Mum is the word.

When I was younger and someone said “You are just like your mother”, I would retaliate with a resounding “NO!”

It took me 23 years to know that my mother is the most beautiful woman I will ever know; that the first face I had recognized was of the person who would make me her world for the rest of her life. Some women are natural mothers, my mother is super-natural. No, really!

She is not the typical can-find-anything-that-is-lost (which she can), or the Bollywood inspired who knows when you are only steps away from home (which she does) but she's been unconventional in so many ways. She’s always been some kind of helicopter mother; and I had issues with that, obviously. But that is the beauty of a mother-daughter relationship; one doesn’t want to be anything like the other, while the other is always looking out to see that it never happens. “Don’t make the mistakes that I made” she says very nostalgically. But somewhere along this road, there is a chance of finding a beautiful friendship, of never ever needing a best friend again. Of never worrying about hurting someone so much that they would never speak to you again, even if they say so in the moment. The chance that you may never have to go to the movies alone. The chance that on the day you walk in with  your hair dyed electric blue  instead of a raging fit all you get is, "Its... different." 

Just like any two people who care about each other, we fight a lot, shout and scream. But the optimism with which we share ice-cream later is a tiny miracle. My mother is the glue that holds our family together, a go-to person for almost everyone in the house. In a world where children should be tied to their beds in chains, my mother never said no for anything, all she said was “Do what’s right for you” -so if you think going for a sleepover only a day before the most crucial exam of your life is the thing to do, so be it. She is my 1st expert for everything, my first example and inspiration for carrying myself into the world and its wide possibilities. For what am I if not a summation of her qualities?

On my birthdays, she wouldn’t buy me dolls or chocolates, she would buy books. On my report day, she wouldn’t be in a hurry to leave, but she would meet ALL the teachers, which was usually followed by getting me the bribe she knew I didn’t need to score well. On my graduation day, she cried and on the first overnight trip she ever sent me for, she called to ask “Can you sleep without me?” Even though my father still thinks I am 3 years old, my mother always treated me like an adult, but there are still those“You are still too young for….” arguments.

The first time I brought a guy home, she decided to shove a family-tree-scrapbook I made in 5thGrade in his face and explained to him where exactly he would fit in. And that led to the most awkward conversation of my life where I had to explain to my naïve mother that I didn’t intend to marry every guy I brought home, which led to several puzzled looks from her end finally ending with “Alright then, I need to cook.” The first time I had my heart broken, she said "It hurts but its okay, I understand." instead of telling me, how I was too young to be in love anyway.

I wish to be half the mother she is to me. To be half the friend she is. To be half the kind of cook she is. And with all those halves my children would be full lucky.

So now so many years later when someone says that I am just like my mother, I say “Thank you!”

Goodbyes.

Just something I've been thinking about off late; 

You know that last moment. That one day after which you'll never see someone again, even if only from a distance. That person who was probably inconsequential to your life. Or maybe someone who was the center of it, at some point. Your friend from the library you just didn't speak to again. The best friend whose eye you can't meet anymore. The boy with those blue eyes that you'll never forget. And the girl who stood up for you when you forgot your lines on stage. 

In that moment followed by an all consuming urge to go and give them a hug you wish to just let go. Of inhibitions, of the hate and of the misunderstanding. That moment when everything in the past seems like a pointless waste of emotion. Isn't this exactly why most breakups don't happen until the point where they are totally unavoidable? The thought of never. Never again, is scary. You don't want to know what might happen if you just cut the cords, so you stick with it instead of following your sunshine. You don't want to take that chance.

You want to make that move. Make amends because you read those stories about how telling someone you love them is so important, you never know when.

So you go rather awkwardly with a speech in your head and a slow stride walk to them. Scared, of humiliation? That maybe it is just you and not them. But all it takes is 20 seconds of courage. All anything ever takes is 20 seconds of courage.

You make that speech; "You know what? I don't want to be saying 10, 15, 20 years from now. You know my best friend from 12th grade, wonder what she is upto. I want to know."

Goodbyes have a way of bringing people closer.

Mumbai.

