The Hollow

Two little eyes sparkled and

stared from the hollow

eyelids blinked in resonance

with the winter evening breeze



crawling out from the hollow

wee, came the little figure, down the slide

both tiny hands clutched on to her long black gown

sliding slow as snail, expectant eyes



wee, and down, stomping on the sand

swooshing few in air , two little foot walked

rubbing a pinch of dust off the eyes

the figure stopped moving



and out reached two big hands stroking her head

fed her expensive cookies and colourful juices

but little anxious eyes wandered

seeking something not mysterious



little eyelids blinked more now

in resonance with a flickering smile

as another little figure that lingered around

with bright florescent yellow jersey dress



"can we play together"..gleefully

made another little figure

hollow in the eyes of little figure filled up

as her lips carved out the best smile.



-------------------------

P.S. - I take my son outdoors playing. This poetry was written quickly during one such visit. Playing in groups is a rare scene these days. Our children are enjoying the urban play pens with parents right on their back.

Many times I notice few kids being reined in, with set of instructions.

Let them free. Let them play  with other children. in full glee and spree.

---------------------------

Best Practices - Being A Good Husband

To all the lol-yal husbands out there, here is your free handbook of how to make your wife feel "at the top of the world"

Dear Husbands, I know you are all busy taking instructions from your wives. Now you can be free from all this trouble. This Rule Book will free you from all worries. All for free. 

Just follow the golden rule "let them (the wives) free and they will come back".

Do not worry, this is a very short reading. I have been advised by other wives, we have plenty of reading to do on Whattsapp, so I keep this rule book short and sweet.

Remember we are all hungry for "Appreciation". All. You and us, we wives. Bingo. You got it.

There's a trick to it. Simple "hey darling you are so beautiful" will turn you into so predictable. Be genuine is the trick. Mother is God. It will strike right. Just touch her shoulders and say, you are my next mother darling. You take so good care of me and kids. (For those who do not have kids, it will  still make your job easier).

Please make a note, to listen between the lines. Or make your notes to read between those activities. There is a pattern with all housewives especially. We are super thrilled and proud of our skill full capabilities of multitasking. Less said is better. We will smilingly complete all chores. We will become the Cinderella for a while. We will do the laundry. But there is a pattern. Somewhere, you get a signal when we might throw out that raged tantrum. "Taken for granted" tantrum. "Hell-O we can't be taken for granted okay?" Have you all heard this first time in life today? Liars. 

Polish your comprehensive skills to note those details that give out signals of taken for a granted tantrum. Moments before you feel the tremor, get into your house-husband mode. Your duty begins now. Get on to job right then. And side by side, keep your notes handy in the pocket.

• Do not even think of picking phone calls while you are ironing your laundry.


• When the washing machine and the dishwasher are side-by-side, remember where things land will decide where you will land that evening.


• Set your goals and convey it to her. She will decide how to award you. Hence, do not overdo stuff or offer to accomplish more than your capability.


• If your wife still watched K- serials on television, please maintain double hand distance from her while holding verbal communication.  Don't take this lightly. I have read in newspapers, about divorce cases filed after wife slapped husband hard inspired by Ekta Maata soaps.

Small things create big joys in life. Apply this as Best Practices in your daily life. At 5AM in the morning, if you try shouting "darling toilet tissue is over, care to get a new roll?", you are for sure in deep trouble. Take up small tasks to do. Do not create such blunders by overloading Cinderella with such small tasks. She will not run all errands singing happy song, then wait for the magic fairy at the night in the backyard. She can turn insane and give you a piece of her mind right served hot with your morning tea. And in case you happen to be tea maker of the morning, kudos. Good job. You have acquired a star for yourself. Remember one cup of that refreshing tea or coffee when brewed and served by the husband,  her eyes would swoon sipping it. And ignore her early morning jibes for toilet tissue paper. She can be insane at times but remember you would have called her your next mother, so technically ignore wife jibes. They are short-lived till you get the next set of diamonds from Kalyan Jewellers or movie tickets for the two of you.



