When You are Happy and You Know it

I am happy when…

After consuming dollops and gallons of Sir Roderick Glossop’s books and detailed gossip sheets that he calls case history of patients, I am at crossroads, what is it that want to know, unlike Amitabh Bacchan on KBC I can give you two options, do you want to know how do I know I am happy or do you want to know what makes me happy.

When people are sad they seem to recognize a coldness within themselves, and a heaviness and lot of other Monster-Ness, but when it comes to happiness one has to follow the path of Don Quixote and go on a quest in the ashram of  Swami Instantjoymixs,  we were told that when we are truly happy, that is the time we connect with out higher self, the great spirit and the universe.

I actually saw images of my silhouette, rhombus shaped radiating powerful waves into the universe, it was too tiring the image fades a mite too quick.

My understanding is if I need to Castlerock I need to recognize Castlerock and like most of humanity, I do not know how to recognize happiness, after closely observing the antics of Pop Glossop one bright way I realized was to put together all the words that could lead to the state of no agitation or helps to tame the Monster-Ness, here is what I learnt from Guru-Glossop

Happiness is elusive; because there is no Betty Crocker telling you add a dash of cinnamon and a pinch of pepper, we go quintessential… we know when it happens.

Of course happy ancestors make happy progeny this what the Gregory Mendel guy proved, the fellow who rolled the stone up the hill, said it was a moment before the stone rolled down, the wicked stepmother of snow white claimed it was the moment of relief when she was sure that snow-white was history. My nephew tells me it is the moment before we walk into ice-cream parlour and my mother tells me it is moment when someone massages her scalp. To Charles M. Schulz happiness is a warm puppy, while for George Burns it was having a large, loving, caring, close knit family in another city.

After all this serious fact gathering of society and real and fairy tale I can say I am happy when I have one of these symptoms.

Amused Joyful
Anticipated Kindness
Awestruck Lively
Balanced Love
Blessed Mellow
Celebrate Motivated
Cheerful Optimistic
Confident Peaceful
Content Playful
Giving Relieved
Helpful Satisfaction
Honourable Social
Hopeful Spiritual
Humour Thankful
Inspired

Of course nature wants us to be unhappy once in a while, so we remember to thank her for the joys of life.

PS Sir Roderick Glossop the who adorns the Drone’s wreath of top-notch loony-catchers, and the slayer of happiness snatchers recommends  a safe method of dealing with Monster-Ness,

  • Print the 31 symptoms of happiness.
  • Tick all that happened to you during the day.
  • Repeat for next 21 days.

I am assured by the experienced clientele of Sir Roderick Glossop that with each passing day, the things we are happy about increase…

As for what makes me happy… well someone to love, something do, and something to hope for.

It’s a BlogAdda WOW post

 

 

 

Yer ur busted.

“Wow, Auntie Sammy has outdone herself” … the lilting voiced Leela seemed to say.

Well, what now?

“Andy she has written for Nostalgia”

“So what I have written for the magazine Back To The Future

“You idiot, she has written about the adventure she and your mom had, they tried to bake a cake.”

“So what lot of people do?”

“Well they did it illegally”

“what do you mean” Andy had visions of his mom and aunt breaking into the neighbourhood grocery store to steal the ingredients.

“Grandma had not given them permission.. You Savvy?”

“so”

“the prognosis was they could not sit for the next week.”

“OOH! We learn from history, I bet we can bake a cake and auntie would be clueless.”

Andy was sceptic but he did not want to pass up a chance to impress the lilting voiced Leela, out came the laptop, the template for baking a cake. After a lengthy debate, and quick look at the ingredients available the kids settled for eggless, vanilla cake.

“You need Maida, Lee and not roti-wallah flour”

“You mean they are different, ”

“of course, “Andy could see the appreciation in Lee’s eyes,  with his superior knowledge being recognized they zipped through the cake baking quite quickly.

Sifting the flour with baking powder, adding in the butter and sugar.

Three drops of vanilla.

Milk and vinegar and they prestige hand mixer helped to bring it to a smooth paste.

The idli tray was greased and the batter poured in, and mixture was baked at 175degrees for half an hour, while cake baked, the other kids got chips, and coke and the impromptu party took place. Andy never felt more thrilled.

