Menstruate. With Pride.

"Amma, my frock is stained again" she said with a little unknown fear in her heart.

"Whatt !!?? Why can't you be more careful ? Bibiji gave me this frock for you last week only. and from where should I bring more cotton ?" Amma shouted. "Go and wash that green rag that you used yesterday, put it out in the sun to dry and then use it"

"But amma, I'm not feeling well, it itches and my stomach hurts" she cried.

"Then what do you expect me to do ? Wash your period stains ?" Amma replied with little emotion.

She held her tears and turned away.

******

I am writing this post for the Idea Caravan Initiative by Franklin Templeton India and IndiBlogger. They have partnered with TedXGateway Mumbai in December 2012 and have provided us with inspiring videos of young minds struggling and succeeding in making and being the change that they want to see. Menstruation still is considered as a taboo in many urban and rural parts of our country, I would like to contribute my bit to the right to sanitary "mind and body" for every woman by this post.

IS IT A TABOO ? OR HAVE "WE" MADE IT ONE ?

Menstruation or Periods is one such topic which is rarely been talked about. Let alone been talked about on a world-wide platform like Blogger. When I was a kid, we only had one TV at home, and as soon as the StayFree or Whisper commercial came on, Dad would hurriedly look for the remote and change the channel. I never asked any questions until the day all the girls in my class were told to stay in the classroom during the lunch break. Some of us looked curious, some knew what was going to happen. We were given proper knowledge by a counsellor about a phenomenon that was going to happen to us every month for a significant numbers of years to come. To be true, I was in shock. I wondered how would I bleed for 4 days a month and still be okay ? She also brought a sanitary pad with her and showed it to us.

It was then that I knew why mom didn't go to the temple for those 4 days a month and why she would feel sick in her stomach.

A colleague of mine shared her first experience with me and I was shocked to learn the ways of our society in that age. She's in her fifties. She woke up one day and found out that her clothes were stained red and that something was definitely wrong with her. She ran to her mother and her mother's reaction was "Achaa, ho gaye ?" She gave her some cotton from the cupboard and hushed her to the bathroom. Nobody taught her how to use one, for how many days would it last or how badly the cramps would hurt.

RAGS ? NEWSPAPERS ? PLANT LEAVES ? ASHES ?

If men could menstruate, they'd either associate with power justification or luxury, never with hygiene. Wish women could do that. Factually, I am sure that a hundred percent of women reading this article have never used anything except sanitary pads during their periods. But do you ever give a thought to that 75% of our country's female population who use saw dust or rag materials to cover their pubic area during their cycle ?

It is still seen as a luxury in their lives. AN UNNECESSARY LUXURY ITEM. Money still poses a problem. Can you imagine a life where you're denied the right to healthy clean sanitary pads and are forced to use cloth ? Among many other reasons, I respect my mother for giving a pack to our domestic help every month for herself and her daughter. She gives her a pack of Stayfree- 20 napkins for Rs. 60. That brings the average cost of one napkin to be around Rs. 3, and still Mr. Babbar claims he can provide that same woman in the same country with a balanced meal in Rs. 12.

I will not venture into facts and figures, I will tell you a true story that happened in the school that I teach in. I teach computers to classes VI-VII. This is the exact age group of girls reaching puberty and having their first period. One of them came to me last month and said "Mam, I think I am suffering from periods. Can I go to the medical room ?" The irony of the statement was that she thought it was some kind of an abnormality and she was unfortunate enough to suffer from it. I sat her down after she came back, and listened to what knowledge was given to her. She was confused and I had to tell her that she wasn't suffering from anything, that it isn't a disease and she is a healthy lovely girl.

Mr. Muruganantham has made an unusual brave effort on his part and I applaud him for it.

PROBLEMS ENCOUNTERED

The Four A's - Availability, Affordability, Accessibility, Awareness.

A country where politicians claim they can get a complete balanced meal for Rs. 12 in a city like Mumbai, what can a rural woman's expectations be ? Awareness is next to nothing, and it is no more than a man asking for a condom. They'd rather have babies than use protection. We say we're evolving, I beg to differ. Advertisements are flashed, hoardings are put up but asking for a sanitary napkin or a condom is still considered as a taboo.

Arunachalam Sir pointed out the fact that almost all women of our rural population would rather buy milk for their family from the money rather than spend that same money on sanitary napkins, I'd agree with him. Although Menstrual Cups can be used. They can be washed and re-used which takes care of affordability. People like Mr. Muruganantham and more young minds like them can make then available at low cost. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Menstrual_cup can be visited for more.

