One of the most negative things that Life can bring upon you is a lecture on positive thinking. I could take all the insignificant to moderate misfortunes I have been through, amplify them a hundred times and still choose to go through all of it than listen to a rhetoric about Positive Thinking.
It is such a cliché and it always comes at the wrong time.
It is like asking a famished guy not to eat when he is surrounded by finger licking cuisines from all over the world.
Talking about Positive Thinking is so empty. I have been at the transmitting end of such lectures many a times and I must confess publicly that I get really angry with myself when I do that. When a person is low and you are not, uttering sentences like, “Look at what you have! Be grateful for the good things in your life” is like eating paper. I know and they know that it means nothing to them. They just listen to it because they are too tired from crying or getting mad to ask me to shut up.
When I am at the receiving end, I usually put myself on the screen-saver mode and just sit around trying to think about stupid things.
It is easier to laugh at your miseries than try and find positive things that are bigger than them when you are inside them. :)
To make it worse, people don’t come up with creative lines. They keep telling us about sunlight, horizons, hares and tortoises and famous people who have gone through a lot more (which I am sure I will never go through making me feel a bit small in the misery department).
It takes me by surprise that when I am traveling, I find people genuinely immersed in books titled “How to turn failure into success” or “ How to win friends and make them happy” “ The power of consistent positive thinking” “ How to shed twenty pounds in three weeks and think positive”!
Sometimes it has the exact opposite effect on me. The sheer intensity of the lecture and the dimensions of all the goodwill and happiness that I am in the process of ignoring when I am being low freaks me out! I run away from it. Like when it is too sunny, you go out wearing a 20 SPF sun block, shades and staying inside the car for as long as you can, sometimes too much sunny thinking does that to me.
You come home exhausted and miserable. Contemplating on how hard you work, how meticulously you plan your day and how you don’t even have the liberty to eat whatever you want. Then there is an added grief of your unwanted upcoming birthday to remind you of all the things you still haven’t done. In such tender woeful moments I would rather wear pajamas and socks and eat low-fat chocolate chip ice cream. Such moments are to be treasured. When even the most ambitious, rich and the breathtakingly beautiful people feel like big zeroes. They are philosophical moments.
Moments of truth that bring us face to face with a lot of things we choose to deny in crowded places. Where you begin to analyze the situation and develop defense mechanisms!
Then suddenly out of nowhere someone comes down on you and paints a big happy rainbow all over the room! With out-of-place blobs of reds, violets and indigos!
I know that the oceans of sadness are deep, but then the skies of hope are just as limitless. Somewhere between the two, Reality floats. Most of us miss it. We either dive too deep or fly too high.
I like to ease into those low moments and then wake up the next day and go into my running shoes. On a serious thought, the only positive thing about being low is that you realize that you have been through it before and it was okay. Maybe you will be there again, but it will be okay too! If you just wait around quietly without letting the Churchills and the Nehrus lead you to the path of a million dazzling Suns you make a gentle curve for yourself and get back on the smooth, steady baseline.
And there is nothing really as good or as bad as our minds can imagine. :)
So next time any of you get that unsolicited ranting lecture on Positive Thinking from me, please ask me to read this post!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Saturday, June 09, 2007
The Swing
Everyday on my way to work, I pass a house with a swing in its front yard.
It stands still in those early hours of the morning. When the owners might be busy getting their shoes shined and packing school bags.
I have always wanted to live in a house that has a swing. It is impossible in my current apartment because of the arrangement of rooms and anyway it is not worth it in an apartment at all. Then it becomes too small and you cannot let yourself go on it. A Bonsai swing that is just pretty.
We have one in Kolhapur at my grandparents place. It would not be an exaggeration if I say that I grew up on it. We used to make a “swing house” by draping a sari on all the four sides. My aunt would be at the end of her wits tying and untying saris for us. My cousin and I carried our entire toy kitchen inside to bring life to the moving house.