Last but not least, the CCC rule. Criticism, Controls, and Comparison. They are precise and inter-related too.

Criticism should be showered only when demanded genuinely. Do not get obsessed with your superior qualities and start evaluating her skills in the house. Or, try doing that when you are fully confident you can cook your dinner for the day or standing on your own feet in your own house. On the flip side, also do not shower unnecessary compliments on us. We have mammoth patience levels for the benefits of doubts. For us too much is too bad, we believe in earning what we deserve.



Well, criticism does not put her off at least but comparison surely does. Committing that blunder and it may land you in trouble. She may possess all the hands-on information about your colleague's salary. Beware, comparisons are traps. To yourselves.

Who do you think is the control of the house? Never brush aside opportunities available to share the authority management in the house. It rests on both your shoulders. However, the golden rule applied, hand over controls to her as when required. She very well believes in balancing life. Never underestimate her EQ/IQ or touch that feminist soft spot. You may lose all your future opportunities to lecture her in case she needs help or fails, and you might yourself end up in a soup. Listening from her, about your ego-filled authoritative male self.  Why burn your fingers. Be wise. Let her drive. Let her go to work, watch movies with friends. Let her be what she wants. She takes a turn to hold the upper hand, and you wait prudently for yours.



All in all, marital bliss is not about marriages that are made in haven. Hell no. They are run on the earth.

 And golden rules are to be applicable to run it successfully. I am not at all quoting the traditional rule of "always listen to your wife". NO. Do not talk hyperbolic fiction and show her stars in the sky. leave that to Salman Khan or Akshay Kumar. Your husbands cant handle it.

Husband -wife is like the Tom-Jerry and almost hilariously is based on "I scratch your back, you scratch mine".

In fact, be rational, read this rule book and stay enlightened. All cats are out of the bag here. You have most secrets of wives, so you know how to handle yourself.

After all, wives are supreme power and they guide you well throughout.

From The White Pages

PS - Google

One of life’s ironical philosophies is – “If we
began believing and following all the philosophies, from the white pages, we
would be scholars by age 18”. Certain things in life come by experience, either
yours or another’s. I have mentioned this earlier in a piece posted in march 2017 on festival Holi.

Experience, in turn comes by our own intention and
attitude towards hard work, learning and growing.  Somewhere the attitude towards life is a mistaken truth. And truth is a bitch too. This world is a perplexing imperfect piece of puzzle and life a biggest wonder. While we have millions of aims in our life, zillions of goals,  most of us begin our win and lose in
life by competing!

Competing in life becomes healthy automatically
when we realize the priorities of the goals.

We human species are the most intelligent species yet we seldom treat ourselves with most social niceties.



My last week's break fast at the south Indian restaurant was a big pain. I was appalled witnessing behavior of  well dressed man in the next table, give out rude instructions and loud criticizes to the waiter. Had been a while since I witnessed such a scene. But no, we ought to prove with time we are truly fit to be labelled bloody Indians. We know that the waiters are fools and in order to show how strong we are we ought to shower all our strength on them for no reason at times!

Plentiful folks out on the streets are
still spitting on roads/walls, throw garbage on roads, having high-decibel mobile phone conversations but turn into
model citizens when under scrutiny of known folks. The bloody soul inside me wakes up when I see orange peels and milk tetra packs in the play pen for kids, and I start picking them immediately.

Heard from a friend here in Doha, how a person was fined for spitting out of his car. Not just a fine!! He was showed videos  about cleanliness in the police station, stranded for hours, chided by police saying he was embarrassed to collect fine from such shameless person. Am sure it is impossible in the big India yet one Rajanikanth episode was what I could imagine in the police uniform playing out hefty hyperbolic dialogues.

We are always in tremendous hurry to get anywhere. Be it a shopping, a holiday, a dinner or any outing. Yet, seldom on time. We are the ones that are obsessive about queues. Folks love performing jigs with their elbows in the queue. Jostling, mumbling and shaking all over. Somewhere, we have engulfed our etiquette with traits to be called that bloody Indian though we have all capability to be proud Indians only.