Women Empowerment is a topic that is more written about and less done about. Every woman has a right to sanitation and she must be provided with one. A healthy country is not the one with wealthy politicians claiming to do their best, it is one where a common man is confident enough to get his basic needs fulfilled.

If you want to think over a task, give it to a man, If you want it done, give it to a woman.

If we start looking for issues to fix in this country, we would never decide upon one. Every other issue is more appalling than the previous one. But if you want change, you have to make it happen. Contribute your bit. Women should step up, do their little bit and it shall spread on its own. Provide you domestic help with proper education and sanitary napkins, ask them to talk about it to their daughters and other women in their locality.

If I ever have a daughter, I will celebrate her first period.

The red gold.

"Your boss is surely going to fire you one of these days" Kalpana predicted.

He chuckled, enveloped her from behind,

and said "And to what will I owe that pleasure Miss ?"

"You're late, almost everyday, If I were your boss, I'd fire you" she said, and kissed him while fixing his crooked tie.

"Is Gian ready ? I'll leave him at the crutch on my way"

"Yes he is, don't drive too fast. Love you."

A half an hour later, Kalpana received a call from the local hospital. Her husband had died, due to lack of availability of his rare blood group AB-, in the same fatal accident that had left her 3 year old crippled for life.

*****

"Papa, do we really need the needle this time also ?" She pleaded with her pale eyes and her limp hand reached for her father's.

"Yes dear, but I promise it will hurt less" he reassured her firmly.

The nurse struggled a little to find a vein and then pierced her tiny hand with a needle that would give her one more month to live. She was suffering from an inherited single gene disorder, Thalassemia. 

This little girl needs 30 units of blood
every month.

*****

What would have happened if Kalpana's husband would have received the blood that he needed in time ? What would happen if this little girl's father had some way of knowing that he didn't have to worry about arranging blood for his daughter every month ? Things would be different. Their lives would be different. To have someone you love, die in a bed because the hospital ran out of their blood type is the kind of feeling that follows you to your grave. 

A special mention to applaud Franklin Templeton Investments in their brilliant initiative to bring about a change. I've seen all the videos that were provided at the Idea Caravan Site. I can't say I wasn't moved by the others, but I chose this particular one because I could actually, practically join the cause and make a difference, rather than just voicing my views about it on my blog.

We tweet all day long, visit our friend's profiles on Facebook, like pictures, pitch in witty comments. I would like to thank Karthik Naralasetty for thinking outside the box and creating a platform for emergency blood needs that saves lives. He has created a Facebook group where people can post their emergency blood needs with the required blood group and interested donors can reply to the requests as they please. I haven't seen a much better use of social media till date. 

Visit http://www.socialblood.org/ now and save a life.

Written for the IndiBlogger Contest : Franklin Templeton Investments partnered with TedXGateway Mumbai - An Idea by Karthik Naralasetty.

A braided gesture of Love.

This post won the runner-up prize in the said contest.

Some days I am a curl,

while others, I merely swirl,

They say, I am a sweet lullaby,

or that, I am a braided gesture of love,

perhaps, it is just Dove.

Sometimes strictly parted on the side, sometimes seductively falling over one eye, sometimes wet, sometimes rigid, sometimes tied up in a high ponytail, sometimes braided together into a french bun, sometimes tousled in the front with a fishtail braid over the left shoulder, sometimes the usual bombshell waves, sometimes polished, yet sometimes casual. Your hair define your personality, more so, they define you. A messy braid resting on the nape of your neck will make you your man's guilty pleasure even on the most unlucky day of your life.

I have been raised by a loving punjabi family and a strict Convent school. And by a convent, I'm not intending to imply towards nuns and discipline, I mean a compulsory pair of braids with a precise middle parting. I've lived, loved, grown, and also matured in braids. The way they frivolously hung over my neck gave me a beautiful carefree feeling. There are certain things in life that look better when put in perspective, one of them is my hair. Its like they have a mind of their own, they know when to be mean and when to be subtle, when to be nervous and when to be at their cautious best. Nonetheless, over the years, I've fallen in love with them.

Hair, I believe, have a mind of their own,

They twirl, they dance;

Not always prim, not always proper,

It can make you drown, into its serene expanse.

To be honest, I've never had long hair, even though I'm proud of my Indian woman mindset, that loves her silky smooth hair flowing carelessly in the summer breeze. And when they do oblige me by growing beyond a certain length, I have to chop them off because, Hair, is a funny thing, they curl, swirl, twirl, dance, straighten, perm and among other things that you and I thought they could never do, they now split too.

