Happy Seventh

To all my dismay, my blog too has taken up roles of a spoilt husband. It can follow me anywhere to everywhere. The moment I am done with cooking 4 dishes, set table, do the chores and put lights off that the husband's taste buds  crave for that very thing that's not on my table. And these days the blog has taken up similar traits. The moment the laptop is closed, lights off and I step out of study, my sensory treat my cerebrum with creative juices in full.  Then I have to treat the blog secretly like how I would treat my Ex.



There's a reason for this madness.



Have you heard of this myth where people believe, couples staying together for 7 years bind themselves in a "Common Law Marriage"?. This is not true yet supposedly believed in few states of the U.S. It's the evidence how and why we often bump into this  messages on social media which says, once a person is connected to you for 7 years then you are together forever. Well, I am apparently trying to connect and apply it to my blog. Because I am committed to my blog! 

Yes. Me and my blog complete 7 years of togetherness. If something called blog anniversary was a term more aptly applicable here.  Last few years I called it my Blog  birthday from time of it's conception. However, as we grow more number of years together, in full commitment, I found self-fascination for our mutual love and preferred to celebrate our 7th anniversary this month.



Now, how I end up taking kitchen-referring cases proves that we women are capable of  bringing out our culinary expertise and kitchen tales in any circumstances.

Because we women are possessively  obsessed with the kitchen.



Send us on a "ladies day out" and we  strike great conversations relating to  kitchen and food first, like offering prayers to our family deity.  Every time I train myself for marathon,  I wake up at 4AM on weekends and run up to 15 kilometers. Although, the main part of the brain is clogged with  strong signals warning me how I might reach my house with kitchen burnt down or flooded with spilled juice and sandwich remains. Now you see whey Ekta Kapoor fancied we women in silk sarees, seated on expensive couches grunting and smiling at family members, yet administering a full control over the kitchen.



There exists these traits why I announce ourselves  the Kitchen Queen. 

Damn the Kitchen King Masala. I protest, it should be renamed as "Kitchen Queen". Although the men can now treat the roosters with the right masala and devour it themselves, and even win master chef awards, we women,  have left no chance to actually give away the original supreme authority  of the kitchen. It is ours.  It belongs to we women of the homes.



Well, being my 7th blog anniversary, when I thought of kitchen tales to feed this post too, I was brainstormed by my self fancy for our kitchen awe.



In fact, what I must precisely be doing now is performing a thanksgiving day in my way. I must be thanking all my readers in my own way.



Yes, I began my journey of blogging 7 years ago in 2010 October-November  by writing little memoirs (Though most old posts are pulled off my blog, for a reason I shall announce early in 2018). I remember Satish and Seethakka's first  comments enjoying my first humour memoir. And there was Chowla Sir, who always showered praises saying I had a winners face and fueled  my attempts to stimulate my mind, creative skills to my fullest.

Soon I was introduced to blogger community called Indiblogger where more readers patiently survived all my writings. Not just that I went on to win a few blogging contests that further triggered  my desires to learn and do better with each piece I wrote.



My acknowledgments will be longish list though (excluding my lovely family), after the first few names mentioned above. Chandrika, Swetee, Manu, Rajesh Kamat, Sahana Madhyastha, Chaitra, Anupama Rao, Archna, Avinash, and ALL-Indiblogger peeps. There are more that I cant thank enough for their constant spirits of liking my writing and also congratulate them in return on surviving my every master piece, be it a poetry, travel memoir or humour posts.  Also, I thank the ones who have extended wishes for my continued journey too.



However there is one person, to whom I would dedicate my writing journey to. My Ajju. Grand -dad. He was indeed a GRANDeur of living, discipline, culture, values, so much full of life with his subtle humour.

He now resides across the rainbow bridge, right near the brightest cloud after the last ray of sun. There are no precise words to exclaim how he was  the first person to take my poetry seriously. Even when I laughed at myself while in my high school,  upon his comments "Baribeku magu (you must write child) " I did not attempt any writing even with he inspired me while being right on this earth.



However, returning promptly to my kitchen before I sign off. For that's our production shop. We produce cuisines, thoughts, blog posts, art work, gardening ideas, complete office projects and more.