The moment our plane touches down for landing,
we spring out of our seats. yank down our baggage from overheard compartments and even before the aircraft
can come to a halt, we have started stretching our neck towards the exit. Disembarking the plane is such a pain. We would love to jump down like Akshay Kumar if we were allowed to.

Waiting anywhere is not our cup of tea at all. Be it anywhere. At any air port, moment we have to wait we forget to zip our lips.

Why, we are in absolute rush to provoke verbal hassles with airline staff everywhere hoping they go apeshit in no time. And finally when they are induced with our verbal venom, we can happily post several videos of them misbehaving with ordinary passengers and accuse them of bullying like a bloody Indian. Or, if it was the case of cricketer Harbhajan Singh who reportedly accused a White pilot who physically abused a handicapped man on board, then we have called the pilot a crook for he used the term bloody Indian. (Now I do not intend to endorse the behavior of airline staff at all. Only a possible side of the coin perhaps is what I tried to look at).



Who won the game here? It's atrocious on mankind. There is no competition. Being polite is a curse! We are all smart now with smart phones in hand. Too smart to even think with our first and second sense or the most common form of sense. 

 Again, in sarcastic hush, we are the true
spirited are we? Or at least with a hard-spine?  We are  pretty much short sighted in correcting our erroneous etiquette,
yet in a competition to turn best in life. Whatsoever is the field. What on earth are competing for? We have lost an attitude in the course. 

Attitude is an inner voice. It is just another word in dictionary
but a rulebook for life.

Things change when attitudes change. We ought to
know, where we are heading. Are we competing actually against nothing?



Being a perfect social animal is not a myth. This comes by practicing life
skills, gaining our experience , not by mere philosophy from the white pages!,

 – S0 says
the white pages nevertheless!

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.

Year and Again

Along with my blog birthday falls the birthday of my darling hubby. In the  best of my moods, I would workout beautiful beach picnic as his birthday surprise. But the very thought of how he yanks at the other end of the blanket and rolls over it, leaves an angry me. With crossed eyebrows, I decide how we have spent enough last holiday and will not celebrate big birthdays. Soon, the times change. "You are tired dear, don't do so much of running around for chores" when he says, I melt again and the B'Day plans start ringing in my mind. All is well that ends well and yes I do surprise him each year.  

In the perseverance of your identity, you rock and roll. Entire life takes a toll. In the process we do and overdo actions, and at times not do all those things that we want to , don't want to and so on. When these rants sound really absurd, we realize that we have matured enough to gulp in a tough dose of the "life's philosophy". Year and again, we all grow, celebrating the "Happy Buddays" as a ritual. This is the age of mars and spaceships. Birthday's are celebrated of mundane pets, favourite gadgets. Allow me to announce the 3rd "appy budday" of  Sushma's Page.

A s a ritual it is, on the 1st birthday of the blog , I had come up with "The Dream" (click on the link to read it) and on the 2nd Birthday  "It's okay to be greedy" (click on the link to read it), where in I went on with a self quote-" An idea conceived is an idea half achieved". As we all grow, my thoughts are growing too in it's own space.

Surprise surprise surprise. Like the "sale sale sale" boards hovering all over on the shopping areas, the "surprises" are those killer ideas of celebrating birthdays. "Jaanu..what do you want as surprise this B'day" am sure some pappu would have asked this on this earth at least once, if not the Santha or Bantha. Spare Santha. He's very' innocent. Today pappu has taken over the crown from the famous sardar jokes to be the national entertainer. If you ask who pappu is, then I would be diplomatic to say google two words "Pappu, India congress". Now enough of it.

Coming to the birthday celebrations, I gift my blog a scrumptious post on its birthday every year. Last month it has turned 3 years old.

