I'm a mixture of a traditional and a modern Indian married woman. Love all the Indian cultures, festivities, cuisine and everything Indian....simultaneously love to hold a drink while gossiping,
to hit the dance floor, dressed comfortably most of the times.
Talk, Eat, Sleep, Travel, Friends,..you can place that in any order.
And yes...That's me !!
Three things that I will burn this weekend…..
Three things that I will burn this weekend…..
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.
Whoa !! what a weekend it’s going to be. Just the thought is giving me so much of a calm and soothing effect.
Let's see, what’s at the brim of my mind to be burnt, at the behest of this week’s WOW.(Write Over the Weekend) Hmmmmmm…………………
Ok, so, here goes……
Burn the dance floor. Oh ! What a fantastic Friday Night it would be.
To be held in the arms of a person you love. To groove away endlessly to the music which transfers you from the spectacled, straight-faced, duty bound, workaholic secretary to a happy, carefree girl deeply in love. Seems like the DJ knows you are here to rock n roll.
Without caring two hoots to the week gone by or the one which is yet to come. Swaying to the slow beats and progressing to the high tempo-ed JHINGAA-LA-LA HO types. Leaves you panting and sweating, yet yearning for more and as if on cue, he spins another disc and you are not in control of yourself. Looks like you are possessed by the spirits of the beats.
Music has no language, nor does the movement of the body to the beats.
Dance away your Blues,, in the true sense and burn up the floors.
Hee-haw…. Hee-haw… I heard a donkey laugh. Have you ever heard one? It is believed, that when a donkey laughs, your wishes come true. And I swear I heard the donkey laugh.
I pulled out a very pretty royal-blue frock tucked away at the back-most part of the wardrobe. I had outgrown this beautiful dress. Or rather, I shamelessly lied to people that it shrunk.
Now, on a whim, tried it on only to see that I have burned away the stubborn fat at all the wrong places because of which I needed to tuck away that very pretty royal-blue frock at the back-most part of my wardrobe.
Oh, what immense joy burning fat can give !! Hence, I promised myself,, I’m going to burn up the rest of the stubborn-as-a-mule fat too. Hope to pull out a few more shrunken dresses.
A well-paid job. A handsome boyfriend. Weekends to burn up the dance floors. A body fat burning spree which enables me to adorn enviable attires. A bright and happy future. I have all that a pretty, young girl can ask for.
But, something is knocking at the back of my mind. What is it that is bothering me but afraid to surface?
And now... finally…I can see it.
Being a primaeval Indian at heart, my inner voice is calling out--- nazar lagegaa, kuch karo. (Evil eyes are on you. Protect yourself)
Oh My !! This is not me. How can I ever hear such nonsense? I’m a modern girl. I live in the 21st century. My inner self is so damn out-dated. It has no right to dampen my spirits and hopes for my successful, enviable future.
The battle of voices continues.
Finally, I fall prey to the inner voice. Mentally I run through the mazes of ancient memories of my childhood days at Granny’s place.
3 dried red chillies, 5 black peppercorns, 7 grains of crystal salt, 9 mustard seeds and a black woollen with 11 knots made in it. All this is to be placed in a new black muslin cloth and tied tightly with a black sewing thread. This potli is now to be placed on burning charcoal.
The pungent smoke emitted and wafted far away from me, will take away the ‘’evil eyes’’ or nazar. I have burned up the evils that were to befall.
Now I am free. I am liberated.
I carry a high flying- fluttering flag, stating I have the willpower to burn up the dance floor in order to burn my body fat so that I can fit into my pretty, skimpy outfits.
I make no reference to me being a primaeval Indian at heart, and my inner voice calling out--- nazar lagegaa, kuch karo.,, because I’m a modern girl living in the 21st century.
I Got up. Walked to the nearest window. Looked outside. What do I see? A great view. The view I saw outside my window, took me back to my pre primary classroom. Many decades ago. Exactly like…. Once upon a time…..
I loved that time when our teacher, Mrs. Hicks brought in the big fat book of Fairy Tales. She would read to us one tale after another with so much of animation in her voice, that I always sailed into another world. A world of fairies, pixies and demons, elves, gnomes and goblins. The characters stepped out of Mrs. Hicks books and did all the things her voice led them to perform. A beautiful play. And in the middle of the entire drama, sat a little, young and innocent ME, taking in every word and sigh, Mrs Hicks brought out. Believing and absorbing every word and visualising the characters prancing around me in their colourful costumes.
Just to mention a few of my favourites.. Hansel and Gretel, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Rapunzel, The Three Lit…
Hello Friends, Strictly Only to the Non Vegetarian Ones, To a person settled in Mumbai for the last 22 odd years, Bangalore winters can be really mean. @Suresh Sanyasi, my brother told me to look up #@LiciousFoods and I will not feel abandoned. Out of pure boredom, I did just that. And true to his word,, a feel of comfort enveloped my temporary single existence, in Chilly Bangalore. As I went through the eye captivating pictures on #Licious, my hungry stomach drooled. And I could not resist but order my favorites from the varied spread available. I had to silence my growling stomach, is it not? Or else, what will my new neighbors think? Though I’m not a techie or any device geek, downloading the #Licious phone app was very simple. Looked out for the nearest outlet and ordered away. In less the promised delivery time, my #Licious man was at my door, asking for me by my name. This , I’m saying, because, now, to everyone I’m only Suresh Sanyasi’s sister from Mumbai. Yeah..yeah… the surpri…
She was a caring daughter and a sister. Always helping out her siblings with trivial nick knacks. Bailing them out. At the beck and call of her parents and elders. A dutiful wife and daughter in law. And now a mother too. Bound by the hustle bustle of a married life. She never gave the professional life a daylight break. Everyone was very okay with this girl in the mirror, as their needs were fulfilled and catered to.
The family and friends basked in the warmth spread around. The years rolled. The in laws passed on, the children grew up, the families became nuclear. The receding hairlines, the greying crescent hair dos, (that much only was left on the balding heads), Was being a silent witness.
Now, the family wonders: - what the bloody hell did this woman do all her life.? She has wasted her education. No graphs of professional ladders scaled. No social status with the big-wigs in town. No technical know-how. Needed analogy of recipes or maids or milkman or moron…