I remember one time our cat had a golden kitten and we decided to host a “naming ceremony” (excuse my language but there is no parallel word in English for this and although it sounds goofy, this is the only one that describes it the best) where traditionally babies are put inside a crib in India. So we converted the five and a half feet long swing into a crib. We decorated it with garlands of marigold. My grandma used to be very enthusiastic about such things. We made invitations on a chart paper and went across the whole neighborhood inviting people. The three of us, Aaji, my cousin and I planned the menu. We brought paper dishes, napkins and made a place for a “serve yourself” buffet table. It was supposed to begin at six in the evening so we draped ourselves in saris at about five thirty and waited for the guests. My cousin and I were about eight and six respectively so Aaji had to fold one fourths of the sari all across its length because we were too short to wear an adult sari.
The swing was set. We tied a wind chime in the center by suspending it on an almost invisible string diagonally across opposite chains so that the kitten would not get bored while it was being named.
Everybody arrived on time but in our evident mirth over getting dressed up and playing the “charming hostesses” we had completely forgotten to keep an eye on the kitten. So it took us a very long time to hunt for it especially since crawling under all the beds in a big house wasn’t that easy when you were wearing six yards of vanity around yourself. We caught hold of the reluctant kitten and its completely disinterested mother finally and brought them ceremoniously towards the swing.
The proud mother managed to scratch my cousin and run away. So fearing that we won’t have any cats to complete the ceremony we hurriedly put the kitten into our embellished crib. I have managed to remember all these minor things about the incident but I fail to recollect what name we chose for the kitten. Perhaps because the name and the kitten were not as important as the apparently minor things!
It ran away as soon as one of us named it and Aaji insisted that we leave it alone after that and just have food and fun, which we were more than ready to do.
They used to remove the wooden base of the swing from the chains during the first showers to save it from getting drenched. The swing is tied between the kitchen and an open terrace. It is open on tree sides so an unruly rain almost always covers the entire area around it!
It was a lot more fun with just the four chains suspended in eternity. I used to throw water and soap on the floor and we used to slip and skate using the chains for support. Of course this was a clandestine afternoon activity as throwing soap water on floor in a house inhabited by seventy-year-olds was a serious crime.
The greatest pleasure however was the simple uninhibited swing. Hold on to the chains and push against the kitchen wall with your feet. It took me a while to grow taller and be able to do that without anybody’s help but it has given me the greatest joy since then. In my grandparent’s house all the important discussions are always carried out on the swing. Whether it is scrutinizing the resumes of the prospective grooms for my cousin or renovation of the house. All of us gather around the swing.
Neighbors come to visit with samples of their culinary experiments for my aunt and then linger around on the swing making small talk with her. Their kids finish their homework and hurry up to book a seat on the swing.
If you are lucky enough to be just two inches over five feet tall, you can also get your afternoon nap on it. That is what I do when the weather is cloudy and I have a great book to doze off into.
That swing is a permanent memory for me. Every time I see a similar or a better one anywhere around my mind goes back to the days when eating ripe mangoes, running around the neighborhood bare feet and getting our nails cleaned using safety pins were the only really important priorities in our lives. When getting up at ten in the morning was something people adored you for and drinking tea with four spoons of sugar never created that crinkle between my eyebrows. I guess this is why we get a childhood and a good memory. For when Life swings back and forth between day and night, it reminds you of all the fun you had doing that long time back. :)
It stands still in those early hours of the morning. When the owners might be busy getting their shoes shined and packing school bags.
I have always wanted to live in a house that has a swing. It is impossible in my current apartment because of the arrangement of rooms and anyway it is not worth it in an apartment at all. Then it becomes too small and you cannot let yourself go on it. A Bonsai swing that is just pretty.
We have one in Kolhapur at my grandparents place. It would not be an exaggeration if I say that I grew up on it. We used to make a “swing house” by draping a sari on all the four sides. My aunt would be at the end of her wits tying and untying saris for us. My cousin and I carried our entire toy kitchen inside to bring life to the moving house.