Someone once told that the best of thoughts enlighten us on the toilet pot! Is it?  I have to confess, yes. It does. That's when our mind exercises the dos & donts and meditates for the day. My flood of thoughts takes a form in the mind and then I await to flush them all in my blog. Each time I repeat, how my blog was born, I am reminded of those tiny school diaries where I would write tiny poems, register all my complaints against my parents or the grand-ones. If you are chuckling, let me ask you , one of you sure has tried this our of sheer anger frenzy in school days.  Graduating from small diaries to a blog now look what the "online technology" has offered me. Free unlimited space for  husband bashing. 

Where else can I crib that it's not the yanking of the blanket that puts me off. Being a good driver myself, yet I hate to face the loaded AK-47 in the form of a husband in my car making every attempt to navigate me. You spend your teen years telling your parents"common am grown up" and then rest of the life you spend yelling at your hubby to leave you alone! Quiz them with few questions on the colour of nail polish, dress, bag, of their wives, or regarding any of the wife's paraphernalia , .....and they will surprise you with the best of adjectives. "No idea at all, absolutely no clue, may be orange lipstick!" Enough is enough, just one question that has every chance of passing test is "how much money does your wives purse contain". No, here too, one could hear like- " few weeks back..errr may be..may be...." . A big deal. I bet every wife material reading this would agree how the husbands would master the art of placing the "towel" after a shower, well on the cot without fail, or leave the glass after a the drink in the study. Someone once asked if husbands troll on your mobile phones. At least here I credit mine, for not doing so.

Now boo boo to all you husband material who are reading this. I know your tricks for treats too. Every time I  catch him running unusual errands for me or cleaning my kitchen I know there could be some favour in turn required. Well, such are the domestic barter gimmicks. When I say "him", it's understood it's that man whom I called "the man who completes me" 14 yrs ago, and now the same man is designated "the man who finishes me!"

With the time machine running successfully, years rolling over however, the "birthday" treats sure bring in those sweetness in life. Those yearly celebrations for those special moments as we celebrate, its justified I celebrate 3rd year of Sushma's Page.

My mind is a factory with irregular production of thoughts. The abundance isn't synchronous with life's economy. There is often surplus, simultaneously times with zero production too. This production goes out of the Pandora's Box wishing Sushma's Page "Happy 3rd Birthday". 

Wave

A silent storm,

was your invasion,

and petals of life

blossomed into flower,

in my little heart.

The mark of your presence

glows glimpses,

flickers of life.

Moments of faith,

tangled in my little heart.



A hungry soul

you tickled,

Rhythmic cadence,

you sang,

Scent of aura

you kindled,

in my little heart.

Blinded by life

Unstoppable returns

you mark, like wave.

Never to leave,

Roar & live,

Billowing,

in my little heart.

Unconditional relation

of two souls.

FRIEND.

Your eternal life ....

in my little heart.

Friendship - An unconditional relation between two souls. An magic that makes life worth.

Life's True Mime

Strong like any Banyan

Deep like that Ocean

Are beckoning  his two stretched out arms

Rising her heart’s alarms

Surrendering right then and there

Love is all in the air

With foreheads meeting to rest

Heavy, with
thoughts best

Enchanting and magnetic is the moment

When into those arms she went

Life’s
agony flew off the vent

Life. An eternity of life, it
meant.



So it was him, her  messenger
of love

And her heaven flew into her, like a feathery dove

And his stretched out arms
checked her in

Locked them up, breaths held and her raised chin

With a faint
smile, that was her ornament

They captivated that moment

With his enormously possessive
embrace

They feasted on that moment, face to
face.

While, the clock simply ticks on forever

That moment grows on him and her.

A Time

Life’s true Mime

And, twelve, struck the clock

…...she
fled, off her time lock

Into her
world of cinders

Ella, dreams yet of wonders.

The Other Lady

To share

Thoughts, passion

Knowledge, beliefs

Views, opinions

To learn,

Books to authors

Science to philosophy

Religion to culture

To discuss,

Fashion or cars

Hobbies or movies

Art or paints

Yapping to arguing

like best friends for life

She's the other lady

in my man's life

My daughter who is 9!

P.S.- Inspired by the dad-daughter bonding, here goes my heart in words. Call it a poem.