A recent forward I received about Mumbai, got me thinking how much I really love this city.

Being a Mumbaikar is way beyond all the cliques listed in the message and the city is much more than meets the eye. Someone who hasn't lived here would never understand .  

Mumbai. Only the sound of it sends tingles down my spine, like the name of an ex-lover. The summer romance you will never forget. People complain here all the time, about the traffic, the pot-holes, the rains, the pollution and the fast life. And these are the things I love most, these are the things that make this magical city a little imperfect and so absolutely perfect. My ever changing breathtaking city. It teaches you a lot, like a strict parent. It teaches you that dreams don't always come true, it teaches you that hearts break, it teaches you that stardom is only but an illusion and it teaches you that the waves will break your sandcastle once in a while but you need to keep trying and protect it. Keep trying one more time, differently. 

Mumbai is not a place its a spirit.

The city that never sleeps, she is not entirely flawless. Yes I said "She" only a woman can woo like this city does.  I go to marine drive I know those rocks , the water  they'll be here for me always just so that I can look at them and feel their arms around me. People strive all their lives to make a mark be able to afford a life here. They make ends meet, live in rented apartments with ten other people. Struggle. I didn't have to. I was born here, lucky? But lovers don't just meet somewhere they are in each other all along. I was meant to be here. This city keeps you connected, in the middle of all the buzz, you can be the life of anything here. And being a Mumbaikar is special. 

Mumbai is the little things. Mumbai is the unexpected kindness from a stranger. Mumbai is the loving ear from your train friends. Mumbai is the random drive on the Sea Link. Mumbai is feeding the pigeons at Gateway of India. Mumbai is never running out of coffee shops. Mumbai is the man who selflessly stands at Juhu circle everyday with a sign that says "Apne Dharm par Chalo, Sabse Pyaar Karo". Mumbai is the quaint bookshops in the beautiful heritage buildings of town. Mumbai is the drunk nights that you will never regret. Mumbai is the stories you heard from the rickshaw driver. Mumbai is the helping hand after every setback. Mumbai is the resilience, not because we are strong but we have no choice. 

Mumbai is the safety you feel even at the latest hour on the streets. Mumbai is the cricket you play in the gullies. Mumbai is the smile that the first rains bring. Its the people that still so rebelliously but with much affection still call it Bombay. Its the same old sites which people visit with renewed enthusiasm each time. To be a part of this ethos of life you won't have to try, it will engulf you and you won't want to come out. Mumbai accepts everyone, with non-judgmental eyes and an open mind. Its the art that resides in each part of the city, the creativity that brims the already full cup and the zeal to excel that lives in every child's heart. 

Mumbai is the friendships, the romance, the laughter. The life. 

Mumbai is home and will always be. Wander I must but home is where I'll always come back. 

One of the best things about this city.. is the smell of the different air. You can smell it before you see or hear anything of the place. It's the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the Island City. That smell: the worst good smell in the world, above all things- that welcomes me and tells me I've come home

- Shantaram, Gregory Roberts

Secret Santa Ka Funda

So the lovely Indiblogeshwaris came up with a Secret Santa game of their own this year. Each blogger was asked to review a blog anonymously and provide honest feedback on what they thought of the blog they were assigned. And this secret would only be revealed on Christmas when the presents open so Shhh!

So I was assigned the wonderful Shaivi Sharma who blogs at Shaivi ka Funda. To begin with I thought that her blog was just so honest. Every post was like a sneak peak into her life, which is the true essence of blogging isn't it? She puts a piece of herself in her writing which instantly connects you to her and also inspires you to write something of your own. There is an alliteration in her name, so obviously her love for words is inevitable. 

Her blog is almost 2 and has won many accolades in the form of goodies for blog contests because of the sheer creativity and sincerity in the writing. 

Why you should head to her blog RIGHT NOW!

• Cause I am her Santa Secret Elf and I said so

• I love how there is a mixed bag that it has to offer. From Book Reviews, Travelogues, Food Recipes, Movies to the little bits from her personal life. She writes everything.

