever little space visible to us and ‘adjusting’ into it even if it meant displacing everyone around for a mile. For a long time, I thought that it is because the world is fast and time is money and blah blah…but now I see that it is plain bad habit.

When I was returning home from office yesterday evening, I realized that it wouldn’t make any damn difference to a single passenger if the motorman never gives a signal before the train leaves the platform. The moment the train reached the next station, almost everyone around me shot up from their places pushing each other just as ready as the Indian National Army at war.

Getting back to the gum under my feet, there’s a reason you have wrappers (except for you to litter), tissues and if they suit your fancy, even leaves. Once you are done chewing, just wrap the goddamn thing before disposing it instead of spitting it out for it to wait to annoy someone else. Remind me to start a petition on this.

We talk about humanity, terrorism and women empowerment, but who will preach that we should not sneeze without covering our nose?

Dream, Dream a Little More

Future. Wasn’t it supposed to be an abstract idea? Something full of hopes and dreams and all the rosy promises. Having a dream was enough. Like, yeah, I’m going to be a writer with loads of money or own a magical chocolate factory with my personal little favourite people work-force and have a house with a room each for books, handicrafts, and all crazy stuff  and an Olympic sized swimming pool
and maybe, Mr.Perfect as my husband. When all the little girls my age were dreaming of being the future Miss Universe, I was hoping I’d be a space scientist and finally figure out what lies in the vast emptiness beyond the skies. I wanted to be a fashion designer, an artist, a singer, a dancer (so what if I can’t sing& dance). I wanted to be a tattoo artist. I wanted to invent something cool and have my picture in Science books of the future for my great-great-great-great-great kids to draw moustaches on.  I wanted to be everything I could be and more. I wanted to be anything but ordinary. I swear, I had the perfectly clear idea of my future. I knew what I wanted to be, who I wanted to be. I swear. Until, now.


And then, when I need them the most, my dreams deserted me. All those crazy, possibly impossible dreams. Right when the time to work on them was there, I was on a boomerang ride. Neways no regrets.. Of the Endless Dreams I dreamt I did manage to meet  a few.  Right now when the future waits for me, in all its uncertain glory. It’s waiting I don't know taking me where and for what. So, what do I do now?


I write a stupid blog post about it. I laugh for no reason at all. I get mad at a person for pointing out the obvious mistakes I know I’m making, and I love that person for pointing it out anyways.  I crib to everyone I know about how my life sucks and be glad that those people are in my life to listen to my crap. I listen to music and dance while thinking I then struggled to solve math problems and now life problems.


I work, and I work hard. I dream and I dream a little more. I hope and I give it all I’ve got.

Pieces Of Me

Got these dreams of mine bottled up,

For when the night is dark,

And the fairies lose their way,

I’ll live with those dreams of mine,

And wait patiently for the day.

Got all the inspirations of mine penned down,

For when the sun doesn’t shine as bright,

And the rain starts to pour,

I’ll read from these frayed pages,

And lose myself in a fantastical lore.

Got all the memories put up in frames,

For if one day we wake up and forget,

How beautiful life can be,

I’ll see these pictures and remind myself,

To start again and pick up –

All the fallen pieces of me.

***

 I know it isn’t really good, but, whatever. I’m just happy that I wrote something after all this time.

whats my goal? And whats on for me ??

Who am i ??? What am i doing here ?? Whats my future?

These are things that i always Ask God About...
i am tired.. so tired.. of all thigns that are happening now... My plans are uncertain..
 future is uncertain... SIGH... HOW HOW HOW??????

Anyway i've been thinking for  years... and guess what .. this year's intake is by far the worst one ever.... so what am i going to do about it ??? I DONT KNOW............................

Here i am .. in the office writing this ... dozing off... Meaningless Meaningless... sigh....


i think i will attempt to write a poem... here we go...


LIFE ...

Life ?
Is it present or is it Past ?
Is it good or is it Bad?
Is it Exciting or is it disgusting?
Is it Meaningful or is it meaningless?


