Sunday, 19 November 2017

The Little Red Riding Hood


The Little Red Riding Hood

I Got up. Walked to the nearest window. Looked outside. What do I see? A great view.
The view I saw outside my window, took me back to my pre primary classroom. Many decades ago. Exactly like…. Once upon a time…..

I loved that time when our teacher, Mrs. Hicks brought in the big fat book of Fairy Tales. She would read to us one tale after another with so much of animation in her voice, that I always sailed into another world. A world of fairies, pixies and demons, elves, gnomes and goblins. The characters stepped out of Mrs. Hicks books and did all the things her voice led them to perform. A beautiful play. And in the middle of the entire drama, sat a little, young and innocent ME, taking in every word and sigh, Mrs Hicks brought out.  Believing and absorbing every word and visualising the characters prancing around me in their colourful costumes.

Just to mention a few of my favourites.. Hansel and Gretel, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Rapunzel, The Three Little Pigs, but my all time favourite has always been The Little Red Riding Hood. The story went like this…
A  little innocent girl, dressed in red from head to toe, walking to her Grandma’s place along the jungle path, with flowers growing on both sides. As she gracefully bends over to sniff and pick the best ones for her ailing Grandmother, there’s someone who is following her.Yes,it’s the wicked wolf who followed her and wanted to eat her up !! 
The wolf also went on to disguise himself in the Grandma’s clothes to trick the little girl. All this just to eat up Red Riding Hood. OH MY GOSH !!
That was so mean and bad.  The Big Bad Wolf.

All these memories came flooding back, when I noticed my neighbor's weekend washing on her clothes line.

So lost was I , in the world of The Little Red Riding Hood and the stories lived and
re-lived from the days of good old Mrs. Hicks, that I failed to notice the big bad wolf cat-calling from across the road. Yes, today’s, Road Romeo mistook my mesmerised look, totally lost in time, overtaken by the drama visualised in my classroom. I was brought back to my present with an undesirable THUD.
I never liked the Wolf then and I don’t like him now either.
Nevertheless, RED RIDING HOOD is my favourite story and character.

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


Sunday, 26 March 2017

Water Water Everywhere

Surprisingly...water was a difficult thing to write about.
such a common commodity,found all around and, spoken so much about it.
Uff !!  Gave my mind something to chew aabout for the whole day. 

Generally I don't google for info, but today I did.
And this is what I found....

Water molecules form hydrogen bonds with each other and are strongly polar. ... Its hydrogen bonding causes its many unique properties, such as having a solid form less dense than its liquid form, a relatively high boiling point of 100 °C for its molar mass, and a high heat capacity.
Density: 1 g/cm³
Boiling point: 99.98 °C
Formula: H2O
Melting point: 0 °C
Molar mass: 18.01528 g/mol
IUPAC ID: Water, Oxidane
Because water seems so ubiquitous, many people are unaware of the unusual and unique properties of water, including:
·         Boiling Point and Freezing Point.
·         Surface Tension, Heat of Vaporization, and Vapor Pressure.
·         Viscosity and Cohesion.
·         Solid State.
·         Liquid State.
·         Gas State.

And this is what I thought :   Do I have to update a primary kid? I’m sure he knows much more.

 Thus, imagined a few of my favorite things and penned them down…

Water Water Everywhere
Oh! Water give me a break.
You are here and you are there,
But when I need you the most
You are no longer there.
Do you know….
The joy I feel when I wash my feet after a tiring day,
I’m sure, You have no clue.
The pleasure I  create on making a big fat bubble, or
The melancholy it brings about on bursting one !
The laughter I hear along the roaring waves and
The sensational sentiments when I see the rainbows.
Those tiny droplets, shattering into a million pieces and
The pitter-patter on the window panes.
The basic aroma of the soaking soils,
The sights of dew-drops on the dark green waxy leaves.

Sigh !!

What will I do without you Dear Water? From where do I derive my tiny pleasures ?
Hoping you will not ditch me and walk away with the new entrant—Global Warming.
Me and my happiness are a perfect pair with you in our lives.


This post is a part of write over the weekend, an initiative for Indian bloggers by Blogadda

Sunday, 19 March 2017

My Autobiography


My Autobiography

Hi guys…

I am lazing on the banks of a lazy river meandering about the terrains of a hot village in Karnataka.