The first time when I heard of split ends, I was a careless teenage girl, and was shocked to know that a thin healthy strand of hair could betray and split into two if deprived of proper nutrition and care. Through Indi, Dove has always encouraged me to talk more and more about my hair, and it always sends me into a cute memoir of a fuzzy-hair-girl flashback. But split ends, they're new to me. Just when you think you're doing everything right, your hair smite you in the face with a wake-up call.

I started working as a teacher last year. Stress levels rose, sleep hours got cut, pollution poured in, causing my healthy hair to revolt back in unsympathetic split ends. Chop chop, snip snip. My beautiful braid from 2012 had to be disguised into regular shoulder length waves that I now have. I wish Dove had launched its Split end Rescue System back then, before I got my cut, but better late than never, and I couldn't be more thankful. Braids are supposed to have a beautiful beginning and beautiful ends. And it's possible now, 4x times less split ends with the new Dove range. 

 I, mostly, do not have a clue as to what is the criteria for calling one's hair happy, but what I do know with certainty is that when you are happy, your hair bask in your glory.

Friends shot envious stares, relatives wondered,

Only because she grew up, with tresses so long,

They did all, but could never find the answer,

To, how on earth were her hair so strong?

Hair, weren't much of an issue,

Until the day, time flew by and stress flew in,

Bringing along, dryness, damage, split ends

And hair, Oh so thin!

Reminiscing about old times,

When her hair shone with pomp and glory,

Nostalgia overcame, and she knew,

A change was needed, to rebuild her damaged hair story.

And then, came along DOVE,

With its enriched conditioners and mild fragrance,

A shampoo that coaxed the split ends,

and taught them once again, what was LOVE.

                                                             

This post is in association with IndiBlogger and its Dove Split End rescue system.

Where Beauty is a Myth.

This post won the runner-up prize in the said contest.

The beaming astrologer had recommended green this time. Her mother, whom she lovingly called Ma, beseeched her to drape a green saree with a heavily embellished pallu. Its embroidery was more detailed than the last one. Ma could read through her glassy eyes, she always could, the pain, the humiliation of feeling like a rejected piece of clothing waiting to get lucky. She lifted up her chin and gave her a reassuring smile as though there was no evil left in this world for good to accomplish. She faked her faith in her smile.

Her heart was not pumping any more blood than it was supposed to today. The flutter refused to return and even after making every possible effort, she couldn't bring back the excitement she once felt. Her expectations had died a silent death several years ago. She was doing this for her parents, after all they had loved her, unconditionally. It was almost like a debt that was crushing her shoulders.

Didi put on some green eye-liner over her eyes that matched the color of the saree beyond belief, it was immaculate. A nail was tied to one end of the saree in an attempt to ensure prophetic significance. The lipstick was being applied with a lip brush this time as if this was the curse that went wrong all these years. Nonetheless, she very well knew this show had to be perfect and she was everybody's favorite puppet, she had to live up to their expectations unlike all the past failures. Mistakes weren't affordable anymore. Time was running swiftly and she had to catch up.

The delicacies were served in silver traditional thaalis, only if their beauty could overpower the truth. The sweets were prepared in pure desi ghee and their smell left no room for any other discussion. She entered with a tray and served her special cardamom tea to her audience. The saucers were left untouched. She saw their grin turn into a meek hint of a smile from the corner of her over-burdened eye, she could hardly lift it up. She wore a constant expression throughout the evening and spoke only when she was spoken to, the instructions were clear. The man who was supposed to decide whether she was beautiful enough to deserve the honor of marrying him kept nudging his mother with his elbow at regular intervals. He looked bored but his mother's stern expression kept him glued to the sofa.

An hour later, when everything from corruption to cocktail had got the privilege of becoming the center of discussion, the guests rose from their seats and began to leave. Her father joined his hands gesturing his debt to them for taking the trouble to grace them with their presence. He accompanied them to the entrance. She stood from her chair and waited in anticipation. A few minutes later, her father walked back in. Without uttering a word he left for his evening walk. She read the disappointment sprawled across his wrinkles.

It had happened. And it had happened again.

She was rejected by another family.

Not because she was illiterate,

Not because she didn't deserve it,

But because of the color that her skin reflected.

You might want to deny it but modern India is living on a land where beauty is a bubble waiting to be pricked by every other trespasser. Everybody holds an opinion but none so true. When Surf Excel Matic asked me to ponder over what occupies my mind when I hear the words 'Soak no More', I couldn't help but focus on how distorted our idea of beauty has become. This is not a preachy post asking you to reflect upon your concept of whos beautiful and whos not, its a silhouette, of a path that has led us to where we are and is constantly prompting us to overlook our conscience.

