I'm Misleading Them...

After creating this blog it took me a few years to begin writing posts here. I simply didn't know what to write. I couldn't be an open book and pour out my heart on everything that had happened to me or was happening to me. I'm a private person on certain levels...have always been one.

I'm not a fashionista…and blogging about fashion would have meant a raid by the fashion police at my door every hour. My love for cooking too didn't mean that I would keep cooking and share recipes or food stories, too lazy for that.

Blogging about gadgets and gizmos would have meant inventing new definitions of the craft which might have given the fandom of Apple and Samsung and others severe attacks of acidity, and their wrath upon me.

The blog wasn't going to be my personal journal that was for sure…so what else I could log in here I had mused.

Books...movies…random stuff…and occasional food or fashion related tidbits?...Yes!
But how or where do I begin was a big question and the BIGGER question was- what would I call it?
Following too much of contemplation and deep meditation for like thousand years, "CoffeeBeans" was coined. 

I like the name…I like the sound of it...and the reminder of the aroma of coffee energizes my thought process. But…there is always a 'but', isn't there? But…I sometimes wonder if some other name might have been right for my blog. A jazzy or a funky name that's savvy enough to grab everyone's attention...or an elegant, lady-like name that smells of etiquette from far away...or perhaps a geeky bong name that stirs the intellectual cells of the brains. 

However, whatever name I might have chosen would definitely not have generated the kind of emails that I receive asking me if I would like to discuss or join their coffee grinding skills, or which coffee beans are of superior quality and some such.

Apparently these people strongly believe my blog to be a small scale industry dealing with coffee grinding, and that I'm some coffee maker trying to make it big in the big bad world of beverages. their R&D sucks My blog name confused them…I misled them. This post too will surely mislead them I know and their emails will keep gracing my inbox.

Meanwhile CoffeeBeans remains as it is; the name, the content…And the inbox stays open for all as usual.

If I'm a Coffee-Bean plant owner to you better think I'm the best, the one and the only, the ultimate, the unparalleled, the queen bee of the coffee industry. I won't accept anything lesser. Period.

Signing off for now as my coffee (made from ek rupaye wala Bru sachet) is getting cold.

Namastey!

A couple of weeks back, I entered CoffeeBeans. What happened next was unexpected and I forgot why I was here and what I wanted to write.

I was greeted by a soggy smell that drifted through the screen. It was a familiar soggy smell; the smell that swallows up a house that's been locked for months. I trotted further in and the sight was tragic. Layers of dust sat on the posts, many words were buried underneath it. Thick cob-webs weaved by a certain black-widow were suspended from the corners of the walls. 

I advanced a little more. It was dark, it was gloomy, and it was cold. Bats hanging upside down were ready to attack their way out through the java scripts. The pictures that I used for the posts had a haunted appearance about them; I swear some of them were even moving, giving me spiteful looks. The murkiness of the place made me wonder if I was standing in the hallway of 12 Grimmauld Place. Dreadful! However, the absence of Kreacher and the Black family tree assured me that I wasn't. I was inside CoffeeBeans, my beloved blog.

The place just needed some serious breathing in there.Every corner, every crevice was wailing for attention. It needed warmth and light of words. It needed me. I began with the repair work. I needed to sharpen up my writing teeth too. The bluntness was nauseating...so got myself half a dozen of canons to read. 

Two weeks now, and here we are-my blog and I. You can see the walls (body of the blog) are whiter now, and the header is new too…of which, btw, I had advertised on my Facebook page (those doodles are my creation, thank you for the applause).

Of course you won't know of the changes if you are new here or if you weren't paying attention earlier because my words were so enchanting that your mind was focused solely on what I wrote and not the décor. {*bows* if that's the case}

Anyhow, that's done - the renovation, which, was quite a qamar-tod job; doodling online isn't easy, I'm getting back my sketch-pad and pencil for sure, the old school ways are always relaxing, and...and my writing is now filed too. So, see you around ;)

Namastey!  _/\_

The Misfit!