Calm Chaos

Dancing in the sky, singing aloud,

Two little fellas, they were a cloud.

Hands clasped, a knot,

every breath kissed, missed not.

Till a monster beckoned,

thunder of thoughts feared.

Heart whispered, in vain

 in the ears of the brain,

Stop.

Hold tight,

Storm awaited, caught sight.

Yet, happy clouds strayed, in turmoil,

they showered down beneath, on thirsty soil,

their bones broken, by stormy wrestler,

they withered, like a tiny frisky flower.

Lover clouds no more,

Killed by welcome rain, human adore,

Alas, clouds that forgot to whisper a good bye

to one another,

Bid good bye to their existence, sigh!

--------------

CHEERS,

SUSH

Her Dare and Scare

Here is a true incident when my heart ached.

Here is one girl so vulnerable. She carries no chilly powder, she knows no martial art, but she hides at a shadow of a man! She fled like that deer who spotted the lion in the shrub when my better half approached her for a picture with a camera and some pocket-money to offer her and her little sibling. Upon my request for an explanation with a hug, she weeps , weeps about her woes, about her chores, and how she is supposed to stay away from "any man!"


Her House she guards. A sibling in her arms.

A kitchen awaits her.There's a dad who hates her,

A mother the breadwinner.

A big money of mine did no magic, while,

A big hug of mine made her smile.

Life for her is a workshop,

joy a mystery, love a mock-shop.

She breathes, eats, works, sleeps.

A living human body, sometimes weeps.

She's another "Girl" deprived of respect, freedom. love.

For shes considered a, burden a bane?



Her voice has no weight. Her life has none too. Because the world told her "Sorry, You are a Girl"? 



With the growing reports of crime called rape in India it can not be concluded this crime increased now. It existed in this men ruled society always. Today it is the media that brings it in limelight and at times blows it off too.

Stop rapes in turn only points at respect that woman and give her the freedom of life.

Labyrinth of Anguish

http://adda.at/Spicy117

This is an ode to the countless "women" who are physically exploited and to those female infants who were cursed/killed/abandoned for they were born with female hormones.

The bearer of progeny,

She is

Pacifies a man's existence

Personifies love.

A bubble of life her seat,

Stretched hands, quench of love,

She was to soar.

Expecting eyes, looks of hope, she wore.

Wading in flood of hatred,

Venom of dejection poked,

Hurled stones of dislike at,

Pricked thorns of curses,

Anguish revoked?

Sheer agony, yet,

Flee to where?

Earth her Bosom,

Life her breath,

Turmoil in mind

Labyrinth of anguish,

Alas, She has just one wish.



Girl a hatred?

Woman a material piece?

"I am the Woman,

Give me my respect"

Free me of this Labyrinth of Anguish

---------------------------------------

I am Love

Super Woman and Super Weather

Image Courtesy: Google.

It is news all over in media about Baby Afreen's brutal death. After writing my article on "Girl Child's Agony" last month which generalized the cursed disease of "boy-worship" in India this news came in like a dirty example. Own father has been worst than an animal to harm his own infant daughter to death for the reason of her being born female.

So we prove each day how exploited is the freedom offered to the citizen of democratic country  We have a freedom of action to such an devilish extent?

Every citizen is expected to have the head balanced on the shoulders. An incident like this is awaited to happen again for "law" and capital punishment to be discussed against such devils? There was never love. Now law will be discussed  again till hope not another repeating dirty incident crops up and flares up agitation amongst the common man. 

It's appearing like a fad here that a girl child has been treated so inhumanly and tortured to the this extent that a woman loses a faith on herself to feel depressed of herself being another woman in this very country that  she so much loves.