The market these days is flooded with fairness products that promise to make you more appealing to your partner. To be blunt, would you really want to be with a partner whose love is this shallow ? Crossing all lines, the latest addition to the list is a lotion that would make your private parts fairer and more attractive, as if the current happenings weren't enough to gather the level at which today's man has stooped. This massive obsession has grown beyond recognition, and all we do is soak, and then, soak some more of it.

I say, we 'Soak No More'.

Although the story depicted in this post talks about one particular stigma, the palette is filled with a riot of such stories.

It might take us a while to accept, but we're all a little fragile. A small dose of criticism can manage to do unimaginable harm to our self-esteem, and building a shield around us so that it wouldn't reach us is as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. Being considerate doesn't take much, the only requirement is purity of heart, and if you have that, you'll look at the world with a different, more subtle pair of eyes, ones that would cherish the goodness around them. I trust JK Rowling when she says, 

'It is important to remember that we all have magic inside us'.

Sometimes people are beautiful,

Not in looks,

Not in what they say,

Just in what they are.

This post is an official entry to the Surf Excel Matic 'Soak No More' Contest hosted by IndiBlogger.

My best wishes to all the participants.

Visit the Facebook Page to know more.

If Only Our Strands Could Talk.

Hair, as Beatles wore it,

Sparked a change with an unappaled ease;

A rendezvous with Hepburn's pixie,

Made men go weak in the knees.

From demure to daring,

Monroe's curls have seen it all;

Men drooled and men sighed,

Only if, it weren't such a beautiful sprawl.

Hair, I believe, have a mind of their own,

They twirl, they dance;

Not always prim, not always proper,

It can make you drown, into its serene expanse.

'You are the most beautiful creature on earth' -
her hair whispered in her ear, in a language only hair can speak
and Dove can comprehend.

It is foolish to tear one's hair in grief, as though the sorrow would be made less by baldness ~ Cicero.

 Even while pepping up for a party, a differently done hairstyle can always add that dash of extra drama to your outfit. They say, beware of a woman's long hair, if she wounds the magic of her long locks around her man's neck, he might fall in irrevocable, consuming love with her that might never set him free.

Apart from endless hours of amusement and happy smiles, all Disney has ever showered upon young girls, is unrealistic expectations about hair. Little angels even dreamt of those blonde flowy curls wondering about how could someone's hair always stay in place. They would spend hours at stretch infront of the mirror, combing and adoring their mane. A great deal of my childhood was also tangled in Rapunzel's hair, until one fine day when I grew up and acknowledged the fact that life's no fairy tale and if anything at all, Cinderella wore a wig at all times.

Your hair can make all the difference between being present and being noticed, between being a plane jane and a sizzling diva. It isn't anymore about how you look or how you walk, even a 30 year old woman can walk into a room and turn heads if her gorgeous hair plan on it. Have you ever wondered how easy life would be if our strands could talk and discuss their problems ? It would save them from a lot of torture and pain that we put them through. Imagine how everything would automatically fall into place just because your hair could tell you that the new dandruff shampoo that you've been using isn't working for them, or a casual request to let them stay loose this sunday. Alas! It remains a beautiful fantasy residing inside my heart. Like every other girl, I too have a beautiful hair story and it made me believe in bringing back what once was mine.

As a little girl, I believed only in play. A thick, shiny ponytail bobbing to the tunes of my jumpy feet rested at the crown of my head and it never demanded any extra attention. I almost took it for granted, when one fine day, it gave up on my carelessness. Being the clumsy teenager that I was, I have never used too many styling products or have never put my hair through too much iron, but still my hair grew rougher and thinner by the day, and the rain gods also seemed pretty upset considering all the humidity they bestowed that was robbing my hair off its moisture and smoothness. It might have been college, or stress over an incomplete assignment, or our auto rides to the movies while bunking lectures, it started falling out on me. I cribbed, worried and blamed the exam tension for it, but who knew, it had nothing to do with it.

It did take me a while to realize that my hair had gotten bored of our monotonous relationship. They revolted back in split-ends. Like every other normal couple, they needed extra time, special care and pampering from me, which they weren't getting. Expensive salons, eager spa sessions, nothing seemed to be working. It was almost like my life was over and all of my hair would just leave me.