I padded my way through the foreign corridors in an institute situated in South Bombay. The beauty enthusiast that I've become today was sleeping back in those days and I had let the sun tan me badly. My hair not spared either. Dry and frizzy, I had tied it in a ponytail with the baby hairs flying allover by my forehead. A tote bag which could have be easily dismissed as a "whatever" accessory, hanged from my right shoulder. I was cladded in jeans and loose fitting Tee shirt. Loose, because I was conscious of my developed body, a result of many labels I was christened with during school and college. My thick glasses, 5'3'' demure too was always the target of ridicule in school and then later during my college days. "Geek", "Shorty", "Chashmish" can only look good in government run offices or be a teacher, corporate world (which I was interested in), isn't for her- was often told to me. Although I could never wrap my head around the connection between these. Now I was in an institute to learn the corporate ways and hone my management skills. It was my first day in campus. I reached the classroom I was directed to and upon reaching I found myself amongst people who looked like models straight out of Cosmopolitan Magazine. All eyes darted towards me. As I walked towards an empty chair to claim it as mine for the day or perhaps for the whole year, I could feel the eyes on me. Studying me, judging me, stereotyping me. I couldn't dare to look at them fearing I would cry. Yet, some unknown strength encouraged me to look up. I did. There was a girl with porcelain skin, that looked like never been kissed by the mighty sun, in trendy clothes, staring at me. Telling me I was a misfit. I didn't belong in their world. She had disgust for me in her eyes.My fears were taking their shape. All these while, somewhere in my mind a little part of me was assuring me, that I and not these people were judging myself and in fact these nice people would embrace me. However, the girl crushed that little part inside me with her obvious expression. "I'm not letting any label bind me down"- I said to myself. A deep breath, all the inspiring people I had known who tore away the stereotypes, and images of my parents were all it took. I gaczed around and found a few friendly faces; I smiled and contagiously the smiles flew across the room. The lecture began in a few minutes, and so did the new chapter of my life. I found the courage, I found the voice, to announce my capabilities. I consciously became an active and attentive student in the class, the shyness gone out of the door. My homework on the basic management, marketing and advertising helped me answer many questions on the first day itself, gaining respect from many of my classmates and most importantly gaining confidence within me. From there it was no looking back. That girl eventually warmed up to me and though we weren't friends but we did become cordial to each other. the stereotyped labels were no longer there to haunt me. By the end of the term I managed to change my appearance, to take care of my physical side, not to please others but for myself. People seemed not to notice much as I was the same girl they had known the whole year. I was a misfit for others, and years of this perception had made me believe it and live it. It had damaged my confidence, thankfully my supportive parents and friends didn't let it be a mortal one. But, why these stereotypes, why these labels? Not every woman can get out of it...the damage can be dangerous.

Take a look at some of the startling figures that the Nihar Naturals #IAmCapable survey conducted by Nielsen India reveals:

a. 69% of men agree that their judgement of women is based on their looks.

b. 64% of women agree that the judgments passed on them have affected their ability to reach their true potential.

c. 70%of women agree that majority of judgments on women are from family members or friends rather than strangers.

d. 72% of women agree that working women face more judgments on their looks or their clothes than housewives.

Scary, isn't it? So lets pledge to end this and let women be the way they want to be.

 “I’m breaking stereotypes based on appearance by sharing my experience for the #IAmCapable activity at BlogAdda in association with Nihar Naturals.”

The Dark Beauty!!

Dark her skin was, darker than the moon-less night beautiful she was, beautiful than the moonlit night.

Let me tell you her story, a story I revere everyday Her name so pretty, but I mustn't say What to call her, if you must so care, Let's name her 'K', and be fair.

Her skin hue defined her, for everyone 'Darky' she was called, her beauty seen by no one.

Thick long hair K oiled and braided, Clothes she wrapped around her were dreaded.

Smart and savvy; but no one to care for these, Her bonnie face sans makeup, was not enough to please.

Debates she won, the 'A's she earned, Ignored were all her awards, more labels for her were churned.

Fearless K trotted, corridors she glided, her confidence shone,

But tears stained her cheeks whenever she was alone.

Full with worldly wisdom, and universal knowledge, along with intelligence, drove her ambitious sledge.

Loser she would never be, K was determined of

Blinders she placed on ears and soared she off.