Whatever it is an influence reminds me always:
L: Lord
I: IS 
F: Forever
E: Encouraging


Thats what brings me hope in life.. :)

It’s a Kinda Magic.

I will always remember how I loved reading fairy tales and stories just as every normal child did when they were kids. I also remember how, though many of my friends soon seemed to outgrow that stage, it took me longer than most to do so myself. My favourite story was Tom Thumb; the little boy who was as short as a thumb but with adventures bigger than any other person around. I always hoped, wished and even prayed for a little man or woman of my own to call my friend. It did happen; but looking at my brother, I did realize that he was a tad bit bigger than Tom Thumb ever was!


As I grew up, I slowly lost my faith in magic and magical happenings. I felt that I had grown above and beyond those things, and every magical thought, wish and dream was drowned in the cold ocean of reality. Now, however, today in my late twenties, I’m beginning to wonder; was I wrong to do so?
What if magic DID exist?


A different kind, of course than potions and a wave of a magic wand, from poison apples and spells and wishes granted. Yesterday, on a long walk from Miraroad station to home, I pondered on why these stories were told and read to us from the time we were little. Was it just the, “goodness always prevails,” or “don’t be greedy” that we was being drilled into our heads? Or was it something more than just  that?


Cinderella, a poor, bedraggled girl with no prospects and not much hope still wanted to find love , though her chances were nil. She managed to do this when her fairy godmother appeared out of nowhere, dressed her up and sent her to the ball. Was it the make-up or the gown that Prince Charming fell in love with?  It was her; the beauty and simplicity that was her. All she needed was an opportunity, and the courage to grab on to it and make it work for her.


Sleeping Beauty was cursed to sleep for all eternity, but her Prince Charming road up to her castle, kissed her and brought her back to life. The same goes for Snow White.


Children can’t understand big, complex concepts like, “When you get an opportunity, grab on to it, and fight, because it might never come again, becuase the world is a cruel, harsh place.” Nor do we want them to. We want our children exposed to all of the good and warmth of the world possible till the last moment. They can, however, understand that because of her ‘fairy godmother’ dressing her up so that she could attend the ball, she found true love and that saved her from misfortune. Old ‘Ella could just as easily have said she was afraid or that she didn’t dare do something like that, but she never did. She grabbed on to opportunity, grabbed on to chance, and rode her way to happiness and success, and Pretty Boy *ahem* Prince Charming later showed that he loved her even in rags.
Sleeping Beauty, due to an old evil Crone was forced into slumber and dormancy. Her soul was cold and lifeless, but love’s true kiss woke her up, as with Snow White.


Later on, children realize that they don’t really have fairy godmothers. Old, sweaty aunties who feed them jalebis and pinch their cheeks, yes, but not fairy godmothers. But sooner or later, we all realize that we don’t need FGs to get us what we want, because what the story tried to tell us, what it really was all about was snatching at opportunities, fighting against all odds, and finding happiness despite all that’s against you.


Maybe an old witch’s curse wasn’t what made so many Beauties out there fall asleep and ‘die’. Maybe it was a broken heart, no prospects, depression, sorrow, whatever. But like Sleeping Beauty, despite being forced into frigid and frozen languishing, there will someday be a Prince Charming to come rescue you and awaken you to the world, and to all that beauty out there that they closed off with their souls, no mattef how unlikely it seems.


And that, friends, is why I think Fairy Tales were made. Not just to entertain, but for children in their own way to understand and forever remember that there is always hope and goodness left in the world, no matter where or who you are. And for them to know that there will always be magic. At their fingertips, in their eyes, in their hands, in their hearts. And that magic will get them through it all, make good all the bad and the wrongs done, just like a little spell from a  good old Fairy Godmother.


When you’re down in the dumps, read a fairy-tale.  You’ll know that there’s always reason to smile.

When does the turn come?