I remember one time our cat had a golden kitten and we decided to host a “naming ceremony” (excuse my language but there is no parallel word in English for this and although it sounds goofy, this is the only one that describes it the best) where traditionally babies are put inside a crib in India. So we converted the five and a half feet long swing into a crib. We decorated it with garlands of marigold. My grandma used to be very enthusiastic about such things. We made invitations on a chart paper and went across the whole neighborhood inviting people. The three of us, Aaji, my cousin and I planned the menu. We brought paper dishes, napkins and made a place for a “serve yourself” buffet table. It was supposed to begin at six in the evening so we draped ourselves in saris at about five thirty and waited for the guests. My cousin and I were about eight and six respectively so Aaji had to fold one fourths of the sari all across its length because we were too short to wear an adult sari.
The swing was set. We tied a wind chime in the center by suspending it on an almost invisible string diagonally across opposite chains so that the kitten would not get bored while it was being named.
Everybody arrived on time but in our evident mirth over getting dressed up and playing the “charming hostesses” we had completely forgotten to keep an eye on the kitten. So it took us a very long time to hunt for it especially since crawling under all the beds in a big house wasn’t that easy when you were wearing six yards of vanity around yourself. We caught hold of the reluctant kitten and its completely disinterested mother finally and brought them ceremoniously towards the swing.
The proud mother managed to scratch my cousin and run away. So fearing that we won’t have any cats to complete the ceremony we hurriedly put the kitten into our embellished crib. I have managed to remember all these minor things about the incident but I fail to recollect what name we chose for the kitten. Perhaps because the name and the kitten were not as important as the apparently minor things!
It ran away as soon as one of us named it and Aaji insisted that we leave it alone after that and just have food and fun, which we were more than ready to do.
They used to remove the wooden base of the swing from the chains during the first showers to save it from getting drenched. The swing is tied between the kitchen and an open terrace. It is open on tree sides so an unruly rain almost always covers the entire area around it!
It was a lot more fun with just the four chains suspended in eternity. I used to throw water and soap on the floor and we used to slip and skate using the chains for support. Of course this was a clandestine afternoon activity as throwing soap water on floor in a house inhabited by seventy-year-olds was a serious crime.
The greatest pleasure however was the simple uninhibited swing. Hold on to the chains and push against the kitchen wall with your feet. It took me a while to grow taller and be able to do that without anybody’s help but it has given me the greatest joy since then. In my grandparent’s house all the important discussions are always carried out on the swing. Whether it is scrutinizing the resumes of the prospective grooms for my cousin or renovation of the house. All of us gather around the swing.
Neighbors come to visit with samples of their culinary experiments for my aunt and then linger around on the swing making small talk with her. Their kids finish their homework and hurry up to book a seat on the swing.
If you are lucky enough to be just two inches over five feet tall, you can also get your afternoon nap on it. That is what I do when the weather is cloudy and I have a great book to doze off into.
That swing is a permanent memory for me. Every time I see a similar or a better one anywhere around my mind goes back to the days when eating ripe mangoes, running around the neighborhood bare feet and getting our nails cleaned using safety pins were the only really important priorities in our lives. When getting up at ten in the morning was something people adored you for and drinking tea with four spoons of sugar never created that crinkle between my eyebrows. I guess this is why we get a childhood and a good memory. For when Life swings back and forth between day and night, it reminds you of all the fun you had doing that long time back. :)
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Itsh Sho Funny!
The other day I was teaching my two-year-old niece how to watch a tennis match.
We were sitting on the couch, she on my lap facing me and reading the match and my expressions now and then. It was a Nadal-Hewitt game.
After a few moments of contemplation she remarked very loudly , “ Itsh sho funny theje pheople hit the ball with that thing for shuch a long thyme!”
Every time a point was lost and one of them served she used to throw her hands helplessly in the air and shout, “ Uh-Oh there he goej again! Itsh sho funny”
I taught her that “we” were supporting the guy with the blue headband, the one with long hair and a sleeveless Nike t-shirt. She very proudly declared, “ Oh I don’t like ‘im tha’ much. He wears funny pants!” My niece has been lucky enough to have a sensible mom around. She has been raised without a TV in the house and she reads books and goes for a walk in the evenings. They stay in a small town in Wyoming and she was here to have a taste of “India”.