If you need me anytime, you know where to find me.



All picture source- Our own google.

Animated Birthday My Dear Blog

In the whirlwind of blogging experience, I have dealt with a humongous learning path. 

The shrill alarm of my memory rang too hard and I hit my laptop without hesitating to abandon my dinner fixing half way. Now what is it all about? Just before one could say R.I.P to my dear blog "www.sushmaharish.com ", for being idle quite long, I realized I had completely forgotten my blog's 5th birthday too! It was in October of 2015. It has been five years since I plunged headlong into blogging and ranting. 

In recent one year I have been completely drowned in activities with my two kids but now it was about time, I showed some justice to my beloved blog who's been my best and silent friend all time. She listens to all my woes and happy stories. Moreover, she would not receive birthday wishes on Facebook unless she was set on birthday reminder. Here, I rejoice her birthday. She turned five silently and has been growing well all these years. My learning path has ascended right upward too with my blog. A quench for learning is what keeps an human a human.

Past year has seen me turn into a child with my two. While one is maturing into a fine teenager soon, other one is turning into a naughty toddler from his innocent infancy. I can simultaneously juggle a ball for one and do some math for the other. I can "meow" or bark very well to entertain one, while I can't call the other a monkey for a monkey trick of hers. This just does not go so well with my child hood. I was called a monkey if I jumped over a table.

Looking back, down the memory of childhood labyrinth, you know what you end up with, when those frenzy thoughts clutter your mind. A  first hand sieving of those got me this fine, that I began to see through my minds eye. There is an animal inside all of us and there is a soul inside every naked animal like we intellectual creatures walking upright with the most expensive apparels. We tend to relate to animal behavior and yet see those humane love in eyes of a dog. But yes, the garbage of thoughts began blowing trumpet when I turned a child with my very own. 

Even as I was in class 5, my grand mom conveniently chided me “Don’t jump like a monkey”. We all evolved from the generation of apes. So we are. I convinced myself. But I had vivid encounters bringing out a different” animal” inside me. Monkeying around is our birth right at early childhood. For me too. Soon by age 10 I graduated into a full fledged “Donkey”. At home, school, it was common to listen to “you donkey, do it properly”. Donkey is hardworking animal, so am I. 

During the times of primary education, being talkative was my passion. Often I was found caught by teachers saying “All time yapping like a crow”. Treacherous. Crow is black. Am so fair and lovely. Crow caws, /but I have learnt carnatic music. I told in my mind.

I have been an athlete. During those inter school competitions, I often loved hearing praises. Some would go to extent to say “vow you are the cheetah of our school, come on”. Cheet- aahh. 

In due course, I was in class 12. It was ritual to take extra coaching outside school, but, I did not want them. I was hard working donkey. But with my aim for  100 upon 100 in math, came advises to take extra coaching for the subject. Time was fixed. 3pm to 4.30pm. Our math teacher would dictate  “cos teta into tan teta…....” and enjoy his cat naps”. In the  very beginning, we (me and my batch mates) did not know if to disturb him, we would wait for him to wake up. And when he did, it was me in the front, clock on my head. He fumed at me “Did you finish? Why have you settled in like a python on the chair”. I was shouting in my mind “same to you”. But “python”, oh another hidden animal inside me. Unique. Hidden talents we know, but hidden animal! It all does not end there. Even after I reached home hungry there were more animal tales. When I ate, I ate as fast as I can as if food would run out of my plate. My uncle often commented” hungry wolf hnaa” eat baby eat”. Does that imply, I was a baby wolf? Now I expect my uncle to answer this today. 

Today, after years, when I feed my infant, I try all kinds of funny animated noises honouring all the hidden animal inside me. Bow wow, see the ducky quack quack…and so on. When nothing works, I occasionally try a  “meow”. My older one finally commented” Amma please, you sound like spooky jungle cat, to me”. She and her vocabulary both take me at gun point. Jungle cat. Phew. Well, some things never change, I declared to my heart laughing at me.  I still have faith in few good friends who type in beautiful comments on my FaceBook. And I voe to make more of such friends who call me a Bollywood actress nargis. Every one needs a change. I need too.

