tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67819131527743801372024-03-19T23:53:45.249-07:00thecheesydipCome and dive into this authentic dip, which is packed with pungent flavours of everyday life.Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-59449685224664570692015-02-02T09:44:00.000-08:002015-02-03T21:10:57.832-08:00Surajkund International Crafts Mela 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When I embarked on my maiden visit to the Surajkund International Crafts
Fair, held every year during the spring season from February 1-15, little did I
know that I would come back home with my hands full of “steal deals”, an aching heart that longed to see more and a pair of fatigued legs that
underestimated the sheer magnificence, expanse and grandness of India's one of the most
popular fests.</div>
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Organized every year in Surajkund, Haryana, near Delhi, by
Haryana Tourism Department to promote handicrafts items, this year the local-turned-global mela just got bigger and better. The cultural festival offers a podium
to celebrated artisans from India and across the world to showcase their expertise,
be it textiles, artefacts, traditional handicrafts or cuisine. But what really
enhanced the charm of this place was its vibe and ambience, played up well by vibrant
paper flower motifs, Dhokra art from Chhattisgarh, bejeweled camels, bedecked
folk dancers and of course, the tremendous talent pool. </div>
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On display was something for everyone. Melamine crockery
selling by the kilos, wall mounted shoe racks, weather-proof garden furniture,
Korean quilts and vials of suspicious looking potions were just some of the unexciting
products that greeted us first. But as we entered the cavernous fest, a riot of
colours began to explode before our eyes. There were reams and endless reams of
diaphanous Indian textiles along with handmade wooden toys, paper and leather
craft, glass wall accents, massive timber art, contemporary pottery and terracotta,
warm knits and booties, Punjabi <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mojris </i>and
many more wow-worthy bits and baubles that enthralled and overwhelmed us.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toys galore<br />
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Global appeal<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br />
Interestingly, this year 18 countries are participating in
this grand fest. Many world-acclaimed artists from countries like Lebanon, Sri
Lanka, Nepal, Afghanistan and Bangladesh, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan,
Georgia, Tajikistan, Kuwait, Qatar, Thailand, Syria and more were seen
exhibiting their skills. Definitely a good move to attract tourists and cater
to all kinds of tastes.<br />
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Chhattisgarh is the theme state of the 29th Surajkund
International Crafts Mela </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The food court</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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The visitors were spoilt for choice as specialty cuisines
from different Indian states were on offer. People were also seen thronging the
all-you-can-eat buffet @ INR 200 only. We were quite impressed by the slick
clean tables that were neatly covered with industrial sized aluminum foil and
great service by the helpers who promptly whisked away used plates. Since
Lebanon is the partner nation for the Surajkund International Crafts Fair this
year, a team of Lebanese master chefs is specially flown in to whip up
delectable delights. We were quick to sample their food and glad we did. The winning
bites from Beirut were Falafel (crispy fried vegetarian patties served in bread
with salad and spread) and Fatteh (Pita with chickpeas and yogurt). At Rs 150 a
plate, this food was wholesome, fresh and very palatable.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Clearly, Pushkar's cousin now has a personality of its own that is drawing thousands of spectators every year. Here are a few more pictures from the mela. And yes, if your
heart beats for all things Indian, we recommend you take out time to soak up some winter sun in
this fun place.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strolley bags to stash your bargains</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcJY2KQSSI4No89c4ZpvZWFqrSFqORBwOsotqDJo_a_5G5HngkkYRBfp543ur4BbxIt28WP9pgiBKMYzzBP3EtoQLkd8NIQJI7hNZKKKn1BK8QfWSREg_cx5PURIFBEPMdNwGrUbghfg/s1600/IMG_4679+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQcJY2KQSSI4No89c4ZpvZWFqrSFqORBwOsotqDJo_a_5G5HngkkYRBfp543ur4BbxIt28WP9pgiBKMYzzBP3EtoQLkd8NIQJI7hNZKKKn1BK8QfWSREg_cx5PURIFBEPMdNwGrUbghfg/s1600/IMG_4679+-+Version+2.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The quintessential setting</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ma8O2Nf1a2FZc7pXuApBy6SbWAcSGQQXcJEDdYNfffPl2fW8oORhco9_0KSkNoXMhCPq7BH1aPl3mzVzcV1t53IgVbaWQ6bqm6gIANOk4iU8upVmpdBTRC14Uop5MtpseSojXXjwV58/s1600/IMG_4683+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Ma8O2Nf1a2FZc7pXuApBy6SbWAcSGQQXcJEDdYNfffPl2fW8oORhco9_0KSkNoXMhCPq7BH1aPl3mzVzcV1t53IgVbaWQ6bqm6gIANOk4iU8upVmpdBTRC14Uop5MtpseSojXXjwV58/s1600/IMG_4683+-+Version+2.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Prettiness!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEils2-ZeXPzHSjzD1rShmERfnjYzm9yxgWCs_02pEKLOlXXdAhXT3uuWkW3iHndNk3eaNSfkw9WAjOPDFbrkqEx0jC9Vg1MahXLGtGtZ2NONbhse43VuKWHaKKF-YOSi7RpfMpyTbLpKoY/s1600/IMG_4684+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEils2-ZeXPzHSjzD1rShmERfnjYzm9yxgWCs_02pEKLOlXXdAhXT3uuWkW3iHndNk3eaNSfkw9WAjOPDFbrkqEx0jC9Vg1MahXLGtGtZ2NONbhse43VuKWHaKKF-YOSi7RpfMpyTbLpKoY/s1600/IMG_4684+-+Version+2.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A really giant wheel built on the lines of the London Eye</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNXVY31jlNfS1Lp5zja1ZYP7rusWKFYXHkJB28df5_EyIUITUEqxtfTbu_6WkLOiMAYfPOrHnxLGz6c1qFzK81jbFrQKrCW3iHbTs3YLHaCdsCID05NPUHaC0DwL4SD3mkIuX3YITuP0/s1600/IMG_4685.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpNXVY31jlNfS1Lp5zja1ZYP7rusWKFYXHkJB28df5_EyIUITUEqxtfTbu_6WkLOiMAYfPOrHnxLGz6c1qFzK81jbFrQKrCW3iHbTs3YLHaCdsCID05NPUHaC0DwL4SD3mkIuX3YITuP0/s1600/IMG_4685.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pretty Punjabi mojris with tassel detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreAVgO0TBcusBffQfFCFbLtbBS-fMGJxoF1Uuz0B4mORIqJVEq6Rus4rbEpykZQDHyTASGbgGos7lp_sYdIMr5pElysyiAzAtIMLQ20gevBYMww7sEZBlc-2e2lK8n67l2n2vVMe0PNw/s1600/IMG_4689.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgreAVgO0TBcusBffQfFCFbLtbBS-fMGJxoF1Uuz0B4mORIqJVEq6Rus4rbEpykZQDHyTASGbgGos7lp_sYdIMr5pElysyiAzAtIMLQ20gevBYMww7sEZBlc-2e2lK8n67l2n2vVMe0PNw/s1600/IMG_4689.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got myself some flowers from the Thailand stall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
Entry fee: Rs 70 per person</div>
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Timings: 9:30 am to 7:00pm, everyday from February 1-15, 2015</div>
</div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-16731933955493365522014-12-11T03:54:00.001-08:002014-12-11T03:55:47.582-08:00Microsoft’s Glamorous App Tasting Event<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So when you are invited to a Microsoft event named
<strike>appetizing</strike> apptasting hosted by drool-worthy gadget <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">guru</i> Rajiv Makhni and Michelin starred chef Vikas Khanna, it’s
difficult to say NO. Ofcourse, the opportunity to wine and dine with
like-minded women from the WOW aka Women on Wanderlust club, made this evening just
one-of-its-kind.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISdoVuKq2LAc5bBiTydhZlZe_NH8WjCY9t0RQMJ8nrcBuop6tEfZrtmyX_-mitdm0yPHvZMMgjtnmPXwoMO4OiaYIDqrc0YysmNRyVVha6uLqlcLA2vBoKks5v1gSMlVNHcIc1XaXzjs/s1600/Image+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISdoVuKq2LAc5bBiTydhZlZe_NH8WjCY9t0RQMJ8nrcBuop6tEfZrtmyX_-mitdm0yPHvZMMgjtnmPXwoMO4OiaYIDqrc0YysmNRyVVha6uLqlcLA2vBoKks5v1gSMlVNHcIc1XaXzjs/s1600/Image+1.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spot me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<o:p> </o:p>The #LumiaApptasting evening showcased some of the finest
collection of mobile apps available on Lumia devices. Specially designed for
women travellers, there’s an array of apps focusing on self-defense, awesome
imaging and even a face swap to break the ice with co-travellers.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I particularly liked a Microsoft device that can track
belongings and a feature that lets you scan your location, anywhere in the
world and talks about the local events happening within the radius of few
kilometers. That sounded very cool, considering impulsive travellers like me
love to explore on foot. Another smart app allows you to quickly translate the
language in any part of the world as you converse with the locals there.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCK-PiO2exek4hQ9MfIJ3Q0XtuHz13dFRiIy4d77F2Rtwt_UACNRDwhrBcgjwoUjAJbVAL52npXhEbXHsrzkVmcqGNga7GN-Cqw3bqxi3jMyiyz7-U23OAFixOXRNIKQSOixyU7erJ-HI/s1600/Image+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCK-PiO2exek4hQ9MfIJ3Q0XtuHz13dFRiIy4d77F2Rtwt_UACNRDwhrBcgjwoUjAJbVAL52npXhEbXHsrzkVmcqGNga7GN-Cqw3bqxi3jMyiyz7-U23OAFixOXRNIKQSOixyU7erJ-HI/s1600/Image+3.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hosts Rajiv Makhni and Vikas Khanna</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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As the glamorous evening unfolded, over a hundred women
dressed in ‘pretty pink’ enjoyed endless goblets of Sauvignon Blanc and scrumptious
entrées. But the real attractions of the event were its dishy hosts Rajiv and
Vikas who had women in splits with their wisecracks, visual puns and
double entendre jokes. Ofcourse, after meeting so many wonderful women of the WOW club, I am so kicked about going on an all-women adventure trip. That will happen soon.</div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-57095353317912036512014-11-17T23:38:00.000-08:002014-12-07T21:30:41.318-08:008 things that I don’t ‘Like’ about facebook<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Each time I stumbled upon rehashed listings on Facebook, I wanted to write one of my own. As I said, this blog is also about the peculiar people I meet, so here's something about them!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBn3vV6LnpvQn31kqoAqwlRK74x0J5YeqD2Z-1sON2uC66zTlgmok83T_ey6IF0b45CuZ8zgIvE-nT756biO3NOd37pQWi_DFgZBh0g6VOLw6oR39aZxzEki5gEK6sHHlvpZ4ghj-jwbk/s1600/10701933_725631710885264_7670288896215816319_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBn3vV6LnpvQn31kqoAqwlRK74x0J5YeqD2Z-1sON2uC66zTlgmok83T_ey6IF0b45CuZ8zgIvE-nT756biO3NOd37pQWi_DFgZBh0g6VOLw6oR39aZxzEki5gEK6sHHlvpZ4ghj-jwbk/s1600/10701933_725631710885264_7670288896215816319_n.jpg" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>Incessant status
updates:</b> Some people use Facebook as a social NOTworking medium. They will
key in minute-by-minute updates of their personal life including mundane stuff
like the inclusion of the 36<sup>th</sup> colour changing panda in their kid’s toy
collection. For the uninitiated this panda comes with a chocolate, i.e. Cadbury Gems surprise
ball, to be precise.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Unappetizing food
porn:</b> While we appreciate delectable closeups of cakes and curries, our
sore eyes need a break from insipid images of shapeless <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">paranthas</i> and a mound of rice drowned in watery gravy. We suggest
these food enthusiasts join specific foodie groups on FB to hone their culinary
skills ands not launch an attack on our nerves and feeds.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Storm of Selfies:</b>
We like this new social sensation of self-clicked pictures but fail to
understand why people put up some unsightly and ridiculously close bizarre
images of themselves. There are times when anatomy of a human nose and a set of
coffee stained teeth are shoved right into our faces. Eeeeks.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Wannabees:</b> They buzz
like bees around several social networking accounts and have an opinion about
everything, ranging from Modi to manicures. A wannabee will share everything
with the world, her new phone, her 'complicated' relationship status and her philanthropy
pictures of the ‘rice bucket challenge'. She is just a wee bit more irritating
than her male counterpart.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Mr and Ms Dislike:</b>
These social animals with an IQ of a tablemat will like anything and everything
that appears on their feeds. Be it earthquake aftermath pictures or a bone
chilling video from a war-torn region, they will hit the like button
irrespective of the content.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Religious
intolerance:</b> It's silly to trigger off religious blame game on social media
threads. Wish some people could learn the balancing act and not exhibit their
extreme views about religion on a social platform. In fact, a recent study revealed
that the most common reason for unfriending someone is that the person