You know those days when you have had unexpected joys bestowed on you like an cool party at home, and the Lilting voice Lee batting her eye at you, one does feel blessed and one can also anticipate the dull ache on the Butt from distant memories, without wanting to trigger a what with the handbag from mom, Andy started the cleaning procedure,

he brought in extra flour to replace the used flour, vanilla essence didn’t matter, baking powder mom would not notice, sugar replenished from the main stock, butter again mom would not notice as she does not eat butter, vinegar went right back to its place. Hand mixer washed and its slot on the wall.

Plates washed and returned to its places, the chips packets and cola cans right into the trash…Andy congratulated  himself on his foresight for he actually took the dry trash to the main bin so awkward questions would not be asked.

Vacuuming the living rooms and tidying the books, after all a gang of half a dozen of teenagers does get rowdy.

Done and dusted,

With a besotted smile Andy snuggled into his bed, he knew that Lee was sufficiently impressed, in his dream  she had decided to go out with him, “Not because you bake like a dream, but you were ingenious enough to fool your mom.”

Yup his mother was a star at the mom’s college though she did not dole out the standard stuff, she didn’t need a good stare did it all.

Just as he was about to present Lilting voice Leela the rose, “Whack”

He wondered if the chair hit him when he knelt to give the rose, but when opened his eyes, it was his mom, nostrils flaring, deep breathing,

“Where is the cake?”

“Cake what cake!!”

“the one that you baked here,”

“How did you know” he stammered, he didn’t even consider stout denial, there was something about lean mom brandishing a handbag that the truth would blurt out as if having a power of its own,

The stare just continued,

“Sneaky Sid,”

“No, go on”

“Snitch Sheila…No…well I give up”

He had to know, so he tried again,”I think mom, it only fair that you prove that I did it,”

“well” sighed his mom, “You confessed on the first whack, but the too clean a kitchen and hall, and lingering fragrance of Vanilla, they were the clues my son, You should have opened the window the smell would have diluted.”

Well with a super-sleuth for a mom, it’s done and dusted it is done and busted!!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Chill and Heal

This year I am “Indi-spired “ to increase my vocabulary as much as possible, so I looked up the  dictionary for the meaning of vacation. We’ll look at it along the way.

Once upon a time Vacation began on April 11th and would be over on May 22nd.it fixed, and Bhima-ajja my grandfather’s brother would come home riding on the Java motorcycle he owned and we would zoom down the dread perampalli forest, ambagilu, over the Kalyanpur river, and turn right into Kolagiri to Belmaar, where all of us would collect, and vacation meant sugarcane fields (mouth ulcers due to over eating of sugarcane), mangoes off the tree (a challenged intestine due to over-eating again) cashew apples, and sore throat due to binging. Vacation meant stories from Kittadoddamma and Padmavati-amma. Jaggery coffee with Melmatta ajja, We would walk distances of 7 -10 kilometers, without bothering about the heat, while today I cannot think of stepping out without my two-wheeler.

We would move from one cousins house to the other, entire battalion  of cousins,  it was a peak into the adult world that was shut to us during  school.  The politics of  Jayanthi who came to milk the cows, the romance of kitta and lakki who tended to the sheep and worked as farm hands. The proposed alliance between Mala aunty and the third son of Neelavara Udupa so things went on.  there were weddings to attend, and Jatre to go to, night long Yakshagana it was a respite.

The rest of the cousins had absolute freedom, while my mother would insist on holiday homework of one page each of English, Kannada and Hindi copy writing and revision of maths exercise of the year gone and tables one each written five times. Of course we did learn how to bend these rules, yet we did finish the homework.

October holidays were shorter 3rd October to 28th October we visited some out of state relative or went for a conference with dad, that meant we got to see new places and meet a different set of people. That was fun in its own way.

By the time we reached college vacation took a different meaning, though it still meant travelling like true Indians we went to places where we could avail home hospitality and catch up with cousins our peer group. These were the days before summer camps and holiday “personality building” and “talent grooming”. We really relaxed, recuperated, and were rejuvenated.  When we returned to school we were thoroughly bored out by the fag end of the vacation and were rearing to meet our friends and plan new horrendous activities to harass the teachers.

With motherhood vacation came to mean  intermission and respite or time of respite from something, like the morning rush of packing two lunch boxes before 7.15 am, rushing to pick thick the kids from school, dropping them to classes, handing the cooking, laundry, tidying, dusting, de-cluttering, and my clinic  I would just drop the kids at my mother’s place. While I interacted with other kids, as resource person for various workshops. that was my vacation time.

