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

The Age Of Innocence

Past few weeks have had me going back in time and reminiscing about my childhood. The good old days where I just couldn’t wait to grow up. I feel very lucky sometimes to have witnessed the glorious time of 90s. To have used and beheld so many things and phenomena’s which are close to being obsolete now. I can now totally relate to the times when my parents used to say things like “In our days…” I can understand their nostalgia, the precious memories, the little things and stuff which you want to hold on to.

But time is unforgiving. It goes on from one decade to another, blurring the memories and fading recollections. We get wound up so badly in our present and future and we have no time or energy left to visit the past. Though some people say that what’s done is done and no good can come out of dwelling in the past, I do not agree. Our past even though done and dusted has many things to teach. Past mistakes, thinner days, old friends, the naughtiness, bad fashion choices, the list to revisit is endless but eventful. It is very strange how sometimes a small inconsequential thing takes us back in time. A song, a particular smell or perhaps taste of something suddenly reminds of a time long forgone. Recently when husband was devouring crème rolls, I happened to take a bite. Having tasted it after ages, the taste reminded me of the time my parents used to treat my sister and me to crème rolls in a small little bakery in our hometown.

Surprisingly I could recollect tiniest details about this little expedition of ours after having just a bite of this crème roll. The four of us on the light lime green scooter, me standing in the front and my sister sitting in-between mom and dad. The goodies from this tiny bakery stared at us through the thick glass slight pale yellow with age. Sometimes we used to go to the STD PCO nearby and talk to our cousins, all the time nervously eying the running meter. Needless to say, STD calls back then were a splurge. You only made these calls on important occasions and kept them short. For detailed conversations you wrote letters. Envelope and stamps enclosed the love (and tremendous information) filled letters. Then that evening walk to post the letter in the letterbox. The excitement of posting a letter was nothing when matched to the excitement of receiving a letter. When I was little my father was posted out of town and I had once written him a letter. It was a stupid letter which basically rambled about my day at school, conversations with the teachers (which by the way I had enclosed in double quotes). But the letter was so special, my father still has it in all its glory! It is still a topic for many a laughs in the family. An SMS, ping, chat and email whatever you call it can never ever match the charm of the good old (but forgotten) letters. Whenever I talk about letters I am reminded of one of my English teacher at school. She once narrated her years of courtship with her husband. Separated by distance her lover used to write her beautiful long letters. Young and naïve, she used to sit down with the letter in one hand and a dictionary in the other to understand the beautiful but difficult English words he used in his letters. For me at an impressionable age, this was the most romantic story and gesture. I longed ever since to receive such letters but sadly never received anything beyond fraandship notes.

School brings out another set of lovely memories. Getting up early in the wee hours of morning, catching the school bus and latest gossip on the way to school. During peak January winters my mother used to literally bundle me up in clothes. Warmer, two sweaters, a blazer and finally a muffler. I used to wait while walking towards my bus stop for a turn which would make me out of sight from my mother. After crossing the turn, the muffler used to come off, next the blazer which was then casually hung and carried on my arm. I thought it made me look very cool. Thinking back, it probably made me look like a fool walking in foggy winters carrying a coat rather than wearing it. But then a 13 year old girl rarely feels cold.

On sultry sweaty summer days I was welcomed with tall, chilled glass of nimbu pani, which was followed by an equally chilled bath. Afternoons made the water in the overhead tank extremely hot so my mother used to store the water in a bucket and put ice in it. I just can’t begin to explain the feeling of freshness this bath invoked! Next on the agenda was lunch, closely followed by the afternoon siesta in a room cooled by a dessert cooler. That siesta, an inconsequential thing back then seems like a luxury now. Nowadays even on the days of holidays I rarely manage to catch a siesta because of numerous chores to do. After siesta and a plateful of seasonal summer fruits, it was homework time and also an excuse to call friends on landline under false pretensions of study related ‘doubts’. Ah the landlines. The glorious era of blank calls and prank calls. I have these fond memories of the times all my cousins and myself used to sit together and decide who to prank. Scripts used to be made, everyone was assigned a specific role to play. But then came caller Id and this fun thing was lost forever. I feel bad for the kids of today. They will never know the fun of giving a blank call to someone just for the heck of it. And with true caller identification, prank calling someone is just not worth the risk anymore.