I got thinking later. All the games that we enjoy watching are really funny if you subtract all the competition, money and statistics from them. I mean what is soccer? Angry people chasing a ball all across the ground! Or even cricket for that matter!
It takes such a long time, again with people hitting and chasing a stupid ball all over the place! Tennis is about a bunch of high maintenance, ambitious, fierce and edgy kids running around on court surrounded by similar spectators!
Men watch men’s tennis for the break points and tiebreakers and men watch women’s tennis for all the athletic long legs. Women never even stay long enough on court for other women to pick up their fashion statements.
Half the things are in vain. What is with Nadal’s shoes with Rafa written on them?
Oh, and the suave Federer walking in with an out-of-place white jacket on his dri-fit Nike gear!
Besides all of these things, it is so unnervingly refreshing! A great match can set my spirits right even after a catastrophic day at work. Watch the spectators during an intense volley. They might as well have clocks over their heads with such perfectly coordinated head moves! Then, the one who loses the point after such a long volley shakes his head in shame and yells at himself! All for a stupid green ball! It really IS funny if you see it from a two-year-old kid’s perspective.
Every inch of the court is booked by sportswear brands. It is like a different parallel Universe in there. Where all the fancy shades, pretty hats and nervous, expensive shoes are worried about the battle for the green ball.
Maybe we should have a Calvin Ball in real life too! Something that would have complex and creative rules and would keep all the two-year-olds entertained.
Well, I must confess that somewhere after two sets, even my niece began liking it. I guess that is what it is all about, being so simple and full of rivalry. Being so fast as to render linear thought impossible during the match. Being so intense focused and lavish. Talking about a lifetime of hard work, consistency at the cost of public scrutiny, staggering amounts of money, adulation and fashion all at the same time!
All of that just for hitting a funny green ball across the net for a very long time!
I like tennis. :)
I hope my niece likes it too!
Having said that let me stop typing and cross my fingers for Roger Federer.
We were sitting on the couch, she on my lap facing me and reading the match and my expressions now and then. It was a Nadal-Hewitt game.
After a few moments of contemplation she remarked very loudly , “ Itsh sho funny theje pheople hit the ball with that thing for shuch a long thyme!”
Every time a point was lost and one of them served she used to throw her hands helplessly in the air and shout, “ Uh-Oh there he goej again! Itsh sho funny”
I taught her that “we” were supporting the guy with the blue headband, the one with long hair and a sleeveless Nike t-shirt. She very proudly declared, “ Oh I don’t like ‘im tha’ much. He wears funny pants!” My niece has been lucky enough to have a sensible mom around. She has been raised without a TV in the house and she reads books and goes for a walk in the evenings. They stay in a small town in Wyoming and she was here to have a taste of “India”.
I got thinking later. All the games that we enjoy watching are really funny if you subtract all the competition, money and statistics from them. I mean what is soccer? Angry people chasing a ball all across the ground! Or even cricket for that matter!
It takes such a long time, again with people hitting and chasing a stupid ball all over the place! Tennis is about a bunch of high maintenance, ambitious, fierce and edgy kids running around on court surrounded by similar spectators!
Men watch men’s tennis for the break points and tiebreakers and men watch women’s tennis for all the athletic long legs. Women never even stay long enough on court for other women to pick up their fashion statements.
Half the things are in vain. What is with Nadal’s shoes with Rafa written on them?
Oh, and the suave Federer walking in with an out-of-place white jacket on his dri-fit Nike gear!
Besides all of these things, it is so unnervingly refreshing! A great match can set my spirits right even after a catastrophic day at work. Watch the spectators during an intense volley. They might as well have clocks over their heads with such perfectly coordinated head moves! Then, the one who loses the point after such a long volley shakes his head in shame and yells at himself! All for a stupid green ball! It really IS funny if you see it from a two-year-old kid’s perspective.
