Being Kashmiri :Yakhin (Mutton Yakhni) and Thool Razma

The first installment of this post can be found here.

Since I last wrote about Dum Monjj I have been cooking up a storm (like literally!). We have tried almost all types Kashmiri food - Greens, pulses, dried veggies and non vegetarian delicacies. But if there is something that is almost never tried in our house hold is anything that has yellow based gravy or for that matter yogurt based. And that's because the boy absolutely detests anything and everything that is not fiery red. He loves to have his food insanely spicy and twists his face at the very mention of something yellow or white. So I have never really prepared mutton kaliya or Yakhni or tscchat rass (soups).

But this time I had to really put my food down. I had been craving Mutton Yakni since long time but instead of just eating I was also craving to cook it. So I did what had to be done and Yakhni was made. Might I add with aah-mazing results. So I decided that something so good must be documented for proof and well, for future reference. Plus someone looking to make some yakhni can hop on here too.

It's almost winters everywhere. There is that slight nip in the air. Mornings have you reaching for that cosy shawl and evenings for your favorite blanket. The falling leaves bring a strange kind of re-assurance, a promise of new beginnings. The bare branches of trees, although forlorn are still beautiful. The onsite of winters makes way for turtlenecks, oversize pherans, hot water bottle, naar josh (Kangri) and comfort food. The first bite of Yakhni with baatt myound (morsel of rice) was this perfect winter comfort food. So without any further delay jumping straight to the recipe.

Ingredients:
1/2Kg Mutton
Any Refined oil
About 400g of Yoghurt
4-5 cloves
5-6 Green cardamoms
1 Cinnamon Stick
A pinch of black jira
2 Black cardamoms
Asafoetida
Fennel powder
Dry ginger powder
Dry mint powder
Fresh coriander for garnish


Steps:

1. First  we deal with the mutton. Now originally the recipe simply involves boiling the meat in spices. But I like to fry the mutton a bit to get rid of that raw-ish looks. So in just about a spoonful of oil with a little hing (Asafoetida), I stir fried the mutton till it changed its color to umm un-raw.

2. Now add crushed black cardamoms, some salt, about two spoons of fennel powder and half a spoon of ginger powder.

3. Next add enough water to just cover the mutton and pressure cook for about 2 to 3 whistles.

You can have the broth as soup by the way.

4. Now in a thick bottomed vessel, add beaten dahi with grounded cinnamon stick, green cardamom, cloves and jira on medium heat. You can add whole spices as well instead of grinding them but I like to keep my gravy neat.

5. Keep stirring the concoction until you can no longer feel your arms or the curd starts to thicken and bubble. At this point add a kriscch (deep bottomed ladle) full of oil. Now don't be stingy with the oil. Unless your yakhni has that floating layer of oil on top, it is even yakhni?

Bubble bubble you beauty

6. Check your meat now, should be cooked and tender by now. Take the meat pieces and mix with the yoghurt gravy. You may add some broth from the cooked mutton and let everything cook together for 10-15 minutes. Add dried mint and mix well. Once the gravy starts to thicken, take off from heat and garnish with fresh coriander. And your yakhni is ready!

The fruit of labour

Enjoy with white rice and some spicy green chutney.

From Left - Corriander/Raw Mango chutney, Thool Razma and Yahkni. And rice ofcourse

Thool Razma you ask? Also called cranberry beans they come inside a pod like peas. They are adorably shaped like an egg, hence the name "thool" which means egg in kashmiri. These are seasonal and available for a limited time. So we kashmiri's buy them in bulk, invest in the labor of shelling them and then freeze them for later use. These beauties also make long distance travels to places where they are not available like Delhi, Hyderabad and even overseas. There are many different ways of cooking them up. I have an easy peazy one pot recipe for all lazy people like me.

1. In a pressure cooker heat up some oil. Add some jira, few pods of garlic and grated ginger.

2. Once the oil becomes fragrant add onions and fry until golden brown.

3. Now add red mirchi powder, dry ginger powder and fennel powder. Give a good stir and add tomatoes.

4. Next add some salt, wait for the tomatoes to get mushy. Now in go the Thool ramza. Mix them a bit with the masala and add water.

5. The rajma should be done in 2 to 3 seethees especially if you are using frozen ones like me.

6. Finally add some garam masala and cook until the gravy thickens.

And that's all folks.

Close-up

Love:
Sepo.

The Jungle Safari 2018

Animals are curious creatures. Some are tame and cute. Others are ferocious and wild. Some make our hearts melt with their actions while others force us to retreat our steps in fear. I am not much of an animal lover. Sometimes I do play around with a puppy (from a distance) but that’s that. I do however love going to the Zoo. I know it sounds politically incorrect and a lot of PETA members would condemn this statement. Still, I really like to observe animals and their antics. There is a lot of learn from animals. Their playfulness, the survival instinct, the way they maintain their calm when people try to tease them and the way they attack when they have had enough.

Early this year we planned a vacay to the Jim Corbett Park in Uttarakhand. After months of researching, reading reviews and contacting friends who had been there – we finalized in on the plan. There are multiple gates to the access the park and each has its own specialty. We zeroed on the Dhikala gate as according to the reviews maximum tiger sightings happen there. We also pre-booked a decanter for the 7 of us visiting.

We reached Ramnagar, Uttarakhand from Delhi and explored the nearby places. Also drove in and around the Park to check our assembly point for the planned safari. Next day we were ready bright and early - eager to explore and spot tiger or tigers in their most natural routine. It was my first safari and I must say the experience was very different from visiting a Zoo. I was very aware of the fact that we do not belong here, this is their territory and we must be respectful to the surroundings. Also unlike a zoo here there were no animals to be spotted at regular intervals. We crossed at least 2 miles without spotting any fauna. But the surroundings were beautiful. We drove through Jungles with greenery everywhere, river kosi popping up every now and then, a bright winter day and freshest air around. As we went deep into the jungle, slowly animals started to show up.