Since I seem to reporting instead of storytelling or narrating, its time I vacate this slot, that is leave this space until the storyteller returns… the last meaning of vacation in Merriam-Webster the act of vacating.

On Siblings

Siblings are people born to the same parents.

I remember my mother talking of two of her cousins, when they were young they would for every be playing chor-police and then it would end in a fight Dewar style, my mother’s irate aunt yelled can’t you do role play about brothers, the boys immediately obeyed and decided to play Vali- Sugriva.  It is kind of sometimes you love them sometimes you hate them scenario.

The intricate tangle of love, duty and resentment that ties the siblings’ together is amazing. The glances exchanged the complicated balance these were having established over decades. The rules of the game played are something that someone who does not belong to sibling circle may find it kind of difficult to understand.  Maybe that is the key, I mean this is a natural group it makes others feel remarkably singular in comparison. Over twenty years now has shifted out of the country and we have drifted, when I see other siblings it brings home the I’m missing.

Yes he does drop in once in every two years, but between visiting his in-laws, the numerous puja’s sight-seeing and shopping on his side and my work and family commitments on my side it we probably meet for half a day.

I hear this very commonly expressed and rather romantic notion of “Rakhi-brother/sister” let’s get real; the fact is we might be better served to accept that we are all siblings. After all siblings fight pulls each other’s hair, steal stuff and accuse each other indiscriminately. But siblings do know the undeniable fact that they are the same blood, with same origins and are family, even when they hate each other that put a lot of things into perspective.

Probably just as famous as the sibling bonding is the it’s sibling the sibling rivalry happens due to the toxicity created by parents comparing one sibling unfavourably with another, the target child feels he’s not doing enough to gain parental affection. This motivates the child to do whatever the parents want to regain their favour, this divide and conquer technique is often unleashed against children who become a little too independent threatening the balance of the family system.

Despite rivalry most siblings have this acceptance…he/she is my sibling…my blood, she/he annoys the hell out of me, most of the time but when it comes right down to it I want see him/her graduate from college and have a little annoying mini-Ram’s and mini-Seeta’s running around in the future. When I look at my mother and her siblings I realize that sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship, they flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust.

Certainly people do get along without siblings, single children do and there are people who irreparably with their siblings who live full and satisfying lives, yet to have siblings and not make the most of that resource is squandering one the greatest interpersonal resources one could ever have. Between you and me siblings that say they never fight well, are definitely hiding something.

“We Love, We Fight!
We feel Proud, We envy!
We Support, We Differ!
But whenever someone else tries to talk against anyone, we are always together.
And whenever we have any reason to celebrate, we are together.
Yes, we are siblings!”
― Pankaj Gupta

 

Cinders.

Burning of Holika… happened when Hiranyankashapu wanted to destroy his son Prahalada the old wives give it a simple good wins over evil hue. There are people who give it profound philosophical depth about burning the negatives within us, and going to the “morally superior” plane. To the sceptic in me it occurs, that okay we collect all the winter dry debris and burn it, garbage gone, dull and dried out… and welcome spring which is all about procreation and energy.

After recovering from 40% burns, through sheer willpower and grit, reference to three things I would like to burn seems like flagging a red cape before the bull. But maybe so, because the colour red exciting the bull is all bullshit..

Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, palak paneer in the pot nine days old… the young shop assistant looks at me aghast …I possibly could not confess that i left this cooker on a burning stove and went out to the market!!

Hey interesting isn’t it when stove burns it contains the fire; it uses fuel, gives out heat, that is another usage of the word burns. I definitely think twice something that consumes fuel and gives off heat… after all resources are not squandered. .

Burn is also combustion… like the engines of various vehicles, well would I want to do that I do not have the technical knowhow, and having dealt with my own personal spontaneous combustion I think I rather give it a skip,  think about this lingering bottled up anger… it never reveals the true colours of an individual then it slowly gets all mixed up, rotten, confused, and becomes, very volatile unstable and combustible then one small ignition and boom the explosion occurs totally foreign and different to the natural self… yes we definitely skip it.

When the stove burns it contains the fire, this helps to cook, to keep warm whatever, we are all born with the fire within us, do,  should we contain it like the stove or do we let it out free for all… containing it would mean experiencing discomfort like burning with jealousy, shame or whatever we choose to call the cinders, or we could burn with ambition, give it fuel, let the light and heat out and accelerate to action, so that the human doing will manifest as the powerful human being.