 My eyes are half open, as I keep a watch on what’s happening around me. The water is lapping at my cheeks, making the heat bearable. The fishes are gossiping about the village women who took a dip in the river to bathe during the early hours of the day. Naughty fishes, I must say. Must be the males… Hehehe… typical..!!

What caught my attention, how-ever, was a young chap in red-checked  boxers, and chappals with the heels worn off, skipping away to the nearest  post box to drop in a letter to his married sister residing in the distant city.

He was sweating profusely, and not a tree in sight to shelter him from the scorching heat. My heart went out to him. ''Poor fellow,'' I thought.

As I continued to laze about, nicely, comfortably, lying in my double bed, very much within my comfort zone, the sights in front of me were not very comfortable.

I witnessed an old woman carrying the afternoon’s lunch pack to her husband and son working in the fields near-by. She was sweating profusely, and not a tree in sight to shelter her from the scorching heat. 
My heart went out to her.

I lay, within my comfort levels, on the banks of the river, the water cooling me off from the heat.

Are comfort zones good or bad?

As the day dragged on, many more images of people and animals suffering the heat of the summer was tugging at the strings of my heart and conscious. I needed to bring myself out of my comfort zone to help my fellow living creatures.  And I did just that.

Now, Out Of My Comfort Zone.

My skin is peeling and making way for my legs to show. I pulled my legs out from my double bed and placed it firmly into the mud packed on the banks of the river.
 Later my hands made way to grow towards the sky. As I grow, I branch out far and wide, giving shade to humans and animals. I also bear flowers and fruits. I provide food and shelter to the needy, a place to build houses to protect birds and animals from predators and the unfavorable climate.
 I bring about precipitation and prevent global warming.

 And so much more.

Oh! By-the-way, the human beings have named my legs..Radicles. And my hands are known as the Plumule. And my comfortable double bed is the Cotyledons.


Now, that i am out of my comfort zone and helping the planet Earth in so many ways, I can surely say that getting out of the comfort zone helps you prosper and grow without limitations.

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

Saturday, 11 March 2017

Three things that I will burn this weekend…..


Three things that I will burn this weekend…..

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

Whoa !! what a weekend it’s going to be. Just the thought is giving me so much of a calm and soothing effect.

Lets see, what’s at the brim of my mind to be burnt, at the behest of this week’s WOW.(Write Over the Weekend)   Hmmmmmm…………………

Ok, so, here goes……

Burn the dance floor. Oh ! What a fantastic Friday Night it would be.
To be held in the arms of a person you love. To groove away endlessly to the music which transfers you from the spectacle d, straight faced, duty bound, workaholic secretary to a happy, carefree girl deeply in love. Seems like the DJ knows you are here to rock n roll.

Without caring two hoots to the week gone by or the one which is yet to come. Swaying to the slow beats and progressing to the high tempo-ed  JHINGAA-LA-LA HO types. Leaves you panting and sweating, yet yearning for more and as if on cue, he spins another disc and you are not in control of yourself. Looks like you are possessed by the spirits of the beats. 

Music has no language, nor does the movement of the body to the beats.
Dance away your Blues,, in the true sense and burn up the floors.

Hee-haw…. Hee-haw… I heard a donkey laugh. Have you ever heard one?                                            It is believed, that when a donkey laughs, your wishes come true. And I swear I heard the donkey laugh.

I pulled out a very pretty royal-blue frock tucked away at the back-most part of the wardrobe. I had out grown this beautiful dress. Or rather, I shamelessly lied to people that it shrunk.

Now, on a whim, tried it on only to see that I have burned away the stubborn fat at all the wrong places because of which I needed to tuck away that very pretty royal-blue frock at the back-most part of my wardrobe. 
Oh what immense joy burning fat can give !! Hence, I promised myself,, I’m going to burn up the rest of the stubborn-as-a-mule fat too. Hope to pull out a few more shrunken dresses.

A well-paid job. A handsome boyfriend. Weekends to burn up the dance floors. A body fat burning spree which enables me to adorn enviable attires. A bright and happy future. I have all that a pretty, young girl can ask for. 

But, something is knocking at the back of my mind. What is it that is bothering me but afraid to surface?

And now... finally…I can see it.

 Being a primeval Indian at heart, my inner voice is calling out--- nazar lagegaa, kuch karo. (Evil eyes are on you. Protect yourself)

Oh My !! This is not me. How can I ever hear such nonsense? I’m a modern girl. I live in the 21st century. My inner self is so damn out-dated. It has no right to dampen my spirits and hopes for my successful, enviable future. 
The battle of voices continues. 
Finally, I fall prey to the inner voice. Mentally I run through the mazes of ancient memories of my childhood days at Granny’s place.