Cutie

Brunching

Hellow, there

 Starting with a bewildered group of Sambal Deers. We were instructed to be extremely quiet around the animals and just let them be. No ooh, aahh’s. No name calling. No throwing stuff. Only quite photos and smart selfie’s . The family of deer was busy having their brunch but were very quickly aware of foreign presence. They kept being in attention till we left the spot. On further traverse we saw many other deers, pretty birds perched up in tree branches, naughty monkeys, haughty langoors, a herd of elephants crossing, some crocodiles sun-bathing lazily around the Kosi river. We were all eagerly waiting to spot the tiger however there was no sign of it anywhere. It was almost 5 pm when we started to come back towards the gate we started from. Although a little disappointed with no-tiger-siting of us were trying to be cheerful about spotting so many beautiful animals and nature. So what if we were not lucky to spot the tiger. But little did we know that our little exciting trip was far from getting over.

Enjoying the balcony seat

Vitamin D soaking

We were just some distance short from our exit gate when we spotted an elephant and a small baby elephant. The mommy elephant seemed to be very restless and kept her baby between her legs as she moved- just like a football player. The vehicle driver was of the opinion that the elephant is bothered by our decanter because in the past too, there have been incidents of elephants chasing out jeeps and other safari vehicles. So we immediately stopped our vehicle and keenly started to observe the mother/child duo. As they came closer we saw that the baby elephant was injured and had blood oozing from right side of his body. The mothers‘s restlessness suddenly became very clear. It was
now quickly concluded that the baby elephant had been attacked, mother was trying her best to protect him and in all possibility there should be a tiger nearby. Now far from being exciting about the prospect of seeing the tiger, all of us were worried about the cute little baby elephant and his poor mother. Somewhere amid this, right in front of us in a speed that would give the speed the light a huge competition a bright orange tiger jumped from a ravine, crossed the pathway and went up the mountain. All this in one quick leap. His long straight elongated tail remaining visible to us long after he vanished. It was literally a blink-and-you-shall-miss moment. This episode unfolded behind the elephant duo, both of them unaware of the predicament that was probably spying them from above and behind the trees.

Tense Mommy :(

Trying to keep him close

Off they go

Cute little elephant

The driver and the guide were particularly excited by the scenario that just unfolded. They told us to be quiet if we wanted to “enjoy” the action. Most of us were petrified by now. Few of us pleaded with them to inform forest authorities and help the elephants but they said this is between the animals and it’s the survival of the fittest . But not before scaring us with the fact that “tiger ab nhi chodega isko” “Tiger will not leave his prey”. It was getting dark and the chances seemed to be very bleak for the elephants. Even if the mother tried to fight the tiger, tiger would distract her and go after the baby. With really heavy hearts we went back once the elephants crossed by our vehicle.

The mother/child were on my mind the entire night that day and many other nights after that. I prayed with all my heart for the cute little baby.

This part of Kosi river was inside our resort. I remember i was shit scared while posing of this picture, thinking that tiger can come to attack any time! In my defence discovery channel always shows tigers attaching when the prey is near a water body!

Come to think of it, aren’t we too living in a jungle? An Urban Jungle?

Read me writing more about animals here.






Love:
Sepo

Of being inside a circle in a circus called love — or its subset called life.

The first thing that Rose did after getting news from Dionysus — of that-inebriated-fellow’s heart racing so fast that it stopped — was to open his cigarette box. The moment she took the cigarettes out of the box, one after another, and was staring at them, the moon too was gawking at her from the space in-between two curtains. On each cigarette, there was a cross.

Staring at the cross, Rose went back to reflect on the time gone by — a shadow that she thought had weakened over time. But, had it become faint or had it still the force to control her life? The reckless time of young and fresh love — the soft innocent kisses and the tender hugs. She distinctly rembered how foolishly were they in love with each other. This time-travel brought a little smile on her face — a smile with its etymology in an unknown void — a void with prickles of unanswered questions. Puffing one of his cigarettes, she got up to make some coffee. With the coffee and cigarette, she starting asking herself hurtful questions — the usual ‘what if’ ones.

One fine day, when they were not-so-together, they had a heart to heart with each other to realise they can’t be together. And Rose’s chain-of-thoughts had crash-landed her straight into this moment of abyss. On that day of realisation — there was first an eerie silence in the room followed by that-inebriated-fellow’s broken voice. The vividness with which this episode was coming alive in front of Rose, she was drowning deep and fast in the mess. With a hushed voice — he had pushed out these fragmented words — you know I’ll die waiting for you but I won’t trouble you, I shall seal the corners of my heart and lips. And in that fucking moment — Saturn had cracked and the moon was going to crush her anytime by the mass of love alone.

Love — is just a four-letter word — but how much weight does it have? After all calculations, what is the total sum of it? Nil or infinite — but what exactly are both of them — valued or not valued? Is it about sacrifices or empathy? When does empathy become sacrifice? Is it about what you read in books — spiritual connect, soulmate, longing etc etc — or do we find it in the music we hear? But you know, what Rose felt for him after he left abode was something beyond definitions — something unknown — something unanswerable. It couldn’t have contours. Those intense dreams were the questions themselves which she had to fall in love with. Did she have an other way — an answer — the answer — she wondered.

Me Too #Not

Okay, if I hear another #MeToo news/article I will scream. Oh I will scream so bad. Don’t get me wrong, I have a lot of empathy for all the women out there who have had to bear the brunt of disrespect and harassment. But of late it’s getting a bit much.

Pick up the newspaper and it’s splattered all over. Browse through Instagram and you will see Rakhi Sawant doing god knows what wearing something that doesn’t make any sense and speaking, well I have no patience to hear what she says. If this is not enough, very recently there was this girl who stripped down to resist getting arrested/escorted by the police. I don’t know about others but I get really affected by all this negativity. Call it living in a bubble but I like to believe the best in people. Not all people are good I know, that but we always have the option of staying away from them.