• She is super regular in her writing. Which I really admire because personally I can't sit myself down and write as often as 4-5 times a month. Her creativity is always on its toes ;)

• I think her blog is very vibrant. Light background and dark text, which is the perfect blend. I like people who have simple themes, soothing to the eyes.

• Her style of writing is engaging and personal which makes all her posts more interesting and catchy. 

• No draggy descriptions. I love how crisp and just the right length her posts are. There is no race to reach a 1000 word + mark.
• Her views and heartwarming stories make for a perfect companion when you want to snuggle in bed and read something nice.

I am glad I found her blog. And Shaivi I hope when you read this, it makes you smile. Keep Writing and Stay Awesome.

Merry Christmas. Ho Ho Ho.

"Potluck" in Mumbai :D

It is going to be an awesome evening, I am going to be there too. Do come you guys! :D

Letters of Love

We fell in love so quickly that there was no time to think it through. No time to analyze if he'd fit my definitions of love. If he could be "The One". No time, how would there be? We were never off the phone. Months later it makes perfect sense though, I had to fall in love with him.Why? Because he makes me happy. From 812 kms away he can make me feel loved. Somedays we barely talk, and on others we talk only to fight and crib about the lack of time. But even on those days when we are snapping at each other there is a part of me that knows I wouldn't want it any other way. He is home. My person, the only one in the world who I could say anything to and he would still hold me tight and say he loves me.

(a chat from the first few months)

me: Hey there delilah

  whats it like in new york city?

  

 P: oasis

  :D

 me: plain white tees

  :|

 P: :O

  i thought its oasis

me: See if u didn't have me

  You'd spend all  your life

  not knowing that the song is by plain white teeP: I know! Tragic.

P and me were friends because of this very blog, its hard to believe that something I started out of plain boredom gave me the most important person in my life. So maybe it is true then, everything does happen for a reason. He's working for the Government of India in the defence forces. And I can't begin to explain such a pain in the wrong places that is. He has tough life, tough schedule and a very busy day. Every day the routine tires him, I wonder if he forgets me sometimes but he never forgets to remind me that he doesn't. I would love to be my demanding self, and many times I am but after a while I just don't have the heart to be. 

In the first 6 months of our relationship he had to go for his first training. Which meant no calls, no texts and, not even the once in a blue moon skype call. We in any case had a long distance relationship which meant seeing each other only after months and several long STD bills. We thought it would be easy, the extra space would help us do our own thing too. But it was tough, very tough. 

We wrote letters to each other. The really long ones, the 1000 words and more. The short ones just to say "I love you. And I am thinking of you." The one liners after a fight, the pages full of words which couldn't ever really capture how we felt. On days when he had time he sent multiple letters at once, the postman often joked with him, why write so much just make a quick phonecall in secret instead. But we preferred the letters, we could speak at length in them. Sometimes when the words ran out we sent things. The bracelet he made for me out of twigs, so delicately put together. It fit my hand perfectly like his would if he was here. The target sheet he stole for me from range practice. He was getting good at it, almost hitting the centre once in a while. The little cards I made for him each one with a reason why I loved him;

For that smile, when I do something stupid

For that phone call in the middle of the night just to say I love you. (Even when I don't remember it the next day)

For the way you believe in us

For the way you say "Let's not fight. I love you"

For each time you say "Listen" with the south indian accent and it sounds like "Lizzen"

....

We wrote of the bad days and the good ones. The time when I had the worst day at work, everything went wrong that day. Writing to him helped, it always does. Almost like he was listening and offering comfort. I wrote of the graduation ceremony he missed, as I threw my cap in the air for a momentary second I scanned the crowd hoping to see him. He wrote about his seniors, the cool guys and even the strict ones. He sent me sketches of the fighter planes he learnt about, each one distinct from the other (though I could never tell the difference). The letter he wrote in Shudh Bhojpuri! I remember reading it over and over and laughing till my stomach hurt. The drawings he made of all the possible positions that the seniors instructed them to make the most famous being the "Crab Walk","Side Roll" and "Murga" 