Meri desh ki dharthi.............kya rang dikhayee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Super woman you are" came in a huge package of complement for me [read him here]. Ask him why?. Let me take the privilege of explaining that too, because I accept this as a honest compliment from my intellectual friend who is boy in may be late 20's but with ideas that could rule. Being a mother, a wife, a working woman, writing, plus doing post gradation course at this phase/age of life  is what seems like tough balancing act; his honest compliment sprung into me like Spirulina and this jet of a post shot out of my mind in a zoom. Now was this enough as a super woman ?  A clapper-clawed superwoman flying all over spying on the devils like the "boy baby-worshipers" ; perhaps I would give an attempt trying out my hands on them. If that were the "heroic" deeds that we all watch in movies when there is no law in aid to such hapless situation.

Would my voice ever echo to the deadliest corners of the devil minds of the boy-worshiper's in any nook of India?  Well, if not, attest this post should do some prompting.

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/baby-afreens-death-a-murder-child-rights-panel/247763-3.html

I/we can react, revolt and write! Alas, cant change things.  Though could we not spread love and smile as a tiny attempt? How different is each one of us? And what is the best that we are offering our society from within our best? At least a smile per day on your neighbour's face?

How different are we to our progeny? The same old mother "you better listen to me or you will...." OR was it easier if you listened perhaps to your child who tells you that he/she wants to find a good moral out of any story he/she reads and not just reads the ready made moral story books? Count me in here. I did listen and it was worth.

Such love, moral, that inculcates socio-ethical decency as part of education for a human.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Superwoman wants to actually sign off: Ya there are many social issues that can be discussed.

Turning onto the super weather of the past few months, bizarre Doha winter is not something to miss out. 

Nice winter of Doha tuned into a queer naughty winter by March. Doha air started cooling down by October, to a cold November and thereby the cozy winter has been casting its spell luring  Gulfi's to yearn for this season of all. Just as it seemed like it was time to wriggle out of snugging huge comforters, get the air conditioners serviced, came the torrent of rains. Well yes torrent was a little too much for the decent rains that this desert sees. Yet sang the tiny pool of water on roads, dripping leaves from trees, dirty cars, wet cats hiding in your garage, or the birds hiding in your balcony, the song of a epic of the era.  Stunning weather of the year award goes to month March-2012 at Doha. After the ironic 2020 Olympics cream award to Qatar things seriously seemed to churn into strange out here. Rain God apparently heard all the prayers and showered some more sympathy drops this year onto the robots dwelling in this desert. I specifically relate this life to a robots for the deadly reason of absenteeism of a "good" social life that we otherwise cherish from motherland.

Meri desh ki dharthi....

Onset of Doha summer sings hot hot hot.........



Now signs off Sushma

Cheers.

Love the lady in blue and Mantra of Marriage

"She came in blue salwar kurtha, matching accessories top to bottom, from ear rings,sandals,bag to "mathe ki bi bindhi". 

No ...no no said my mind but not the eyes. Could not stop looking at her killer looks. Looked like a fairy walking down from the blue strip of the rainbow straight on the blue carpet and towards me........".

This was the chanting of his adrenaline thumping  he felt as he watched the girl in blue who never left any opportunity for an encounter with him. It seems she was in love with him. College days and teenage love! His constant ignorance towards her made her only more stubborn. Following him to bus stops and college entrance grew into routines.

Ultimately world toppled for him. Repeated hatred turned into love. Repeated actions had their magical influence and he started liking her.   Her appealing tantrums had cast the spell, dare any guy resist when a girl has her stubborn strategies fully focused. He started liking her........Only to remain in his heart and never revealed to her in the three years of college. 

Excuse me, this wasn't the theme of a bolly wood movie with SRK and Kajol. These are the woes of my eligible bachelor friend and his family has lined up profiles and pictures of prospective girls for him. Yes what an pity, he will go through the popular Indian ceremony of "seeing the girl".

Scene 1. The girl has her checklist approved  by her parents and also a to do list.  Alphabetically sorted in Microsoft and printed in colour. The prospective groom  is in gulf. NRI. Means money. So the girl better put up her best to catch the prey.