As soon as I realized this, I took care of my locks like a baby and that was the end of my hair problems. Dove Damage Therapy Range has been a blessing in disguise for me in testing times like these. Perhaps, on second thoughts, maybe our strands do talk, but only to Dove. Proper oil massages, moisture filling with Dove Damage Therapy Conditioner after every wash, protecting my hair from getting attacked by direct sunlight, these little tid bits made my hair smile a healthy curve. Sprouts, nuts, carrots, eggs, milk and greens are a regular part of my diet since then. I know my hair better than ever now. I rained moisture upon my hair making up for all the nourishment I had stripped off it. In my experience, those four words that shower health over your hair are 'A good hair stylist'. He should understand the needs of your hair and give you sound advice whenever the situation demands. Invest in one and you'll never regret your decision. Mine is DOVE.

No matter how upset your hair are, Dove's  magic wand knows the trick.
Collage Credits -  http://littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.in/

It is often said that good times are valued only because of the bad times that we have suffered through, but what matters the most is the simple answer to the question, are we game enough to deal with the bad times ? Every girl witnesses bad hair days in her life, but not letting them get to the mind and looking for a reason as to why they're upset would be the key to this lock.

My mom has always had curly hair, although they lost their volume over the years as a result of post-pregnancy nightmares, but the bounce never left her side. And on the contrary my dad has the darkest and the most straight hair in my entire paternal family. Earlier I used to take it as a blessing that my hair have inherited their texture and color from dad but with each passing day, there is this growing urge to have soft curls inside of me. This little wish of mine is being discussed here because I want to proudly present the fact that I've not been stubborn and I've not played against what nature has already bestowed upon me. I go in for temporary hair styles every now and then but a permanent damage is way off my radar.

Dove, helped me in recognizing the true value of my hair, and I can never thank the little birdie enough for it. I pray to God for strength to those who are battling cancer. Holding a head without hair, high over your shoulders requires great will and strength. I salute them.

Bald is the new Beautiful.
I have had this picture in my laptop since forever.
Using it today for this write-up is giving me immense happiness.
If you too are writing for this contest, I request you to add this picture and help in spreading awareness.

My best wishes to all the participants.

This is an official entry for IndiBlogger's Dove Contest. You may acknowledge it here.

Click on the logo to visit the new DoveHairCare app and know your hair in a shiny new light.

Sandy Toes and Salty Kisses.

Funny flip-flops, over-sized sunglasses, floppy hats, castles made out of pearly white sand on the sea shore, spaghetti tops and tiny shorts, skirts dancing with pleasure, floral prints, headbands adorning pretty bows, slick ponytails with a flower tucked behind your ear, sea shells, watermelons, cool mock tails, daisy dukes, ocean breeze, toned and tanned, martinis & lemonades, dreamy romance, the feeling of grass under your bare feet, your head bobbing to the tunes of the music banging inside your ears, palm trees smiling down upon your sun-kissed skin, sunscreens with as high an SPF as possible.

~~ And memories are just waiting to happen.

Because it's summer ~~~

Well, need I say more ? Summer is here. I won't lie, Summer has never been my favorite time of the year, but white linens, clear waters and colorful flip-flops always somehow succeed in covering up for the unbearable heat.

Because I haven't holidayed much with my friends, Kyra would have to endure a lot with me this summer. Every little thing I ever wanted to do would cross our way and Lakme's precious gift of a fun-loving, outgoing girl, Kyra, could never have gotten any better. A good read can lighten up even the dullest of the days, Kyra and I would pack our favorite summer romances, skirts and shorts, our sun expert, because when it comes to summer and my skin, I'm never clumsy, not that I'm a freak, my oily skin just doesn't give me the luxury of avoiding it, lest it punishes me with little hills and valleys on my face, and then we would head towards spreading smiles and enjoying adventure sports on the beach. Someone very rightly said 'Life's good, on the beach !'

But always with the right kind of sun protection.

Every man worries, be it any season, or any reason. Earlier, it used to be all about summer vacations from school, holiday homework, models and collages, and now, its about finding a new job. This summer, I want to divulge into a new fantasy world and forget about the world that I'm existing in right now. Career, jobs, flings, leaving all of it behind and looking forward to a holiday I wouldn't forget until my last breath. Who wouldn't want it anyway ?, but because my imagination has earned the privilege of running wild this summer, I'm not going to restrict it, whatsoever.

Life would be like a beautiful summer portrait. An uncompromising passion would take birth and spread the kind of joy that is unknown to man. It would feel like a never-ending journey of mirth. Laugh lines would adorn me and Kyra an unfair number of times. The presumptuous sun would also have to give up in front of our Lakmé Sun Expert, letting us share shy glances with strangers. Vacant silence of sunshine meddling with the rustling of leaves. And we would no longer know what to do and what to expect anymore. Surprises feel good on a summer morning, don't they ?