Just because there is bad in the world doesn’t mean there is no good. The fact that few men choose to use their power and position for dishonorable deeds doesn’t mean all do so. All men cannot and must not face the brunt of a few lascivious men. And most importantly no women should exploit her position, her gender, the laws and the trending topic to her advantage or for personal vendetta. Doing this dissolves the good intension behind every movement. People start to react to every story henceforth with a pinch of salt and mostly it just shoves back genuine cases back to where they came from.

There is now a lot of dis-credibility associated with anything that a woman reports. And why shouldn’t it be, after all there have been so many fake cases. Irony is that hundreds of genuine cases may not shake people, but one fake case and everyone will become a cynic. I feel as women it is our responsibility to report responsibly. Not indulge in unnecessary male bashing for petty issues and for heaven’s sake stop calling everything and anything to be a feminist. People have given such a bad name to being a feminist, it breaks my heart when I see and hear people calling derogatory terms like Feminazis. Le Sigh. I wish people would understand that feminism is about EQUAL rights, not about special treatment.

After reading all these disturbing stories, I thought about my personal instances of MeToo. And of course there were many. I am sure every girl out there has encountered these situations in different forms and times. I am however also sure that many girls would have something positive, heart-warming or good memory associated with a member of opposite sex. Because come-on not all men are sexual predators. By the means of this post, I decided to think of these memories or instances where I felt SAFE or touched emotionally in the company of the XY chromosome holders.

Year 2005. The Silent Protector
I was in 11th standard and used to go for tuitions and commute in local buses. It was autumn, the days were getting shorter and it used to be very dark by the time we were free from our classes. It was a popular center so a lot of guys used to sit outside on their bikes and chitter chatter loudly. Some amount of teasing, shouting and whistling was also indulged. So when I used to cross the road and wait for my bus, it was a slightly uncomfortable feat even though the banter from the boys may not have been necessarily directed towards me. There was this one boy who I began to notice used to stand with me till I boarded the
bus. I happened to know where he lived and hence noticed that he missed many of the buses going to his route. I expected to receive a fraanship offer from him very soon. But no such thing happened, soon the tuition classes got over and that was that. It was years later I came to know that he felt he should wait for me to board the bus and then leave as it was dark and I was alone. What a sweet gesture, no?

Year 2016. The fundraiser
This was right after demonetization. I had Rs 60 left in my wallet. Banks were overcrowded, ATMs were out of cash and friends were all under the cash crunch. So I had taken to book cab rides for my 4km journey from office to PG instead of the usual auto-rickshaw. Now this was pre Google pay and PayTM too was just starting to get popular. I was entirely relying on the Ola money for my transportation. One fateful night the cabs started to play me by cancelling the rides, not picking up the calls etcetera etcetera. I was on the verge of a mental breakdown when finally one arrived. We got to talking as he was curious why I was booking cabs for such short distance. I explained him my financial crunch and then he said something that I will never forget. He said how I was like his daughter and I can borrow Rs 500 from him. It was a really big gesture, as cash was like really scarce and there was this huge fixation with the new notes. Remember how everybody back then was taking selfie’s with 2000 and 500 notes? I declined the offer politely but not before thanking him profusely.

Year 2006. The Designer
Ask any engineering student and they will share how they were petrified of a subject called Mechanics. Not me though. It was Engineering Drawing that gave me the heebie jeebies. The drafter, chart holder, HB pencils, scale, compass and what not! I had all the accessories but knew very little on how to use them properly. The teacher, though very good taught in a manner that I just could not connect to. And call it bad luck but whenever we had the lab session for drawing wherein you can practice on drawing boards I met with some or the mishap. Once I fainted because we had to keep standing for long periods of time and the fan above was moving at a snails speed. Another time I had freaking bad cramps. Some other time we decided to bunk and sit outside in our special dhabha and eat stuffed naan and rajma with imli and mulli ki chutney. Omg my mouth just filled with whole lotta saliva! Anyhow coming back to the topic as is evident by now I had minuscule knowledge about the subject. Now we were supposed to submit two assignments before final assessment and I had already missed the deadline for the first one and the second one was due a day after. In despair I started to panic. One of my friend (very good at the subject) made both the assignments for me. Omg. I was on cloud 9 literally! Now before to jump to any conclusions he had a huge crush on some other girl from our class, so this was just a simple good deed done for a stupid lazy girl. Now the final assessment was very adventures too, but that’s a different story for a different time.

So yea. That’s all I could remember in this short span of time I dedicated in penning down this post. Do update in comments if you have a similar story to share. Would love to hear.

Lots of love:
Sepo

So the 50’s Called

The 50s was a glamorous time. The world recovering after the Second World War, was trying to put its best foot forward. Economy, style, glamour everything was making its presence felt. While the men were very suave in suits and hats (very Rhett Butler), the ladies weren’t that far behind. With their bright pouts, flowy dresses, narrow waists (achieved by the much hated corsets) women had the world at their pointy peep-toes. When Marilyn Monroe breathlessly hummed ‘Happy Birthday Mr President’, people were in awe of her beauty and splendor. Also of her dress which the legend has it was so tight that it had to be sewn while she was in it. The said dress was auctions for $4.8 million in 2016. The irony is that in spite of her huge popularity and fandom, Marilyn was highly underpaid and was constantly involved in legal hassles with Fox over her pay scale.

The point is under all the glamour, there was a very dark underbelly. This consisted of a very sexist and chauvinist society, which undermined women wherever possible. I got hold of few ads that released around this time. To state that they are appalling would be an understatement. If you don’t believe me, have a look yourselves.

See what I mean?

Woah, talk about someone walking all over you.

Because good girls desire domestic appliances

Saved the best for the last. So Mornidine controlled the symptoms of morning sickness..so that breakfast can be had. Rest? What rest?