I have heard. That people move on. Eventually. That we forget and forge a new life. The past eventually fades away, and a brighter future comes. We get over deaths, heart breaks, failures, rejections, even wounds and embarrassments. I have heard. I refuse to believe it though. If we do get over it, if we do forget it all and don’t ever look back, was it at all worth it? If we don’t reflect upon it, will we be the person we are or are we just trying to hide? I know we have forged many masks. Masks to show people we don’t care. Masks so that people never know we are vulnerable. But, hey, if we all end up wearing masks, don’t we all know that we are wearing masks? Does that mean ‘transparency’ is just a theory? How do you learn to trust someone new if you have been lied to, before? How do you not question your actions when you realize that you have forgotten your past mistakes and you are in fact repeating them, subconsciously?


I have heard people change. That people shed their old skins and evolve. Does that mean you are a new person? Are you no longer attached to your past? Are there no skeletons in your closet? Let’s face it. We move on, but don’t move away. We walk ahead but a glance strays back, a furtive one, maybe but a glance anyway.

A toast to all

Today, friends, I propose a toast. A toast to all things that have come and gone, a toast to all things that are yet to be, and most importantly, a toast to all things that are; those that are in my ’here’ and ‘now’, and those that we must always remember to cherish the most.

A toast to friendship, and the glorious highs, and the below -the-belt lows. Let’s never forget all that those we call our friends have taught and done for us. Let’s especially remember friends we’ve lost, because they’re the most valuable of them all. They showed us so much in the short time that they were with us, and when they were gone, their loss made us wake up a little from the inside and look around to value those that still remained, and helped us cling on more fiercely to them, loving them a little more for simply BEING THERE.

A toast to love, to all the many kinds of it that exist in this world, all the little ways that this, the greatest emotion one can ever experience expresses itself in, to revelling in it, to really feeling it, to sometimes loosing it, but always, always, loving love, simply for coming into our lives.

A toast to music, to all the various forms and kinds of it, to the bliss that it brings, to the beautiful form of expression that it is in itself, to the understanding that it sometimes brings with the simple ease of opening a present. To the flow of it, the rhythm that we dance to, cry to, sing to, laugh to and love to….

A toast to books. Books, which keep us sane, and help us hide our faces from the world when the fat tears are rolling down our cheeks, and to the crinkly pages, who willingly accept these tears that fall on them and mark themselves in their effort to absorb our pains. To the stories that we give so much time living in that we sometimes forget ourselves and our duties around us, and for giving us the comfort of a short-lived, yet well-loved retreat from it all.

A toast to change. Change that comes in all it’s many forms, from combing your hair a LITTLE differently today to choosing between jobs, or, in this time of recession, getting one in the first place. To change, that gracefully unwinds us from the cocoon that is the mundane and routine, to change that gives us reason to move on and realize that there is MORE out there when we’re knocked down hard, gasping, panting, but somehow, still surviving.

A toast to the beautiful, meaningful idleness that i so love to spend time in. Oh, how amazing it is, how much it makes me think, how it makes me realize that there are more ways to express oneself than writing.

A toast to My Bestie, who can still make me smile no matter how much time has passed since a long heart to heart.

A toast to the little things, the simple things. The little sparrow’s nest I see everyday on my way to work, the brave little sapling that has growing in the spoonful of earth lodged in a little crack of the wall in my apartment on the ground floor which shows me and all it’s siblings down below that to be noticed, you have to be unique and different, to the pigeon who calls out to me mournfully in the morning, to the toothless beggar who smiles at me daily when I pass him by, reminding me of the little fact that you can have nothing, nothing in the world ( not even teeth,) to smile about, but you may still smile.

To life and all it’s ups and downs, to learning, to loving, to dancing, to existing, to always having so, SO much to still keep fighting for….

A Toast to All….

it's been a long week

.or rather a really long month.

too much work. not enough sleep. brain dead. feeling a little lost. and i think age has something to do with the way i feel.

physically and emotionally.

getting fat. metabolic rate is declining faster than the global stock market. energy levels at all time low. water retention. feeling bloated.

don't feel so good about myself. strange. I was never that self conscious. Somehow, people's remarks about how i look now are getting to me. I hate it and I am fighting it, but it's wearing me out.