posted polarising comments often about religion or politics.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Fake viral videos:</b>
We have seen too many of these cropping up on our feeds shared by gullible
friends. A few sample titles are: 'The real truth about disappearance of MH17
airlines', 'Human meat found in McDonalds burger' and 'This wonder fruit helps
melt belly fat’. Somebody at FB should immediately put a stop to all this
nonsense.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Happy pictures of
your ex:</b> Heart can sink and stomach can churn when you secretly stalk your
ex on FB only to see him/her doing just fine. In fact, their happy pictures in
exotic locales with a good-looking partner make matters worse. WHY facebook
W-H-Y? Let bygones be bygones.</div>
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P.S.: This piece was written for DLF's magazine High5. So, it was trimmed down or else I could go on and on..</div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-7302570424857753202014-06-30T11:50:00.000-07:002014-08-27T10:17:24.103-07:005 trends that have changed the face of Indian Wedding Market <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok, so I have been wanting to write this post for a really long time, but paucity of time and inclination rendered me lazy. But it’s never too late to share some oddly-funny, mind-churning changes in the Indian wedding market that I have noticed lately. A few months ago, my younger brother got married and I was naturally the ‘go to’ person for bills, barbecue and band! So, having personally witnessed a big wedding closely, today I am getting down to compile my little list of trends that have changed the face of Indian Wedding Market in the last decade.</span><br />
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Before I begin, I must admit that I got married almost eight years ago in New Delhi. But this whole new wave makes me feel that it has been eons. Though the changes are evident in metropolitan cities, I am sure in small towns, the </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Desi</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> heart still beats for a conventional wedding. Nevertheless, here’s my list:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">1.) Pre-wedding shoots: </span>So when I got married in 2006, Facebook was in its innocent embryonic form and people still used their phones to make calls. Selfies sauntered in much later. Wedding photography meant getting those toothy smile shots done by the neighbourhood lensman who had done a fairly decent (read reasonable) job at <i>Chinki’s shaadi</i>. But, cut to present, and here we have elaborate pre-wedding shoots. Yes, something that happens before the couple actually mutters “I Do”. Clicked by professionals, these shots are candid moments between the bride-to-be and the groom-to-be. That’s not all. We also have romantic HD videos involving families and glamorous photo-booths for the big day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">2.) Caterers: </span>Today, the bride shrieks at the mere mention of a <i>Halwai</i>. Her size minus zero friends squirm looking at the <i>kachoris</i>. And no one has the time to visit the sabzi-mandi to buy fresh produce in bulk. Everything is offloaded to a professional caterer who lays out fancy schmancy multi-cuisine like Thai, Italian, Vegan and much more apart from the mundane <i>Mughlai</i>. Moët & Chandon flows freely along with exotic cheese and fruit platters. From stewards to cutlery – everything is taken care of. For desserts, cupcakes have elbowed out <i>motichoors </i>and chocolates look prettier than plain Jane <i>barfi</i>. Ofcourse, <i>mithai</i> is passé and there is little traditional about gifts accompanying the wedding cards.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIisTSjyt08b07a4L4NApuSDZnkWIrFbUgje-3wG6w66pZcZauhd9McG7Q8yTfwYWf75G5kLGxs2_GHc6fIMnmuzMjwSP6Bv7nzIj2kw8gQrX9_2WyxEJWhiRfubTE0nnELPftwlUT0k/s1600/IMG-20140630-WA0005+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIisTSjyt08b07a4L4NApuSDZnkWIrFbUgje-3wG6w66pZcZauhd9McG7Q8yTfwYWf75G5kLGxs2_GHc6fIMnmuzMjwSP6Bv7nzIj2kw8gQrX9_2WyxEJWhiRfubTE0nnELPftwlUT0k/s1600/IMG-20140630-WA0005+(1).jpg" height="400" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">3.) The dressing up: </span>With a whirl of designers armed with a strong PR team, now every bride secretly wishes to clinch a Sabyasachi or a Rohit Bal outfit for her big day. Perhaps, it's because so much has been said and written about them. I never cared much for what actresses wore at the Cannes or Colaba. But today, I really know who wore what. Sometimes the information is shoved into my face by popping adverts, while in some cases, I happily click away to fashion blogs. Yes, it has affected me and changed the way we women look up to fashion. Clearly, the strong marketing campaigns, teasing tabloid pictures and big haute couture sales have spurred the aspirational values in the conventional Indian bride. The wedding dress would usually be from a modest store that mom set her finger on or stitched by the next-door darzi. Make up usually meant Lakme or Maybelline. Today, nothing less than Mac or Bobbi Brown shines. With smoky eyes and nude lips – today’s blushing bride looks a lot different from the panda-eyed, <i>gajra</i>-clad Messy Miss of yore.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">4.) <i>Band aur Baaja</i>: </span>I think, by the time my child grows up, she would probably get to see the humble <i>shehnai</i> and <i>nafiri</i> only in the National museum. As a kid, I have participated in many bombastic wedding celebrations that were made dramatic by eye-popping, ear-smashing light and music shows, courtesy the indispensable brass bands and entertainers. Remember the fancy burnished red uniform, <i>jhumar</i>, <i>tashe</i>, <i>atishbazi,</i> tubelights and the works? They all seem to be fading into oblivion now. Who’s to blame? People or their changing tastes? Well, in a clear exit from the past, the latest trend is to have tastefully and sometimes distastefully arranged musical functions. There’s an eruption of Sufi singers, Yo Yo Singhs, out-of-work Indian Idols, classy live bands and private DJs - all jostling for their share of space in this Grand Indian Wedding Market.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">5.) Gold is old: </span>While gold continues to be on the wish list of every bride, the girls and their families do not view this metal with the same love and affection anymore. Gold is not bought solely as investment and there are diamonds, emeralds, rubies and platinum making a foray into the jewellery boxes of traditional brides. I could not help but notice my South Indian friend who clearly skipped the tradition of wearing innumerable gold neck pieces and instead wore a dainty diamond string on her wedding day. Ofcourse, the bride is happy to experiment - there are brazen ear cuffs, studded collar necklaces and cocktail rings with kitschy motifs in her listing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The list is actually endless. There is a dramatic shift in every aspect of nuptial ceremonies. The brides are wearing gowns, the rock on her finger is growing bigger, the <i>Hijra</i> community (eunuchs) is demanding a lakh plus in exchange of blessings and the cost of a single wedding is going through the roof. Do you agree? Please feel free to add to this list. More the merrier!</span></div>
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</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-52398145726206295262014-01-22T21:28:00.002-08:002014-01-26T20:20:47.318-08:00Sorting Out Sid - Beer and Blogger Contest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Multifaceted mommy-of-three cum
author cum many things Yashodhara Lal has penned another laugh riot titled
Sorting Out Sid. As soon as I heard about this interesting SOS <span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><a href="http://www.yashodharalal.com/2014/01/the-sorting-out-sid-beer-and-blogger.html" target="_blank">contest</a></span> here,
I got down to writing this post. The selected winners get an invite to a
special luncheon that also gives a chance to hobnob with fellow bloggers. Yay! </div>
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Currently available on <span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><a href="http://www.flipkart.com/sorting-out-sid/p/itmdrrfhjyhfkzp3?pid=9789350296912&otracker=from-search&srno=t_1&query=sorting+out+sid&ref=08e423b0-1851-4611-a751-b5adf915388a" target="_blank">Flipkart</a></span>,
this book promises a hilarious ride. So, here’s my entry to the contest about a
funny incident related to beer. Let’s get started. Hic Hic Hurray!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiV33Wq1Ma8Qky2G-zl7aSXycMou5i1gaOykoPgRUFUjFy8frBrgCYdUVPkTpTC3W9ShkXQQQJt_5Z-bpDXBK4UmdT7_Rlx9tmx9M1ElabVJ4kuHx6JHiXa5kuAY1Jxwd6b7n7xMvfmA/s1600/SOS_cover_FINAL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDiV33Wq1Ma8Qky2G-zl7aSXycMou5i1gaOykoPgRUFUjFy8frBrgCYdUVPkTpTC3W9ShkXQQQJt_5Z-bpDXBK4UmdT7_Rlx9tmx9M1ElabVJ4kuHx6JHiXa5kuAY1Jxwd6b7n7xMvfmA/s1600/SOS_cover_FINAL.jpg" height="320" width="206" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Sorting Out Sid reminds me of the time when my parents were
busy Sorting Out Shiv! Shivam, my younger brother is fondly called Shiv in the
family. Well, my bro’s tryst with beer happened earlier than my parents had envisioned.
It was a momentous day as he had just cut a chocolate cake, blowing away 16
candles. The house was brimming with noisy aunts, clamoring kids and his few
gawky school friends. Dad raised a toast to his son’s clean teens – a record of
sorts even in those days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The party wrapped up and his friends (four boys) slept over.
It was assumed that the boys would go hungry in few hours, so my parents
ensured that the stock of cola cans and crisps get replenished. Mum kissed him
goodnight and promised prompt action in case they needed anything anytime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Dawn broke, the doorbell chimed and phone-calls buzzed but
the boys slept blissfully through the morning mayhem. Dad tiptoed softly and peeped
in his room. The youngsters were scattered like Lego links – their faces
tranquil, limbs hanging loose. Before he could turn his back, the
stillness in the room was suddenly marred by a sharp clinking sound. It turned out
that Malti, the house help was sweeping the room and had been extra zealous
that day. Before dad could display his discomfort, another unfamiliar clink
sound echoed in the room. It sounded like a minor collision. Soon, Malti’s efforts
of sweeping under the bed gave answers to those beery beery curious questions.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A bottle rolled out. An empty beer bottle. Dad gave that
solve-this-puzzle-like-right-now look to Malti. She read the cue and brandished
her broom again. Another masterstroke and rolled out a few more. And more.
There were nine in all. 650 ml each. Extra strong lager. Emptied, left to
lounge around under the bed. It was hard to tell which expression was priceless.
Malti’s Eureka moment or dad’s disbelief!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Let me not bore you with rip-roaring details of what ensued
that morning. But recently, more than a decade later, my bro Shiv got married.
His romance with beer is still on whereas his wifey loves soups. I got a
theme-based cake made for them. An ode to their beery crazy personalities. Here's a
glimpse.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4FsahSt44sWxSBjke1Tia2GgQncDvDsvAO9cnqjekRHDd_2tx9L9BO2T3E2XVGt70Gvr3ZwFXMpc9OX0iSMa4hlvqpvRSm4JObLILM-YEOiYjQ_NXqqfdjdbAts66wjb7oF37_TR94o/s1600/beer+cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4FsahSt44sWxSBjke1Tia2GgQncDvDsvAO9cnqjekRHDd_2tx9L9BO2T3E2XVGt70Gvr3ZwFXMpc9OX0iSMa4hlvqpvRSm4JObLILM-YEOiYjQ_NXqqfdjdbAts66wjb7oF37_TR94o/s1600/beer+cake.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">A couple in love with their loves – beer and soup!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hope this story made you smile and gave you that déjà vu moment. Now I hope the
judges smile too!</span></div>
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-59374600386095761632013-12-01T21:57:00.001-08:002013-12-02T05:02:54.852-08:00Discovering Evernote at Bloggers’ Meet in Delhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
am one of those clumsy individuals who stuff receipts, business cards and other hard
bits of information in the nooks and crannies of an oversized bag. I carry a
huge tote not because it is the hottest trend around, but simply because it’s
roomy enough to lodge all of my life’s daily dealings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So
while I tried to unclog my mind and de-clutter my handbag as frequently as
possible, I was yet to stumble upon a comprehensive digital feature that would
simplify the mess I call "life". Falling onto basic inbuilt phone features
like tasks, reminders and alarms, my existence was still a mish mash of
confusion - till I received this call to attend a bloggers’ meet by <a href="http://evernote.com/index2.php?utm_expid=6007595-10.lTcu9UnvTC-JwqjUz0Q8lA.1&utm_referrer=http%3A%2F%2Fevernote.com%2Findex2.php">Evernote</a>.
