#ChooseToStart Getting Smart With New Moto E

He is the Apple of my eyes,

the one I hold since he was born,

In the warmth of my womb I held hihim nolose,

And then he came out into the vast world,

Since that day there was only a distance between us...

A distance that would only increase as the clock ticked,

And then it struck the hour when he had to go,

Away from the comfortable space we called home.

For his eyes had dreams bigger than the universe,

And I wanted him to grab ever star,

As the train sped away I gave him a hug and something that would help us keep in touch.

It was a walking phone.

I called him and he called me. 

I could hear his voice but I wished to see him.

Then came the dark clouds surrounding me.

As I walked one day down the street.

I was in my own world thinking about my son, and they snatched from my hand our mode of connection.

In a flas of a second my phone was stolen andlife came to a stand still.

I couldn't connect with himnow when ever I wanted and sadness engulfed me.

That is when I walked into an electronic shop to ask for a simple means of device, to connect with my pie,

The man told me phones too had become smarter and showed me the one he would give his mother;

The young chap was smart but his eyes smiled as he uttered those words,

He might have felt the pain of missing his mother, who was in another corner of the world.

Such is the tragedy of life that a stomach needs to be fed and heart consoled, ,

But man always believed every problem could be solved.

So I saw the ultimate attempt, by our race to make the worlds smaller place.

A smart phone called Moto E was the cutest one,

It fit my pocket both in size and budget,

Its look aesthetic, available in colors, its ends curvacious, its look gracious.

It was warm and welcoming and made me felt at home, with a user friendly system It made me fall in love.

It was sturdy and worked for as long as 9 hours.

I was shown its speed was fast and I could reach around the world in milliseconds, all I needed was a good internet connection;

There were applications called apps, and they were useful for whatever you wished to get.

I now had multiple options with Whatsapp, Viber and Skype all at the touch of my finger.

I connected with him on Skype and supriedhim. I felt he was weak but I was finally happy to see him.

His smile was worth everything in the world and thanks to MotoE for bringing me so safely and lovingly into this new world, 

Its only through you that I am always with my loved ones <3 <3 <3

Things That Make Me Happy...

Happiness is a state of mind. You don't need huge things to make your lips curve into a smile. Its the simple ones that do it more often. Here is what makes me happy:

1. A Beautiful Flower:  Flowers with their colours, patterns, shapes and sizes give nature its beauty. I just love them , many say it's with women , I am not sure. However, when I see a blossomed flower, I just feel happy within. Its beauty captures my senses and takes me with it. 

2. Being with Family:  Times with family is so rare. Most of us are just running around trying to keep our jobs, the kids leave home and go to study, with us being able to see them only when they are home. As parents we look forward to having our kids at home for whenever they can. Its like re-living the earlier times when they were home all the time and we could spend more time with them. However in this competitive era that is so rare. They are so busy just trying to be the best at their studies that visits are rare. However, whenever there is a chance we look forward to spending time with family together.

3. Cooking:  My kids are huge foodies. The reviews on food and restaurants on this blog by my daughter speak volumes about the same and I love to keep them happy. They love food and I love to cook. Gujarati cuisine has world famous dishes like Khakhra, Thepla, Khaman, Dhokla, Undhiyu, Khandvi, Handvo, Puda, Basudi, Gor papdi etc. When they are home I prepare a week ago of what all they can be fed and how many varieties can be cooked in their limited holiday span. With both children living in the hostel and being fed terrible food, the next thing after "how are you?" when home is "what have you made". I just love them hogging on till the last bit is finished and they make my cooking efforts so worth it with their satiated smile. 

4. Listening To Old Hindi Film Songs:  I belong to an older time and so do the tunes that play on my mind. My favourite relaxation on weekends even when there is not much outing is my old cassette player with my collection. Though the world has changed and I do have a computer and what they call a digital music system, thanks to the modern kids but I prefer my old cassette player. It just gives a rustic feel of the time gone by, as though the tune coming out of that player can only take me into the days gone by. Kishore Kumar, Rafi Sahab, Lata Mangeshkar, Manna Dey , etc. the list is endless and though some movies today have good songs, nothing can match the era gone by, for me.