We wrote cause we had no other way. He wrote about the friends he made. He observed whenever he made a new friend they were never standing, always rolling on the floor, or with their legs in the air, or simply lying down after the several push-ups and crunches. Once I put my scent on the letter I wrote to him, it is very cheesy when you think about it, but the smile it brought on his face was totally worth it. Besides he likes cheese. As a gesture of sweet reciprocation he sent me a tradeable WWE card. I have no clue how he managed to or why, but it was cute. I sent him a photo of me, that he kept in his wallet. A bookmark, I had painted myself that he kept in his textbooks, somehow I was everywhere even when I wasn't. I used to pick up free postcards from restaurants and send him those once in a while to break the monotony. It was only later that I knew he had to earn all the letters I wrote to him. 50 pushups for letters from the mother, 30 if they were from dad and 100 if they were from the girlfriend. The standards often changed on the time of the day and the mood of the seniors. He did each one eagerly, waiting to know what I had written this time.

Our story has it all, the distance, the age gap, differences in religion and of course parents who resort to melodrama at the drop of a hat. Right out of a movie, someone might say. But somehow the choice is obvious, it can't be otherwise, even the melodrama is worth it. So if you ask me what our day of love is I would say, it keeps evolving. Maybe it was the day I first spoke to him and thought he was full of hot air, or maybe the day he said I love you for the first time. It probably is the time he came back from the academy to see me and I was blushing like it was the first time all over again. Maybe it was the day he left, and I cried myself to sleep in his jacket because it would mean a few more months without him. Or maybe our Platinum Day of Love is yet to come. Because I'm in love with the memories we are yet to make. 

A place called home

This was my childhood home where I spent those hot summer vacations. You know the age when the sun doesn't bother you. The carefree years. Its hard to imagine now that I once loved this place. In one of the distant and quaint villages of Gujarat, hidden somewhere far off from the developing cities and expressways there was a building I called home. It was like those  vintage bungalows amidst trees and innumerable small houses, each having rattling noises of its own. The vessels clanging in the kitchen, the children being a riot, the old radio playing the tunes of the day, or just the creaking of granddad’s chair – the noises that somehow together spelt peace. 

The slice of village life I kept hidden from my city friends, I don’t think I have ever mentioned this in detail to anyone. No one knew where I disappeared for a fortnight each year and came back tanned like a Dorito. It was my own secret adventure just like one of the many Enid Blyton books I carried with me here but never got to read. There was not an idle moment here, the village brimmed with life.  A stark contrast to the fast paced concrete jungle where I came from. This house had seen a lot, the walls spoke volumes, the marks the children made on the wooden panel surrounding the door marking their height each summer also marked the years gone by. The clay vessels that we played with. And the pretentious tea we served to the old and young alike. This building I once loved. If only that one night hadn’t changed everything.

I was 8 , it was the rains that took him. Not once have I enjoyed that familiar pitter patter on my window since that day. The rains bring bad news I always say, and maybe they do. Maybe its the skies crying over the bad news. Maybe rains are a sign of destruction, maybe its His best illusion. That night I didn’t sleep at all. I don’t remember anything except that all night I was trying to wake my 6 month old sister, I pinched her awake every time she slept. Something was wrong, he slept and didn’t wake up I didn’t want her to do the same to me. The happy faces I usually saw here now had darkened expressions of deep sorrow. Why were they crying? It was finally raining. The hot summers were gone, and yet no one seemed happy.

The alley that led to my home was crowded with people, I tried to acknowledge the familiar faces but no one smiled at me today, I had probably grown taller than last time and they just didn’t recognize me. My mother held my hand tightly while we waded the crowd. As we got nearer I could hear wailing women and now I was scared. We walked into that door I knew so well, with elephants and horses carved into the thick wood and the door knob that I had picked when the last one broke. My mother didn’t bother to abandon her footwear in the verandah, something that struck me as odd. As we entered I saw that white mattress and he lied there lifeless, my 50 year old neighbour saw my mother and hugged her as she cried and my mother still holding my hand in hers fell to the floor near him. My aunt was there too her eyes red, my uncle perplexed and in some kind of shock. As my mother lost control I didn’t know if I had to cry too. My dad decided to take me away from this. But I saw him, his face blue. It had been 5 minutes since I had come home and he didn’t bother to look at me. I was now upset. Maybe I had to wake him up. I moved towards him but something inside me stirred with fear, some kind of instinct that tells you something was wrong.