Held in Khan Market’s quaint cafe Smoke House Deli on a nippy evening – the meet was
an informal chat session with the vivacious team representing Evernote and fellow
bloggers.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcP4pZ6EFSELOqomj_IuBjgE2MB-uy4Bg_HgrWYvnJ2gU_qZ-S5l5LPU529KQRT-PZI_xRIj_ih-BfP08qqWKeBE3eWo7hQb9gLL-NpthHAEb8JXiu1kX4znjZ_syKkxW_IANSiC2MI8/s1600/smoke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxcP4pZ6EFSELOqomj_IuBjgE2MB-uy4Bg_HgrWYvnJ2gU_qZ-S5l5LPU529KQRT-PZI_xRIj_ih-BfP08qqWKeBE3eWo7hQb9gLL-NpthHAEb8JXiu1kX4znjZ_syKkxW_IANSiC2MI8/s320/smoke.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The venue </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Evernote
is a super cool app compatible with web, mobile and tablet, that downloads with
a promise to “make it easy to remember things big and small from your everyday
life.” A chance meeting with the very affable Troy Malone, GM, South Asia, Evernote, gave me a wonderful
insight into this free app that is now making my life so easy peasy. I am someone who reads my news online, but funnily scrawls all important notes in a dog-eared writing pad. Changing THAT peculiar habit was no mean feat.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVAppfnK2ovV5mOBSonbRPDzVWJMbjoXdK3UCcG8wjzRs3ysjaUsl5jCLotgVSd4uopebbUjMVe40fU_s8tduw4sOfm1jFg7zIVehVwrZMm_-9ssfXKIE31t5WOfkXTJOkCnUaTDgyaQ/s1600/smoke3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIVAppfnK2ovV5mOBSonbRPDzVWJMbjoXdK3UCcG8wjzRs3ysjaUsl5jCLotgVSd4uopebbUjMVe40fU_s8tduw4sOfm1jFg7zIVehVwrZMm_-9ssfXKIE31t5WOfkXTJOkCnUaTDgyaQ/s320/smoke3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The adorable Elephant brand logo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Embedded
with unique features, Evernote offers something for everyone. The compulsive
traveller in me particularly likes the </span><a href="http://evernote.com/webclipper/" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Evernote
Web Clipper</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> which can be used to clip websites and maps of potential picnic
locations. Just jot down your impressions using this app on phone and later
you’ll be able to find the exact location as your note will be automatically
geo-tagged. Great feature if you like meticulous planning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
realized that I could design all my trips in a more organized way. I could just
jot down information in Evernote Notebooks, use tags and maintain Notebook
Stacks. I could even share my scribbles with my partner or travel mates for
better coordination. I could just make a packing list with whatever free time I
had on my hand and set reminders. By saving everything that you see online
(including links, images and text), one can push hard-to-remember metadata in
their Evernote account. The account can be accessed anywhere from any device –
be it a computer, mobile phone or a tablet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
was particularly elated to know that there’s so much I could do with these
Notebooks. From immortalizing my baby’s artwork to clicking and saving a picture of THAT Michael Kors messenger bag in my ‘Next Hot Buy’ list – this app lets me now
focus, remember and treasure my life. The OCR of image notes is another shining
star of this app that let you scan words from a snapped photo saved in
Evernote. Yes, you can now snap and save menu cards, adverts, thoughtful notes
and lots more in your device and savour information later by just remembering
basic keywords associated with the note. If you snap and save business cards –
all the information including contacts numbers of the individual gets saved in
your device.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I
wish I had known about this app a few months earlier. I nearly burnt myself out
planning for my brother’s wedding recently. My brain struggled everyday with
the <i>tentwalla</i>, <i>mehendiwalaa</i>, <i>bandwalla</i>, caterer, tailor, make-up artists and a
few hundred people associated with the big fat Indian wedding.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Really,
it’s time to reorganize the nuts and bolts of my life, take a break and breathe
easy</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">!</span></div>
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-49439771307523932462013-08-13T03:16:00.002-07:002013-08-19T04:14:03.505-07:00London: A riot of colours!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
London is a truly cosmopolitan global centre where being glamorous is normal, clubbing an institution and French bistros a way of life. Its iconic buildings and grand architecture in muted sandstone stand majestic and yet play a dramatic contrast to the colour fest on the streets.<br />
<br />
Here are a few pictures from the trip. Scroll below and you will find that most of them are taken from a popular flea market called the Camden Town.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0crEs4jRlakuoaviFO5JEj_ug4I6q1hafJCEDcsMtTLH8nbSje4QJivBx-cvVY37yv-xlSgmWzMtVfGyGiY4oB07JULjbx5e1I_0X5QB3GE0iiI-P0KzAYeJ8pyqdn6ZerkW1aR7sWw/s1600/IMG_3150+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0crEs4jRlakuoaviFO5JEj_ug4I6q1hafJCEDcsMtTLH8nbSje4QJivBx-cvVY37yv-xlSgmWzMtVfGyGiY4oB07JULjbx5e1I_0X5QB3GE0iiI-P0KzAYeJ8pyqdn6ZerkW1aR7sWw/s400/IMG_3150+-+Version+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The London Eye</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLlXG1Y1-ol5ETbduSSK23mFfsnaPbenw5GPlWtJ-7qKpxfUBhRzhAprkxctxu9Srerb-ot3zCSnn1T3QOvXjim2YS-WFTTBRqfYh60XQEME9DtgIe7AY9RrLKs9-FajkoWqUUU_E6nM/s1600/IMG_3151+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfLlXG1Y1-ol5ETbduSSK23mFfsnaPbenw5GPlWtJ-7qKpxfUBhRzhAprkxctxu9Srerb-ot3zCSnn1T3QOvXjim2YS-WFTTBRqfYh60XQEME9DtgIe7AY9RrLKs9-FajkoWqUUU_E6nM/s400/IMG_3151+-+Version+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River Thames</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbY0uvhb41MH56F9yoPqoUFBj4__y0vANPcpKU8pTrcMNsOi3_RVO9F7mNlV_aHj2_Fx2gfFL7n5YRvHyPB3K6uXVmrWqYjh_Cm9bWThNugCWVxI7ELdx0PSmEPLQYMh9lDAWUZKOMIE/s1600/IMG_3175.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUbY0uvhb41MH56F9yoPqoUFBj4__y0vANPcpKU8pTrcMNsOi3_RVO9F7mNlV_aHj2_Fx2gfFL7n5YRvHyPB3K6uXVmrWqYjh_Cm9bWThNugCWVxI7ELdx0PSmEPLQYMh9lDAWUZKOMIE/s400/IMG_3175.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boots galore</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWh6Y9N6RPygL0WndXeIgdpwowQLyHP5mxATlTkKbpQQfjTQZtUTk06PeL1Ab-5AFbemL_jME2gJ5n0-FSAM7h8Dor9hctlrs-6Vs3JTGRs3Z9i6uxkaAm9VO4LgLI8u7hb23MR-N5-c/s1600/IMG_3177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWh6Y9N6RPygL0WndXeIgdpwowQLyHP5mxATlTkKbpQQfjTQZtUTk06PeL1Ab-5AFbemL_jME2gJ5n0-FSAM7h8Dor9hctlrs-6Vs3JTGRs3Z9i6uxkaAm9VO4LgLI8u7hb23MR-N5-c/s400/IMG_3177.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One in every shade!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6gEoJiUNKBHJOmRUbvFnMOhemNpkdNQWU4HAbYUrxc1pXgF-cJuqoh4vsEJOmY6zZRNXu3MepwBt-q64VPXKhVlSrW635vx5J9PGrDlZ_k8Q32nhtpMXdmZPg9lE0152dALkmdjbHt0A/s1600/IMG_3180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6gEoJiUNKBHJOmRUbvFnMOhemNpkdNQWU4HAbYUrxc1pXgF-cJuqoh4vsEJOmY6zZRNXu3MepwBt-q64VPXKhVlSrW635vx5J9PGrDlZ_k8Q32nhtpMXdmZPg9lE0152dALkmdjbHt0A/s400/IMG_3180.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 16px;"> Souvenirs</span></span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsq89l6_KBilYHPsnNBMyceXB1GtE_TzgBwmUWOIBrBSG1YqgGLqBV5g8QiIJ5IRWv5l1fr5ASkf8Owg35F8OPgnqjQoq-oL8sAd_47dO_4h26OTl6yuUzQKfCuB8v85GK3cfBxv4bSw/s1600/IMG_3181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsq89l6_KBilYHPsnNBMyceXB1GtE_TzgBwmUWOIBrBSG1YqgGLqBV5g8QiIJ5IRWv5l1fr5ASkf8Owg35F8OPgnqjQoq-oL8sAd_47dO_4h26OTl6yuUzQKfCuB8v85GK3cfBxv4bSw/s400/IMG_3181.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Staple breakfast</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkW5bl-rnN7yOCxpECi_52Q3w2naHtha7au10Mq3Sv56GAsGUeE6-FIcnAZm3aSMbzKrCw4B9oMCb3r9z52xJVGFN_1BbnWmEXG2VQLoU7J7YhD39j9R4zqZXXn_I0tqzbg3uUrX8fOU/s1600/IMG_3183.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVkW5bl-rnN7yOCxpECi_52Q3w2naHtha7au10Mq3Sv56GAsGUeE6-FIcnAZm3aSMbzKrCw4B9oMCb3r9z52xJVGFN_1BbnWmEXG2VQLoU7J7YhD39j9R4zqZXXn_I0tqzbg3uUrX8fOU/s400/IMG_3183.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterfly motif - the global trend these days</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a56d7PRU435slxBu_Fg9ObeZIWNiitq_d51upF9lYUPUHvdQdEYxdGdhD3nb7Pz0MVkl14HsGOxrhtOYxu-kzmYiyhhiGJ4gqDwA-77PeNhalwrRDG7lvIzm4NiBApzfroPdsr2QZ9Y/s1600/IMG_3187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2a56d7PRU435slxBu_Fg9ObeZIWNiitq_d51upF9lYUPUHvdQdEYxdGdhD3nb7Pz0MVkl14HsGOxrhtOYxu-kzmYiyhhiGJ4gqDwA-77PeNhalwrRDG7lvIzm4NiBApzfroPdsr2QZ9Y/s400/IMG_3187.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">National flag on lingerie - tawdry and offensive </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoztwGE8ubLQfu0Kt5-gMzZnp37ZtcLZs_u6un2ZtXSqdyFQuEBh_4McrcDh_yxYiBzlIBceUPx5uBDjkdmiKzgQjnarba50LB4Szsn72TGu-S9TBjL5iA2J2YNP4P2o1-HhyBTOWlDg/s1600/IMG_3190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoztwGE8ubLQfu0Kt5-gMzZnp37ZtcLZs_u6un2ZtXSqdyFQuEBh_4McrcDh_yxYiBzlIBceUPx5uBDjkdmiKzgQjnarba50LB4Szsn72TGu-S9TBjL5iA2J2YNP4P2o1-HhyBTOWlDg/s400/IMG_3190.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trinkets</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_cE5Nw_Mzb3ZQoPb4bZZmSfi3qAEAEQoigJGcFHviidTLcX8-Z7Y1IOAKlhSGRaaNm_8o5cdKI3FOnqPu9F02O4OcztQYhokqkAa_nl1ATcGNoAXb-zxKkpac1JPebV0OPZgjeIWIyE/s1600/IMG_3194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2_cE5Nw_Mzb3ZQoPb4bZZmSfi3qAEAEQoigJGcFHviidTLcX8-Z7Y1IOAKlhSGRaaNm_8o5cdKI3FOnqPu9F02O4OcztQYhokqkAa_nl1ATcGNoAXb-zxKkpac1JPebV0OPZgjeIWIyE/s400/IMG_3194.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Theatre and red buses - The two souls of London</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1854hcQJbACEPQi0BUiLXYkSAvCqdttClXUYN4pX3Mtaa7iuNHjPZ5KLYl_VzMaedzjnwiXW4uOonR-NCayD-wuQ0qm5-vMpaONhAPSOCY5R_jd0kIEMTspBfEgA9BwsLn8d3tt4BvbY/s1600/IMG_3197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1854hcQJbACEPQi0BUiLXYkSAvCqdttClXUYN4pX3Mtaa7iuNHjPZ5KLYl_VzMaedzjnwiXW4uOonR-NCayD-wuQ0qm5-vMpaONhAPSOCY5R_jd0kIEMTspBfEgA9BwsLn8d3tt4BvbY/s400/IMG_3197.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desi Janpath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjido2q2inQeG_uCOnUlckKQTM_AfITjfSeiE7fAHrGsSYICgnkyrRxIplJ_w8Yiq4Qjt2m6VjJ5EQ2gmLeu3Y1UGXSuF5xc6FPymoXktKBG6pU87WN2qVceYIgr8tMSI8FEa8tL_pjvbU/s1600/IMG_3232+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjido2q2inQeG_uCOnUlckKQTM_AfITjfSeiE7fAHrGsSYICgnkyrRxIplJ_w8Yiq4Qjt2m6VjJ5EQ2gmLeu3Y1UGXSuF5xc6FPymoXktKBG6pU87WN2qVceYIgr8tMSI8FEa8tL_pjvbU/s400/IMG_3232+-+Version+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grand architecture</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyqfV1AO-CujzWSluwnI81Be8sLmddq1Rh9JFtbBZVW5qscYqOko-ihshEUdka5WU4xFuT5qil9YRktlk8wemnyWQW4Aojvq1-W3LDlnM3XlYAYHW5AAOMBvuUauI5fzHOK1OQ0S-Zy0/s1600/IMG_3234+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqyqfV1AO-CujzWSluwnI81Be8sLmddq1Rh9JFtbBZVW5qscYqOko-ihshEUdka5WU4xFuT5qil9YRktlk8wemnyWQW4Aojvq1-W3LDlnM3XlYAYHW5AAOMBvuUauI5fzHOK1OQ0S-Zy0/s400/IMG_3234+2.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cinemaaaah!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkG-pXvzsYln6GZ8ZigkGA7uyjo6bBLCJmq0ii4N8_UEjtsfvv2kRS3lgFtfA5oYre_kcJxfZFoAdW7AVQL_wWbBBsp75iXOBtg5ldhqf2IEnASbEXbMJWWJ_KN1cClvp-YMvXuQ5erk/s1600/IMG_3248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkG-pXvzsYln6GZ8ZigkGA7uyjo6bBLCJmq0ii4N8_UEjtsfvv2kRS3lgFtfA5oYre_kcJxfZFoAdW7AVQL_wWbBBsp75iXOBtg5ldhqf2IEnASbEXbMJWWJ_KN1cClvp-YMvXuQ5erk/s400/IMG_3248.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty flower arrangements found in every nook and cranny - What a visual feast!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-81023225529808953702013-07-04T22:13:00.000-07:002013-07-06T22:43:00.794-07:00Hazrat Nizamuddin: Qawwali, Sufism and Faith<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
On a Thursday evening I finally decided to unplug myself
from all my gadgets and decided to pay obeisance at Delhi’s famous Hazrat Nizamuddin
Dargah, mausoleum of one of the world's most renowned Sufi saints, Nizamuddin
Auliya. I did not have a particular prayer on my lips but was simply curious to
visit the pious place also famous for its Qawwali. The highlight of the evening
– the Qawwali by two sufi singers happens every Thursdays. Under the open skies,
they sang till nine that evening.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cavernous lanes to the dargah was dotted with vendors
selling religious offerings. We got ourselves pre-assembled disposable plates neatly
stacked with incense sticks, rose petals and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ittar</i> (natural perfumed oil). Of course, we bought the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chadar</i> too (available in all varieties -
heavily embroidered in brocades or plain ones with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gota</i> trimmings). The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chadars </i>had
religious scriptures painted on them and is offered only by men at the shrine.