It’s okay  if the burn down as occurred like a burnt down houses, it’s not a burn sentence on an electric chair, one can rise from the ashes like the phoenix and fly to different vista’s at different altitudes.

The Kabala has a beautiful philosophy, which is each week comes with its own unique opportunities for transformation. When we do connect with the energy of the week then we transformed, we are empowered and the major shift occurs. Maybe the belief that transformation happens when we are ready for it has been burnt too deep into me, so I think this musing over three things which would burn… flags the connect. However the bottom line, things I would burn

  • The stove to cook the food that nourishes.
  • Incense that cleanses and takes the staleness away.
  • Body fat to make myself more aesthetic.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

 

 

Do Not Undo

What I didn’t do this week end,

“What have you done Cleopatra” is a refrain we use to practise emotions in our theatre rehearsals.

But here is the query…what didn’t you do…

Kids these days have not really faced this, moms squinting, raising an eyebrow, which a Natyashastra scholar would call,”Utkshipta” and the vision would penetrate right through the seven secret doors, the trolls, three headed dogs, flying keys, magical potions, or monstrous chessboards that Harry potter had to cross to reach the mirror that tells your inner most desire just turn impotent here. This look was perfected by mother, and teachers, and then question would be popped rather menacingly, “What did you do”

After such harrowing experience “what didn’t you do” should technically be a breeze, but buddy, now that I have began to pound the laptop, I realize, there is a catch, I am posed with choices,

  • The checklist—that is I am supposed to do these things but I have not done it,
  • I have done what I was supposed to do, and what are the hypothetical things I that could have done and I did not do.

If I go with the first then logical query would why you not did…Were you procrastinating…evading…escaping or just were you just not aware that were to do the task.

If I were to go with the second then the issue is are talking of knowing something that you can do, but did not do, it can be done in any case, or are we talking about things that we do not know that we can do… this whole question turns rather complex.

I now empathize with my patients, what should I say that sounds right, or what is that the doctor really wants to hear.

What I normally do when I am unclear is I check the dictionary… Merriam Webster is my favourite check out what exactly the word means, then I figure how it would pan out in my place. I did not it this weekend. I decided to check out the quotes many times I get clarity of vision there, the book on quotes some made it about right and wrong.

It was the round robin we play…”king of the palace lost his cap

Some say this and some say that I say it is Cleopatra.”

Cleopatra replies, “I sir,”

“Yes sir,’’

‘’No sir””

“Who then sir”

“I say it is Harry Potter” this game can go on… but it did not give me a solution. What next…? Let’s look at the opposite of doing, since if I did not do… then something had to be done…which was undone, and not doing something about my not doing anything…

Let’s not confuse issues, to learn and not do actually about not learning, and to know and not do, is about not knowing. Somewhere we mistake activity for achievement, so at the end of the end, I have concluded, I do not know what I have done, or what I have not done… what remains is I have not undone.

 

 

Life Sentenced

Describing my in 10 sentences….

Just a minute I need to contact my junior Jeevan Rego who was asked to write five sentences on his mother in the 2nd standard here is what he wrote with the numbers in place.

  • My mother is my mother her name is Amma.
  • My mother is also my brother Santosh’s mother.
  • My mother is very pretty and she has many sarees.
  • My mother is studying in fislogy (physiology for you and me) department.
  • Then my mother married my father.

This was shared by our teacher. As for my life, I have been writing… stories since the age of five,as most people could not comprehend my spelling I earned first academic gold star.. it was in story telling… what I did before that i am clueless but I like to pass it off as research. During my teenage years appropriately educated by the Marx and Groucho’s I went about life,rather purposefully looking for the leak in the gas pipe with a lighted candle.

My sainted aunt the ryder is story  in 10 sentences… do I pronounce a judgement on the criminal activities I have done like hanging a picture or killing time or massacring language…I think I will stick to the conclusions I have come to after deliberately not deliberating…  the story of my life in ten sentences as decreed

  1. I was born on the precise date I was to parents who loved me.
  2. I am not dead, so I can have my coffee in peace.
  3. Physiologically a little fatigued but fit and fine… no sentences of hypertension, or diabetes as yet.
  4. . well a little unstable fond of adventures sentenced to periodic evaluation by Sir Roderick Glossop.
  5. Pathology hidden sentenced to excavation.
  6. Socially contradictory has the potential to absolutely crazy if the right catalyst present but by and large tends to be a wet blanket…sentenced to a ten minutes happiness tracking therapy every day.
  7. Spiritually uplifted… with steady feni flow.
  8. Intellectually challenged by the constant company of Lord Emworth’s sister I have just enough intelligence to open mouth when I have to eat.
  9. Everything I like and is fun to do is immoral, illegal or just fattening.
  10. Once I thought I heard the call of love, fortunately for me, it was the wrong number.