I was 3 burning with fever, I was to start school the coming June. The panic was evident on his face. He was probably just tired of  my constant crying. He walked 10 kms and back for the medicine I needed, that day he was some kind of a hero.

I was 5, atop his shoulder. It was Rakshabandhan, which meant lot of sweets and gifts for me back then. My mother tied him the rakhi I had picked. It had to be a Pokemon Rakhi, it didn’t matter if he was a little over 24. We were just about to say our goodbyes when I decided to pull at the curtains in the living room, the entire rod and the cloth that hung on it came crashing on me. I was about to cry when he came and picked me up and said “What?, are you going to cry now. Wuss!” and I didn’t cry.

I was 7, we had reached home after the celebratory dinner. He had bought his first car, it was obviously a reason to celebrate. As I got down from the car holding the icecream we bought on the way home I felt the door shut on my hand. I was screaming for exactly 3 seconds when he realised what had happened, got hold of me and released my hand. I was now looking at the swelling which had appeared over my tiny fingers with tears welling in my eyes. He had the same panic on his face, he always had when I was in any kind of pain and he decided to mock hit the car, I joined him while he asked my mother to rub ice on my hand, he couldn’t even bare to look at it. Should have known that car was evil.

Today as I sit in the same house, I sometimes feel his presence. Sometimes even now when I wake up in the car to realise we’ve reached home. In that moment between sleep and wakefulness I expect him to come and hug me tight and say “Finally, what took you’ll so long” Sometimes I feel blessed, I had good 8 years with him, all my sister has is a photo here and there and a vague account of what he was  from the things we say, when we fondly bring him up. I never say anything. For a year after he was gone, I spotted him in various crowds. In the market where we went to buy vegetables, I saw that tall and lean figure with ruffled hair, he was so tall always easy to spot. Sometimes I even saw him at school during break though it would be odd if he was wearing the school uniform. I never had the heart to chase the stranger I thought was him, the fear of being disappointed was too much. Instead I decided to believe it was indeed him in the crowded spaces, and he was only looking after us. A superhero lurking in the corners looking out for a crisis. He was my hero and maybe these four walls remind me of him, and maybe I still somewhere hope that one day he’ll come walking back like he always does with the stride in his walk and his ruffled hair, so tall and easy to spot and then I’ll call it home again.

PS: Its nice to write again, now that feels like home. Wrote something on Darlings of Venus also a while back. You can read it here

Banarasiya

Back in school my friends had these really cool boyfriends who played for the football teams and had heart melting smiles and made you want to be like those intense women from operas. In school I was above all of it. The tomboy with more GI-Joes than Barbies. The girl who cared less about how beautifully her dress flowed and more about winning a Harry Potter argument. I was a buddy. A buddy is someone who has only guy friends all her life and then dies alone with cats. Yeah that.

When I entered college not much changed, except that I had to make girl friends if I didn't want to be a stared at all the time. Then it finally began, hormones. Maybe that was the reason, maybe you need girls around for the girl hormones to kick in. I was a girl over-night. From one stupid boy to another, with my heart on a platter. It was very amusing at first. I was watching Rom-Coms without being forced to. I was reading Mills & Boons (that happened once, don't judge me) Basically I was ready for the prince in shining armor to come and sweep me off my feet, just like princess diaries. 

A friend of mine got a  puppy from her boyfriend. A puppy! A real, living, breathing, barking little thing. But the dog was diseased, and died in 3 days and she turned vegetarian for a year after that,mourning for its death *rolls eyes* and they broke up soon after. But that's not the point. Focus on the puppy part. They would all go to nice lunches and brunches and dinners and what not. I was never jealous then, it was stupid then. But I was jealous. 5 years after it happened. 