Two sets of these plates and a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Chadar </i>costed
us Rs 180. The young sellers could gauge that we were first-timers and Hindus.
They were kind enough to apprise us of the procedure inside the dargah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCP6rPi4JrvmnJ5pYcLoK7g3U810YlspkURa1vCIF2uRFL-LevB3rgUqv7Vu9_q_zvJ3yJHZ_1kyt-u5swCQ-8TLNtLzp7Gsrso_OE-SSZ0rt6eqpPkkx93Reba-5h7HOf3C4OE-DorY/s1600/IMG-20130704-00592+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCP6rPi4JrvmnJ5pYcLoK7g3U810YlspkURa1vCIF2uRFL-LevB3rgUqv7Vu9_q_zvJ3yJHZ_1kyt-u5swCQ-8TLNtLzp7Gsrso_OE-SSZ0rt6eqpPkkx93Reba-5h7HOf3C4OE-DorY/s400/IMG-20130704-00592+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glimpse of the compound</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We paved our way to the shrine and are greeted by hundreds
of devotees, beautiful Persian poetry, Mughal-style cut glass chandeliers, the
intangible Sufi culture and sonorous quals -utterances (of the prophet) in the
incense-scented air. Truly a magical <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mehfil-e-Sama</i>,
where all you want to do is find a place on the floor and sway along with the
singers. In fact, the chaste renditions of the popular <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ali More Angana</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dama Dam
Mast Kalandar </i>made us smile in surprise. The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tablas</i> and harmoniums reverberated in the closed compounds bringing
alive the whirling dervishes in our hearts – all at the same time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Interestingly the shrine is also visited by a large number
of Hindus and Christians. The moment I along with my partner got a bit
clueless, we had someone from the crowd or the management helping us with the
right directions. He went inside the dargah to offer the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chadar </i>and I was asked to stand outside and say my prayers. I
caught a glimpse of the proceedings from the carved marble panels. There were a
million of red sacred threads (mannat ka dhaga) tied to the cutouts on these panels. We were also
urged to buy this “kalawa” before entering the shrine by some vendors at the
entrace – talk about judging a person’s religion by just looking at their
faces!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGlk-s5jzJfW1dLvsPCY1IOv7kKhZ1TmyNk1yIKfLICDMUJqcV_KcR0dYske0ZdbjK_dPpbMCV-KAJF0to_A4-aVnJpbmXx25Fg0mAB-6dNN2j7ls0Sotx7a0vW-xzS-Qtg8eM9o5YuM/s800/whirling-dervishes-istanbul-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuGlk-s5jzJfW1dLvsPCY1IOv7kKhZ1TmyNk1yIKfLICDMUJqcV_KcR0dYske0ZdbjK_dPpbMCV-KAJF0to_A4-aVnJpbmXx25Fg0mAB-6dNN2j7ls0Sotx7a0vW-xzS-Qtg8eM9o5YuM/s400/whirling-dervishes-istanbul-02.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For the purpose of pictorial representation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wore a <i>salwar kameez</i>
with <i>dupatta</i> over my head and my
partner too used a kerchief to cover his head. We mingled with the crowd with
slight inhibitions, but it was probably just our concerns. There was nothing in
the atmosphere that was meant to unnerve us. We soaked up the positive vibes and powerful calls
of the muezzin and felt very much at peace – we couldn’t decipher a word
though!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I definitely want to visit this dargah again, not for some
soul-searching sojourn, but for pure enchantment of the senses. It’s a place
where a medley of emotions run in high spirits – some thanking the almighty,
some seeking blessings for a new journey and a few craving peace in their
silent mourning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Travel Tips: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
* It is located in the Nizamuddin West area near Humayun’s
Tomb. The shrine gets crowded on Thursdays. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">* Footwear is not allowed inside – many
shopkeepers will volunteer to keep these for you in lieu of a tip (not
compulsory). I recommend you to wear socks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">* <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Parking is a problem. It’s advisable to park
some distance away and walk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;">* <span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-indent: -18pt;">Always cover your heads in the prayer areas.
Though it is not required if you are in the compound for the performance.</span></div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-71249008470097073132013-03-03T00:24:00.002-08:002013-03-04T20:51:50.083-08:00A magic moment with Sunsilk <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having subjected my tresses to numerous hair treatments like
perming and coloring, my hair is now a reduced to tangly haystack. I am always
on a lookout for shampoos and conditioners for “severely damaged hair” that can
straighten and smoothen my hair that curl up after every head-wash. This is
when I got a perm treatment some three years back!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I received my sample of the brand new Sunsilk shampoo
and conditioner with “straight-lock technology for stunningly straight hair”,
my expectations were high. I am a Loreal loyalist who uses super expensive hair
mask after every wash to untangle knots and deep conditioning. So obviously, I
was apprehensive about using this product and shocking my mane, but eventually I
decided to go ahead with this Unilever product.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The duo pack came with a strong claim that this technology
“keeps hair fully aligned as it dries”. So the question is – did they fulfill the
great promise? I began with slathering this mild-scented lilac-colored shampoo
onto my scalp. The rinse was followed by the application of the conditioner and
I let it stay into my hair for atleast 3-4 minutes. I massaged the potion into
circular movements for maximum coverage. I deliberately did not blow dry my
hair to gauge the results correctly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDuSFNd_wU9H5ZWGdAKnVithD2YJDgopKQglJlIhiBlDnImhT37D9txf7z-6AsdN9B0ZWiA_Hl0Heml3GtEKbG4A4DhiP_VpUZ1T7OA3Q8KklmLHeALIpaY18fXxXKADEQBWVnJ8fvNA/s1600/IMG_3070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDuSFNd_wU9H5ZWGdAKnVithD2YJDgopKQglJlIhiBlDnImhT37D9txf7z-6AsdN9B0ZWiA_Hl0Heml3GtEKbG4A4DhiP_VpUZ1T7OA3Q8KklmLHeALIpaY18fXxXKADEQBWVnJ8fvNA/s400/IMG_3070.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was pleasantly surprised to feel soft ends that were
air-drying in the sunshine. The net result was manageable, knot-free smooth hair
where I could run fingers without having to stop midway. There was little hair
breakage and I could easily smoothen my mane with a comb.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would be lying if I say that I had salon like hair – just
the kinds you get after ironing or blow-drying. Yet, I can confidently say they
were bouncy and fairly straight! Sunsilk has teamed up with Yuko Yamashita,
international Straight Hair Expert from Japan, to co-create this Sunsilk
Straight range. At one-fourth the price, Sunsilk has created high-end cosmetic
products that can cheer up many girls like me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
P.S: Product Review</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-66534787253529300602013-02-28T22:53:00.000-08:002013-10-28T01:41:03.593-07:00Dubai: Where India meets Pakistan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our Bollywood films usually paint Arab Sheikhs in
uncharitable caricatures. They are depicted as shrewd entrepreneurs with a
penchant for women and cars made of solid silver. With this mental conditioning
and pre-conceived notions, I visited Dubai only to see a very different side of
a lay Arab oil Sheikh. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I saw was a man who was a gentle pram-pushing father
and a loving husband. In a busy food court, he would rip open his burger,
disintegrate the <i>tikki</i> and scoop out soft bits to feed his toddler. In a luxury
mall, he would patiently wait with an impatient baby in arms while the wife
tried on a Cartier’s chronograph. He would even sign the cheque without any
creases on his forehead – as clear as his white thawb.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Interestingly, Dubai is a place where both Indians and
Pakistanis feel at home – well almost. They crack tourist jokes on each other,
boast about their homeland’s savouries and grieve over inflation in the same
spirit. Every second person you meet is either from Karachi or Kerala – willing
to help, offer you a metro seat or vacate their official chairs at the airport
– if you are carrying a baby. A collective spirit that is unique and not
believable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had myriad experiences of general good behaviour from my
country folks and Pakistanis that will go down my memory lane. For instance a
Pakistani bus driver, offered us his sealed water bottle to take away while we
were disembarking for our foot journey. We eyed the bottle suspiciously, because why would anybody offer us water in this perfectly imbalanced world. We declined politely as we were already carrying water in our backpacks. But, just
thinking about the gesture makes me feel good.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was pleasantly surprised to see young Arab boys who
conducted themselves really well in the desert <i>kafila</i>. They watched the racy
belly dance show with roaring applause sans any uncouth behaviour. That one moment
when the dancer gesticulated them to clear their tables and hopped onto it with
her jiggling belly was also welcomed by low-key merriment!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL6KDCDJc7vqClk5JFGSpvSz6HFeRYMivP2N98UUGmXnZCG69qFy2U6JlhSpqFxhD7krYjnDmOiAe0VCxD-2eFyhCgm7Y9xIS08Y370oU1h8Tdl-djbS88D7hJliiVWl8dPzD1N0pzvM/s1600/DSC_3031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL6KDCDJc7vqClk5JFGSpvSz6HFeRYMivP2N98UUGmXnZCG69qFy2U6JlhSpqFxhD7krYjnDmOiAe0VCxD-2eFyhCgm7Y9xIS08Y370oU1h8Tdl-djbS88D7hJliiVWl8dPzD1N0pzvM/s400/DSC_3031.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tanoura Dance: The Egyptian folk dance performed by a man at the Desert Safari</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dubai is clearly a conservative society adapting itself to rapidly
growing wired world. Every second burqa-clad lady operates an i-pad effortlessly.
The women cab driver navigates through the curvy roads at any given time of the
night. Girls occasionally cluster together in the metro train to self-click that
perfect profile picture. It was a society that gave little hints of
discrimination – atleast I could not sense it, perhaps it’s prevalent in other
parts of UAE.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for the place, Dubai is a man-made creative genius that has
evolved from an ancient middle-eastern desert state into an exhilarating luxurious
experience. Its sheer awesomeness is visible in its clutter-free processes, magnificent
malls and easy approach. And above all – it’s safe for women – walk around
wearing floor-length gold chains and no one will bother to stop and stare!</div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-60704902646114124562012-12-10T07:36:00.000-08:002012-12-10T07:57:19.554-08:00If Deals & Discounts excite you, read on!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
The term “online shopping” used to give me the heebie-jeebies, at one point of time. What if the size wouldn’t fit? What if the product is not genuine? What if the product is found to be broken/torn upon unpacking? My skepticism kept me from buying things online no matter how much those super-saver deals lured me. The S-A-L-E adverts kept staring at me helplessly from the right-hand corner of my Facebook page, till last year when I finally gave in.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
So far, clicking and adding to the cart “from the comfort of my home” has been a positive experience. The recent one was with <a href="http://www.varighty.com/">www.VaRighty.com</a> – the e-store offering deals and discount on mobiles, jewellery, watches, fragrances, home appliances and many more. Basically, all fine things that make a woman’s heart beat faster!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<a href="http://www.varighty.com/" target="_blank">VaRighty </a>gifted me a voucher to experience shopping at their website and I am glad I logged in. I found myself navigating through a sea of branded utility products with great discounts.Some even had the fabulous 90 per cent off tag reminding me of the Black Friday sales. I chose an Elizabeth Arden perfume for myself. All I had to do was feed in my voucher number and address details, and the transaction was processed in less than 30 seconds. It was that quick.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
The transaction clearly mentioned that the product would be delivered within 5-6 working days. My neatly, carefully packed perfume bottle was in my hands on the 5<sup>th</sup> day itself. The several layers of protective packing that I kept on peeling ensured that my fragile product was delivered with utmost care. The fragrance that I chose was mild and woody daywear - just the way it was beautifully described on the site.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1yXRkUrCsD0XBrjzOc4LbE_biYnFJHMJ-CfCJN_AnCxmzpbCHVVy1yMTeiEdlNJ0Hnqk5txfR89TuHhuqI8lmuXruOQF2WbBrE5MTgfaskpG0N3hvraP44KG5uqwWJVvNgGAepNjeFmQ/s1600/LIZ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1yXRkUrCsD0XBrjzOc4LbE_biYnFJHMJ-CfCJN_AnCxmzpbCHVVy1yMTeiEdlNJ0Hnqk5txfR89TuHhuqI8lmuXruOQF2WbBrE5MTgfaskpG0N3hvraP44KG5uqwWJVvNgGAepNjeFmQ/s320/LIZ.jpg" width="269" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth Arden's Beauty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Free shipping, cash on delivery and guaranteed authenticity are just a few features that make me happy. What made me happier was a wide range of quirky home décor items like a Sentiments bedsheet with a couple and love quotations, a funky range of pen-drives, stylish Guess watches, and exclusive hand-picked artifacts – to name just a few.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
My sole gripe is that <a href="http://www.varighty.com/" target="_blank">VaRighty</a> does not stock up clothes and shoes. I am not particularly upset by the absence of the books category as I understand that it may not belong to their line of business. But lifestyle is incomplete without clothes and shoes. I hope they make an appearance soon on the e-store and that too in EVERY possible size!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-88718325765322703842012-10-07T22:31:00.002-07:002014-07-15T07:39:53.461-07:00Sabbatical Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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Gosh, it’s been six months of my sabbatical or quasi-sabbatical
as I would like to believe so. If they say time flies, mine definitely flied at
the speed of light. After having worked for nine years, my sudden decision to retire
at 30, evoked myriad responses from friends – ranging from horror, shock to
jealousy. Some even turned their backs and murmured “good riddance”. For me, it
was a calculated risk that I wanted to take. With my own set of ambiguities, I
decided to take a break – not the easy-breezy Kit Kat types, but a long one
where you run amok to chase the light at the end of the tunnel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Interestingly, I have a supportive husband (read someone who
pays astronomical phone bills, insurance premiums and my driver’s salary) and a
baby who learns a new cuss word everyday if I don’t check!! Infact, I keep
getting a variety of shockers from my 3-year-old. Just the other day at
a party, I showed her a chocolate doughnut. The stimulated mother in me went on
to explain to her, “baby, this is a doughnut…round in shape”. To this pop came the question, “Doughnut???