So after this very interesting visual, y’all must be thinking that we the women have come a long way. Definitely there are tremendous improvements that have taken place but the patriarchy system was not as easy to dissolve as one might think. Some things have got passed on from the old times and stuck like glue to our heads. Today women are flying planes and heading offices, they mandate equal respect and pay-scale. But some people still perceive women behind the hearth of domesticity. It doesn’t matter how hard to work, how important your position is, how mean a workout you indulge in, how many miles you run – if you are not quite the domestic goddess you might as well forget ever other achievement of yours. Now there are many women out there you accomplish all of this feat with aplomb. Many a times I read about these “superwomen” who wear these invisible capes and handle it all right from the boardroom to the bedroom (and the kitchen of course). More power to these women but just because they do it, it does not mean every women out there can or wants to do all of it. The real issue however sprouts when there is no choice and people just automatically expect it out of you.

I was recently out of town for office work. And that’s when I had this astonishing discovery to how misogynistic a society we live in. After the usual pleasantries, the very next question every other person asked me was “So, you are here, who’s taking care of your husband?” I answered dutifully the first few times, about how my husband is a very accomplished cook and can easily manage on his own. But as the frequency of this question increased, I was irritated to no end. I mean first of all, what goes inside my household is literally out of bounds for intrusion. Secondly even if some is very curious about it, it still is extremely wrong to assume and imply that I am responsible for cooking and taking care. And lastly why is the fact that guys can fend for themselves so difficult to digest? When paying the bills, maintaining the home, buying the groceries – every responsibility is equally divided why not the kitchen chores? What is it about the kitchen that seems to drive most of the men miles away from it and the activities associated with it.

While I do love cooking, I hate it when it’s implied or forced. I cook to unwind and enjoy the whole exercise of cutting, chopping, sauté’s and stirs. So once in a while when I am not up it we either order in or my husband cooks if he is up for it. For us, there is nothing wrong or special about this scenario. And no I don’t consider myself lucky that my husband cooks for me. This is simply what a marriage or any kind of relationship should be like. Division of labor. It is just so wrong to have this prejudice, what bothers me the most is that it mostly comes from educated gen X, gen Y gen Z and even the millennial. It may sound selfish but I think every person deserves some “me” time irrespective of his/her gender. Things like cooking/taking care/ etc etc should be done with love and not under a feeling of compulsion. After working for 9-10 hours continuously I sometimes crave some time to catch up on my reading or continue that Television series or simply laying on the bed. There is no way in hell I will allow anyone to make me feel guilty for this.

Or for eating khichdi when sick. So I had brought lentil/rice concoction for lunch to office when under a serious bout of cold. The moment I open my box this colleague of mine comments – “Oh so you are sick, your husband will also have to eat khichdi”. I was like “Whaaaaat”. I wanted to hit him with my snot covered handkerchief but somehow restrained myself. He also once made a hullabaloo when I accidentally exchanged husbands and my tiffin’s in a way that both of us had two same sabzi’s instead of two different ones. Like I got two boxes of pumpkin and he got two boxers of beans. The very next day the pesky colleague wanted to know how my husband reacted. I was again like “Whaaaaaat”. And if you must know too, husband did not even notice. He assumed I was feeling extra generous with the beans! While we are taking about office, one more gossip about a colleague who commented on a girl getting onsite opportunity, oh and yes she was married - “What she will do there, why they are initiating her visa. She should be with her husband and take care of him”. This time I was like “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat”. Also I wonder why people have this huge fixation with “taking care of the husband”.

I try I provide level headed answers and examples whenever I am encountered by questions like these (which are plenty may I add). I hope my answers will give people a new perspective and they might start to think in a new and better direction. How much it actually helps is debatable but I try and do my part. We have come far from what women were subjected to and perceived to be. I am sure we can overcome this too some years down the line. Meanwhile we also need to break stereotypes like it’s the Men who should always pay the bills or do the heavy load work. Division of roles and responsibilities all the way :)

P.S When I read the whole thing I wrote for proof read, I realized it’s more like a rambling and less like a decent piece of writing. But as many of you may have observed I have had a very long dry spell on the blog. So this post is still going up, quality of content be dammed! Will try to improve and better my writing in the next one for sure.

Amen

Love:
Sepo

Original Is Always Worth More Than The Copy

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, said Oscar Wilde once. But I discovered it only recently that all forms of imitation may not always make you feel flattered. It can also cause undefined amount of anger. To cut the story short I found someone unashamedly copying contents from my blogs. Well not just contents actually, the entire snippets – the title, pasting pictures where I do, copying the way I end my posts. And if this was not enough even copied the “Why Rendezvous” section from my blog – where I have shared a sweet little tale about why I named my blog to what it is. The most irritating part about the whole thing was that the person in question was so foolish that whatever little she tried to change from my write-ups made absolutely no sense at all. She just randomly changed South to North, Khushwant Singh to Robin Sharma and books to ice-creams without using her pea-sized brain to re-read and laugh at the catastrophe she was calling a blog!

The very first line was a give-away.

Entire paragraph copied. Also the ending salutation.

How I found out about it you ask? Well, the twist to the story is that I actually know the girl behind this crime. She was a random acquaintance from my paying guest days in Mumbai. So, she happened to like a picture of mine in Instagram. I just checked her profile and saw a BlogSpot link in her bio (just like I have in mine, may I add). Now since I too write, I am always curious to read stuff from other people. So I clicked on that link, little knowing that it would soon cost me my sleep for the night. The very first thing I read was a line written by me, I had a déjà vu but ignored it. Then I kept reading and could hardly believe what was happening. Post after post just mindless copies for my write-ups. She had been at it since almost 6 months now. My labor of those precious moments I steal out of my office hours and lazy hours. My sweat and blood. My thoughts. My experiences. My personal beliefs. My favorites. My little joys. Anecdotes about my parents and friends. Had she been in front of me, I would surely have punched her in the nose like those “hit-me” toys.

MY FIRST INTERVIEW. Why would someone copy this?

Really? Copying someones' personal stuff and making it your own.

Now this one really made me laugh. My manger was from South, hence I have an added a relevant accent detail. Copycat changed South to North and thought that's that. Common Sense be dammed Slow claps!!