Amazing fireworks jeweling the night sky, me dancing my heart out, and Kyra ?, our little miss Sunshine, she is in for a treat this summer. Summer, as they say, is all about happy beginnings and new stories. Ours will be no different. Every morning, more beautiful than the one we had yesterday, we will live by the current and play by the tide, tales of people bitten by wanderlust, infectious smiles, pleasant ambiance, healthy glowing skin, butterflies in our stomachs, and the lovely sun, watching us all from above, probably humming the Summer of '69.

You know? Besides the heat, Summer always had an indifferent charm to it, I want to live up to it and embrace it with Kyra. Tales of strange people with stranger tastes, lending them an ear for their experiences, sharing some of your own, telling them you have all the time in the world, ain't it beyond beautiful ? I say it is. And I recognize that sweet nod of yours.

If you're not barefoot in the sand, you're over-dressed.

I and Kyra, would let sand slip between our curly toes, eat crabs, wear flowers in our hair, smile at strangers and give hostility a run for its money, make friends with water, enjoy our summer romance, share the sweetest of the salty kisses and live an alternate existence for that while, just that while, because if a June night could talk, it would probably boast of inventing romance.

Its a smile, Its a kiss, Its a sip of wine; Because, its Summer time !!

Fun in the Sun.
(R to L) Me, My dad and My brother on our trip to Goa last summer.
The setting sun  is peeping in so beautifully.

It was such fun writing this post, I'm sure you too enjoyed summer through my eyes :)

My best wishes to all those who are participating in this contest.

This is an official entry for the  Lakmé Diva Blogger Contest hosted by IndiBlogger. You may acknowledge it here.

To know more, click on the logo to visit the Facebook page, mates !!

Silhouette of Entertainment.

This post has won the second prize in Vodafone's 'Internet is Fun' contest.







Not long ago, there used to be a time, when lazy nights felt like a long never-ending strange daze, doctor's waiting room wanted to bite you with sour boredom, the super drowsy weekend, endless hours of idleness in barely moving traffic, with no play and finally your sanity made you question the existence of messiah ?

Bam!

He answers your prayers and creates the Internet.

When I was a little girl, internet was an unattainable territory and I wanted to know all about it. Why? You ask? Need I say, the forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest. Every alternate day, I reached my computer classes at sharp 8 am, and made anonymous friends on Yahoo! Chat, yes, said the trend. Those were the days, when I was ready to wake up early and bear bitter sleep deprivation in exchange for one sweet hour of undisturbed chatting and googling, and these are the days, when the whole world rests inside the device in my hand – My smart phone.

A camera that clicks better than a real one, millions of applications that never let boredom wander anywhere near me, a video recorder for whenever there are precious moments to be cherished, 16 GB and extendable memory to store my music collection, maps, a GPS device and most importantly, the new silhouette of entertainment, The INTERNET. It still isn’t an easy fact to comprehend that you can browse your way to any and everything in just one click ON THE GO. Internet has rolled this world into its tiny little fist to meet our every need at its desperate hour.

Exactly ! Who would've thought ?
Picture Credits - littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.in

Because I'm a software engineer by profession, my dear friends are placed in companies all around our country and some have even crossed oceans for higher studies. Losing touch with them will never even be the last thing I'd want to do, and my Vodafone internet says 'I never have to'. Smile! and there you go, mail it, Facebook it or twitter it, stay connected in whatever way pleases you. Who knew? one day I would be fling angry red birds at ugly green pigs to kill time and enjoy it too. Low on talktime ? Forget about rushing to the nearest store for recharge, Recharge online with the help of internet. The kind of convenience that mobile internet provides is impalpable, but what astonishes me more is the variety of options in which it does so.

If internet were a girl, it would wear a proud smile and walk with such pomp and glory, for it has positively made itself indispensable to mankind.

Instant messaging, re-living those memories by receiving comments on the picture, happily walking with that assignment in one hand and Wikipedia in another, the joy of finding your lost way through a google map, the sheer pleasure of downloading music at mere 1Re, watching silly little videos uploaded by friends on Youtube that remind you why your life is incomplete without them, dating, humor, the latest IPL fetish, news while on the travel, finance, all this and more. Who knew technology would join hands with mobile internet and make all this possible one day. Its such a blessing. And the easy access is the cherry on the cake.