Vicky Doughnut??? I fluttered my eyes anxiously at this cutesy chatter while
other horror-struck moms watched mouth-agape.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vicky Doughnut!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another reason, I was pondering a break for eons, was the work
at the work place – which was as inspiring as Manmohan’s speech. Yes, over all
these years, work was the same, eerily, as same as the face, I see in the
mirror everyday!! For some reason, monotony had set in and I realized I was not
adding any feather to my dormant career graph. So, all simmering reasons put
together, made me realize that it’s time to breathe easy. It’s time to spend tender
time with my baby because it was alarming to see her grow out of her new pants
every month. It was time I travel with hubby, tag along on his business trips
and generally squeeze in some quality time that we never had.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An invitation to join a friend’s PR company with
compensation in no black and white and prospects of a life where I could travel
more, cook fancy food that I erstwhile only saw on great blogs, go for regular hair spa ( go on..dream..) and clean the drawers that I have been wanting to for the last 5 years –
made me take the plunge. Of course, I did not give up my monthly cheque just to
CLEAN drawers – lest you brand me a nincompoop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, the last six months have been a mixed bag of
experiences. I do travel more frequently, clean some of those drawers, occasionally cook yummy
grub, take my child to ballet and value-based programs and generally lounges around
the house like a pet. If you are wondering – No, I haven’t taken to knitting
yet – do not intend to. On the professional front, I do PR activities for
online shopping portals, fashion designers, interior decorators and handle
reputation management though social media for a few clients. I also enrolled
myself into a <a href="http://www.digitalvidya.com/" target="_blank">social media workshop</a> that did augment my knowledge that now I am
putting to good use.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They say life is a teacher, mine sometimes becomes that
cruel headmaster who canes your knuckles to give you a jolt. In the last few
months, I have also met a motley set of unprofessional dolts who never paid
back for the projects I undertook for them. Ofcourse, T-R-U-S-T is the word they
have never heard of and I have been mentally conditioned to from childhood.
Time to change the canons of general goodness. Then there were some projects
that got shelved midway – not a good feeling if you put your heart and soul into
something.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far, the work is decent and different, money is average and work
hours pretty flexible– if you discount that occasional emotional outburst when
I think that I will degenerate sitting in that quiet corner of the house with
my laptop on. Funnily, sometimes I get these nightmares that I will be recovered as a
pile of obsolete junk if I am not exposed to a regular social life. Yes, I miss
the buzz of an office, the daily chatter with friends, the office <i>bhaiya </i>who got
coffee before I could log in, the greasy <i>bread-pakoda</i> and <i>masala chai </i>at the
dingy dhaba in ITO - that once gifted me typhoid and much more. But, as they say change is the only constant
in life, I have adopted that change. So far, it has been an interesting ride.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Ballerina!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-13700855560601962832012-09-24T05:44:00.000-07:002012-10-10T01:30:52.429-07:00The Lotus Pond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="text-align: justify;">Note: It is a fictional love story. </span><em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">Any similarity</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;"> to actual people or </span><em style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;">events is</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 14.545454025268555px; text-align: left;"> purely coincidental.</span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">“Did you pay 500 bucks
to varnish my toe nails”? Shabana cavilled at Ajit who continued painting her
nails in crimson---blissfully unaware of the precious time passing by. Or the noise
that Shabana created each time she changed positions on her rickety bed. The sound
was jarring but not discomforting, as compared to the moaning music from the
nights when the bed rocked and groaned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ajit’s warm stroking
and playful precision while painting her nails amused Shabana. But as a
mechanic, did he also fix those expensive cars with so much pain? Perhaps, it
was Ajit’s nature to get submerged in each job he undertook. From toiling at Al
Jawahar’s car workshop for a paltry daily wage of Rs 350 to splurging his money on
the doe-eyed Shabana---Jamilabai’s most sensual, saleable commodity, Ajit was living
and lusting for Shabana, all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It was in this ramshackle
room that the love story of Shabana and Ajit blossomed. In this cubbyhole – he
wove many rose-tinted dreams. He talked conversion to marry her; she hushed him up fearing Jalal – the beefy pimp of the Sheesha brothel. Jalal only knew one
relationship between man and woman and that was not of a man and wife. It was
in this room that Ajit ran his scabrous fingers through Shabana’s wavy hair – stopping
occasionally to unravel her knots. He loved dabbing <i>gulab ittar </i>on her nape – perhaps as a frustrated desire to stub
out the heady odour in the room, of burnt cigarettes, cheap liquor and sweaty
secretions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">As usual, the clock
would continue to tick. And exactly after two hours, Jalal would come knocking.
It would not just be a mild ‘time-out’ reminder – it would be a thunderous
warning teamed with constant door slapping and throaty abuses. Jalal was wary
of love-struck Ajit. He could foresee that he wanted to free Jamila’s prettiest
bird. But more than often, Jamila had declared that she could clip the wings of
her caged bird, if things got out of hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ajit would always
get his beloved a gift – a string of <i>mogra</i>
flowers, tinkling anklets or a garish nail paint. The fact that he was 26 and
she was two years elder did not lend any maturity to their romance. He was
smitten, she was practical!<b> </b>Both
deeply craved a home near that lotus pond in Raiganj, Kolkata, where they
hailed from. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It was by a quirk of
fate that Shabana’s mother was pushed into the rough sex trade thriving in
Sonagachi -- the largest red light district in Kolkata. At 12, Shabana only dreamt of sharpened school pencils, neat <i>kurtas</i> and a gleaming future. But the agent
promised more than all this to Shabana’s widowed mother. She desperately packed
<i>dhotis</i>, left her sons with the grandmother
and arrived in the ironic City of Joy. Back in Raiganj, few huts away, Ajit’s
brother had also planned to rope him in odd jobs in Kolkata. Boys in the family
always meant more working hands. So it was no wonder, Ajit dropped out of class
five and joined hands to make ends meet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Despite being hand
to mouth, Ajit scrimped and saved to pay Jamilabai for his meetings with
Shabana. They would sip cola, savour hot <i>jalebis</i>
and sometimes make love. Often, they would share a joke about how his grease
paint stained her slender thighs, and how he smelt of her coconut hair oil. This
was their world – quiet and pure -- away from the teeming client-sex worker life
of Sonagachi. Police raids, NGO activists and trips to abortion clinics –
Shabana had seen it all at an early age<b>.</b>
But this new breeze of love made her forget who she was, at least temporarily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">There was something
ominous about that morning. To begin with, Shabana received the news of
Shamsher’s death. Shamsher was a street dog that lived like a family member in Gali
no. 13, near Jamila’s den. Last night, it got crushed under a speeding tempo.
Secondly, in the morning Jamila introduced Shabana to Choti – the new girl who
would stay at the Sheesha and become a brothel blossom, like her. Clad in a
worn-our polka-dotted frock, Choti looked every inch a plastic doll with blank,
wide eyes. She looked not more than eight. Devastated by the death of the dog
and the introduction of this new kid, Shabana fought back her tears.
Helplessly, she teetered her way out of the house on the pretext of buying
vegetables.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">The streets wore a
festive look ahead of Durga Puja. The varied hues of vermillion made her forget
the blood she had seen in the morning. At the junction, where hawkers laid out
their vegetable carts, Shabana met Pooja -- the most desirable girl of Gali no
4. Soon the girls began discussing Puja Melas, the soaring Rohu prices and new Bengali
movies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">On their way back,
they joked about how Pooja had always spurned advances of Jalal and how he
never relented. Since the skies were turning overcast, Shabana told herself
that even if she got drenched, she wouldn’t mind it. As she continued to think
of the oncoming downpour, Pooja rattled off on the phone to a distant aunt. But
suddenly, the motor-mouth felt a stinging pain in her arm. It took her a moment
to realise that the vegetables were strewn about and Shabana was sitting on her
knees, cupping her face and screaming in pain – loud enough to jolt the sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It was not
established why Shabana was attacked with acid. Onlookers who rushed her to the
hospital murmured that it was Bilal, the notorious petty thief who hurled a
vial of acid on her. Later, it was understood that Shabana paid for a case of
mistaken identity. Pooja was his target. But she escaped with minor burns. Soon
after, cops investigated to reveal that Bilal was hired by Chandan, Pooja’s
jilted lover. She had not only turned down his proposal but had also once
derided his tailoring shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Forty days passed by
and if pain could be measured – only Shabana could tell if it had subsided. On
the government hospital bed, a sedated Shabana continued to suffer in pain –
with her faint voice choking at long intervals. The two surgeries restructured
her seared face to some extent but the event scarred her soul for life. The
attack turned her imperfect world upside down. Her wavy hair was now a patchy
scalp, long eyelashes reduced to ashes and her radiant face resembled beaten,
burnt over-dyed hide.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ten days after the
horrific attack, Jamilabai had thrown up outside the hospital on seeing Shabana.
Pooja was too numb to step out of Gali no 4. And Ajit’s dreams of a tranquil
marital life with Shabana near the lotus pond had been charred. When he first
heard the shocking news, he felt as if someone had set him on fire. Rage,
exasperation and helplessness – the demons of hell gripped and consumed him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ajit didn’t leave
Shabana’s side even for a minute. He would gaze at her traumatic condition from
the glass in the burns unit. Though visitors were not allowed in the room, Mrs Kaura,
chairman of the Acid Survivors Foundation, an advocacy group for victims came
visiting. She consoled Shabana like a mother, and promised her medical support,
rehabilitation and employment at a small organized sector. Her comforting words
were balmy for Shabana. She suddenly saw a gleam of hope from the crack of her right eye, which still
had some vision left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">It was a long wait of
forty days before Ajit was allowed to take charge of Shabana. As a ritual he
would change her clothes, clean her with anti-bacterial swabs and feed her
semi-solids, all this with the same patience he fondled her, when the days were
bright and happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Ajit married Shabana
in a quiet Hindu-Bengali ceremony. The bride wore a jasper red saree and
tightly held on to her <i>pallu</i>. She didn’t
want to frighten his relatives. He had already taken a big decision to marry
her and Shabana was obviously apprehensive. She had said, “My life has an ugly
past and it will only give you an ugly future.” To this, Ajit had replied,
“Your past gives me courage and the prospects of a future with you give me
hope. I want a life where we can savour <i>jalebis</i>
and make babies – your face has nothing to do with this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Normal life was
limping back. Shabana found solace in cooking for her husband and taking care
of the house. Ajit worked doubly hard to save for his wife. They again found
happiness – in midnight radio, fish curry and in each other. Shabana shirked
crowded places and Ajit ensured he got her vegetables and groceries. The bright
sun of hope was shining again till one afternoon Shridhar came knocking.
“Boudi, boudi… open the door….”. “What is it?” Shabana asked, tightly holding
the edge of her dupatta covering her burnt face. “Boudi…Dada…Dada….Dada has
killed Bilal”, Shridhar said in a deafening voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Shabana stood there
lifeless. A part of her died instantly on hearing the news. Police had already
arrested Ajit with the weapon of crime. Bilal had gone underground after the
attack and Chandan had been imprisoned. It was on this fateful day when Bilal
come out of his hole only to be spotted by Ajit. <br />
He didn’t even bat an eyelid before hammering Bilal’s head with a spanner he used
to fix a client’s car.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Behind bars, Ajit
confessed to Shabana, “If I had my way, I would have emptied pails of sulphuric
acid on Bilal. How could I spare that bast**** who ruined your life.” Shabana
shuddered at his tirade. She sobbed and sobbed till her eyes burnt. She clasped
his hands tightly. She could not afford to lose him now at this juncture of
life. Ajit calmed her down and said, “Meet Kaura ma’am. She will give you
employment and a future.” “But why did you have to kill him Ajit --- now…now…..why.”