I spent the next 2 hours finding her on every social networking website ever created and leaving threatening and abusive messages. Also left comments on her posts my posts which had comments like "wow, beautifully written" "love the way you express yourself" and she had the gall to reply "Thank you" to these comments. These comments made my temper sour to the ultimate high. I dedicated the next few minutes reading about my rights in this circumstance and the list of actions I could take against her. Did a quick check on the availability of lawyers in the immediate family or friends. Damn why do all Kashmiri's have to be engineers!!

This was my erstwhile impression of Khushwant Singh, I was actually explaining how my impression of him changed. Copycat thought changing the name of the author will do all the magic.Little did she realize that she is implying Robin Sharma to be Tharki.

Apart from my legal action, she is also applicable to a potential legal action by Robin Sharma :D

Somewhere in the wee hours of morning I got a message from her apologizing and stating that she was learning web designing and using a blog content just to learn. I have never heard such a truck load of bullshit in one sentence. With so many technologies and platforms to learn courses ---she chooses BlogSpot. I mean even bloggers don’t choose BlogSpot these days. She also mentioned that she has not shared it with anyone. Oh. Okay. So you post something online. Host it on a URL. Accept and acknowledge comments. Giving no credit to the owner of the content. And you call it not sharing! The irony of all ironies is that this Thief is in IT, working as a Developer. Every decent MNC mandates courses on IT security that discourage and highlight repercussions of copying contents from websites, using pictures without credit/permissions, intellectual thefts and what not. This is such a serious concern and yet educated people indulge in such shameful acts.

I started blogging in 2009. It was always about my personal thoughts, nothing elaborate nothing special. I hardly shared its existence with anyone. It was only recently I warmed up to the idea of sharing it with an audience and then something like this happens. Since I keep sharing my personal pictures on the blog, I did have a few privacy settings done long back. Like disabling right click, Ctrl+C, inclusion of creative commons license. But sadly, the copy disabling function only works for the web version of the blog. And Ms. Copycat had very conveniently overlooked the license banner. But then, when you choose to share something online, you have to be thick skinned and agree that these things are unavoidable. However, it is also very important to be aware of your rights and the legal action you can take against these miscreants.

I am not sure if it exists already, but I very strongly feel that we need to introduce a course on social media etiquette at school level. People need to be aware and know the different between right and wrong.

Love:
Sepo

P.S I really want the Copycat to read this.
PPS All the grammatical mistakes and typos in Screenshots is CopyCat's doing and not mine.

First Impressions Are Overrated. Period.

First impression is the last impression. This statement has been done to death over and over. I have come to desist this after I had different experiences opposing the said statement. First few times I thought them to be exceptions to the rule. Because let’s face it, this phrase has been drilled into our minds since childhood. But when I had a repetition of many a first impressions changing from good to bad and bad to good, I had to re wire my brain to accept the new rule. Thou shall not judge anyone based on the overtly overrated first impression. Taking about first impressions takes me back to this very dreaded memory. The time I screwed up my first ever job interview with my first ever manager on my very first day in the big bad corporate world. Yes, that’s a lot of firsts in one sentence but you get the point no? It was a very important day in my life, in a way the first day of the rest of my life and I left a very bad first impression. So bad that it had the power to jeopardize my future.

It began like this. We (Myself and few other new joiners) were shown around the campus and introduced with what would be our new team. Fresh out from college, first time out of my hometown, so many ethnically diverse people, the hot humid heat of Mumbai, early morning traverse from Borivali to thane, unwelcoming dry hellos from people, strange screens on everyone’s computers, the strange cacophony of keyboard thumps, a new language (Marathi) detected, a group of girls looking like The Mean Girl gang. It was too much too soon. I craved the familiarity of my old life. Missed my folks and friends. I wanted to hop into the next plane home. I could feel tears brimming in my eyes. But before I had the chance to steady my emotions, I was called for a one on one with my would-be manager. Hmmm. Very bad timing. I had a very bad feeling about this meeting and bad it went.

Image Courtesy - girlzone.com

 It started with the usual introduction and blah blah. Mr Manger was a South Indian gentleman and I had a very hard time understanding his accent. He pronounced M as Yem and N as Yen. I had never been so confused in my life. There was just so much going on in the day, in my mind and everywhere else. Somewhere in between all this Mr Manger asked me my engineering subjects of last semester. And surprise surprise I went totally blank. Like Zero. Zilch. Nada. I tried my best, forced my brain to think but the only thing I could muster was a lot of sweat. Even my palms and soles started to sweat. The room started moving and my world was turning upside down. Taking pity on my condition I was offered some water and in a pretext to buy some time into thinking I took big gulps. After the drinks break I did manage to blurt out few subject names but Mr Manager had already lost interest. I came back very disheartened and with “First impression is the last impression” echoing in my head. I spent the next few days learning and revising all my engineering subjects from 1st semester to the 8th. A useless effort no doubt but I wanted to take no chances.

Few months went by and I prayed for a miracle. I wanted another one on one. Every night before I went to bed, I practiced my newly learned technical lingo and plotted on how I would impress the hell out of Mr Manager. And just like that one day my prayers got answered. My mentor (the one who took all credit for my hard work) fell sick. There were some important meetings and work lined up and in her absence the entire responsibility of this fell on me. I gave it my best and like they say – the rest is history. The clients were happy, the feedback was good and I was again called inside the cabin. However I did not get a chance to show off my skills because it was Mr Manager doing all the talking, while I was brimming with pride and happiness! And that’s how after months of being in agony I changed my impression from silly to smart. Also taught myself how important it is to give people another chance. We all have bad days and just cannot be perfect 24*7. It is very important to understand that you cannot judge people based on a single mistake or slip-up.