Every inch of the court is booked by sportswear brands. It is like a different parallel Universe in there. Where all the fancy shades, pretty hats and nervous, expensive shoes are worried about the battle for the green ball.
Maybe we should have a Calvin Ball in real life too! Something that would have complex and creative rules and would keep all the two-year-olds entertained.
Well, I must confess that somewhere after two sets, even my niece began liking it. I guess that is what it is all about, being so simple and full of rivalry. Being so fast as to render linear thought impossible during the match. Being so intense focused and lavish. Talking about a lifetime of hard work, consistency at the cost of public scrutiny, staggering amounts of money, adulation and fashion all at the same time!
All of that just for hitting a funny green ball across the net for a very long time!
I like tennis. :)
I hope my niece likes it too!
Having said that let me stop typing and cross my fingers for Roger Federer.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Book Review: The Kite Runner
I just read “The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini.
This is a poignant story about betrayal. Amir and Hassan grow up together in Afghanistan. Amir is an expert kite flyer and Hassan an expert Kite Runner; someone who runs after the very last kite that is cut by the victorious Kite. Hassan is a Hazara or a lower caste servant who works for Amir but being the same age they are more like two best friends. Something terrible happens to Hassan after a Kite tournament and Amir is too scared to stand up for his friend. He betrays him and their life changes forever.
What I liked the most about this book apart from the wonderful description of Amir and Hassan’s childhood days, is the accurate portrayal of the “Other Side of Betrayal”.
When someone lets you down, betrays you, there are a million different ways to make peace with the insult and humiliation mostly because you know you could not have helped it. This book talks about the other side of betrayal. It talks about the self-doubt, the anger, and the helplessness of the person who betrays his friend.
There are certain lines that we should or should not cross but we unknowingly end up violating these subtle rules. It can be perfectly rationalized later. We amaze ourselves by coming up with perfectly logical explanations for not doing what was instinctively expected of us or for doing something that was not expected of us. At the end of each day however, we know that we crossed the line or stayed back out of cowardice. It becomes all the more difficult when the person who is betrayed by us refuses to retaliate and instead fights his own internal battle to come to terms with it. Then all those cunning explanations just make us lose faith in ourselves. It makes us wonder whether instead of treating our own Ego with an extravagant honor, maybe reaching out honestly to the helpless person and sharing a part of his misery would have made us more honorable.
And the confrontation and apologizing that should probably take a minute or two sometimes takes lifetimes! With every passing day fusing our bones together and making redemption all the more difficult! This book talks about that time, between betrayal and redemption.
It talks volubly about the war in Afghanistan and the unfortunate fates of war-ridden children who end up orphans who are subjected to cruelty in all its elements. It talks about the Taliban after the Russian invasion and the Taliban a few years later. It talks about destabilized minds. It talks about people who flee their homelands and land themselves in countries that may be liberal but leave little or no room for them to live as “Afghans” and the subsequent trauma they go through for having lost their identity.
All along as you read this book, you realize the value of real brave men.
Men who never dishonor their friends, their wives and their children and who stand tall even in guilt than choosing to flee the shadows of their mistakes by making up intelligent explanations. Something that an illiterate Hazara servant, Hassan could do silently in about a week and it took the well read, intelligent, university educated Amir all his life.!
I strongly recommend this book! :)
This is a poignant story about betrayal. Amir and Hassan grow up together in Afghanistan. Amir is an expert kite flyer and Hassan an expert Kite Runner; someone who runs after the very last kite that is cut by the victorious Kite. Hassan is a Hazara or a lower caste servant who works for Amir but being the same age they are more like two best friends. Something terrible happens to Hassan after a Kite tournament and Amir is too scared to stand up for his friend. He betrays him and their life changes forever.
What I liked the most about this book apart from the wonderful description of Amir and Hassan’s childhood days, is the accurate portrayal of the “Other Side of Betrayal”.