Scene2. My boy cant wait for his chance to find one "beautiful wife" for himself. And he has already started his dieting and cut downs on caffeine and teas to manage the paunch lest one fair beautiful girl notices the wrong thing and paunch turns out to be the spoil sport. Has done his full homework for the forth coming adventure called marriage.

                  courtesy Google image

Well well well, my point is not just about his selecting a bride. Is today still the day where traditions rule the times and beat the hearts call? What if the blue girl was right for her. What if they really fell in love and found right partners in them? 

Traditional ceremonies are so very interesting and the best part is the variety of food laid out for you.

What raises a call and rings the alarm is:

1. Will you spend few hours or few meetings and decide this is the girl for you?

2.  A small question air round can decide your fate?

3. "Will you cook, stay at home, do my house" questions from the boy and "will you take me around the world, come home early from office" questions from girl is enough?

There is no x-step rules for happy married life. Neither is there a mantra to be patented. Blissful married life is about making your own mantra for each situation throughout the married life, to adhere to and compel your mind and heart towards winning each others heart over any ego's and making life easy.

My personal Mantra for a blissful married life would be:

1.You want to be independent? Remember your spouse wants to be too. Space to think generates more love.

2. Both need to talk, but when the heat in matter glows, one of you talk, so things aren't blown out. Temper is common, but at one time only one is allowed to show it!

3. Dislike something, never mind but only for your partner you can manage to like it for a while. You need not like the action or thing, but you love your spouse, so.

4. Raking mistakes of past repeatedly can aggravate present relations. Best forbidden.

5. Never bring the in-laws/relatives or even children for that matter, in your disagreements.

List can be elaborated to endless.



What about the path of the long future where in up-teem personal compromises need to be ensured. These compromises are like bitter pills that make your life healthier .



Love and let love......



Cheers,

Sush

You Have to Go

Goodbyes are not forever. Goodbyes are not the end.

They simply mean I'll miss you, Until we meet again

Its absolutely time I reminded myself this popular quote as a dear friend's family departs from Doha in couple of Days. We were dismayed upon learning this news. Though the real fact so hits hard teaching us how we go with the flow in life and how we ever cannot simply get so attached to someone whom you will dare not feel like departing with?

The interesting part about the beginning of our journey together owes to our  "cloth hanger shopping". Uhh, we[me and Hubby-H] were in deep discussion as to what kind of hangers will suit out new closets. We had just moved into Doha. Felt an figure moved closer to me and H smiling suddenly at an stranger. "Hi, I am new to Doha, heard you speaking konkani and couldn't stop by to say hello". That was the introduction the stranger threw at us, and we were all overjoyed. That introduction led to endless chats. Finding friends hailing from your native, speaking your mother tongue is nevertheless a welcome sign to any"body".

We awaited his family to fly from Mumbai. My daughter found a friend of  her age too. The winter evening and our first family get together in my dining hall is fresh in my memory. As for me I had discovered someone who drew so close to heart with the waves of friendship that today as I look back down the memory lane - I thank him, the sounds of his words emanating from pictures in my mind's eyes. For had he decided not to talk, I  assume there were very faint chances I would have met Chandrika who is so dear to me today.

We had found a family away from family as we lived in this desert away from dear and near ones.

4+ years have rolled over since those times leaving heavy impressions on our cherished memories. We have shared our joys. sorrows, countless seconds of feelings and views, our lives. Our children found a companion in each others soul. Yes, all ingredients of the special friendship are all there.

Huh, when the geographical separation seems so tough to handle, it is this post that makes me feel 1% lighter today.

My cognitive senses tell me the notion of friendship to be one hard nut to crack. I mean, much has been said about what makes one a "great, good, best,......x,y,z" friend. 

Ask me. I say I don't have any words to quote on this!. Simply an feeling it is. If you have experienced, yes that is the way.

I have very much experienced. Absolutely. Have been lucky to have some handful of 'friends" [ I don't add any adjective with it].

Perhaps I could not stop if I started penning my mind on this notion. On second thought I would definitely declare one line. Some spiritual inspirations/ beliefs that comes in to you when you feel the friend who trust in you and accepts just as you are is definitely friendship.

Cheers,

Sush