This is me in my age of innocence, riding a horse in Pahalgam (Kashmir)

Another one! Trying to emulate Madhuri Dixit's Maye-ne-Maye step from Hum Aapke Hai Koun here

This was a time devoid of any distractions what so ever. There was no Wtsapp or Facebook or even Orkut. Hell, there was not even a stable internet or laptops for that matter. TV channels and programs were limited. Radio was all about Vividh Bharti. I have solved numerous quadratic equations listening to programs like Chitralok, Hello Farmaish, Hello Saheli, Pitara, Jaimala and many many more. My sister and I also had this in-house music creation method wherein we used to record good songs from radio in our old cassettes. This was a critical job, you had to be smart enough to understand the song about to be played from the description of the movie, music director and the singers they announced. Then you also had to take care to press the record button at the exact time when the RJ stops and music starts, the next step was of course to again be on your toes towards the end of the song least you capture the voice of the RJ! This phenomena took considerable amount of our time, much to the chagrin of our parents.

Evenings meant power cuts and homework under candle lights because inverters were a luxury almost unheard off. If someone had a generator back then, it was considered to be big deal. When it got too hot inside, entire family dragged chairs and hand fans to the roof in a bid to enjoy some (nonexistent) breeze. This was also a time for a tête-à-tête with the neighbors via conjoined roofs. Longish power cuts gave way to antakshari and so much fun that everyone went back downstairs with heavy heart when the electricity returned. Dinner time conversations were actual conversations because there was no cellphone and hence no distracted, monosyllable answers.

The life we lead now is definitely not bad, in fact far from it. Various gadgets and inventions have only made our lives easier. Who would have imagined booking a cab just by a few swipes and clicks back then or delivery of just about anything at your doorsteps. Everything is great but somehow there is a detachment. But then we never know what new inventions or style of living is in store for us in future. Least we can do is live each moment to its fullest, touch as many lives as we can, meet new people, create one beautiful memories after other. Whenever we look back towards the time gone by, it should always be with a smile.

Love:
Sepo

An Observation!

Are we as a new generation becoming ultra-modern in our approach?

The modernity reflects in every aspect of our lives, be in the way we dress, the food we eat, the clothes we buy and the way we talk. Just look around yourself and you will see - a very similar approach we are following as a society.

I spend a lot of my time alone. And to spend this time nicely I am forever looking out for quint little cafe's where I can just unwind with a cup of coffee and a great book. But often this very exquisite rendezvous with myself turns into an observation exercise. I love analysing people sitting around me, listening to snippets of their communication, drooling over the food they order etc. Now I understand this makes me sound like a creep but this is something most of us do - irrespective of whether we admit it or not.

Anyhow moving on the thing that I realized after many occasions of my serious analysis is that there is a very considerable change that has come across in the last few years. And this change is having an exponential effect, slowly spreading its wings and becoming a part of our day to day approach. Now let’s discuss about these subtle changes in a little detail. I want you to think about any couple with kids, just think about the way they talk to the child. 8 out of 10 times you would recall parents talking and encouraging the kid to talk in English! Now I know many people with argue what is wrong with that? There isn’t. In fact, I am assuming that many parents do this so that their kids are more adaptable and aware. I say many because there is a section of people who purely do so to appear cool. Even that’s fine, to each his own! I mean who i am to judge how and in what way anyone wants to groom their kids. But my only qualm is how our mother tongues and regional languages suffer due to this. I feel it’s important to converse with kids in our mother language first. Common languages like Hindi and English are secondary. English anyhow kids will learn in school. I have an example to back this up! I had this south Indian family as my neighbors some time back. They had a beautiful little girl who only responded in broken Telugu. Her parents made it a point to speak to her only in their mother tongue. She faced issues when she joined school. Initially she had trouble understanding the teacher and other kids. But trust me in like two weeks she was speaking better Hindi than her parents! By the age of 5 she already knew three languages – Telugu, Hindi and English.