When someone lets you down, betrays you, there are a million different ways to make peace with the insult and humiliation mostly because you know you could not have helped it. This book talks about the other side of betrayal. It talks about the self-doubt, the anger, and the helplessness of the person who betrays his friend.
There are certain lines that we should or should not cross but we unknowingly end up violating these subtle rules. It can be perfectly rationalized later. We amaze ourselves by coming up with perfectly logical explanations for not doing what was instinctively expected of us or for doing something that was not expected of us. At the end of each day however, we know that we crossed the line or stayed back out of cowardice. It becomes all the more difficult when the person who is betrayed by us refuses to retaliate and instead fights his own internal battle to come to terms with it. Then all those cunning explanations just make us lose faith in ourselves. It makes us wonder whether instead of treating our own Ego with an extravagant honor, maybe reaching out honestly to the helpless person and sharing a part of his misery would have made us more honorable.
And the confrontation and apologizing that should probably take a minute or two sometimes takes lifetimes! With every passing day fusing our bones together and making redemption all the more difficult! This book talks about that time, between betrayal and redemption.
It talks volubly about the war in Afghanistan and the unfortunate fates of war-ridden children who end up orphans who are subjected to cruelty in all its elements. It talks about the Taliban after the Russian invasion and the Taliban a few years later. It talks about destabilized minds. It talks about people who flee their homelands and land themselves in countries that may be liberal but leave little or no room for them to live as “Afghans” and the subsequent trauma they go through for having lost their identity.
All along as you read this book, you realize the value of real brave men.
Men who never dishonor their friends, their wives and their children and who stand tall even in guilt than choosing to flee the shadows of their mistakes by making up intelligent explanations. Something that an illiterate Hazara servant, Hassan could do silently in about a week and it took the well read, intelligent, university educated Amir all his life.!
I strongly recommend this book! :)
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Mahabaleshwar May 2007
I just spent a weekend with my best friends in Mahabaleshwar and Satara.
Although every bit of it was like living a real life Sitcom, I would like to introduce all “my readers” ;) to my BEST FRIENDS and the highlights of the trip. The select few people who make me laugh and take me for whoever I am! (Yes, even though I refuse to stay up till 3 AM to play Teen Patti without real money)
Here’s a description of the characters and the roles of my funny show.
1.Amit ( The [handsome!?] guy in the black T-shirt with a sinister 10 sign on it)
He was in charge of booking the car (which showed up an hour and a half late and then got a flat tube on the very first toll point in our journey). Obsessed with making people pose for photographs using innovative ideas, he made Nikhil sprint 100 meters with him to get an “athletic picture” of himself. Oh and we were supposed to anticipate and click in between the sprint which obviously we couldn’t. He made us climb a tree or look in different directions for a group photo! He finds it weird that the three girls spent so much time in shoe shops and bag shops in Mahabaleshwar but we are supposed to react very calmly to the fact that he made the driver pull a Raikonen on our way back because he had a football match! He is also the one who said, “I am hungry” just fifteen minutes after every gigantic meal. And he is the guy who made sure that all the girls got compliments on their hair, their kurtas, their sense of humor and their attitudes. :)
2.Neha ( Tall, skinny and infinitely long legs ;))
The dainty princess of the group. In charge of all the fussing. She fussed about everything from her position in the car to the lights in her room. She had Ameya to oppose some of her “requests” creating something close to a meowing catfight at 3 AM. The two cats were completely silenced by a tigress and no points for guessing who she was! She suffers from a perpetual motion sickness and used to pop a pill the moment she got into the car. She would be out as a light bulb in five minutes and then would collapse on the people sitting next to her with every turn!