Physics, Math became her peers, she dived and swam in the books, the stars bowed to her and screamed 'cheers'

The labels, the judgements couldn't stop her, Her determination took her to zenith helped her. Four seasons it took for her mates to know of her beauty, her worth, her glow.

She still oils and braids her thick mane, fashions in a way that for some is pain.

She still shines in her dark skin, her makeup skills are still lean.

Rock music doesn't appeal her like classical yet for sure, Modern she is from thoughts not the external that we ensure.

A phd in physics hands proudly on her wall, Is she still being labelled, judged, stereotyped? No Sir, not at all.

This was the story of 'K' (name withheld on request), a woman I've had the privilege to know since my kindergarten days. Of course, being a year or two older than me, she too was a little girl back then.

However, to be her friend was kind of taboo in the school. She was dark, though a beautiful dark. I was in awe of her flawless complexion; often jealous of her perfect skin and of the thick long luscious hair.

My friends and other classmates wondered why I didn't think their way. Why was I revering someone who was dark, therefore ugly, hence, with no talent.

Throughout her school days, time and again, she proved her debating skills, intelligent mind and sincerity towards her studies, and yet failed to get rid of all the labels that people threw upon her.

This wrath continued even in one of the most prestigious colleges of the city where she went to pursue her academics, however, couldn't last more than a year. She was determined not to let the school days repeat themselves in college. She had to break free but in any dramatic way.

'K' took all the opportunities that came by, where she could prove herself, and prove she did.

Her hard-work and patience teamed with her excellent communication skills, spoke on behalf of her, told the world what she is capable of. Who she really is. Those who laughed at her, labelled her, now respected her.

This day as I write about her she rocks the world of science as one of the research scientists in USA.

Physics and Math are still her best friends, although she has also found some genuine friends in humans...and they are many in number.

K did it, but how many can do so? I know women who let these stereotyped labels run their lives and ruin everything they could have done, they could have been.

These startling figures that the Nihar Naturals #IAmCapable survey conducted by Nielsen India reveals:

a. 69% of men agree that their judgement of women is based on their looks.

b. 64% of women agree that the judgments passed on them have affected their ability to reach their true potential.

c. 70%of women agree that majority of judgments on women are from family members or friends rather than strangers.

d. 72% of women agree that working women face more judgments on their looks or their clothes than housewives.

Isn't it shame that our perception can damage a person forever. We can do better than this. Let us perceive women as they are and not as we see them.

“I’m breaking stereotypes based on appearance by sharing my experience for the #IAmCapable activity at BlogAdda in association with Nihar Naturals.”

The Golden Streams and I

The sun pandiculates from the east horizon, wakes up the sky, wakes up the earth. He commands his still feeble rays in Alpha baritone, to break in through the windows, to pierce in through blinds.

No exception to him, I'm sweetly attacked. The brassy/ brazen but gentle rays, obeying their General's orders, seep in through my open window, making their way in through the thin white waving curtains.

Dotingly they hit my eyes, unwillingly my eyes flutter. They open and they squint.

I'm met with now stronger golden beams that are spread across my room, just like yesterday, just like every other day.

Forgotten is the dream that was playing in my mind, forgotten is the slumber that was reviving my tired self.

I look out of the window, there welcomes me a world consumed by the gold of the Sun; a sight that promises new possibilities, a new day, a new beginning.

The fresh serene morning breeze that tagged along with the honey streams, entice me the crispness of the morning awakens me; mind, body and soul.

The morning tells me, oh so fondly/ lovingly to breathe in its essence, and breathe in I do.

Life enters me, "Resurrected am I?" I wonder. Unbeknownst to me, I'm smiling. I hear their voices, reaching me together, "Good morning sweetheart". "Gold morning, Mom" "Gold morning, Dad" I reply.

Nature knows best when it comes to create magic or pull a miracle out of nothing. Surely, turning a good morning into a gold one is no exception for her. Ergo, the Golden sun-rays, fresh morning surroundings, and of course the irreplaceable dash of morning greetings from my parents make my mornings gold.

Wake up ...smell the morning...listen to the chirping birds...feel the golden hue of the sun on your skin, hug your loved ones and say your zealous good mornings and you'll create the magic of turning good into gold in a jiffy. And this Colgate gold morning Toothbrush I got hold of is another ingredient to the list of things that turn my good mornings into...yes, you got it...Gold Mornings.