So all I am saying is that let the children get to know their culture, be close to their roots, have their own identities and be proud of their heritage. Once they are aware of their roots, it becomes more easier for them to adapt and shoe interest in new endevours!

Love:

Sepo

Upheaval by the Inflation

According to a latest update, people are seen to be crying their eyes out while cutting onions. And it is not just because of the Sulfenic acid. The price of onions is apparently what is driving the middle class to tears. While the onions, tomatoes and pulses keep fluctuating and getting normal, what we as a user fail to notice sometimes is the gradual increase in costs. Household articles, groceries, public transport etc. is way more expensive than what it was few years back. The thing is we get so engrossed in our everyday day lives that we forget to sit back and see the happenings around us. Moreover the concept of super market shopping deters us to actually check the price of the stuff we blindly toss into our shopping baskets.

Picture Courtesy - blog.doctoroz.com

I had a revelation recently when while ordering Aashirwaad aata from my local vendor on phone. I asked him to quickly send across Rs 35 wala 1 KG bag of aata, he quickly corrected me to say its for Rs 46 and not 35! I actually started caring about these things when I first started cooking and buying my own groceries (roughly some four years back). At the very start the aashirwaad aata was probably costing Rs 35 and the same cost is somehow just truck on my mind. Blame the supermarket shopping for this! While I waiting for the Bhaiya to bring over my aata I did a quick recap of the things whose prices have rose right in front of my eyes. A few examples from the formulated list is presented for your analysis below.

SNo	Item	Before Price (2011)	After Price (2015)	Percentage increase
1	Auto Meter (Mumbai)	Rs 12	Rs 18	50%
2	Aashirwaad	Rs 35	Rs 46	31.42%
3	Amul Butter	Rs 24	Rs 32	33.33%
4	Amul Cow Milk	Rs 15	Rs 22	46.66%
5	Mutton	Rs 260	Rs 440	69.23%

These are just a few of the things I remembered and the numbers are definitely scary. Inflation is fine as long as our salaries also increase with the same percentage and curve. Sadly in most of the jobs it is not the case. So we the mango people continue to bear the brunt of the huge hole in our pocket after the 5^th of every month. And this is only considering the fact that you really only on home cooked simple meals. God save you if you are fond of eating or drinking out. Not only will the food and drinks be overpriced (A drink like Old Monk will also be sold at two times its price which by the way is Rs 100) the additional cost of VAT and service tax will increase your bill amount by atleast 30%, if not more!

Picture Coutesy - www.telegraph.co.uk

 I salute people with families, children, their education, clothes, food, bills… the list is endless. Just like our expenses and woes.

 *Long Sigh*

Love:

Sepo

Tryst with Terror

It was a usual day of chirpiness in the marriage house. One day after the wedding and a delicious spread of kashur wazvan, everyone in the close family including the dulhan (bride) now was just getting started to a very familiar routine of chitchat, jokes and teasing. Kids were running around in the garden playing games. Adults were discussing arrangements for the impending reception. Young guns were glued to their smartphones. The house keepers had just started to have their dinner when some policemen came outside informing them to shut the doors as there was some firing in a place less than 1km from where we were. It took even less than 1 min for the tempo to change in the room we were in.

Panic set like a wild fire amongst all. The cheerful mood quickly changed to an atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. Children were hastily brought indoors. The gates were shut and wedding decoration lights all over the house switched off, so as not to attract any unwanted attention. While some were trying to find the remote to the up-the-way-hosted television which the cartoon watching children had misplaced some days back, others were impatiently trying to access TOI and NDTV on their 2G enabled smartphones (there is no 3G in J&K. Until now.) Since the firing incident was actually happening that time and the area where it was said to be is not a central location, there was no breaking news updates found anywhere even hours after the incident. Being a slow eater I had just taken a second helping of the kokur (Chicken) when this entire fiasco happened. Needless to say I lost my appetite within no time.