Shabana’s voice choked again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">Shabana’s new life
was as banal as her new job. Rolling hundreds of <i>papads </i>every day gave her a living but not a reason to laugh. The
fact that everybody stared at her disfigured face didn’t bother her anymore. Endlessly,
she dreamt of Ajit’s return. She hoped to build a small concrete house near the
lotus pond in Raiganj. She stroked her abdomen to calm down the distressed
small life quivering inside her. She hoped to savour <i>jalebis</i> and make babies with Ajit. She decided to live again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-3947569142506426252012-09-10T09:28:00.001-07:002012-09-14T05:55:34.764-07:00Pratham Books’ storytelling initiative<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I think anybody who is
reading this has had a blessed childhood. Our formative years were full of
fairytales and stories read by master storytellers (read grandparents, parents
and teachers). While we all know about Cinderella’s glass shoe, Rapunzel’s long
tresses or Panchatantra - the animal fables, there are many children of a lesser God who can’t
even envision a castle or a glass shoe. There is an urgent need to give
wings of imagination to these disadvantaged kids and <a href="http://blog.prathambooks.org/2012/09/celebrating-international-literacy-day.html" target="_blank">Pratham Books</a>, <span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;">a non-profit trust that publishes high quality books for children at
affordable prices, decided to do just that.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6fghJRtc2_b4CscPSfJHLOzNXlHf_pnXHIiFA0O4AO84vmnexBbRaKK7Fg17ScbUg_IZwQzTB41Cku2TbOl8OP1jNFrJ7Ks1VPOcwH8YGoQUiWnvF5mwPWIitoCAPCG_byRXQP8NCUM/s1600/IMG_2043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ6fghJRtc2_b4CscPSfJHLOzNXlHf_pnXHIiFA0O4AO84vmnexBbRaKK7Fg17ScbUg_IZwQzTB41Cku2TbOl8OP1jNFrJ7Ks1VPOcwH8YGoQUiWnvF5mwPWIitoCAPCG_byRXQP8NCUM/s320/IMG_2043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shivani, the youngest dreamer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I was ecstatic when I got an opportunity to
conduct a storytelling workshop held by Pratham Books to celebrate the International
literacy Day across the country. I was one of the <a href="http://prathambooks.org/states-and-champions" target="_blank">champions</a> representing my
state. The workshop was held at <a href="http://www.ambafoundation.org/" target="_blank">Amba Foundation</a>, a non-profit society working
in the fields of education, health and community development, with a special
focus on underprivileged women and children.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHH-34QUBVoVyUP-MA7cT7PzAWx-dmwVSh7yeV5kVYr9ylz1od8_KsaIqFAsPvN5ZT0WCc-rII6lFU85eL-AeoGx0jApbmyU4TGFpU392bp1n9u9zZPKS53I8tW5tdsZ5JU4_FMvl3x4/s1600/IMG_2077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHH-34QUBVoVyUP-MA7cT7PzAWx-dmwVSh7yeV5kVYr9ylz1od8_KsaIqFAsPvN5ZT0WCc-rII6lFU85eL-AeoGx0jApbmyU4TGFpU392bp1n9u9zZPKS53I8tW5tdsZ5JU4_FMvl3x4/s320/IMG_2077.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The happy bunch after the session</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As I entered Amba Foundation, some 35 kids in
the age group of 3 to 9 welcomed with a warm "goodmorning M'am" note. The well-behaved
children impressed me with their eagerness to listen to the story and active
participation in the question-answer round thereafter. The story titled
“Susheela’s Kolams” was read across the country and my session was no
different. The props used at the session quickly changed hands and evoked
interest among my little alert listeners. Simple words like ‘terrace’, ‘floor’,
‘walls’, ‘sky’ etc., which we may find way too simple, were translated for
their vocabulary expansion.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY3xW5TlVBgJ0SQDqJXDkTmj2WsKyPHedYcW-GhSFfpQB2tlx6w8Bhoj41Csy8HrM1J2BfNmghMwieZNfOo5Wo7km-LWFE9WsX6UzIpAmg0pDzOHGTWk_VwAhjSpXIEuy10emntMti6Y/s1600/IMG_2060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkY3xW5TlVBgJ0SQDqJXDkTmj2WsKyPHedYcW-GhSFfpQB2tlx6w8Bhoj41Csy8HrM1J2BfNmghMwieZNfOo5Wo7km-LWFE9WsX6UzIpAmg0pDzOHGTWk_VwAhjSpXIEuy10emntMti6Y/s320/IMG_2060.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children getting the feel of colourful illustrations</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The kids at Amba Foundation demonstrate that if
the educational foundation of a child is made strong at their tender years,
then every child has the potential to use it to his/her advantage. Whether it’s their neatly-parted hair,
impeccable que-arrangement for morning prayers or controlled emotions during the
interactive session, they all exhibited a great sense of discipline. Pratham Books' initiative ensured that children of all sections of the society had a beautiful
and colourful International literacy Day, just like Susheela’s Kolams!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L9nqBEThfxRjLPF_ZufBtQDHN05Bpwez1BvfRzH64eTGzTmlPywrE_2dkThy25d0FD4f0xOBeSyKS0wODbLr8t9lrU4nQlsgVart3AOvTa65PpM9rCDoQg6DRD-m7OQ7_TcTwq_cBsc/s1600/IMG_2066.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0L9nqBEThfxRjLPF_ZufBtQDHN05Bpwez1BvfRzH64eTGzTmlPywrE_2dkThy25d0FD4f0xOBeSyKS0wODbLr8t9lrU4nQlsgVart3AOvTa65PpM9rCDoQg6DRD-m7OQ7_TcTwq_cBsc/s320/IMG_2066.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now, that's a whole new world out there!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-91097286696636411112012-09-09T10:38:00.001-07:002012-09-09T10:51:47.282-07:00Good food and a good read is all you need!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Yay!!! Here comes my first award as a blogger. All thanks to
the very talented <a href="http://www.yashodharalal.com/2012/09/and-winners.html" target="_blank">Yashodhara Lal, </a></span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-size: 11pt;"><a href="http://www.yashodharalal.com/2012/09/and-winners.html" target="_blank">Author of ''Just Married, Please Excuse'' and HarperCollins</a> for coming out with this
interesting contest. I sent <a href="http://thecheesydip.blogspot.in/2012/08/the-just-married-please-excuse-contest.html" target="_blank">my entry</a> and was pleasantly surprised to learn that
I was one of the chosen ones. I, along with other winners, was invited by Yashodhara,
also a mother of three (how she manages that?) for a luncheon at Gurgaon’s newly
opened <a href="http://www.mamagoto.in/" target="_blank">Mamagoto</a>, a fun pan Asian restaurant.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJgLDIQxkFAp6gyAQ1N3Fcqe6NLYucAD8PozYN9ShhhHb8IDWDp8wTxFm2g8f3X5Idg3psiZoVIUPdsLAVCclCtoFY3DkjDi7jHGQA9S4fbqi6-t1E4CyyitT-6iozckGXtymQJ934nxA/s1600/just.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJgLDIQxkFAp6gyAQ1N3Fcqe6NLYucAD8PozYN9ShhhHb8IDWDp8wTxFm2g8f3X5Idg3psiZoVIUPdsLAVCclCtoFY3DkjDi7jHGQA9S4fbqi6-t1E4CyyitT-6iozckGXtymQJ934nxA/s320/just.jpeg" width="211" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The soiree was so much fun with other bloggers around that
time just breezed by. I not only met up with my favourite mommy bloggers but
also some very interesting people with a gifted dose of humour. And of course, Yashodhara’s
parting gift – a signed copy of her novel “</span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-size: 11pt;">Just
Married, Please Excuse'' just made my day. Thanks Y, the novel is a
side-splitting take on the newly married life and gives a fair view about marriage
to all those couples with rose-tinted glasses on.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;">A word for Mamagoto: The
place is a must visit for its authentic Asian grub, quirky interiors, affable
staff and a whole new range of waist-friendly specialties. The food is
flavoursome, drinks just perfect to wash it all down and a relaxed ambience
where you can laugh your heart out. It’s such a welcome break from other highbrow
Oriental restaurants where all you can hear is the clinking forks and spoons!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-size: 11pt;">Hey, if you are married or
contemplating taking the plunge anytime soon, go get yourself a copy of ‘</span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; font-size: 11pt;">Just Married, Please Excuse'. I promise it’s a joyride you
don’t want to miss.</span></span><span style="background-color: #fafafa; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-33168785399461258462012-09-04T00:27:00.004-07:002012-11-22T06:47:40.932-08:00A "Real" Love Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Real" love stories are
fascinating, unbelievable and inspiring. The magical chemistry between G (my cousin) and S (his wife) continue to baffle me even after a decade of their married life. Their love
story has all elements of a Bollywood blockbuster – Handsome Hindu boy (G) meets
an exotic Pakistani girl (S) in a foreign land. The rendezvous is followed by a
roaring affair, trials and tribulations, cross-border agitation and finally a
happy fusion of <i>Nikaah</i> and <i>Pheras</i>.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
But they continue to sail their
love yacht through rough waters. The story takes unique turns each time the
couple has to decide upon things that matter. For instance: Deciding names for
kids, extending support during Indo-Pak matches or simply taking vacations
in their respective homelands leads to much more than an argument.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
While these are personal issues
that can be sorted with a healthy discussion (with the universal fact being
that the wife wins), there are some issues that raise their ugly head from time
to time. The very-much-in-love couple is still looked at with a jaundiced eye
at many unhappy intervals of their lives. Till today, they battle social
eccentricities and get anxiety pangs in times of organized crime and terror. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Now, only time can tell what’s in
store for them.<a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/?action=ideasubmitted&" target="_blank"> </a><a href="http://www.indiblogger.in/getpublished/?action=ideasubmitted&" target="_blank">But this is a love story that is waiting to be heard</a>. Each time
someone attempts to hurl a boulder towards their path, they clasp each other tightly
and kick it out of their way. Watch this space for more on this “real” love
story!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br />
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<i>This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get
Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and
HarperCollins India.</i></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-33251109835594245692012-08-27T22:10:00.001-07:002012-08-27T23:14:57.526-07:00The Tiger sensation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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I am totally zapped. The news that <a href="http://ibnlive.in.com/news/ek-tha-tiger-earns-rs-210-cr-the-biggest-hit-ever/285928-8-66.html" target="_blank">Ek Tha Tiger is the biggest grosser ever</a> makes me sink my face in my palms and ponder.
I pondered the same way when I read that Brangelina has decided to walk the
aisle. I mean why on earth now they want a wedding? They happily snuggle in
exotic locales, have charming kids with efficient nannies in tow and certainly
have a Dollar plant in their French hamlet – why now after such a near perfect
life they want to get married is just beyond my comprehension. Coming back to
our chimerical Tiger, the conundrum called Salman Khan - is equally difficult
to fathom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The movie was OK, despite unbelievable stunts generously
thrown in. As a RAW agent, out superhero slides down the stairs on an upturned
table, brandishing pistols and pumping bullets into the bad guys. If I were in
his place – I would have held my table tight with both the hands and sought
forgiveness from the almighty for all my sins. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next, out superhero, literally hops, skips and jumps onto
the roof of a tram in Dublin to chase the bad guy. He even stops the speeding tram by using the sheer power of
his jacket and tensile strength. Another “impossible” stunt that left me
bewildered was when our Hero twists a pole with his left hand and swings onto
the other building using his support. Now Kabir Khan, you really want me to
believe that?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mouth was agape in most of the scenes – but the last one
takes the cake. Our desi bleeding, bruised Bond chases an aircraft on his
superbike and re-unites with his ladylove in a very edge-of-the-seat sequence. It’s
now when I read that the film has crossed the Rs 200 cr mark, I have realized
that Salman Tiger Khan is a roaring phenomenon. I'm sure even those 3 Idiots are devising a formula to decode this mystery called Salman. It's incredible how he makes that humble Ramu kaka <i>gamcha </i>look so uber kool. The houndstooth patterned scarf that Salman wore in the film has its own respectable identity now.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVb0_H62QJ6XPOQI0UFjV-ZqCiffPlI72WVXkUCUaB6freRL8gLWo1iykLYcLZOFpdlY0Zfhhsdp5Gzdl2UmeXPFgtCu2zk-LNpYXvg-MfRtNU9hn64ORHvDXJiOqzmfF6zbtqX0ZUX8I/s1600/Salman-Khan_8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVb0_H62QJ6XPOQI0UFjV-ZqCiffPlI72WVXkUCUaB6freRL8gLWo1iykLYcLZOFpdlY0Zfhhsdp5Gzdl2UmeXPFgtCu2zk-LNpYXvg-MfRtNU9hn64ORHvDXJiOqzmfF6zbtqX0ZUX8I/s320/Salman-Khan_8.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now whether you like his tawdry
bathroom humour or not – he is not stopping midway to please you. He manages to
get both <i>seetis</i> and success from his loyal fan base.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All I can say is that weird and unbelievable things happen
in reel life and real life (really wants to see if Pitt actually takes away