The genius gold on it snowballs the effect of the gold of the sun & you're awarded with golden start right from your mouth to your day.

So, how're your mornings? Good or #Colgate360GoldMornings?

The Nonpareil of Kindness and Selflessness!!

“Whatever the cost of our libraries, the price is cheap compared to that of an ignorant nation.” ― Walter Cronkite

“No one has ever become poor by giving.” ― Anne Frank, diary of Anne Frank

Vasai, Maharashtra.

When Sapna, a tailor who earns a living by stitching blouses, and falls to the sarees, visited our local Sai Baba Temple, the poojari noticed her moist eyes framed by a tensed face.

The woman was a regular visitor at the temple. Always armed with a broad smile that spoke of its genuineness, and unadulterated greetings, she came to the temple with humble offerings; wild pink daisies, handful of chanaa wrapped in a small piece of newspaper, and a rupee or two. Touching the feet of the poojari for his blessings before leaving was mandatory to her. This routine was accompanied by a exuberance that mirrored a happy and a content soul.

That day the smile, the contentment were taken over by sadness, anxiety and a fear of something terrible. The lackadaisical change in her otherwise perky nature alarmed him.

He wanted to ask her....he had to ask her. He was certain something was gravely wrong with her or her family. Once she was done with her pooja she came to him, took his blessings, and turned to leave, he stopped her to ask, she looked at him. He could see in her eyes that she knew why he stopped her. Words weren't needed, yet he asked, hoping...praying, she would tell him and not hide from him whatever it was. 

"What's wrong?" In a very meek voice, barely audible, she told him about her plight. Her husband was jobless since three months. Initially she was sure things would fall into place eventually, but, now she had no hope. She was the sole earner of the household of six members now and her income was no longer enough. Their little savings had petered out as well. What she earned would not cover their, food, her sick mother-in-law's treatment and children's education together all at a time any longer. One of these needed to be sacrificed till her husband got employed again...and children's education seemed as the obvious choice for the family. Her children went to a private English medium school, a dream, a wish she once had for herself. "They would have to shift to municipality school", she sobbed with every word. Her body was shaking as tears rolled down her cheeks. Wiping away those tears she said a rather composed 'namastey' and left. The poojari couldn't wait for the other shoe to drop and made a few calls to the temple trustees and other people involved in the temple administration. That evening when they met, the agenda was crystal clear; Sapna's children's education must not suffer. In the next thirty minutes the solution to the problem was in front of them. They would raise a fund to cover the cost of the books, stationery, school uniforms, fees and at all for the entire year. It was March and they had three months before the next academic year starts. Driven by determination of achieving their goal one of them grabbed the black board which is used for notifying pooja timings, announcement of yagnas or other functions at the temple. Written in bold letters and large neat fonts with white chalk, the message was crisp and clear- 'Three children need money for continuing their education...Even a rupee from you would make a difference...Help educate them!!' The board was placed on the foot of the steps of the temple, where it grabbed attention of even those who had no intention of stopping by. In addition to that, from that day, every morning and evening the aarti was followed by an announcement on mike addressing people squarely on the fund raising topic. In just three weeks they lucked out; a good amount of money was raised for the siblings's education. Looking at the amount that kept pouring in it was decided they would continue and widen the fund raising to extricate other children who were in need.

May 2015, was when I saw the board for the first time. I did my bit and with June last week the board had some bhandara announcement written on it. The fund raising was closed, and would reopen again in April 2016, I was told. Though people were welcome to donate anytime if they wish to, my informer added. This bunch of people put a smile and contentment in the lives of Sapna and her children and many others like them by willingness. Willingness to serve humanity in ways they could afford to. These people for me are among the nonpareil of kindness and selflessness. Largely inspired and motivated by them many people have come together this year to make the fund raising more successful to help change lives of many more children. They taught me, empathy, willingness and an initiative, however small or big, can change the world.

With lots of inspiration and hope to see positive changes around me I've begun my new year with a smile full of life which one can again see on Sapna's happy and content face.

This post is inspired by http://www.youthkiawaaz.com/ for #SpreadTheVibe at Indiblogger.