PS    i am not always good and noble, but since I am the hero of this piece , I get to hide my off moments.

Now that the sentences have been delivered, after conclusions drawn… Merriam Webster has the third interpretation for the word sentence – which I think is obscenely tedious any way let me share it –as sentencea word , clause, or phrase or group of clauses or phrases forming a syntactic unit which expresses an assertataion, a question, a command, a wish, an exclamation, or the performance of an action, that in writing usually begins with a capital letter and includes with appropriate end punctuations and in speaking is distinguished by characteristic patters of stress, pitch and pauses.

‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

 

Holdin’Hans

Holding hands

#Holding hands, love, romance, sunset, and whatnot…. what does one write about it? Maybe I should write about love, how about, how a hand can silence thousands of voices and how someone’s smell can make you feel at home despite of being million miles home.

I wonder how many of have really held the hand someone we love… not in the passing like a loose link, but truly clasp, with pulses of the wrists beating together, fingers mapping the knuckles and nails like a cartographer learning a country by heart. The pressure, the warmth whispering a communication, and you responding to it.

Yet holding hands can come with so many  intonations, like the my mother holding my hand well she didn’t have time for it, maybe Bhagi holding my hand to precise my little finger as took my first step, the grip that said, “bade chalo” I am there if you stumble. When I held my daughters fingers as they took their first step, the immense pride I felt.

The first day at school, as my grandmother held my hands through the maze or what looked like an ocean of people at Padma Sheshadri the grip that said, this is the world at large and you can swim, that imbibed strength in me, as I held my daughters hands when they went school, i could feel the apprehension, the need for assurance that they will be safe, an instinct in me telling me bundle her up and take her home. I did exactly what my grandmother did, I knelt beside her, and told her, “baby, this is a wonderful place, where you will find children just like, you will have teachers who will tell you stories, and a playground where you can play, I am just outside the gate waiting for me when the long bell goes I shall take you home.

Or should I share those times, when my friend held my hand to restrain me from bashing someone who was bothering us, after all one cannot hold a gun when one is holding hands.

Maybe I should talk of holding hands, connecting to one another and this chain of humans holding each other’s hands creating a powerful community bonding.

Of course we don’t talk of the bully hands that hold you down, maybe violate, or suffocate another; we pretend they do not exist.

Coming back to holding hands, sometimes reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey, at other times it is allowing another to take yours.plinky helping hands

When I was in the hospital being treated for burns it was the terminal ward, it was evening and the Parish priest from our church  came for his evening courtesy call, he sat by,   made some small talk and enquired if they would  like him to say a prayer, they replied yes, he then invited them to join him, which they did hands clasped eyes closed and the priest rendered the prayer, this was so moving, in retrospect I wonder if this is the nearest we humans get to whatever God is, when we hold hands and listen.

 

 

 

Dream On Predictive,Vision,Escape

The 9th A classroom was the corner square of the first floor of the building, there was feeling of being grown up when we entered there, but  the tables and the chairs, brought us back.The minute the teacher opened her notes, and began dictating God knows what… my yes drifted, the lake of Manipal… this before it was made into a Touristy spot there was no housing society beyond, there was just open flat land beyond the church of Manipal which was like end of the world… few cows grazing…clouds like the one described by Kalidasa in Meghadoota…as elephants put their trunks down to the non-existent water from the drying Palla

“hey you sapna… stop dreaming…come back to class” How unfair, here I was writing the masterpiece that is destined to send Kalidasa to the land of the forgotten and my musing was disturbed. We were told not to dream…. how sad. Because dreaming was considered non-productive escapist quality. The system desperately wove us into  the George Carlin ideology

“Some people see things that are and ask, Why?
Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not?
Some people have to go to work and don’t have time for all that.”
― George Carlin

Then came the Amway into my life, suddenly I was told to dream, then dreams meant, a strongly desired goal or purpose and from human being who was slumbering in her own comfort zone, the human doing emerged, I had to do lists, achievable goals brownie points for achieving and band aid when I didn’t. Dream took a who new meaning. It meant vision.