But even I forget this rule many a times. When I was little we used to get a subscription of India Today magazine in our home. My activity only involved looking at pictures and reading only if the picture was filmy. One fine day I spotted a very pornographic cartoon accompanied by a very erotic story. The name of the author was Khushwant Singh. Being in 5th or 6th standard I was disgusted by the story. In my mind Khushwant Singh = Tharki (Lascivious). While growing up whenever I heard his name, that story popped up in my head and I snorted with disgust. Just a few months back I was discussing about books with an online friend of mine. He is an avid reader and a beautiful writer. So when he suggested I read Khushwant Singh I decided to give it a go. So I bought the two books suggested by him – Train to Pakistan and Delhi. I started with Train to Pakistan and My-Oh-My, I was spellbound. The book was so beautifully written and totally my kind of book. I like the books wherein each work, each line created a picture in my brain. I imagine the entire sequence and setting of the story. It is only possible when the author gives attention to details. Explaining small little things, which even though might seem inconsequential but are very important in forming a picturesque story.

The book had this very charming details right down to things like black dirt inside finger nails! Mr Khushwant had intertwined these little details so beautifully that I found myself right inside the little village of Mano Majra. I quickly hopped onto the other book, Delhi. Another masterpiece. It’s an ode to the city that has seen and been a witness to so many important historical events. The city is described like someone would write about his mehbooba (beloved). It also provides a quick lesson in history as it details everything from accession by Nadir Shah, Taimur, Mughals to beautiful poetry nights by Amir Khusro, the lives Britishers led in India with their memsahibs, the building of Lutyens Delhi, assassination of Gandhi (Both MK and Indira) and many more events. The book made me fall in love with Delhi and its rich heritage. So, now I am a huge fan of Mr Singh’s writings and curse myself for delaying to read these extraordinary books because of my prejudices.

And while we are not the topic of books, I had another experience proving the theory of first impressions wrong. Once upon a time when I was in 12th standard, I happened to read this book called “The Rendezvous” from my school library. This book really left a positive impression on me. It was a love story in the backdrop of holocaust and I sweared by it for years altogether. So much so that when I decided to create a blog I named it Rendezvous. The book was a very old publication and not easily available in market. I had wanted to re-read it for many years and my joy knew no bounds when I found its second hand copy on Amazon. I was really excited to read the book I had admired and put good words about to anyone who’d listen.

But this time around I wasn’t that impressed. The book was a clichéd write-up of everything that clichés are made of. You name it and the book had it. The hero was Tall dark handsome, heroine was beautiful and sexy in a virginal way, the heroine had not really experienced true love before meeting the guy, after being with guy she understood the true love, when the heroine said NO hero assumed it to be yes, because shy girls never say yes. After reading a chapter or two, I had to stop and ask myself… Really? This is your favorite book? But then back then I was clueless about everything. Hence another point to prove, how dangerous (and false!) first impressions can be.

So my point of writing this post is a very small attempt on my part to remove the first meeting impressions and assumptions. Please refrain from forming an opinion based on limited facts.

Let’s live and let live and give second chances :)

Love:
Sepo

The Diary Of A Diplomatic Person

Just to be clear the Diplomat here does not refer to the official capacity of the word. Although the line of difference between the two is very blurred, we are going to dissect the anatomy of a diplomatic person – the person forever pleasing everyone by maintaining relationships and negotiating wherever possible. All of us have to be diplomatic at certain situations, however honest or blunt one may be. Like talking to your boss when he assigns you truck load of work before you go are planning a vacation. Your mind is full of abuses but you say “Yes Sir” with a smile. When your kids are fighting and you clearly know which one is at fault but you dare not take sides. Lest the other one hates you for the rest of his/her life. Now if these situations were not difficult enough, just imagine the condition of a person who has to go through the crossroads of being good or honest every single freaking day. Just imagine the amount of pressure, imaginary conversations, fights, accusations and going on in the brain of a true diplomatic person.

Contrary to what people might think and say it is NOT easy being a people pleaser. I mean yes, you easily get out of tricky situations, avoid confrontations and maintain that good person vibe but internally you are dying! Also not everyone is a people pleaser to earn brownie points or to be in the good books. Some people just can’t help being this way, it just the way they are wired. They lack the conviction in their minds and voice to put forward their opinions. Even if by some stroke of luck they manage to disagree, the manner will be so weak that the other person knows he has won the battle.
Although it may look very easy to win a battle of words with a diplomatic person but what really goes inside this persons mind is not that easy. There is a lot of could’ve, would’ve and should’ve out there! While this person tries really hard to avoid confrontations and keep everyone happy, he/she is at loss when it comes to controlling their own brain which works overtime with various thoughts, and muted screams of impatience. Avoided conversations leave behind a truck load of guilt which apart from the apparent restlessness also triggers anxiety, sleepless nights, conversations in dreams (if one manages to fall asleep) and in worst cases even depression. It is also accompanied by these side effects ranging from high blood pressure to stress and hair fall.

Image Credit- thebqb.com

Apart from mental trauma there are serious effects on the day today lifestyle as well. I mean if you are  a person who is efferent to saying no, you are more or less screwed 5 days outta 7. You are doing everyone else’s work by doing them a ‘favor’, frequency of which is increasing alarmingly. You are also working beyond your time and on weekends if required. Because since you don’t say No, everything is assumed to be a Yes. Sometimes you are meeting friends over dinner and drinks but would really want to be curled up in bed watching an old movie. Accompanying that pesky friend on shopping spree when you had planned to read that book you have been making eye contact with since months. Being in a half relationship because you just can’t break someone’s heart or bear the drama that comes with it. Pretending to smile and nod your head when you strongly disagree with someone’s religious or political views.

Can you imagine the constant control that a diplomatic person has to be in? The sheer amount of patience involved and not to forget the composure. I mean even I try to be diplomatic at times but alas I have no control over my face and expressions. My body language clearly gives away the thoughts I have going on in my mind. Hence I have a huge amount of respect for people who are so very in control of this body and mind. We may hate them at times, call them fake, weakling and what not. But we got to admit that there are some really strong qualities out there. Also at some point of time they must get so used to the drill that the side effects and mind-nagging would definitely have lesser and lesser impact on them.

Nonetheless, next time I spot a diplomatic-people-pleaser instead of the usual wrath I am going to show some respect and learn a trick or two!