2014, Some news we might see in the new year!

Hello Everyone, Here is something as a gift for all of you. A post on the very first day of the new year. Read it and blame yourself for reading it later.

"Just like every other year, this one has also gone away into history. But 2013 did make a lot of differences in many lives. We lost some (Jiyah Khan, Pran Kishan, Paul Walker, Nelson Mandela, Margaret Thatcher), while some arrived into the world (my special baby- My Godchild and 50million other kids). We saw big things (Arvind Kejriwal sworne as CM) and some small things (Dhoom3's cast).

But just like every other year, we are left with the same hopes (and the same failed government). Though it’s just a matter of one digit—2013 to 2014—which won’t change anything, but there’s one thing that we can always expect the next year to be better in. NEWS! Seeing the trends 2013 is leaving us with, here is something I think, can become the news of 2014.

Let’s start with the Hero of 2013. Anna Hazare is the obvious choice. If you don’t vote for Katrina Kaif as the Heroine of 2013, she can readily strip for you and your views will change. So now there’s high probability that the hero and heroine will join together in 2014 to do, well, whatever they do! While Anna performs his fasting, Kat could strip so that the Anna fans do not get bored!

With the popularity of few politicians  since they were slapped, I think it’s high time, the PM should declare ‘Slapping’ as the National Action. Who knows, we might see the National Slap Day being observed, where politicians volunteer to be slapped and get Facebook promotions in return!

"Another super popular thing this year were many of the Bollywood item numbers. Seeing the popularity, some underrated soul might use them for their fame. Don’t tell anyone but our secret sources report that Manmohan Singh is planning to sing the silent version of Mujhe Cash de, to be released on his birthday next year.

The biggest question 2013 has left us with is Sachin’s retirement. And the way he has played, I guess in 2014, we may see a few of the cricketers hit a few hundreds (of nervous nineties)! (No offence to Sachin fans, even I am one)

Bollywood might see some big things next year. Big Boss season7 has just ended. Bored by usual ways of promotion, the producers have decided to do acts in public what their actors and actresses do in a movie. So the public will now get to see the celebrities doing the same things they do on TV: shirtless, topless and bottomless!

The Bharat Ratna will also be another much discussed thing the next year since it is now open to sportspersons. Now that sportsmen can get it, I think Vinod Kambli will be its recipient in 2014. Oh c’mon, the guy speaks the truth and he has played cricket if you remember! (Tell me you do!)

Next year, we’ll also see the Swayamvar of Sofia Hayat. Any guesses on who is the unlucky one to be her would-be? Well, I think i have an answer for you. News is that our unmarried former Prime Minister Atal Behari Vajpayee would be going to try his luck, not because he likes her, but he wants Indo-Pak harmony.

"As for the last and the best news, the biggest trend of 2014 is going to be the one and only Narendra Modi! As he is the one who will save the world on the Doomsday!

Well, we’re done with what is going to be the NEWS of 2014. We all have seen a lot this year, and on a serious note, I wish this year we can see better governance and a few stable policies. Please don’t say you laughed more on this point!

Oh yeah, HAPPY NEW YEAR

There are some days in your life you'll never forget

Sometimes, there are days you don’t ever want to forget. Days so perfect that if you could paint a picture of how you wanted it to look, it would look like that. If you could write the script for that day, it would be as you’d have written. Days you’ll want to preserve from every test and trick that time has. Sometimes these are days of great significance, sometimes these are just normal days. Either way, if a thief came into your mind trying to steal your memories, these are the ones you’d gather up behind you to protect with all your strength.

Today i've became a Godmother for my nephew, me special one, so the following is dedicated to my Godchild….

I found a fairy in a jar.

When I opened it and set her free, I asked her to do something for me in return. Find you. Follow the path that connects me to you. A path where our footprints will be forever found.