We dutifully woke up our Olive Oyl look-alike or just made her sleep-shift from the window to the center when someone needed to grab the window seat. She opened up a bit when she won all the teen patti games at night although she was running on a battery back up! And she also managed to take some great pictures because of her artistic frame of reference! :)
3.Mangoose (Tanned ;), athletic with an egg shaped face and OMNIPRESENT)
His real name is Mangesh, but we prefer calling him Mangoose.He was in charge of breaking into a Himesh Reshammiya song every thirty seconds, one of his latest minus even the teeny tiny amount of melody in Himesh Reshammiya’s voice. When we didn’t have it coming out of his mouth, he used to insist on playing it on the CD player. He also won the award for the “ Worst-Car-DJ” ever! We had to beg him to change the song. All during the trip he was in LOVE with all the cameras on board. He took a picture of himself on each and every rock in Mahabaleshwar and every time anyone of us posed for a picture, he used to pop up from behind and come into the frame. If you asked him to click your picture; you had to return the “favor” by clicking one of his on the same spot! He was also the one who overfed himself and had to have a cup of antacid before his scrumptious breakfast. What makes this guy truly a winner however is that in spite of getting almost sick from overeating, he scored winning goals in the match he was supposed to play in the evening and got his name published in newspapers the next day!
4.Ameya ( Cute Cute Cute :D)
Madame Ameya was in charge of the accounts and used to land herself in a big confusion with an extra hundred or a missing hundred every two hours and then we all had to remember everything we bought during that time! She nearly broke my ribs taking sharp turns at 80 KMPH on a go-carting track because only the drivers got a seat belt. Our car witnessed a mind-boggling victory over the others because all through the five laps not once did Ameya try to find out how the brakes work. She has a weak point of taking pictures of people when they are sleeping or when they have rose syrup on their face that they are not aware of. She insisted on going to sunset point at 3.30 in the afternoon! She made me go in a Giant Wheel and we got hoarse voices from so much screaming! The most endearing thing however was the way her eyes well up from laughing every time she has a good laugh. People made her laugh just to see her cry!
5.Nikhil (Somewhat cute, found in black and blue)
He played the gracious host, who provided us with free five star accommodations at his super-cool place in Satara! I guess we enjoyed being with him and his parents more than we did in Mahabaleshwar. He comes next in the category of breaking into a song. And he was the runner up for the “Worst-Car-DJ-Ever” award. Refreshingly hilarious, he was in charge of asking funny questions after every other statement you made. He is the only one who can beat me in cracking jokes that no one laughs at. Dr.Ameya and Nikhil used to break into these technical fitness talks and get all of us yawning away to glory. He took us around with an uncertain authority on the roads leading to waterfalls until we found a quite, pristine lake. But all of us freaked out when we saw a live snake in the water and about two meters of abandoned snakeskin just behind the rock we were sitting on!
6.Me (Look under the big white hat or the gypsy scarf! )
Well if you ask me, I was the epitome of perfection all through the trip. I was also the “Good Manners” representative of the group when we were around Nikhil’s parents. I am sure if any of these people were as creative as I am; they would have said that I was in charge of passing sarcastic comments and getting everybody’s optimism down. I was the one who slept at 11 PM and “disciplined” people when they tried to wake me up. I was the one who took three bags for a two day long journey; complete with shower gel, three extra pairs of all kinds of clothes, ear cleaning swabs and yeah a BOOK! (Which I DID read for about fifteen minutes when people were getting ready). Oh and if I am allowed to really praise myself, I got the “Best-car-DJ-ever” award for spinning out the most amazing songs from a bundle of hopelessly mixed up CDs.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
The Road beyond the Yellow Tree
The Road beyond the Yellow Tree
Is full of an Unknown Joy
Even as the one before
Lets out a tired sigh
It makes me forget what has been
And what still around the corner lurks
Suddenly my mind turns blind
And my timid eyes begin to work
The Road beyond the Yellow Tree
Grows out of the Yellow Tree
With a Mind laden with yellow flowers
Deeply rooted, cheerful and free!
It doesn’t teach us Dreams
Or overwhelm with serenity
It urges us to walk along
And enjoy the walk in its Reality
The Road beyond the Yellow Tree
Bends like a ballerina here and there
As the wind wipes away my tears
And blossoms tangle in my hair
I can smell it sweating under its bark
Its maddening perfume in the air
The Road Beyond the Yellow Tree
Makes me want to go Nowhere!