Love:
Sepo

10 Reasons Why

I am very big on repetitions. Be it food, restaurants, books or movies. I love the comfort of familiarity that comes with the things that are known. Although I am always up for new adventures, a part of me craves tried-and-tested. When it comes to books, I just cannot not reread a book especially if I own it. Some people find it very weird but I just cannot imagine not re-reading a book I loved. Not only does it refresh your memory, at every stage you also tend to analyses the characters and the situations in the book differently, sometimes in the first read we tend to miss a lot of facts or not understand them at that particular instance. But when you read it again and this time already know how it ends you somehow understand the underlying emotions, little details and empathize with the characters a bit more. I read the book Jane Eyre when I was in 5th standard. Now obviously that time I could not understand the entire thing. When I re-read it 9th standard it was like I was reading a completely new story. Another reading fest in 12th standard made me notice parts which I had totally missed or thought to be inconsequential in my earlier reads.

Another book which I re-read at least once a year is Gone With The Wind. Now at some 1000 odd pages this is a brave task to intake. But I eagerly look forward to this task every year. I first read this book in 2008 back when I was in college and since I could not afford to buy the book I did the next best thing. Read the PDF version on my laptop, twisting and turning it at awkward angles in a quest to accomplishing something akin to “cuddling with the book”. I still remember when I finished reading the book. I felt like I just could not go on living normally, like nothing would ever be the same, like OMG. Scarlett, Rhett, Ashley, Melanie, Mammy, Auntie PittyPat all of them just kept revolving in head and dreams for days altogether. I knew that I had to re-read this book again. And I continued to do so on my laptop reading the same PDF. However this year husband has taken pity on my eyes and decided to buy me the real thing. Flesh and blood. So 2018 will be all about cuddling with my beloved Gone with the Wind.

The book reading is also followed by watching the movie, which is easily the best book-inspired-movie ever made. In a duration of 4 hours they have tried their level best to fit in as many important milestones as possible. This ritual of mine (of reading the book followed by the movie) makes me somehow ready for the year. Ready to face on new challenges and various ideas to execute them. There is just so much to learn from this book – perseverance, the love for home, starting up from scratch, the pain of hunger, the ruthlessness of wars, the damn Yankees, pretense of helplessness, beautiful flowy dresses and bonnets, tiny waists, mammy and the dreamy Rhett Butler. But none of this matches the love I have for the Ultimate Queen of Sass – Miss Scarlett O’ Hara. The scandalous, un-heroine, manipulative belle with zero fcuks to give. Whenever I read the book, I find Scarlett’s character like a breath of fresh air amid the overtly proper and sacrificing ladies. Published first in 1936, it is undoubtedly the most progressive and remarkable character ever written. Played with equal aplomb by Vivienne Leigh. Out of so many things to love about Scarlett, let’s go through some that make her so adorable and different from the crop of Miss-Goodie-Two-Shoes protagonists we are so used to.

Making the first move:

Now this is something which is still very touché. Should a girl make the first move or not? Well Scarlett did not give a damn and made her feelings very clear and demanded a reciprocation. She was snubbed and humiliated no doubt but at least she had the guts to try and find the truth rather than believe the floating rumors.

The super loser Ashley! How I hate him

Dance Dance baby:

Women are always taught to behave in a proper manner and never be overly enthusiastic about anything in public. Scarlett pretty much did not care about this rule when she danced away with Rhett Butler at the benefit to organize funds for the war. The fact that she is a recent widow did not cross her mind but she left others at Atlanta pretty shell shocked with her stunt, especially poor Auntie Pittypat who had to be revived with smelling salts.

She is wearing black because she is in mourning for her first husband.

The love for Tara:

The Irish blood from her father gave Scarlett a very strong love for her land. She did whatever possible to retain Tara with the O’Hara family. Also made sure to feed hungry mouths by taking charge of working in the cotton fields herself. She had to let go of vanity by exposing herself to sun and blisters. She even went to the extent of stealing her sisters’ beau so that she could extract money to pay off taxes for Tara. When I first read the book I found this action wretched but now I understand she did it only to save her homeland.

Running to meet her Pa, with the Tarleton twins behind

Curtains Down:

The idea to make a dress out of deep green velvet curtains was questionable but the result was very good. No two ways, there is just no one on this planet who would look as gorgeous as Scarlett in the iconic dress.

The epic dress, don't miss the smart use of curtain-tie

Strength:

Clearly a definition of women of substance. Scarlett O’ Hara was not just about ball gowns and bonnets. She showed immense steak of strength when she acted as a nurse to those wounded in war. When she delivered Melanie’s baby without any help. When she took charge of Tara household after her mother died. When she started a business on her own. And I almost forgot, she also killed a Yankee. Well, Melanie pulled the trigger but she got the power from Scarlett.

The resolve to never go hungry again!

Kindness:

Before you all go Whaaaat?!!? Behind the shrewd, manipulative and mean persona there is a very tiny brink of Kindness. She always treats the darkies well. She even gifted her father’s gold pocket watch to Pork. Trusted Mammy more than her own sisters. She did hit Prissy a few times but then Prissy herself was up to no good.

Some chit chat with Mammy and Mel

Back to business:

In her resolve to never go hungry again, Scarlett rather than sit around waiting for her husband to get money got to her feet. Since after the war construction was at its peak, she decided to start a lumber business and made sure it flourished. Her going about alone to the workshop, negotiation deals with strange men and hiring ex-convicts as her employers made her the talk of town (not in a good way). But as long as her business was successful she never looked back. Too bad her husband number 2 has to die taking revenge for the attempted molestation on her. But then he gave way to husband number 3 – everyone’s favorite Rhett Butler so yeah!

The business woman in fabulous checks and collar

Got it, flaunt it:

When she married Rhett and had all the riches of the world, she did not hide her glee. She made it a point to build a big house, decorate it lavishly and most importantly rub it in people’s faces. She made it very clear when she told Rhett – “I want everybody who's been mean to me to be pea-green with envy.”