Some men folk tried to play brave hearts by venturing into the streets to check the scenario outside but were quickly (and angrily) rushed inside by terrified women. All the drama and worried look on all the adults really got to the children and many started crying. Little ones with no idea as to what was happening and older ones with a faint idea (having been brought up in the state where people are used to such happenings). Many decided to leave for the homes to avoid getting stuck should the firing continue and god forbidden curfew enforced. Guests from other states with no experience of such kind were petrified and rushed to their respective rooms bolting them securely. The poor bride already scared was instructed to cover up as much as possible because of different types of gold she was decked up with. The host of the wedding suggested all of us not to panic but not before informing us that usually the intent of such attacks is mass-killing and since we were a more-than-ten-member party, we needed to be cautious.

As the number of people reduced and with everyone struggling with the siege silently we could actually hear the firing shots. The people who left called saying that they saw a lot of police vehicles patrolling towards the site. With no concrete piece of information at hand, everyone was feeling helpless and not to mention tired, the wedding functions, sleepless nights had taken a toll on everyone. Staying out from Jammu for so long me and most of other guests there had no clue as to who to contact for obtaining a substantial piece of news. I somehow remembered one of my friend ~ with the right politico-socio contacts. Though he stays in Shimla I was keeping my fingers crossed and praying that he should be in Jammu. He wasn’t but he assured that he will check and update. He called back with the information that has some boy has opened fire but it’s nothing serious and we can go back home safely.

The piece of news bought a sigh of relief but we were still skeptical because my house is just a road cross away from where the incident apparently tool place. We reached the house, quickly locked up and went inside. But none of us could sleep. So we sat talking and discussing about the day’s events and similar events we had witnessed while growing up in Jammu. Once there was an attack at Jammu railway station which is again near to our house. There were no mobiles that time and we were just praying for our dear ones to be safe. Our school once received a call stating that there would be an attack when the school got over. There was an army cantonment near our school so this threat was taken seriously. Throngs of police and army were deployed outside the school. Though the call turned out to be a hoax, it did not stop the panic attacks amongst students, teachers and parents. Also an inclusion of what-to-do-in-case-of-emergency drill for us students. Then there was a bomb blast at Daler Mehandi’s concert which my father was attending. Bomb blast at M.A stadium on republic day where my sister and cousins were performing. This and many other instances but none of these match the predicament of what our parents had to suffer in Kashmir during the holocaust of early 90s.

Photo Courtesy - koausa.org

It was around midnight, our parents were rudely woken with loudspeaker calls from mosques urging Muslim youngsters to fight for jihad and Kashmiri Hindus to either convert or leave. Peeking through the windows, clutching their little ones close, everyone was terrified. Even their next door Muslim neighbours and friends with whom they had grown up were seen marching on the roads with Ak-47s shouting slogans – “Hum kya chahte Azadi”, “Kashmir main chalega nizam-e-mustafa”, “We want Kashmir with Kashmiri Hindu women but without their men”. This continued till wee hours of morning after which curfew was imposed. What was to follow would leave a huge imprint on all our destinies. Hindu homes were looted, women raped, children gruesomely murdered. All these activities were combined with a direct message to leave or bear consequences. Amid the lawlessness there was no upfront support from the government considering the fact that Kashmiri Hindus were a minority in Kashmir. Living in constant fear with no news of dear ones, in freezing cold of January with no proper food and little children, most families decided to flee. Not in their wildest dreams imagining that it would be the last time they would be seeing their homes, gardens and the city where they were born.