Jolie as his lawfully wedded wife!)</div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-82068891374196771582012-08-26T09:34:00.001-07:002012-09-09T10:49:39.270-07:00The ''Just Married, Please Excuse'' Contest<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am a pukka Desi at heart. I love one+one deals. Now whether it's a mosquito repellent free with a bug spray or yummy grub along with an interesting book, I don't let go of irresistible offers. It's the pure lure of <a href="http://www.yashodharalal.com/2012/08/the-just-married-please-excuse-contest.html" target="_blank">food at Mamagoto and a bait of Yashodhara Lal's book</a> that makes me write this blog, no matter if some content is rehashed. I have read she is OK with recycled stories.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here goes my story: It was a month after my arranged marriage, that I shared my horror match-making stories with my husband. Before meeting him, I had met a few "boys" for a potential alliance. This was my story that made him laugh - "Dear hubby, <span style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I understood the gravity of the situation when my adamant mother pulled out an ancient kanjeevaram from her closet. The grinning golden peacocks only made matters worse. Her handpicked accessories paired with the crimson Indian sari were to be my passport to the world of arranged marriages.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realized it was time I put my foot down. I couldn't possibly visualise myself watering the tulsi at break of the dawn everyday! I was no Balaji<em>bahu </em> material and didn't have any intention of beguiling my prospective husband.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clad in straight fit pants and formal shirt, I embarked on the journey of 'boy watching'. My father's somebody's somebody had fine things to say about this Software Engineer. From what I heard, he was a "well-placed, shy and average looking". Cupid had not really struck me hard so I finally gave in to meet this mystery man.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However the list of instructions I got from my parents didn't exactly enthuse me for the meeting. "Don't interview him", "Be very polite", "Don't gulp down your cola", "Laugh softly..." and some I can't even recall. Taking a deep breath I braced myself to meet a man with whom I could end up spending the rest of my life.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a punctuality freak I admire people who swear by their clocks. My date certainly didn't seem to have one. I had to stretch my cup of coffee to the breaking point, before Mr X finally turned up.</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d1d1d; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 15px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's skip the physical contours. They are not worth mentioning. But yes, his moustache was just a millimeter short of Mangal Pandey's! He had seen my snaps and stiffly nodded his head when our eyes met. I translated that as a hello. He tried moving his right hand back and forth in an awkward manner, but perhaps another set of instructions from his mother held him back. Now my ordeal had begun over a tall glass of juice.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All he could talk about was Java and Oracle, in fragmented, incoherent language. I had to gather the bits and pieces of his hinglish and make meaningful sentences out of them. Personal questions - yeah my favorite colour, hero, heroine, and even animal!! I simply couldn't laugh when he cracked his' was a mouse! He wound up this part of the insipid conversation with a laugh that scared the living daylights out of me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next thing he talked about was my educational (dis) qualification. I was rather proud of the fact that I studied English Literature and would have loved to go beyond my Masters. English - Mr. X seemed surprised or perhaps shocked. After all, it had left me quite incapable of sharing his hopeless passion for hard drives, C++ and more. "So what did you study - making sentences, writing essays, filling the blanks and doing match-the-following?" making little effort to hide the scorn in his voice. By now my ire knew no bounds. I had to drop loaded phrases like 'post-colonial novellas', 'Greek tragedies' and 'third world literature'. It gave me immense satisfaction when I realised that it was all OHT (Over Head Transmission) for this frog of the World Wide Well!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mr X wasn't looking for a wife. He was a looking for a miracle - an outgoing and conservative working homemaker. With so many paradoxes in one sentence, I wondered if he was ever going to find his Ms Right. Certainly it wasn't going to be me. We were as different as chalk from cheese.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If I had any doubts about the matter, they were laid to rest when Mr X wasted no time in accepting my half-hearted offer to pay the restaurant bill. Let alone practice chivalry, this man didn't even know how to spell it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My rendezvous with Mr. X was therefore no less than a catastrophe. But I guess that's how you learn about disaster management in life!"</span><br />
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After recounting my tales, I was sure that he was comfortable enough to give out out his horror stories as well!</span></div>
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-64593594238237622502012-08-07T01:04:00.003-07:002012-08-07T01:10:05.884-07:00Romancing Delhi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For a quick lesson in the rich and turbulent history of <i>sadi Dilli</i>, the sound and light show at the Purana Qila (Old Fort) is a must watch! The fort stands majestic between the Kilkari Bhairav Mandir and the National Zoological Park and is known to be the sixth of the seven cities that make up modern day Delhi. </div>
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A boring Sunday evening immediately turned vibrant and pulsating the moment the grandiose show began. Aptly named as ‘Ishq-e-Dilli’, the one-hour show beautifully juxtaposes modern techniques like lasers, video projections and digital drawings to tell a 5000-year-old historical tale of the capital.</div>
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The sonorous background scores, lavish use of imagery and electrifying illustrations made the first person narrative even more spirited. From Mughals to the Britishers, the historical saga of Delhi was laid out in this stunning art show. The narrative begins with 11<sup>th</sup> Century emperor Prithiviraj Chauhan and proceeds towards Lodhis, Mughals, Britishers and finally Independent India. Each ruler had a unique love affair with Delhi and each one had a role in drawing different contours of our vibrant city. </div>
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Interesting anecdotes of these Mughal lovers of Delhi, kept me on the edge of my seat. The dervish dances glorifying Khwaja and a dance rendition on Chhap tilak transported us to a mystic era that is associated with Turkish music, courtesans, parapets, conniving emperors and blood-soaked battlefields. All of which was once witnessed by our capital city.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu0MPFxsop1wEtj1lL6kXgLblUOMugQKmPjjb5CSagRGqIBT-HygRQ-pWtB5_wivhFB0P49y7KQ__AYXhfrKIGSzda2YQHmKnGpTLGj4t7p85zsWGv4S4KWJacSrDd6GgPy7oPWHaH1Y/s1600/purana+qila+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu0MPFxsop1wEtj1lL6kXgLblUOMugQKmPjjb5CSagRGqIBT-HygRQ-pWtB5_wivhFB0P49y7KQ__AYXhfrKIGSzda2YQHmKnGpTLGj4t7p85zsWGv4S4KWJacSrDd6GgPy7oPWHaH1Y/s320/purana+qila+053.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Those riotous times were aptly summed up by the narrator in Amir Khusrau’s tenor, “Khusrau dariya prem Ka, ulti waa ki dhaar; jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar” which is translated as ‘Oh Khusrau, the river of love, runs in strange directions, one who jumps into it drowns, one who drowns, gets across”. Clearly, it was the thirst of the throne which resulted in several wars of succession. </div>
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Selected pages from the annals of Delhi’s legendary past were brought to life. The game of dice at Hastinapur and Draupadi’s disrobing episode, the tragic death of Humayun who tumbled down the stairs of his library and Bahadur Shah Zafar laying down arms before the British – all these and many more references were encompassed in this engrossing show. The style is movingly expressive and never slips into overblown oratory. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbf8y6THcrnezJwr0UqPxosmGCfaAnxFYhVMbSn5bFSpedpIC5jEwWZ8QavlZQvyTeKAMB6hUHpJYuYSGE71f6Gp88QE2UfJAiELbWjQJHoOoaXuYJWMCGP9M-h_kdYf0uQPXUeKpFGs/s1600/purana+qila+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAbf8y6THcrnezJwr0UqPxosmGCfaAnxFYhVMbSn5bFSpedpIC5jEwWZ8QavlZQvyTeKAMB6hUHpJYuYSGE71f6Gp88QE2UfJAiELbWjQJHoOoaXuYJWMCGP9M-h_kdYf0uQPXUeKpFGs/s320/purana+qila+084.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Ishq-e-Dilli is a love affair that haunts the viewer for a long time. The sound system is so good that it forces you to turn your back expecting a herd of horses each time you hear galloping. There are no screens, no characters in flesh and blood and no physical props – yet each event is given a throbbing life with the state-of-the-art 3-D video projection against the backdrop of the fort.</div>
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Only word of caution: Do slather layers of ODOMOS on your body if you don’t want to be devoured by a scourge of mosquitoes. Also, the entry pass soon doubled up as a hand fan, so choose a pleasant breezy evening for your show. We opted for the Hindi show in August which started from 7:30 pm and lasted an hour. I am now eager to watch the English version too. At Rs 80 for an adult and Rs 40 for children above three, this is a love affair to remember! </div>
</div>Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-1502034517481769162012-07-09T22:21:00.001-07:002012-09-04T21:26:21.508-07:00Substance vs Trash: The Reality TV debate<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;">The 'real' people on Indian Television have stepped out in the open like never before. These are the people you high-five in </span><span style="background-color: white;">college or go on bike trips with. These people consists of your next-door-neighbour, your barber's son or just another demure colleague. Now, they all </span><span style="background-color: white;">are breaking away from what they are to try a hand at becoming what they wanted to. A singer, a masterchef, a crorepati or </span><span style="background-color: white;">just a Roadie!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUu2WCu2LZ0B2Lb_1f0kv91tIEYqdEPmYiSNJCgUeq7kF7f1DyBjZyoEWALvQ4GTTksUqNOCuYPIswL6v6jQfgoVZoGQdRskSkpEzmbryLL6yn29zdoGctIvpvpcvNWXGzTXmMt_0mpc/s1600/jhalak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdUu2WCu2LZ0B2Lb_1f0kv91tIEYqdEPmYiSNJCgUeq7kF7f1DyBjZyoEWALvQ4GTTksUqNOCuYPIswL6v6jQfgoVZoGQdRskSkpEzmbryLL6yn29zdoGctIvpvpcvNWXGzTXmMt_0mpc/s320/jhalak.jpg" width="320" /></a>The 'Content is King' adage is beginning to fade away as TRP-dictated content is now ruling the roost. The changing trends <span style="background-color: white;">in consumer taste in television have given rise to programming which promises to convert dreams to reality. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Now that real people are involved, there is a free flow of real emotions as well. Wannabe Idols take to the podium to </span><span style="background-color: white;">fulfill '<i>Papa ka sapna'</i>. Lil Champs dance to the tune of parental pressure. On the other hand we have KBC history maker - Rs </span><span style="background-color: white;">5 crore winner jiving for few more minutes of fame. Who could predict that we could see book worm Sushil Kumar's Jhalak so soon </span><span style="background-color: white;">and that too in a dance reality show? Clearly <i>Aam Admi</i> wanting to become <i>Khas</i>.</span><br />
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Infact substance vs trash on TV debate will continue to simmer as the inflow of junk on TV is only increasing. <b>'The Dirty </b><span style="background-color: white;"><b>Picture'</b> doesn't seem to be that dirty after all as the content on the small screen is far sleazier than what we see in the </span><span style="background-color: white;">theaters now. The programmers of the small screen have also taken a leaf out of B-grade cinema. </span><span style="background-color: white;">While the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ByCfHaRHAfk" target="_blank">kissing scene</a> in <b>Bade Acche Lagte Hain</b> raised the hackles of <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/tv/I-wont-be-comfortable-watching-a-kissing-scene-on-tv-Sameer-Soni/articleshow/14602780.cms" target="_blank">moral police</a>, there are many other seedy ones </span><span style="background-color: white;">operating right under the nose of TV censor authorities. <b>Splistvilla</b> is one such raunchy love show which raises the </span><span style="background-color: white;">temperature and TRPs alike. The vulgar trappings of prize money force a bunch of boorish contestants to outdo each other. </span><span style="background-color: white;">They claim it's for love (Ha!).</span><br />
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Even the titles on some Indian TV shows are dangerously seductive. A cookery show is named <b>Love Bite </b>where cheese and <span style="background-color: white;">cleavage is on abundant display. Then there is another suggestive title <b>Yogasutra</b> which is a visual treat for fitness </span><span style="background-color: white;">enthusiasts. Two perfectly chiseled bodies barely wearing loincloth rub against each other while performing yoga <i>asanas</i>. </span><span style="background-color: white;">The channel is clearly giving out generous doses of </span><b style="background-color: white;">Good Times</b><span style="background-color: white;"> to all voyeurs out there.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">I also feel that too much hard-hitting realism has made me long for pre-cable Doordarshan era. I cringe each time I hear </span><span style="background-color: white;">Raghu Ram hurling obscenities, acne-ridden teens taking <a href="http://www.prokerala.com/news/articles/a100505.html" target="_blank">fidelity tests</a> or <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TO3QlaU77E" target="_blank">an angst-laden gamer</a> playing truth and dare on </span><span style="background-color: white;">National TV. Where are those innocent episodes of <b>Circus</b>, <b>Nukkad</b> or even grand epics like <b>Mahabharat</b>? Today, when I see the </span><span style="background-color: white;">modern-day Panchali in an itsy bitsy eye-piercing outfit, I want to run to the woods, screaming in terror.</span><br />
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I really want to see real people on TV, but their eccentricities and complexities ruin the content and raise the TRPs. I want <span style="background-color: white;">to have fun and laugh a bit when I switch on TV and I don't want to tune into Comedy Central for that. Our people and our </span><span style="background-color: white;">programmers have the potential. All we need is a stern ringmaster!</span><br />
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-11681241331556740142012-06-25T10:49:00.001-07:002012-06-25T11:08:13.055-07:00Top weird habits of Desi travellers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I often bump into peculiar people and I thought it was only fair to dedicate a blog to them. They are Indian travellers who have queer traits, questionable habits and are oddly funny. Some of them make me laugh and some squirm. We Indians have much more than a <span style="background-color: white;">funny bone and we happily stick it out on foreign shores. Though, there are a few habits, I wish, they could just leave behind before that final security check! Here's the list:</span><br />
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1 Few Indians annoy with their embarrasing antics and posing for a snap in the middle of a busy street tops the list. We all love to capture memories, but why anyone <span style="background-color: white;">would want a snug picture with duck-shaped trash cans or an ugly stuffed monkey in a burger joint is just beyond me. Worse, they stop others to take multiple pictures.</span><br />
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2 It's a wholesome sight to see buxom aunties wear Winnie-the-Pooh night-suits at breakfast buffets. These corpulent ladies love to <span style="background-color: white;">wear peddle-pushers and dresses meant for a size zero frame. It is just these aunties and some uncouth men who love to stack food on their plates like little pyramids. </span><span style="background-color: white;">Sausages, Idlis and lettuce - all form a strong base - nevermind the fusion. </span><br />
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3 I have seen some people slather butter and other spreads on their bread before pushing them in the toaster at the hotel's breakfast buffet section. It's not funny that <span style="background-color: white;">most hotels in Asia now have a placard next to their oven that says, '<b>Please Do Not Put Kaya Or Butter On Bread Before Toasting Them</b>'. This request is clearly aimed at </span><span style="background-color: white;">us given the way we conduct ourselves in a foreign land.</span><br />