Honeymooners

If looks could kill:

When Ashley and Scarlett were caught canoodling by India, it was sure that India (who already hated Scarlett for stealing her beau) would leave no stone unturned in making sure everybody in town heard of it, including Ashley’s wife. And as fate would have it Scarlett was supposed to attend Ashley’s Party on the same day. Although she did not want to go, Rhett forced her and made sure she looked her part of the other woman.
That smoldering glare though! And that dress!

Burn!

The one liners:

Scarlett’s strength and wisdom came from setting her priorities correct. She never worries about trivial things and worries about big ones when she can handle them. She always addresses the elephant in the room and never minces her words. She has perfect words for each situation in her life. Some of the popular ones are – Oh fiddle-de-de, Tomorrow’s another day! Another famous line from the book is the one spoken by Rhett towards the heart breaking end of the story - “Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

Indeed!

Well that's all for now! Maybe I will add few more reasons after this year's read. Till then - tomorrow's another day and the South WILL rise!

Love
Sepo

Social Media Etiquettes

When we were young, we were taught manners and etiquette. To say sorry, pleases and thank yous wherever required. I studied in a catholic school, where we started our day with moral science classes. They were and have been instrumental in building up a conscious in me. Our sisters and teachers instilled in us the belief and love for god. The advantages of discipline. The power of forgiveness, helping the needy, the value of cleanliness and most importantly respect towards all. Even when venturing into the professional life, we were given training on how to dress formally, how to communicate with clients, how to negotiate deals, the art of subtle email writings, perfect table manners and personal hygiene. For everything thing we do and any venture that we step onto, there is a code of conduct. A set of do’s and dont's that need to be followed. After all that’s the thing which sets up apart from animals.

But digitization has come up with such a bang that we had literally no time to prepare for how to present ourselves when online. With twitter and Instagram we can just follow anybody with a click. Gain an insight into their lives or whatever they choose to share online. There are many other mediums which give us an opportunity to share across our views with amongst a humongous audience. But do we leverage the benefit of this correctly? Now that’s a very debatable question. I have spent an extreme amount of time last year to analyze how people react and comment on various platforms. My focus was on comments and discussion forums on popular websites like twitter, Instagram, YouTube, Quora and of course Facebook. My observations from the entire case study was shocking, cringe-worthy, appalling and sometimes all the three.

So let’s dig a little deeper. Now we all have some fascination with film stars, cricketers and people in entertainment field. And we now have a medium to feel connected with whosoever we like. But some people choose this medium to showcase their crassness. The kind of comments some of them leave will make anyone flinch in disgust. The area of comments will vary from insensitive remarks to vulgar comments of sexual nature to making fun of body parts to moral policing or simply trolling. I fail to understand the pleasure people drive from this. Does it somehow make them feel powerful? Does belittling someone feel good? Is it just for the sake of doing it? Or is it fearlessness about the fact that the opponent is sitting miles away and hence harmless.

I understand we cannot love/like everyone and neither can be always agree with someone else’s point of view. But we can ignore or have a healthy debate. It can get heated but under no circumstance should it come to such an extent that you have to badmouth, abuse and bring just about anyone from mothers, sisters, relatives and even Gods into your fights. Which I must point are stupid to begin with. Now topics which I have observed to be getting into these ugly comment zones are – Hindu/Muslim, Kashmiri Muslims Vs The Rest of India (whom they funnily refer to as Biharis), BJP Vs Congress, Modiji Lovers (popularly known as Bhakts on Quora) Vs Non Modiji Lovers (who call themselves secular), North Indians Vs South Indians (The hate portrayed here by some is unbelievable), Feminists Vs Men-who-hate-them and also Salman Khan fans Vs Shahrukh Khan fans (I kid you. Not). There are huge threads of comments on posts over these topics. And by huge I mean HUGE (like Big Data huge). Comment-reply-another reply-abuse-abuse-MyReligionIsBetterThanYours-Reply-Comment-Abuse-AndItGoesOn….

Talking about myself, I have carefully spaced myself out from the spider web that’s posts like these. Once I left a comment on a discussion forum about Kashmir. It was more of my personal feeling and expression but within minutes I received a notification that someone had replied to it. So I open a very rude, unnecessary, attacking and totally uncalled-for comment. Now I could feel my blood bubbling with anger, cheeks burning with rage. So I quickly opening my MS Word and started typing my answer back furiously (MS Word because anger can cause some serious spelling and grammar mishaps!). Satisfied with my reply after proof reading I was just about to copy-paste when a thought crossed my mind. This man who has commented on my post unwarranted without any provocation will definitely do it again after I reciprocate. In-fact I was serving him with exactly what he wanted. Now he may not have a life or anything better to do but I sure did. It was almost 7 and I had dinner to prepare. So I did the unthinkable. I deleted what I had posted originally hence giving myself the much needed closure. Now many might call me a coward but I’d say - anything for peace man! I have no patience or time for this sh** in life. But alas, there are few very like me for others this mind throbbing scenario brings some kind of adrenaline rush.

Last year also brought about this phenomena of trolls & memes. Social media enthusiasts spent a major amount of their time tagging each other in funny relatable memes. As much as I love laughing over the cleaver ones, I cannot ignore the fact that some of them tend towards being highly insensitive. Very recently people has a gala time laughing and sharing funny-face-pictures of Junior Ambani. But it turns out poor guy is suffering from sinusitis and borderline asthma, hence was breathless during his speech.

Internet is a fabulous place. The social networking platforms are great when used in the right manner. But by being abusive, bullying, stalking, bad mouthing and talking nonsense, more than the other person you are harming yourself. Your credibility and your set of values are at stake.It just goes on to say that your opinion is not strong enough to make a point and hence you resort to the dirty tactics. Moreover you are making the entire experience of unwinding and browsing for a person who has had a long day (or starting his day sitting on commode) very very sour.

Now that I have spoken to my hearts content, I present to you some proofs that I collected along. After a lot of brainstorming and censoring presenting the few that made the cut. Please brace yourself for some hardcore abuses.

 

Le Sigh!
Sepo