My prince was obviously going to be a crossover of Tom Cruise and Orlando Bloom with roses lilies in his hand and perfect hair. But when I fell in love it was just not so fairy tale like after all. All I wanted was lunch. But I got long really long STD call bills, several snores from the other end and just a flip calendar on our one year anniversary. Yeah it is sad. This is what happens when you are in love  with a guy who is a generation older to you(so i like to say) Things won't go your way most of the time. The time you think you've gone for the Man instead of puppy love. He shows you that he is just that a MAN, with no boyish charm and no tricks up his sleeve. He thinks he has you and he will hold and protect you till death do you'll part but all you want is lunch. To top it all it is a long distance relationship and frustration levels are so high that you want to poison every happy couple you see around. God and his evil ways didn't even want me to have a regular long distance relationship, why make it so easy. The love of my life is in the Indian Air Force and is training to be an air warrior. Phppt. Don't go all "Wow you should be so proud of him crap" cause I will take you down. Cause all you want is someone who is actually there after a long day at work. Someone who is bringing chocolate chip ice-cream to your place at 3 am and someone who is atleast present, if only on weekends.

How does this kind of set-up actually work? It works cause at the end of the day, the sound of his voice on the phone is the warmest hug, the random message from him through the day is my epic romance. The bracelet he made me out of twigs at camp is my favourite gift, and when he sleeps off because he's had a really tiring day, as much as I want to slap him awake, the sound of his breathing is my lullaby. 

 It's like a big pie chart, and the love in a relationship has to be the biggest piece. Love can make up for a lot.

Reliance Digital Experience.

Experience Review:

It was a very rainy Sunday morning and I was on a mission. A mission to get my goodie bag. Indiblogger has really spoilt all us bloggers with freebies, several meets and tonnes of free food. Not that I am complaining. 

We had to choose from a few Reliance Digital Outlets, which by the way are hard to miss. Suddenly its like an explosion of electronic stores there is one in every 250 meters. I had selected the outlet in Infinity II, Malad. My affiliation with electronic stores is old. I am the person who goes and plays free video games on the large plasma TV until they physically snatch the joystick from my hand to give someone else a chance. Dirty looks don't work on me. So I wouldn't mind spending another Sunday doing that.

Me and my friend Karishma  reached the store at roughly 12 pm after wading through the terrible Mumbai monsoons. We looked around rather awkwardly wondering who to approach as we were promised an experience we wouldn't forget.Finally we approached a friendly looking employee who had no idea what Indiblogger was and thought we were there to steal phones. Finally another employee told us to wait as the store manager was not around and once he arrived he would tell us what to do. While we waited, lusting over the various electronics we are missing in our lives. I walked to the phone section and looked at them like a hungry child looks at a stranger, he knows he shouldn't ask but can't help staring! (I really need a new phone, saving up!)

We waited and waited and waited some more. Finally we plopped ourselves on the large couch in front of a huge 52' Tv. My legs were aching and I was pretty sure I was not getting up from this couch until the store manager would get me my goodie bag. Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara was being played on the TV, but sadly it was only one scene played over and over and over again. We decided that there is only so many times you can watch one scene, and we'd probably be able to count the number of freckles on Farhan Akhtar's face or our eyes would bleed out. We decided to ignore the TV, and talk instead. We were meeting after a really long time, and a good chat was due. We talked about all our childhood memories (Yes, we are friends since 20 years :D) and on how things are. It takes time to grow and old friend and there is nothing that can make you more happy than spending time with them. We joked and laughed and embarrassed ourselves enough for an entire year. Happiness in a store? I think so !


Finally the store manager decided to show up. He took the printouts we were clutching the whole time of the invite we received from Indiblogger and asked us to look around the store (which we already had done 15 times in the past hour) and then asked us to leave. Quite a disappointment, cause we were actually waiting for something to HAPPEN! Sadly nothing did. When we shamelessly asked about the goodie bag we were told we would get it from Indiblogger itself.