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4 It's also painful to see these travellers converse with fellow Indians in broken English, even if Hindi or Tamil is their common mother tongue. Interestingly, <span style="background-color: white;"><i>Punjabis </i>thaw the ice with their chaste dialect. But some people who try too hard to speak in English with other Indians sound like Chinese students in an English </span><br />
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5 <b>Attacking the 1 Dollar store!!!</b> Well, we all like a good bargain but it's crazy to see Desi travellers noisily discuss which gift item should go to which cousin back <span style="background-color: white;">home - right there in the middle of the store. Photoframe for Bittu and bracelet for Dolly - all for just one Dollar each!</span><br />
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6 And then there are some travellers like me who click naughty pictures and gleefully share them with friends!<br />
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Note: <span style="background-color: white;">If you know of similar peeves of Indian tourists, please help me to update this list.</span><br />
<br /></div>Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-44370063870693243552012-04-06T08:19:00.002-07:002012-07-02T09:49:31.831-07:00When Apple and BlackBerry were just fruits!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEkK386TBiPY33cXHiKD54ckNyUTGnHy_bD6yYc2HIZCuy44EJwbZIoVRoROLuGezEENLElpPPUuGbXNh3WuOQzlXHvvl9OIkFuw82kNO1ixBdBIpduhUWqEexPSmalcH_LtpmLHQpyY/s1600/iphone.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEkK386TBiPY33cXHiKD54ckNyUTGnHy_bD6yYc2HIZCuy44EJwbZIoVRoROLuGezEENLElpPPUuGbXNh3WuOQzlXHvvl9OIkFuw82kNO1ixBdBIpduhUWqEexPSmalcH_LtpmLHQpyY/s200/iphone.PNG" width="133" /></a>Though I had heard before that people could give an eye or an arm to grab the latest version of an iPhone, this <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/china/Boy-in-China-sells-kidney-to-buy-iPhone-iPad-Report/articleshow/12559852.cms" target="_blank">Chinese boy went ahead and bartered his kidney for a piece of that forbidden fruit</a>. Somewhere Satan must be very happy because this Apple has created a stir among teenyboppers who eagerly bite the bait and how.<br />
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I must admit that many a times I have myself run into doors almost losing my nose, totally oblivious of the world whizzing by, with my eyes dug deep into my BlackBerry. There have been instances when I have chuckled at crazy chat threads during melancholic events. Almost every morning, even before the right eye cracks open, I have this sudden urge to read news, check mails or just browse. No, I do not tweet what colored <i>dal</i> I had the previous night. No, thank you!<br />
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While, I admit that I use a lot of How To videos to learn to fix a bulb or make paper-mache craft for my little one, the fact that Google answers every damn question has made me an indolent individual. Now, I hardly want to exert to reach out to the books. The charm of getting wide-eyed listening to anecdotes shared by elders, seeking guidance from seasoned teachers or simply making birthdays cards with cursive writing for friends is so fading away. All the information is just a click away and greetings can always be scribbled on walls!<br />
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The fact is that these smartphones have smartly and cheekily taken over our lives. The constant fiddling with the phones, the intant uploading of instagram-ed pics on Facebook, Twitter and minute-by-minute account of private lives have laid bare everyone's personality for public scrutiny. Now, who else a decade back would painstakingly use Aperture to capture food served in their airline and upload it on social networking sites? Trust me, Mr amateur photographer, the sight of your spinach stew with a mound of sticky rice does nothing for my sore eyes. <br />
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Infact, blogosphere is abuzz with iPad fatigue experiences, yet there are many who follow the pack and bring their sleeping bags to the stores, just a day before the launch. Even the kid at home is addicted to Talking Tom and Tic Tac Toe. she clearly has a cavalier attitude towards Ludo and other toys do not pique her interest as much as an iPhone does. She is three and Gina the Giraffe is her favorite. She doesn't even want to know who Mowgli is! In other parts of the world, dangerously enough, kids continue to make virtual cupcakes, no matter if they fall prey to poorly designed apps.<br />
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Though, in this wired world, you actually need to have one, the avaricious desire doesn't really stop at one. There are several apps to be downloaded and latest versions kicking off the old ones from the podium. While I am dying to go on a vacation without the prying 'I' of the phone, I know, the dependency is too much to let go.<br />
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Some days I wish that Apple and BlackBerry had just remained fruits and not a necessity for modern life.</div>Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-23319533792710784292011-09-17T01:25:00.000-07:002011-09-28T00:37:54.122-07:00The perils of peer pressure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zAFL2WcRm38xnZdsj061uEJAT_KfGMYwRfSlOSLXHnFh3m4NDLpYjntrvMPHvW2Fu_ZGR3nOnNEvYWZCuOXw0PCSb8MTKefcCi7I8C7i9LRZYcBha1f4RcXctb32yrWa49OyDd7FE7Y/s1600/azhar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-zAFL2WcRm38xnZdsj061uEJAT_KfGMYwRfSlOSLXHnFh3m4NDLpYjntrvMPHvW2Fu_ZGR3nOnNEvYWZCuOXw0PCSb8MTKefcCi7I8C7i9LRZYcBha1f4RcXctb32yrWa49OyDd7FE7Y/s1600/azhar.jpg" /></a></div>The gut-wrenching news of Ayazuddin's death after a bike crash brought back decade-old memories of the verbal duel between my brother and dad over a motorcycle. Dad agreed to give him his moribund Zen to drive to college while he demanded a bike, not the Yezdi variety, any bike for that matter. So much so, they continued to exchanged barbs for days and it greatly affected my mental peace. I was the pendulum who swung between dad's 'bikes are unsafe' stand and my brother's 'everybody gets them' cry. With great resentment, he did bow down to my father's "dictatorship".</div><br />
Today, I wish Ayazuddin had demanded any other Eid gift from his father other than that ominous bike. More so, I wish he was made aware of the perils of speed racing. Looking back, I so wish that peer pressure in school was as benign as having the same canvas PT shoes. It is dreadful to see young minds getting severely influenced by attitudes, behaviour and values dictated by their social milieu. College is a place where you need to constantly step up your game, unless you want to suffer from FOMO, the fear of missing out. Laser treatments, offensive tattoos, sophisticated gadgets, - all should be tucked under your Hermès belt. <br />
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This exhibitionist attitude can be easily seen in misguided children of the upper middle class. Parents have little time to care for them and get away by agreeing to their unjust demands. The individuality conscious parents want their kids to be better than their ilk. The world class schools mushrooming in every nook immediately laps up these potential customers who want to secure a bright future for their kids.Though parents do this with the best of intentions, many oscillate between middle-class norms and unabashed riches of the peers.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Signing up for this social register is not easy. It sometimes takes vulgar machismo to raise its ugly head. Whether it was that DPS boy who obtained fellatio services from his imbecile girlfriend or <a href="http://ibnlive.in.com/news/nashik-teens-rape-14yearold-set-her-ablaze/180246-3.html">schoolboys gang raping juvenile classmate</a>, they all suffer from a phobia of 'underachievement'. They are prodded by popular ones to display their abilities and performance by some adrenaline-packed action. Sigh, gone are the days when boys wooed girls with impeccable English and unbelievable scores.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">If peer pressure among adolescents was not enough, it's now parents of kindergartners who are feeling the heat too. They take months to brainstorm over themes for their toddler's birthday party and "expensive" return gifts. It's simmering down to not what you want to do but what others are doing. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I remember going to birthday soirees and the notorious <a href="http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2010-12-15/delhi/28214909_1_conti-students-move-school-premises">conti parties</a>, in school, only to see 'lucky' couples dancing dangerously close to each other. With a Hitler mom at home, I managed only a few naughty things and woefully reminded myself that fools rush in. Today, looking back, I feel my parents, no matter how much we howled, were great at taming our unbridled whims and imparted us a more sorted life.</div></div>Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-62032002765217861302011-08-26T22:20:00.000-07:002011-09-28T00:38:29.871-07:00No Ann-Shun only Work-Shun!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div closure_uid_bssf5x="131"><div closure_uid_y6v5ms="191">The allusion may invite many smirks, but the Anna Hazare movement reminds me of the legendary Pied Piper of Hamelin. The fact that lakhs of Indians have dropped work, daily chores, babies and more to join his anti-graft crusade reiterates that Anna has managed a Pied Piper kind of mesmerising effect on Indians. In this case, however, the followers are the bourgeoisie, urbanites, curious corporates, back-benchers, social butterflies turned activists and many more. Ofcourse, if you are not in that herd, brave yourself for a caustic tirade by Anna preachers. </div><br />
This "second freedom struggle movement" has piqued the interest of the upper middle class, which, hitherto, only gave serious thoughts to <em>Dabangg </em>and Indo-Pak matches. While Anna's ways of getting his Lokpal Bill cleared may be debatable, the wave is clearly affecting people than I could ever imagine. Masses have made drastic changes in their hackneyed routines to be with Team Anna. Now whether they just change their profile picture on Facebook, tweet inane Kapil Sibal jokes to show their support or wear 'Me Anna Hazare Aahe' <em>topis</em> at Lakme Fashion Week, we definitely can feel the heat! While the social media is abuzz with pro-Anna sentiments, there are a few handful who beg to differ. Some genuinely want to extend a helping hand towards the fight against corruption, many are clueless about the first step itself. <br />
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Some call Arundhati Roy, who disapproves of Anna, a cynical, some display cynicism by calling him names. Well, whether Anna's ways are Gandhian or anarchic, my point is that he has made an impact on Indians that I have not seen in the recent times. The waving flags, tattooed faces and Anna-style <em>topi</em> wearers are as common on Delhi roads today as stray cows. The spirit of people on the streets is positively infectious and inviting. Not to discount, few hooligans who block roads and create nuisance. But, interestingly a big chunk of people are congregating in the <em>Ramlila Maidan</em> either to see a spectacle of epic proportions or to be there to just get the Anna feel. Some feel it's mandatory to be in the cool brigade to wear those caps and many joined the bandwagon because their best buddy wanted them to. Few, even bunked workplace to get a taste of <em>Anna ki Rasoi</em>, the 24-hour kitchen, ensuring free grub to the protesters.<br />
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<div closure_uid_feqtus="119">Facebook and Twitter is flooded with Hazare-Kejriwal background checks and comparative analysis between the resumes of Gandhi family scion and middle-class leader Arvind Kejriwal have been carefully drawn. Some 3923 anti-Anna have already pressed the Like button on 'I hate Anna Hazare' group and more are seaming in this acidic social thread. International media is wary of the ways of this 'Gandhi lookalike' and US calls it India's internal matter with absolute nonchalance.</div></div><div closure_uid_bssf5x="152"><br />
Casual banter with colleagues indicated that many are OK with bribing, because they abhor perspiring in long queues. The many perspectives have clearly made this issue a cauldron of high voltage emotions. Phew, so much action in Anna's twelve days of fasting (so far), I sit back and contemplate that a majority of people are more interested to shun work than actually go and join the <em>anshan</em>! </div><div closure_uid_bssf5x="130"><br />
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</div></div></div>Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6781913152774380137.post-81064656898783751692011-06-20T02:16:00.000-07:002012-08-26T10:33:59.520-07:00Chicken Wings in Pineapple Sauce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b>High on taste and easy to make, these wings will literally fly off the table. They are darn good!</b><br />
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<strong>What you need</strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDW40S6kaWjco9-f0KSKiwP6xcan76VZl8Dyn8MWjpChnLwcAP_fBqrXxns4D36YmQq-25dz2JKtwCvIwLdwLDB78n_hhlDe3iIzQtiTTmivfloX1p0xMqsuZG_iDC61dCsFx2GgDAtI/s1600/blog_pic_cc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190px" i="i" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBDW40S6kaWjco9-f0KSKiwP6xcan76VZl8Dyn8MWjpChnLwcAP_fBqrXxns4D36YmQq-25dz2JKtwCvIwLdwLDB78n_hhlDe3iIzQtiTTmivfloX1p0xMqsuZG_iDC61dCsFx2GgDAtI/s320/blog_pic_cc.jpg" true="true" width="320px" /></a><strong></strong><br />
Chicken wings (15 pieces)<br />
Soya sauce - 2 tablespoon<br />
Green chilli sauce - 1 tablespoon<br />
Vinegar - 1 tablespoon<br />
450 ml pineapple juice (Del Monte)<br />
Ginger-garlic paste (2 tablespoon)<br />
2 small onions - finely chopped<br />
1 green capsicum - in long strips<br />
Salt, pepper to taste<br />
Mixed dried herbs/ oregano (2 teaspoons)<br />
Cooking oil - 2 tablespoon<br />
Cornflour - 1 heaped tablespoon</div>
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<strong>Marinade</strong><br />
Whisk ginger-garlic paste, 2 teaspoons salt, soya sauce, vinegar and green chilli sauce together. Slather the chicken wings with this marinade. <br />
Remeber to pierce the wings well using a fork to allow the liquid to seep in. Leave aside for an hour.<br />
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<strong>Preparation</strong><br />
Take a large wok and fry onions in oil. Once they turn pinkish (not brownish), gently slide the wings in. </div>
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Now stir fry the wings on high flame for 10 minutes. Reduce the flame and add pineapple juice. Cover the wok and let it simmer for another 10 minutes. </div>
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Take a small cup of water and dissolve cornflour so that no lumps remain. Add this to the chicken with some pepper and herbs. Also throw in capsicum strips at this stage. </div>
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Gently toss the wings using a spatula. Let it simmer for another ten minutes. At this stage the sauce would coat the chicken well. Shut the flame and let it stay for another ten minutes. </div>
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Serve warm as an appetizer or on a bed of noodles/ boiled rice. Enjoy.</div>
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Shagunhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14619908384819852712noreply@blogger.com1