3 dried red chilies, 5 black pepper corns, 7 grains of crystal salt, 9 mustard seeds and a black woolen with 11 knots made in it. All this is to be placed in a new black muslin cloth and tied tightly with a black sewing thread. This potli is now to be placed on burning charcoal.

The pungent smoke emitted and wafted far away from me, will take away the ‘’evil eyes’’ or nazar. I have burned up the evils that were to befall.

Now I am free. I am liberated.

I carry a high flying- fluttering flag, stating I have the willpower to burn up the dance floor in order to burn my body fat, so that I can fit into my pretty, skimpy outfits.


 I make no reference about me being a primeval Indian at heart, and my inner voice calling out--- nazar lagegaa, kuch karo.,, because I’m a modern girl living in the 21st century.

Friday, 10 March 2017

The horror story of the mountains in space .. I am blogging my #ColgateMagicalstories at BlogAdda in association with Colgate .

The horror story of the mountains in space

I am blogging my #ColgateMagicalstories at <a href="">BlogAdda </a> in association with <a href="">Colgate </a>.

Story making is an art, just like any other art form. To some it’s an inbuilt mechanism whereas some others need a Vroom- a start-up kit. Mothers are a natural pro at this, with the built-in app. To feed, bathe, soothe , or put the  infant to slumber… a new wave of imagination weaves forth effortlessly. Children then carry the story-telling- baton forward.

Here’s a bit of the imaginative weave from a Big Brother to a Baby Sister….from Anirudh to Anandita.

Once upon a time, long-long ago, there was this planet where no man had dared to go. On this unknown planet, the only occupants were  Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE and Miss.CAVITY DRILLER. They were surrounded by rotting mountains and slippery walls.

 Inside, it was as dark as it could possibly get and cold, smelly, slime-y, worm-y, and atrociously            ‘’un-visit able ‘’. Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER  were busy drilling holes in the mountains and making the place as rotten as possibly possible.

The walls and mountains could take the torture no longer. They sent out distress signals to anybody who could save them from the ghastly clutches of the two deadly space demons-- Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE  and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER. The signals were loud, clear and piercingly sharp, sent from their secret device called Delminator 49XX.

SAVE US .. Ohh… SAVE US….ANYONE…. Please Help Us….

SAVE US .. Ohh… SAVE US…from these deadly monsters.

These ultra-sonic  S.O.S.  signal waves spread across the Milky Way and reached Princess FRESHBREATH and Prince  LONGLASTING. They mounted on their super-sonic TURBOBRUSH and sped away to rescue the walls and mountains of this unknown planet  in distress. They were armed with the most strongest weapon the COLGATE-PALMOLIVE to terminate the worst enemies called Mr. GREENAPPLE PIE  and Miss. CAVITY DRILLER.
Just simply kholo, dabao aur turbobrush pe lagao…….


Magic was created !

Lo and Behold !  This was a cake walk.

The rotting mountains on this unknown planet  were sparkling white again. Just like it was before the alien attacks began.
The slippery walls were pinky-pink and squeaky clean.
No more a smelly, slime-y, worm-y, and atrociously ‘’ un-visit able. ‘’ planet now
The “Magical Space Adventure’’ ends on a happily ever-after note.

Hail Princess FRESHBREATH and Prince  LONGLASTING.
USE COLGATE…. BAR BAR …….dishoom dishoom….

Our sincere thanks to our alien characters


                                                                 Miss. CAVITY DRILLER - Germs

Princess FRESHBREATH – Cavity Eroder

                                          Prince    LONGLASTING – Calci Lock Protecter

Rotting mountains – Teeth    and     Slippery walls-  Gums.

Sunday, 5 March 2017

‘I have just 9 more months!’.. she thinks


This  post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for India Bloggers by Blogadda

'I have just 9 more months!’  she tells herself.

Giving her an aura of being at peace. She will complete 50 years of age.
Thus starts her second innings.