A lot people ask me that whether I belong to the community who were driven from their homes, they somehow find it funny. What they don’t understand is the pain that simple comment invokes. Like anyone would just easily give up their homes, school, colleges, jobs. But what option did we have against the AK-47s, the ruthlessness and no support what so ever. Anyhow, after a night full of fearful dreams we woke up to the news of exactly what happened – a domestic help aged 14 years stole an Ak-47, burst into a slum near my house (also where our helper stays). He shot 2 people before getting caught by the police. It was that day I understood what a close contact with terror feels like. And how my parents and relatives would have felt on that dark cold January night and many other days and nights they had spent praying for miracles which never happened.

God bless all
Love
Sepo

The (SMS) Silly Me Syndrome

I read this piece of article long back and it striked such a chord that I have not been able to forget it since then. The article as is evident from the title talked about the Silly Me Syndrome found amongst the fairer sex. It is the thing of acting silly and dumb in front of guys to impress them by inflating their already bursting male ego (JK!). My immediate reaction on reading this was of a strong disagreement. My mind was crowded with memories of all those fights in college and otherwise to prove the fact we girls are superior and better in every respect to boys. But then the more I thought about this article the more clearer it started to become.

In fact I recalled a few occasions where in even I have behaved in a similar way. But there is a difference, a girl will behave silly and dumb only in front of a guy she likes. Pretending not to notice a pronunciation mistake but cringing inside is an example. I don't know the reason behind it but they say that it has been programmed into our system since, well, old times. As a proof I present to you the following quotes penned down in old times and for that matter by foreign authors.

"A woman, especially, if she has the misfortune of knowing anything, should conceal it as well as she can."

Jane Austen

Another one by Magaret Atwood:

“All you have to do, I tell myself, is keep your mouth shut and look stupid. It shouldn't be that hard.”

Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

Now the question is why would a self respecting, confident woman behave like a total idiot just because she is talking to a man who happens to look good. I have observed a change in many women when they talk to men. They will laugh even at the silliest of their jokes and listen attentively to any pieces of wisdom that they happen to share. Any man would love this trait in his girlfriend/wife.

Since time immemorial men have detested smart, intelligent and successful women. They always come across as a serious threat to the men folk. Now this is why the trend of marrying young girls came into practice. Sadly this brutal practice continues to carry on and has no chance of changing in near future. Men always prefer to marry younger girls, who are still unsure and clueless about what to do in life. Before they get any chance to think about things like future, career, job, bank balance they are married off. And before they realize it, the rosy honeymoon period is over and they are huge in both size and responsibilities. The problem with marrying girls of same age group is that they are mature, smart and in every respect as successful as their male counterparts. Hence it leaves a doubt on who will wear the pants in the marriage. And if by any chance the girl is in any way stronger than the guy professionally (read salary) that's the end of it all.

So lets take a realistic example and get to the RCA (root cause analysis) of this issue in question. The scenario is such that as soon as I reach the ripe old age of 23 (that’s my current age) my parents  relatives, neighbours and every distant persons starts fretting over my single status and leave no stone unturned to find a suitable guy for me. Now the interesting part is that all the candidates for my husband-to-be will be atleast 3-4 years older than me, because guys my age are busy setting down and taking time to built career.  Well, my career and choice do not matter as long I cut a pretty picture for the matrimonial sale. Now if by chance I rebel all this and refuse to be victimised I will again be standing at crossroads when after 4 years with 28 years of wisdom I will be an old meat in the matrimony market. Guys older to me will already be happily married and guys my age will be busy looking for the 22 & 23 years old.

So where does that leave me and thousands of girls whose aspirations and dreams get sacrificed because of this mad scenario. This whole thing has led to the SMS Syndrome thing. I refuse and detest being associated with a man who chooses to be with dimwits to boost his ego. Wouldn’t an ideal marriage be one in which two individuals are equal, where the guy respects not commands. Where decisions are taken together (we are not talking about “what-to-cook-for-dinner” type decisions here). And a world which does not ridicule and call names like sissy to the man who happens to love and respect his lady. *Sigh* So much for equally and some respect. I somehow feel that it will take another century to change the scenario we are living in.