Store Review:
Honestly the collection is not so impressive. Its probably because they are still new. The range of products in each category are very few. You can't expect to find every model, you would have to try your luck. The staff is nice and friendly, not to mention they hover like they do everywhere (which is very annoying btw!)
The pricing is a little off, its understandable though they are charging us for the ambiance and massive rent expense. But being from a world where Flipkart is available I'd prefer to save a few bucks. Also the typical Indian was very disappointed, No FREE gaming zone was set up !
The stores are spacious and impressive. Also since they are newly opened they have a few offers going on, on various products so you might want to check that out.
Reliance Digital also has an up and running website reliancedigital.in  which easily impressed me more than the store itself.

Connected Hum Tum - Indiblogger Meet

I was so excited for this particular meet, though I shouldn't be since it was my 7th Indiblogger Meet *insert veteran wave* but because the show that was going to be launched at the meet was associated Abhay Deol *drools*

Though I was heartbroken when he didn't really turn up, I don't  think I've enjoyed myself THIS much in a long time. Indiblogger meets are always more fun than other meets. The energy and warmth stays with you for days after the actual event. Also I got to meet MALISHKAAAA :D 

Radio plays such an important part of my life, its absurd, every morning I HAVE to listen to it on my way to work and in the evening on the way back, I always believed that listening to the radio is like having a friend for company, like you are talking to someone (Yeah, single child problems :P ). I am probably the only one who knows all the radio jockeys from all the channels.

The meet began with meeting all the fellow bloggers I love to meet each time, followed by many many bear hugs. Especially BlogwatiG, a powerhouse of energy always a pleasure to meet her. The forever lucky Wannabe-Wayfarer who won her second Nokia Lumia at a blogger meet. I suggest she just retires now and gives someone else a chance. Also this meet was special because this time I had my friend since 20 years with me for her first blogger meet - Karishma

Now for the actual agenda of the meet. Zee Tv's new show Connected Hum Tum has a unique concept. 6 Indian women will share their lives and bare their soul on national television. As Malishka exclaimed "For the last 6 months our hands had become tripod stands!"

We were shown a preview episode of the show, and it seems to be really interesting as each episode will feature 3 women and the episode will be based on a connected theme. 

We also had a chance to meet the 6 ladies and interact with them :) Here is a little about them:

Sonal Giani

She grew up in Goa, the daughter of an navy officer. She lives with her twin sister and the two of them are very close. Sonal is in a serious relationship wondering if the parents of her lover will accept their unusual, unconventional bond and give their love story a happy ending. I had a chance to speak to Sonal and she seemed like a very fun loving and happy person, with a rebellious streak.

Malishka Mendonca
Who doesn't know her. Especially if you are in Mumbai. She has been No 1 radio jockey for as long as I remember. She is energetic and super spontaneous, she is going to bring so much energy to the show, I can't wait to watch her. She's made it big today but the question for Malishka is ...what next? Can she dare to risk a change in her career? Will she find a suitable man to settle down with?

Madhavi Mauskar
She;s lived a life of unconventional choices. With two divorces under her belt, she's hit rock bottom and bounced back! Madhavi is about to be a grandmother for the second time. And her ex-husband has suddenly tried getting back in touch with her. Does he really want a life with her? Or does he just want some closure?




Preeti Kochar

She is the mother of  a two year old, has a husband she loves and a mother she wished hadn't neglected her in her childhood. A mutli-tasking superwoman, she juggles her responsibilities at home with her clinic as well as her passion for dance! Preeti wants to tick all the boxes, the conventional ones of 'wife', 'mom', 'dentist' and 'daughter-in-law' as well as the unconventional ones of 'independent', 'bold' and 'dancer'. As a result Preeti is not able to leave one profession for another. She craves the love she was denied in childhood, so she fears rocking her marriage too much. Yet her marriage prevents her from being as free as she'd like to be! She asks herself - "Women marry for love and care - Do I really get that in my marriage?"

Pallavi Burman
She's been a bright student, has a career which she can show off  and married a boy her parents chose. She barely knew him and things did not work out. So, against the family wishes she sought a divorce. Her parents were deeply embarrassed and she ended up blaming herself for 'not trying hard enough' She's getting married again to a guy she met at a friend's party and this time round she's determined to do everything even "righter"! But she asks -why should it be only upon a woman to make a marriage work?