Photograph by Dr. Ameya Kulkarni. =)
Thank you!
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Fitness Gyan.
Ms. Keskar’s Top Ten Fitness Tips
1.There is no substitute for cardiovascular exercise. =) And cardio is not just about the treadmill. It also includes taking the stairs whenever possible, not using your car for places that are two minutes walk away and long contemplative evening walks
2.The ideal and safe heart rate you should reach during cardio is (200-your age in years). It is counted as Beats Per Minute so when I am on the treadmill I try and reach around 177 BPM.
3.Good skin, great stamina and weight loss can all be achieved at the same time by drinking lots of water through out the day
4.A good workout should be supplemented by healthy food. The total intake of food that you take during a day works best if you take it in descending order of quantity starting with breakfast through dinner.
5.The reason why nature produces certain fruits in certain seasons is because we need them at that time! =) And it is mildly disappointing to know that most of the people I know do not include fruits in their diets at all!
6.Tomatoes contain lycopene, a long chained carotenoid that has outstanding anti-cancer properties. Also, tomatoes have a lot of potassium, which is good for people who work out everyday. Ironically the “Americans” choose to extract lycopene from tomatoes all over the world and turn in into capsules so that people can just have one capsule instead of a glass of fresh tomato juice or salad!
7.A great way to reduce your sugar intake is by buying tiny spoons. =P
8.Salads are one of the most creative ways of cooking and losing weight. You can assemble your salad using olive oil, mustard, mayonnaise or yogurt. You can slice the ingredients into dainty strips or thin circles. You can add citrus fruits instead of lemon. Pepper, Oregano or just red hot chilly. Or, if you are low on seratonin, you could make an egg or pasta salad! =)
9.Nuts are essential too, but not the ones that come with a bar of chocolate around them. =P
10.It is a good idea for all the women to include a glass of milk in their every day diet to avoid emotional discussions on osteoporosis when they turn 45.
Oh! And I almost forgot the cliché, A Positive Attitude along with all the above. Of course if you end up doing all of that you don’t have to work on the positive attitude at all!
1.There is no substitute for cardiovascular exercise. =) And cardio is not just about the treadmill. It also includes taking the stairs whenever possible, not using your car for places that are two minutes walk away and long contemplative evening walks
2.The ideal and safe heart rate you should reach during cardio is (200-your age in years). It is counted as Beats Per Minute so when I am on the treadmill I try and reach around 177 BPM.
3.Good skin, great stamina and weight loss can all be achieved at the same time by drinking lots of water through out the day
4.A good workout should be supplemented by healthy food. The total intake of food that you take during a day works best if you take it in descending order of quantity starting with breakfast through dinner.
5.The reason why nature produces certain fruits in certain seasons is because we need them at that time! =) And it is mildly disappointing to know that most of the people I know do not include fruits in their diets at all!
6.Tomatoes contain lycopene, a long chained carotenoid that has outstanding anti-cancer properties. Also, tomatoes have a lot of potassium, which is good for people who work out everyday. Ironically the “Americans” choose to extract lycopene from tomatoes all over the world and turn in into capsules so that people can just have one capsule instead of a glass of fresh tomato juice or salad!
7.A great way to reduce your sugar intake is by buying tiny spoons. =P
8.Salads are one of the most creative ways of cooking and losing weight. You can assemble your salad using olive oil, mustard, mayonnaise or yogurt. You can slice the ingredients into dainty strips or thin circles. You can add citrus fruits instead of lemon. Pepper, Oregano or just red hot chilly. Or, if you are low on seratonin, you could make an egg or pasta salad! =)
9.Nuts are essential too, but not the ones that come with a bar of chocolate around them. =P
10.It is a good idea for all the women to include a glass of milk in their every day diet to avoid emotional discussions on osteoporosis when they turn 45.
Oh! And I almost forgot the cliché, A Positive Attitude along with all the above. Of course if you end up doing all of that you don’t have to work on the positive attitude at all!
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