We all have evolved into the most intellectual creature on earth, lets live to it  honouring all hidden talent inside us positively. Man has evolved over billion of years from ape. A continuous learning has brought in the most sophisticated version of human today from within us. The ultimate destiny of we human race is driven by science, technology and power of human quench for continuous learning. As I always say, learning happens from the womb till the tomb.


So here's wishing my dear blog a "Quacky Quacky BirthDay".

 Bring out the child in you, animal in you or whatever. But keep learning.

It Is Okay If You Are Greedy

An idea conceived is half achieved  -Selfquote

Sushma's Page turned 2 this month. 

The commonest feeling of revoking the past, scratching the memory lane turns most up-heaving sensational phenomena when the subject includes "childhood". Here is my baby, "My Blog" . She turned two on the 3rd of October. She- Yes, she follows the stereotype as her owner.

A fetus conceived is a child born in minds of the mother -Self Quote.

She has  evolved over infancy. Crawling, giggling, stumbling, to the stage of  walking steady and ready to run today. Conceived in month of September-2010, she first smiled on successfully publishing the post "Cycle and the Chicken". 1st and nostalgic post that is so very personal.

The marathon continues till today over the stages where many a humour, satire, serious, poetic posts have been successfully completed and the blog has stood up, and today, all set to run. Sushma's Page is now greedy for more posts.....more readers. It is okay to be greedy.

Here is celebrating the 2nd Birth Day with one story.

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The woodcutter who was the bread winner of family cut trees, sold wood for a few penny. One day  he slipped off and his axe tossed straight into the river nearby. Squatted, hands on forehead, as he shed silent sobs and sweaty tears, A fairy emerged out of the waters. The zero figure "Kareena Kapoor" as she was, singing "halkat jawani". Get away you...shooed her the woodcutter. She stopped dancing and offered to help him. He wasn't the types who even narrowed his eyes on her. She them cleared he throat..."err ehem...well I do know to dive too like Katrina Kaif in Zindagi na Milegi Dobara"...I could  perhaps find your axe". Surely he was not the second hand jawani-Amul Macho Man who could guide her swimming, was he?  So she dived in and brought out a golden axe. Ohh ghosh... Ssshhh he cried" This must be belonging to some minister of Indian Kangress he exclaimed. "I am just an ordinary person, aam aadmi, an mango person and I own an iron axe, please get me that". She then brought out a silver axe. A sad woodcutter had to nod a no. May be it belonged to another  minister perhaps law minister-India. Fairy smiled, brought a bronze axe. Were they the Medals of the Indian Players who got them at the Olympics? Out came the Fairy with the iron axe to utmost relieving pleasure of woodcutter. The Mango Men are happy with their meager belongings. Greed is not their cup of tea. It is for the stronger. The strength emerges from monetary and social powers?



Moral of this story: Never be greedy, if you want to be its okay, just join Politics.

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Original story: The wood cutter who was the breadwinner of family once lost his axe into the river. The river fairy who presented him a golden or silver axe was not something he would lay his greedy hands on. He humbly preferred his iron axe and as the fairy got it for him she was too happy over the woodcutters honesty and presented him all the axe. The wood cutter family then lived happily ever after.

Origin, source and ref:

And this story that my dad told me naming the woodcutter as "maada" genetically passed on to my daughter as her bed time story that I could narrate. For past 9 years I have been cooking up several thousands of remix of this one story like Ekta Kapoor's serials that carry same script different colours.

Finally today's remix version had something to do with beautiful India's "so called dirty politics" Initially she laughed, in  between she perhaps thought I was telling her "beta Gabbar ayega sojayo" and she dozed off forgetting to laugh till the end of it.



Ref:-

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/article3888347.ece

http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/salman-khurshid-trust-scam-gen-vk-singh-extends-support-to-kejriwal/1/225089.html

http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2012-10-05/india/34278821_1_robert-vadra-priyanka-gandhi-prashant-bhushan



Some contents in this article are based on facts from media and mean a pure satire and no offense to any personnel, party, religion or so.