50th Birthdays are made in heaven. To be distributed to the priceless species on earth.
But.. What the hell !! Why is this 50th event so special? Is it because it occurs only once in a 100 years? When it arrives for the second time, its called a centenary.  J Whatever the reason… it is a much awaited one for sure. 'I have just 9 more months.'...  she reminds herself

Now, this woman is definitely not the coy teenager nor a first-time inexperienced harassed mother of a toddler. No more a demure wife, often treated like a doormat. Crossed every bridge, as it approached. Through the course of this journey called life, has braved the ups and the downs of experiences. She has borne the rubs and digs of the snooty-snobs of society. Has learnt the art of cosmetics, to camouflage her pains. She has got over the fear of a dentist’s mean looking chair. Made a few friends, who accepted her with her deficiencies –and moulded her to some perfection. Overcome a horde of other petty situations. Each a milestone in its own way. Making her strong, humble, observant, patient and learned all at the same time.

Giving her an aura of being at peace. She will complete 50 years of age.

 ‘I have just 9 more months!’  She tells herself.. Come on December.

Thus starts her second innings. The golden era begins.  A caterpillar cocooned, now turned into a confident butterfly. All ready to fly and scale new heights. Do the things that was warped into a tightly packed dream.

 To turn into a saint? Far from it..

Scuba diving to para sailing to bungee jumping. and the sorts. Will watch her as the years roll by. The pages are ready to be inscribed onto. Longing to be a person she always yearned to be…  just in 9 more months

Making plans and organizing and dreaming of her Oh.. so happy future.
Hoping, Wishing and praying to God to make this forward journey a successful, happy, healthy  and a content one.


Tuesday, 2 August 2016

I Have A Dream

I am blogging about my dreams and passions for the Club Mahindra #DreamTrails activity at BlogAdda. You can get a Club Mahindra Membership to own your holidays!


It’s that time of the year, which most of us dread. There are targets to achieve and
 dead lines to meet. Meetings to attend and bosses to be answered to. Chaos and a huge mighty  ruckus everywhere.
In the midst of all this I lay down my weary head on a satin white feathery pillow to ease out the muddle for just five winks, I promised myself.
I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail…….   (lyrics from the song ‘’I HAVE A DREAM’’ by ABBA)

Both my husband and me --- We are beach buddies. He likes his beer and I love my bombil and jhingaa fry, all on the beach. Be it rain or sunshine. That’s where you are bound to find us, totally rejuvenating. At the drop of a hat,, we are packing off trailing  to the nearest sea beach.

The strong salty smell in the air.
A walk along the pristine beaches. Either as morning exercise or to see the sun set.
The boats bobbing on the lazy waves.


The men and their laid back natures. Bringing in the day’s haul from the hearts of the deep seas.
The koli women in their sexily draped nine yard sarees.
The rustic kids in their bright coloured chaddies.  
 The women drying out the salted fish, hung on some sort of a stand.. rows after rows.
 And down comes the lusty crows snooping down to snatch off the drying salty fish, while the koli women in their sexily draped nine yard sarees trying to shoo them away.
And the super energetic young brats running after the hungry black birds and cawing along in tune with them.

The early morning intoxicating toddy… a dull white, sweet smelling milk collected in the rounded pots.
The kokam kadi, bhaakri, and the kolmi rassa is to die for The authentic flavor which many have tried to carry back home and failing miserably to maintain its originality. 

The pani puri wala, the garam butta wala, the nariyal pani wala, the masala chai wala, the anda burji pav wala , the barf gola wala and the kokam sherbet wala add to the liveliness of the countryside. 

The festivities along the sea laced dwellings reminds me of tales from the AMAR CHITRA KATHA. Taking me to my grandma and her folklore. 
SOOTHING….EVER SO SOOTHING…. Her fingers running through my sea blown tangled hair, in an attempt to clear away the tangles. SO PEACEFULL.  !!  

                                              or is it??

I can hear distant cries, I think its my 5 year old.
I can hear my brown cocker-spaniel pleading to be let out.
I can hear my husband howling over the flush tank not working.
I can hear the milkman whistling at  the end of the garden gate.
I can hear…..
I can hear……
I can hear…..
And it all comes rushing back !!!………  I lay down my weary head on a feathery pillow to ease out the muddle for just five winks, I promised myself.
I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail…….   (lyrics from the song ‘’I HAVE A DREAM’’ by ABBA)

If wishes can be horses…. I would be away from all the targets and dead lines, holidaying in one of the  beachside accommodations owned by the prestigious CLUB MAHINDRA !!

I’m writing this for BlogAdda in association with Club Mahindra presenting the #DreamTrails activity that has taken me right into dreamland, and who knows, I might just come back with my dream fulfilled! I’m making my dreams open up their arms to welcome myself  through the #DreamTrails activity.