I will end the post with some more disheartening quotes.

“If men could see us as we really are, they would be a little amazed; but the cleverest, the acutest men are often under an illusion about women: they do not read them in a true light: they misapprehend them, both for good and evil: their good woman is a queer thing, half doll, half angel; their bad woman almost always a fiend.”

Charlotte Brontë, Shirley

“A wife should always be few feet behind her husband. If he is an MA you should be a BA.If he is 5'4'tall you shouldn't be more than 5'3'tall. If he is earning five hundred rupees you should never earn more than four hundred and ninety nine rupees.That's the only rule to follow if you want a happy marriage...No partnership can ever be equal.It will always be unequal, but take care it is unequal in favor of the husband. If the scales tilt in your favor, God help you, both of you.”

Shashi Deshpande

Diwali 2011

A very bright, colourful and festive greetings to you all!
Diwali is such a bright (and noisy!) festival. The lights, the beautifully colored flowers and sweets and ofcourse brightly dressed people!

The crowed markets, the long queues and longer traffic jams, all remind us that it is that part of the year again. This year like every other year I made a rangoli , however unlike other years, this year I am hugely disappointed in myself! But I could not refrain myself from adding a pic of it in my blog like every year. You can pretend to like it and appreciate it via comments, to make me feel better you know!!

The picture has been cropped so that it looks presentable, atleast!

Anyhow, moving ahead, wish you all a very very happy diwali. May it bring you a lot of success, happiness and prosperity!!
God bless.

Lots of love
SEPO

SO, WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?

Happiness as they say is just a state of mind. It does not take much to make one’s own self happy. Own self you ask? In this fast paced selfish world it’s important to take care of your own whims and fancies, I think!

One fine day I decided to pen down all the things that make me happy. The most fulfilling and satisfying form of happiness is the one that comes effortlessly, usually through the most trivial sources. The kind of happiness which makes you go hmmm, life is good! I love to find happiness in small things and happenings of life.

So, here is a short list of the stuff that makes me happy.

1. Sunshine falling on my skin, making me feel alive. (Not the scalding hot one, but the pleasant bright one!)  
2. Flowers. In any shape, size, variety! They never fail to uplift my mood.
3. A great cup of coffee. Not the machine one, real stuff with the right amount of sugar and milk.
4. Small kids, babies. I love kids. Period.
5. Shoes! Buying a pair of “my kind of shoes” can keep me happy for days altogether. 
6. Talking about good’ old times with friends/family.
7. Reading a good book.
8. Publishing a post. YOUR POST HAS BEEN PUBLISHED. This line causes a light fluttering in my heart!!!!  
9. A slice of pizza with a lotta cheese! 
10. Cooking. This is one of my recent fixations. Experts say it won’t be in this list for too long!
11. Looking at old pictures. Rewinding each memory associated with them makes me happy.
12. Shopping. Well, obviously.
13. Watching an old favourite movie! Repeating all the dialogues!
14. Some soul stirring music. I am currently listening to- How am I Supposed to live without you by Michael Bolton.
15. The feel when the wind blows my hair.
16. Listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan sahib and the point when tears flow without any reason.
17. Singing in an empty room or on the terrace or talking and praying to God!
18. The days when all my family members are together.
19. Painting. I am no great a painter but the experience rejuvenates me. The freedom on using colours on the canvas is so so so enlivening.
20. Sitting on a beach. Watching the water rise and fall. Bring living and non-living stuff on the shore. Watching the sun go down. The sounds. Sigh!
21. A good sleep that totally freshens you up!
22. The feel when you get on like a house on fire with someone on the first meet.

Alright I will stop at 22, because I ll be 22 years old next month (stupid reason, I know!).

One last thing, writing down this whole list of things, also made very happy :)

stay happy, stay blessed!