5. Domino's Pizza and Coke: If by the previous paragraph you were beginning to believe I am an old woman who has old tastes, well really not. I have loved some changes of this era and being a food lover myself I love the availability of all kinds of cuisine in the current time more than ever before, Pizzas have been my favourite, in fact at ever festival when I do not cook, I order a pizza. My kids are delighted by this as they love it too. Domino's cheese burst is our treat to ourselves on a lazy day. And what is pizza without a "Coke " of course. It is one drink that goes with every food, Indian or western. I am addicted to coke and happily so. If you wish to know more about Coke log on to :  to http://CokeURL.com/96jnc.

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Look Up Stories: From Strangers While Travelling

I was a very lazy person. Commuting is one thing I hate to the core of my being even today. But now I am a better person, a person who doesn't make faces or feel tired at just the concept of travelling as I used to earlier, long ago. 

The story goes like this. I had to commute to work in another city. I lived in a small town and trains were not as frequent as you would want them to be. If you missed a train the next one would be after 3-5 hours. I had to travel for 4 hours in a local train, full of people, courtesy Indian population just to reach another destination and after eight hours of a hectic day I had to come back via the same route with greater population of daily commuters mingled with the happy and gay travelers. Since these trains were rare between our place and the next city they were always crowded and even today i wonder "where do so many people go every day?". Well the reality is the idea of the percentage growth in Indian population can simply be estimated by estimating it's population. Every year out of the total number of couples that get married, fifty percent bear children and the cycle continues each year, making the probability of you getting a seat while commuting slimmer each day. It’s not the travel but this suffocation while travelling that makes one tired.

Being a woman that wasn't all. Once we get back we also have to cook, fold the clothes that the made had washed, arrange the utensils, check the kid's homework. A mother works as much to run a family as does a prime minister to run the entire nation. However we are not acknowledged and so we crib like I used to, until the day she met me. Clad in a simple white saree, no accessories, her ling her plated into a neat pony tail and was unruffled by entire days work and travel. Her face and gait look tired as she clutched the hanger that kept her glued to the little space she had found for herself in a tightly packed compartment. She must be in her sixties but her smiled like that of a teenager, her spirit too. She smilingly gave way to vendors whose children ate better the day there were more commuters on the train, whom we would just scold angrily. Her wisdom better than ours, would make space for them miraculously from a sea of packed bodies, each ready to kill another by squeezing for some extra space. 

I was having a good day as I was sitting. I luckily got one as I managed to climb in first. One of those rare days where I won't be so exhausted I thought. But this woman made me think what she ate. As she kept standing and was older I offered her my seat which she took only after initial resistance as to me it was no less than Gollum's ring "my precious" or may be she saw the battle I fought with a small noise within me, the cry baby that said I was tired too. Anyways the principles always won and hence I gave it to her. She sat, drank some water and started chatting with me. Out of curiosity I asked her how was she so alive? She just smiled. I think she didn't want to share and so I left at that. Then we changed the topic to what we did. She was a social worker. She administered different groups for an NGO. Her work included teaching prostitutes about using contraceptive measures, helping them rehabilitate, putting street children in homes, educating slum children, helping women who have been victims of physical abuse and so on. In essence she nurtured the discarded and helped them stand up again. She then said her husband passed away an year after her marriage, her in laws blamed it on her and her brother had his own family. She wanted a life of respected and so she started living in a home for people like her and now she supports all of them, whom the society discards for no fault of theirs.

She then just said one thing "When you see life going away so closely each day, in a child on the footpath taking drugs, in a prostitute dying of AIDS she contracts or a woman being burnt alive for dowry, you celebrate every breath". I was shaken into reality and realized what I complained about was so trivial. It was time for her to get down and while leaving she just turned back and gave me a smile. The smile that meant so much and to me it is the world’s most purest and beautiful smile.

When I am sad for trivial matters, I think about people with greater problems and I feel mine are just plastic. Sometimes sharing a roof with a stranger can give you lessons for life.  

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#StartANewLife For The One You Created

I am a woman who was brought up like an equal to a son. Luckily as most Gujarati's migrated to a foreign land, so did my parents and so we moved away from an orthodox environment. Both my parents were modern in some respects and therefore our education was in the best possible English school abroad and in those days we studied till we finished our graduation, which was better than for those that stayed here. However marriage in India was never of equals, hence when my father found a doctor in this country, he though what could be better than this for an arts student. I tied the knot, much against my wishes, with my now extremely intelligent husband for his family was good in every manner except for one their 'ideas" were orthodox. They would also stick to them without thinking much. I hadn't faced the full power of it till my daughter was born. They were all educated in Gujarati medium (our mother tongue) and believed education in vernacular language was the best. 