My father was the first person in our huge joint family to have bought a mobile phone. I remember fidgeting with it once while he was asleep, the phone switched itself off and I panicked like a raccoon thinking I'd murdered it. And I won't lie, but my father is not an internet savvy new age person, although he does love access to the web, a path for which I always had to aid him, on the desktop. But since the day I've told him about mobile internet, I bet he's the happiest person with a smartphone in his hand. Apart from the fun games, all the utility apps have made his life much less tiring and much more simpler. Whats more ? Now, whenever we decide to have a family evening out, he books our tickets on bookmyshow.com on his cellphone. In other words, Vodafone's mobile internet is making my dad celebrate his life.

And then comes my blog, my outlet, my savior, my hero, I need an absolute 24*7 link with it at all times, my drafts are overflowing with notes filled with my heart's stupid musings, but the fun part is that after I write, they don't bother me anymore. This is the best facility that I avail with my mobile internet. Whatsapp, Viber, Skype, such apps have secured a non-resilient place in our lives, and all of it, for the better good.

After all this, you tell me, would it be wrong, if I'd call Internet, The Silhouette of Entertainment in such modern times ? 

Picture Credits - littlemomentsofbliss.blogspot.in

All the best to all those who are participating in this contest.

This post is an official entry to Vodafone's Internet is Fun contest hosted by IndiBlogger. You may vote for it here.

Visit this page to know more about why Vodafone's mobile internet the best option for you.

www.vodafone.in/fun

PS - Aren't the new Vodafone ads a visual treat to the eyes ? They so refreshing from the regular genre :)

I am She.

This post has won the second prize in the Stayfree's 'Time to Change' contest.

Note : Every word written in this article is close to my heart because I, like every other girl, have been a victim myself. Forgive me if my views hurt you in any way.

She was groped in a train when she was 11. A middle aged man pushed her aside while entering the toilet and squeezed her butt. She ran to her mother and never left her side for the rest of the journey. The pain vanished in a couple of minutes but the after-effects did not.

The bus was crowded, little could she do about it. She got in somehow, amidst the valiant touching and staring of the five men standing on the footsteps. A round of hi fives is heard. The old man couldn't keep his itchy hands in his pocket and made sure he pressed himself onto her whenever the driver applied the brakes. She got out at the very next stop. She bathed thrice and felt like she'll never feel clean again.

She was walking her way to the gym and two boys in their late teens brushed by her side on their bike. One of them even took the liberty of touching her breasts inappropriately and then smirked in the delight of the new found information about how 'cool' he is. Before she could understand what just happened, they were out of sight. She turned around and silently headed home, her body felt violated.

She was felt up her school skirt in lure of the conductor pretending to help her get down the bus. Not a word of this was ever spoken to anybody.

In the close confinements of the auto rickshaw, he manages to get a hold and starts masturbating while shamelessly staring at her skirt. Her whole being seethes with anger and she shouts at the driver to stop. She wants to yell 'my dress is not a yes', but follows the road that is always taken and walks away. He smiles and counts upon doing the same to the next passenger. He won. And she lost. Again.

Sometimes I am cruelly put to death as a foetus and when I do get to live, I am expected to tolerate such filth without uttering a word of it to anybody. I have the qualification to earn for myself, I am raped and I am burnt. I am a woman of independent India.

I am She.

She burns with rage when the authorities refuse to walk that extra mile to help her and blame her assumed provocative clothing. She becomes the talk of the town, is discussed over kitty parties by wealthy socialites while sipping their tea, the paparazzi sleeps outside her home for days only to get a statement that can be blown off in the next morning's newspaper.

No man ever marries her and she is served the bitter taste of brutal injustice.

Call me a feminist or a sexist if you must, but being a girl in her early twenties who is not allowed to go to the nearby chemist shop all by her self for the fear of getting marred or molested by a stranger, I don't have a better argument for you. A man once waved a 500Rs note and signaled me to get into his car when I was around sixteen, I felt utterly humiliated and started walking faster towards home. Even if I step out in a burqa covering every inch of my exposed skin, I would be humiliated if those perverts catch a glimpse. None of the incidents mentioned above have been created by my mind, they are well read and make me feel ashamed of being a citizen of such a country. Complaints are written, signed, investigated and then filed away to bite dust. In severe cases, the victim is blamed and boycotted off the society. Nothing that I write here would make a change, until we get out there and try to raise a voice against it. Their temptation exceeds their sanity, but we have to provide proof that ours doesn't. Eve teasing has become a frivolous term now, it is more of sexual harassment, filthy remarks, lewd comments and obscene gestures, be it verbal or physical. Any woman who steps out of her private sphere does not invite this upon herself, as it is quoted. It is not common anymore.

Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandes are my heroes. Despite the apparent quiet of our youth, they fought against this evil act in Mumbai and were stabbed to death by the monsters. At least they had the heart to stand up and put up a fight. But it also plays with a lot of minds when they wonder will we also meet the same fate if we raise our voices ? After the recent twin rapes in Gurgaon, the police issued a notice telling women to stay indoors after 8pm if they don't want to get raped. It sure drew protests from across Delhi-NCR (or should I say National Capital of Rape ?) but to no avail.

If I could be the change I want to see in the world around me, it would be getting rid of this menace called eve teasing. As and how I'm growing up, I realize and understand why my father over-protects me. But I really wonder if that is the only solution ?

I very well know that a lot has been written and spoken about eve-teasing and sexual abuse, and a lot will still pop up on this contest as well, but since this contest came up at the eve of women's day, I wrote about the issue that is closest to my heart. I can never forget the humiliation that I felt when that note was waved at my face.

All the best to all those who are participating in this contest.

This post is an Official entry for Stayfree's Time To Change hosted by IndiBlogger.

Visit the Facebook page for further indulgence into Stayfree's campaign to bring about a change.

http://www.facebook.com/sftimetochange

My Tangle of Mysterious Prejudice

This post has won the fourth prize in Dove's 'Damage Therapy Range' contest.

They swirl, they twirl, they dance, they entangle his desire - Your hair - don't have them, wear them.

Ask a man 'how would you want your girl to do her hair' and pat comes the reply 'She's at her sexiest when they're messily tied up. I love them like that.'

Hair represent a woman's every mood with equal elegance.

A formal event - you tie them up to compliment your attire.

Cooking - you curl up a bun so that it keeps them from falling.

Wanna cuddle ? - you mess'em up.

Stroll with friends - let them loose and breathe.
*Thinking of a story to blog about - pick up some strands, roll them on your index finger, feel good, pretend like you're in deep thought process and eventually laugh at your own stupidity :D

I never accessorize. I'm not an accessory person. I like to compensate it with my hair. I don't have them, I wear them. I don't have 'the' perfect hair every woman dreams of but they're mine, they demand care from me like its their birth right, and I love them for it.

I give them proper moisturization and believe me, even if you have oily hair, they need some moisture and conditioning.
They serve me loyally in my hour of need and that covers up for their little mischief every now and then. I desperately wish I had a poetic streak somewhere in me because a poem would express me the best right now. Its an itch I cannot scratch. *:D* I scare away couplets, they never wander anywhere near 50 miles of my presence.

When I saw Kangna's curls in Gangster, I fell for them instantly. My hair have been wavy all my life. My want for 'curls-like-the-mad-girl-in-gangster-has' grew and became a need overnight. It demanded my mom's immediate attention. Her naturally curly curls even hid her bad accent and evil acting skills in it, for me, of course :D. It was an incident my mom would never forget. She threw in all kinds of distractions and I don't quite recall which one of them walked its way to glory. Anyhow, I was a kid back then. 2 years ago, a very dear friend of mine, who had the most beautiful hair you could ever want, got her straight locks curled. Before I could aid her 'screaming-for-help' hair, the damage was done. She was born and raised with silk threads on her head and this change threw her into the oh-so-curly 'Kangna' land. A month later, she went into the same salon and got her hair re-bonded, which was double the damage. Although superficially she looked the same as she did with her natural hair, but because I knew the story, I could spot the burnt ends and the irreparable damage.

I swore that very day, never in my life would I torture my hair like that.

Take my word : Do not ever go for curls if you haven't been blessed with them naturally. You will be charged with brutal murder. Of your innocent hair.


I was in a big serious dilemma last month. I had recently joined the gym and my sweaty hair screamed for a bath almost everyday. I couldn't torture them with the regular shampoo everyday so I consulted my homeopathic physician (Yes, I do that often and she's my godmother). I'm not writing the next line because I am going to submit this post on Indiblogger, I cross my heart and swear not to lie :P. She told me to switch to Dove :) She said I could use it even on a 1 year old baby's hair, its that mild. I drove my way to happy hair back home :) I began writing this post because of this sole incident :)

My hair aren't very great, but they're happy and healthy, which is far more important :) They have their regular dose of oiling, spas, conditioning and home remedies (they work like nothing else does) :)

Tangled remains to be my favorite animated movie of all times :) Not exaggerating :D

P.S. I always correct people when they pluralize hair as 'hairs'. It grosses me out a little.

This was my hair story. What's yours ?

Read these and submit yours on Indiblogger here :)

Because life is full of challenging and frustrating moments until the day you eventually find a hair-product that is tailor-made for your hair :) Mine is Dove :)