I asked her to sprinkle fairy dust on your soul, so you may always have spirit in your heart and magic in your thoughts. I asked her to splash a fairy teardrop on you, so you may always feel your emotions. I asked her to whisper words of affection and encouragement into your ears so you may always hear the good echoing inside you.

I asked her to catch your wishes in a net and put them by the side of your bed in a jar, so as you grow older you’ll never forget them.

I asked her to light the paths in front of you with fireflies so you will always know the right one to take.

Finally I asked her to take a piece of my heart and drop it in your pocket. It is now yours. This way you will know that you are protected and loved by me. Always…

I did this so you know, fairies and Godmothers always go hand in hand together”

What do you call this?

Is there a term for the phenomenon that people are well-read and highly trained in certain areas of knowledge, but fail to put to practice their knowledge in real life, e.g. in family, at work, in the everyday life?

E.g. A civil engineer ,who knows how to use all types of project management tools, but is always messy about family matters.

E.g. A doctor who leads a heart attack prone lifestyle.

E.g. A sociologist who is a slave to social constructs.

E.g. A public prosecutor who flouts the criminal rules.

Hypocrisy is not counted as an (acceptable) answer.

This is a serious question, btw.
And it is not limited to professionals. Just that it's easier to use professionals to illustrate my point.

It seems this phenomenon is rather... wasteful.

All those resources (time, money, effort etc) that have gone into the relevant education and training... Only use 'at work', but not applied in other spheres of one's life.

In Your Own World

I now understand why people sometimes choose to be lost, no, not lost, in their own world. Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing after all. It could be a refuge, a haven, a quiet place, a controlled environment, where one coils or cuddles back into, where one feels a sense of security and comfort, whether false or not, at least it feels so. For a while now, I’ve been too much of a fire element, too hot-blooded, having a response and reaction to every stimulus, fighting for every little cause, expressing freely directly responsibly, whether at work or in my personal life, it’s been a bit too much to take, for me and probably the people around me, it might be a negative energy, I want to mellow down, less is more, keep some, go easy, be sometimes a bit ignorant, more of a water element, be sometimes a bit more in my own world, and it might be easier.

I told a friend, “I want to be more like you. More in your own world. And now I understand why.” I asked if she was optimistic or pessimistic, she said she’s hopeful. Sometimes, you feel as if you haven’t been good enough for the world or haven’t lived up to it. It was suggested it might be heathy to occasionally also believe “sometimes, perhaps, the world hasn’t exactly lived up to you too.” Not that anyone owes you a living though, not in that sense.

People sometimes live with arms wide open, only to be hurt and then they recoil into their own world; people sometimes break out of their shells in an attempt to welcome and let in the world again. Funny how life can be a constant flux like that, huh.

“WhY sO SeRioUs?”

Somebody once suggested to me:

People nowadays no longer want to hear the truth, or  heartfelt words, or need to see what is real, or the genuine side of things. That’s passe, no longer in fashion, boring, and it doesn’t get you anywhere. People want to hear words pleasant to the ears, what they want to hear, that are light, not too heavy, that need not be serious, for the fun of it, no need to be of substance, can be superficial, not to be taken seriously, of entertainment value, spontaneous, that show your reaction, say-it-here-and-forget-about-it-here type. Because life is heavy and tiring enough as it is. Is the explanation and rationale behind it.

Yes, a lot of times, I find myself taking things a bit too seriously. Taking the people around me too seriously. Taking life a bit too seriously. Taking myself too seriously. To attach too much value to everything said and done. I’m out-of-fashion, I guess. Not keeping up with the times.

“WhY sO SeRioUs?”

“DoN’T taKe mE sO SeRioUsly, wiLL U?”

Set. =)

Happy Teachers's Day!!!

You are a needed piece to my lifes's puzzle. Your service has played a great role in my individuality and in my life....

Dear Teachers any amount of Thanks wouldn't be enough therefore on this day of yours I am just passing you my wishes...

Happy Teacher's Day to you lovely people.