My daughter, the one who looked at me with bright shiny eyes and smile the cutest when she saw me was the dream I couldn't live.  She should be an independent and important individual and make her mark.  She should be the person who lives life on her own terms not dictated by anyone. I had huge plans for her and now it was blocked by a stupid belief. In the past I adjusted to my husband’s family and their ways. I wasn’t very ambitious and succumbed to the law of “the daughter-in-law doesn’t work” but I was bored at home, for before my marriage I had worked for ten years. I had my own set of friends and my life and travel with my group.  I missed that sort of company now. Since I didn’t work I didn’t have many friends and the ones I had were left behind in a different country, which now seemed like a parallel universe.

However now it was enough. The question wasn’t questioning the reasoning or the belief, it was standing up for what was right for my daughters future. The first time I argued my husband thought I wasn’t serious and ignored it mildly with a smile. When I started filling the forms and announced my decision the entire family jumped on to me. It was me against them, one against many. She was after all the daughter of their family and they did think the best for her, but only as per their understanding. In the end after a week’s fighting they told me “if your daughter is spoilt in the foreign culture and doesn’t recognize her roots, you take responsibility”. I was sure she wouldn’t. Today I can proudly say she has been a studious child, and is pursuing her doctorate. She also got me to work, fighting against her grandfather she loves more than her own self and best of this entire blogging thing is her idea. She made me, a no one into a blogger whom people read. She of course is more successful and has recently been written about in India’s top literary bloggers. As far is Gujarati is concerned, she is extremely fond of Gujarati theatre and watches plays regularly and gets them for me too from the internet

 I now have my circle of friends and I teach now. I also got the best teacher award. I dedicated it to her. I don’t believe studying in any medium be it English or vernacular makes you better. It’s just that one should be equal to the world to have s stand and I am happy I put my daughter on the right track by #StartingANewLife for her that led to one for myself

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#Together With Friends

This is a story of a time when poetry had left me. Poetry to me the color on life's canvas, the salt in a dish without which everything is tasteless no matter what you add. My grandfather was that inspiration in my life. He always believed in me. He always thought I was better than all children and I had started believing that. He would give me a chocolate every day, and on Sundays got me sweets, every Sunday a different one. He would read to me stories that motivated me to be a good person. He had been a freedom fighter and to me he is the symbol of sacrifice. First a family for the country then serves as a doctor in a small village, when he could easily migrate to a city and earn better. Developing the village he lived in and uplifting the quality of life there, rather than fighting for one. Not remarrying after wife’s death. Working twelve hours each day even when he was more than eighty years of age and spending all his free time with grand children (us). Losing a person like that is like a scar. I was no more the princess, I once was. I was more close to him than my parents and his loss was greatest felt by me than by any other person and I still feel it.

Poetry however was my expression of my soul. Somehow when he passed away I was so shocked I couldn't express myself on paper as I had been able to before and this was detrimental to me for I love the written word and it makes me lighter when words pour out my heart on a paper. But this time I couldn't. My friends told me I was becoming an introvert from an extrovert that I had been and that was something even I felt. I just couldn't express myself even if would sit with a pen and a paper for hours. 

My best friend had decided to do her Masters in the US and so she was away, busy and suddenly one day a phone call from her lit me up a little. She had decided to take a break and she was coming to India. She felt deep within she should see me, call it telepathy. I didn't think much, just booked the first weekend tickets available to see her.  She looked the same, US couldn't affect her one micron and the girl was as always in high spirit. I had gone to her city to visit her, so we decided to do everything we did in our BSc days, have the "cutting chai", sit for hours at tea stall and talk, about everything under the sun and yes explore all the food possible.

I was silent initially but then she started slowly un-wrapping the cover around me and I started telling her how I really felt. She then told me about all that she had written in the past year. She is a great poet, I sometimes wish I was her, one that pushes themselves hard into tragic characters and then cry hard for an alternate reality, only to sleep over it and realize that it was her imagination. The passion is undoubtedly infectious and while listening to her talk and her poetry somewhere between sips of tea in an instant I found myself smiling and so did she notice a change in me.

I had only two days holiday and it was the time to bid good bye too soon. She gifted me my first Harry Potter goodies and a diary that said “express yourself” which is always by my bedside, ready to be scribbled on. Yes the pages are now inked and that's what a best friends company after ages can do to you.

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