Mahima Chaudhary
Starry-eyed small town girl hails from a large Jat joint family in Meerut. Mahima was the most humble and probably shy of the lot. A simple girl with big dreams, a boyfriend in Delhi who isn't from her caste, parents who want to get her married and ambitions that no one seems to understand. Mahima's journey is just out of the movies.

" Tell a woman what she can't have, and suddenly she'll know exactly what she wants "

With such a lovely mix of women from all walks of life, the show is bound to get interesting. The show airs on 3rd June on Zee Tv, explore the world of women and TRY to understand them ;)

Look at us all smiles :D After hearing that FREE BOOOZE was being served :P

With this I hope I am back to being regular here, or atleast wining a Nokia Lumia 520 ;) 

Hm.

I want to write. No really, I want to. But there is not a single inspiring thought and I think my vocabulary has suddenly given up on me too. Wren and Martin also frown at me now and then. Its sad. 

So now all I do is constantly change how my blog looks instead of actually writing something. I know real smart. But the idea is so that no one remembers what my blog is or looked like thus never asking me why I don't blog anymore. And I will go back to being a forgotten specie of the blog world. 

Who am I kidding? Only I think I am famous anyway. How can a name like BlluBluBling get famous. Please don't ask for the story behind it, its embarrassing. So why don't I change it, cause I think its famous. I'm telling you I am mental. Its a happy paradox.

In other news I am currently doing a part time internship sort of thing with Tamarind Rice. Since I am on exam leave and have some time on me, though I am supposed to be studying.

They are an enthusiastic team of people trying to promote Indian writing. Tamarind Rice is basically a FREE E-magazine which will have varied content including specific standard sections such as fashion, lifestyle, relationships, events, humour, food, travel etc. Subscribe to it here

Their first issue is scheduled to be out in April and all the content will be contributed by talented writers, photographers and anyone who wants to share any kind of content. This can be done by sending an email to content@tamarindrice.in

Also prizes to be won in several contests and stuff :D Do check it out. I hope to write for them and get rid of my writer's, blogger's block as well. 

Must get back to studying. >.< 

Love to my two regular readers. You guys complete me *does the celebrity wave*

Drop in the Ocean

I pledge that I will be aware and alert about things happening around me.

I pledge I will not ignore if I see someone in pain or trouble.

I pledge to be fearless and fight against injustice.
I pledge to not depend on the government, police or people. I pledge to be responsible myself.

I pledge to never walk past someone who may need my help.

I pledge I will not keep quiet if I or any girl around me is  eve teased or even given a dirty look.

I pledge to speak up.

I pledge to not tolerate a sexist joke again.

I pledge to have an opinion and not be afraid to give it.

I pledge. Do you?

This Year I ...

(In no particular order)

Lost  a friend due to misunderstandings and fights.

Fell in irrevocable, deep, irrational, stupid & mindless love. A good feeling, you must try it sometime.

Had my heart broken. And thought it was the end of the world.

Won a contest hosted by a fellow blogger. I never win anything, so it is quite a big deal.

 

Made tons of new friends, met new people. Gathered experiences, memories and insights :)

Finally got a dog, to complete the family and understood the real meaning of selfless love.

Started something new, career wise. Made the best out of what I had and gave into the passion. 

Attended the wedding of a really close family member for the first time. Very Jutte Do Paise Lo Moment >_<

Bought my own laptop with my own money (: Installments FTW !! :D

Grew up in so many ways :) A year older, much wiser and smarter.

Survived the Mayan's idea of the end of the world. 

Was stunned by an incident that shook the nation and realized, I don't have a NOT IN MY BACKYARD attitude after all. 

Wrote more than double of how much I wrote last year. Me is happy :)

Spent a lot of time charging my phone and I intend to do it in 2013 as well. 

So a very good year in terms of a lot of things. I am almost content...almost:)

Even  in the smallest accomplishments and the biggest joys, 2012 has been the best year of my life ( no exaggeration). And once you are set to climb upwards you can only go higher. A very HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EACH ONE OF YOU READING THIS . May this new year be a rebirth of sorts and bring you a lot of new luck, joy , and love.