At this point I am wondering about the word dream in itself we think dreams are not real, maybe because they aren’t made of matter, of particles… Dreams however are real, but they are made of view points… of images… of memories and puns and lost hopes.

As I set on this journey of transforming from human doing to human being, I realized, that sleep, is when the conscious mind rests and the subconscious continues to do its job. The images, the  messages we accumulate through the wakeful states, we let go into this vast undefined space that is our subconscious, during the first third the mind sorts all the information. During the middle third it becomes predictive… the mind assimilates and consolidates various beliefs, the mind also looks at probable outcomes of various behaviour pattern. The final third is probably the most entertaining the venting stage where I get to date PG Wodehouse, murder Premalatha teacher, and get crowned as the home coming queen. This is the imagery flushing that happens.

Of course as an hypnotherapist, I work a lot with the middle third of the dream, the symbolism the association. In my own dreams I have familiar landscapes, and events that kind of become comforting and reassuring, like a rocky terrain near the sea, I think it is Naples, and when I arrive there, the sense of peace and security is amazing, for at that moment I know that I am crossing over from life to death.

There have been times when I have woken up breaking sweat with unexplained rage, sometimes with sorrow   it is like the lingering of a spicy dish.Guess that is called a Nightmare..unfortunately one of those came true…I had the original Dracula as my examiner and I had to repeat the exam six months later.

Be it an escape, be it an vision, be it a predictive beacon, yes I am a dreamer, for a dreamer is one who  find her way by moonlight and my punishment is that I see the dawn before the rest of the world.

With Thanks to 2016

Dear Universe,

Looking Back on 2016 thank you for a wonderful year that I had.

This is one of the most disliked topics I have, it actually reminds of our clinical pathology posting, where we have to do stool examination. Essentially that is what the past is about, experienced digested, some assimilated and some thrown out. Part it we forcefully hold on to, through photographs and memorabilia.

The past could be beautiful or painful, but it is done finished and gone, it is like a ruin. I have been visiting lot of these ruins through in clinic, not mine but others. This time round I decided to let flow.

I loved travel, and 2016, was definitely an year of travel, Jamnagar, Hyderabad, Bangalore, Kolad, Kocchi, Delhi, Bombay  modes of travel differed too, road trips, bus travel, train travel flight travel. I discovered that the Delhi airport was the dirtiest, and the most lax when it came security. I discovered food on tracks which was great fun. People, culture food everything was great. I also learnt at the end of the day I needed by Mosaranna. (Curd rice)

Kolad and Karwar outdoors really brought home the fact that I was quite fond of outdoor physical activity needed to connect to that side of me.

By and large I do not look back, as I do not intend going that way. So 2016 I just decided to write a gratitude journal, instead of journaling and writing morning pages. With the morning pages I realized how much I was clinging to the past, with journaling and the gratitude journal brought a whole shift.

I really had a lot to thank for, wonderful daughters who actually my spirit guardians, the insights they give and the support they give me is amazing. A supermom, who backs me. Friends who stand by me unconditionally.

2016 also put  Jan Sky Mehak Sethi and Vandana Shah into space. Vandana particularly it was as if the universe told me, enough of this “abla naari syndrome” pick butt and move on. Conversation with Vandana was like; okay we all have similar narratives, it is mandatory to be us, the person who we were meant to be. I am reminded of Indu Sundaresan’s epithet of Jahanara… she did not rebel, or fight the system. She was a woman and she achieved all that she had despite the restriction of the zananna she just grew, beyond it, despite being rooted deeply within.

The final epiphany for 2016 was the demonetization. Not to be judgemental… somewhere we got so caught up with the problem we didn’t share solutions. Yes, it is a bad move, inconsiderate, deep down I do think it is a diversion tactic. But when we worked from the space of scarcity we landed with lack.

2016 has also been a great year of personalization, with my Friend Sadhana helping me with reinventing my wardrobe, to make me look and feel good, Zivame consultation of lifestyle, body structure and picking up clothing, or Tea-box  counselling me to the kind of tea that is customized for my taste. Finally having the courage to get my personalized domain. The biggest surprise was my daughter analyzing fragrances and helping me to choose the appropriate one.

At the end of the year, 2016 has been about adventures, and discoveries, be it the Free Money Day, the Rafting at Kolad, the event presentation at Kocchi(which was disastrous) experimenting with Bhuta kola for Hayavadhana  each has been great.

 

 ‘This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.’

 

 

 

 

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