GIRLS!

I am no feminist. But just to supplement to my posts on girl power, here is something I came across a while back.Sweet & simple.

♥ Girl... ♥

From the day one..

she becomes apple of her father’s eyes…

Her silent tears do wonders..

and Dad agrees to do on what he said a big 'No' earlier..! 

She can walk in style all day long without lookng tired..

She burns her hand....while cooking for u...but never complains...

She can cry all night, but the next morning when her eyes are red..

its just because mascara hit her eyes.. 

She Likes to be called "Angel" or "Princess" or "Baby"… 

She will drop a lot of hints to tell you that she Loves you

But she won’t come say it directly..

When a guy says something really sentimental,

She will remember it forever..

When a girl cooks for you.. You know..?

You mean a lot to her..

She feels Honoured.. when You ask her Advice..

She feels Shy.. when you look at her Silently..

She feels Protective when she is dependent on you.. 

She is expected to seal her Words …

to crush her emotions… to stop her tears..

and to have a big smile on her face.. no matter how hard she is crying inside..

She is one.. who is treated as a Princess in her Parent's House,

when she gets Married.. She leaves every thing behind..

her Parents, their Love.. her Room..

she adopts your family Values.. even your family name..

She calls ur mother "Mum"... and ur father "Dad"

The fact that I am alive today in spite of the shambles, is the proof that I have gotten stronger  

Empowerment

Recently a close friend had sent me a text which went like this, “I now understand what women empowerment is all about. A person like you (brought up abroad, educated, with experiences outside her own state) cannot do something that she likes because of society. I am lucky to be a man! ”

His frankness is commendable but I could not help wondering if I was really unlucky. Being a woman isn’t easy (at least from where I come from) in any way. Every day is a battle for some respect and respect isn’t something you can force out of anybody. You get judged for everything you do/say/wear and you are charged guilty for life simply because you live life the way you want it. One thing I truly appreciate is their wild creative imagination (thanks to the soap operas) to tailor gossips & rumors with the snap of their fingers and continue on shamelessly in spinning their webs to their utmost delight. And sadly here, it’s the women themselves who make your life a living hell unlike the male counterparts.

People are a total scam if they can’t get their attitudes right.

Impressions

Off late I have turned into a devotee of the works by Robin Sharma. The obsession would perhaps be due to the fact that there are very few self-help literature works to which I can relate to. It takes more than just reading philosophy and deciding to tweak a makeover.

So while listening to one of his audio features, there was a mention of an African – American woman named Oziola McCarthy. She passed away at the age of 91 after spending her entire life washing other people’s dirty laundry. This woman grew up in wretched poverty and faced one tragedy after another during the course of her life. She never left home except to buy groceries and to visit the church. She remained a spinster all her life, although when she was 87 she did tell her best friend that she was still looking out for a good man. And yet when this woman passed away, she had been honored by world leaders and even received an honorary doctorate from Harvard University.

So what was so special about her? Here’s her story. 

As a young woman, she used to deposit every dime and nickel that she received on washing other people’s clothes at a local bank. This went on for days, weeks, months, years and decades until one day when she was 87 and paid a visit to the bank. 

The man behind the counter greeted her and asked her, “Oziola, do you have any idea how much money you have accumulated into your account?” She said, “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” 

He replied, “You have accumulated over one quarter of a million dollars. What do you want me to do with it?” Now Oziola was a simple woman and didn’t understand how much money that was, so here is what the man behind the counter did. He put across ten coins on the counter and said, “These ten coins represent your money. Tell me what I should do with it.” She pointed at the first coin and said, “I would like to give that to the church” and pointed at the next three coins and said, “I would like to give these to my nieces, nephews and cousins because I love them so much. As for the other six coins, I have something very special in mind.”         

One month later a local university received a cheque from her for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars with a handwritten note attached to it which read: I would like you to set up a scholarship for poor African-American students who still know how to dream.

This act of humanity turned around heads all around the world. Later when she was asked what her dream was, she replied, “I so dearly wish to see the first recipient of my scholarship on the graduation stage before I pass away. But that probably is not going to happen because of my advanced age.” And yet one month before she died, the first recipient of her scholarship did walk across the platform. After she passed away, the student was tracked down for his comments. He said, “Heaven couldn’t have gotten a better angel. She was an inspiration, a blessing and a treasure to the world.”   

Courtesy: Sharma Leadership International

My bed of roses

Past few months have been quite uneventful which includes my lazing over to update this space. I have been fixating myself into deep reading and I have finished over four books in two weeks (a personal record). Other than that I have been working over the still progressing, head spinning, life churning decisions of mine. And here is how a typical thought runs on its own winding over the nerves in my head.

"MBA! Time for me to do a PG." (Yaaawn).

"But which college do I choose? Screw those sinister exams. CAT, MAT, RAT, SNAP, CRAP, FMS, JMET, blah, blah, blah! Hmmmmmmmmm."

"Wait-a-minute, should I go for this?" (Fingers playing with my hair)

"I should definitely revive my job hunting strategies for now – getting back to books is scary and I want to be done with exams forever! Somebody banish them!"

"But I ain’t gonna go back to those scrawny techie jobs; remember you swore it to yourself the last time!"

"But then what is the other better option???" (Biting the corners of my mouth)

Imaginations on the roll-day dreaming; whatever it’s called

SNAP! "No seriously! What should I do???"

Now I think of a million ways to escape the next train of thoughts that’s on its way

Nature’s call, gotta run / Raid the fridge / Got to finish this book / Nap time! / Vigorously starts typing texts over the phone / Spiteful urge to irritate someone in the house      

Oh yes, and those taunting neighbors and relatives (relatively unknown to me) who can’t just wait to get me married off.

I would say, “You people ain’t getting rid off me that quick.”

They would flabbergast, “OMG!!! You do have someone in your life, don’t you? Do your parents know? Who is the guy? What about religion and caste? OMGGGGG!!!! ”

They never fail to render me speechless.

I would shoot back, “Now when did I say that?????”

They would then begin with their mantras on life (in Lola Kutty style) “All girls are like that now. They introduce and decide everything on their own caring the least of what parents think. We know you are not like that but you shouldn’t keep your parents waiting. Now be a good girl and no fooling around. We will help you find some good desi boys who can fly you to I-Am-Erica. We just want to see you happily married off before we go to our graves.”

I would think “Why don’t I just dig them up for you myself right now!” “#!/= @&^?%*!$~#”

I smile back at them politely like a doll wishing I could say a lot more but sadly goes unsaid.

2 decades and 4 years

Date: June 1^st, 1986

Time: 1:00 am

The day when the world celebrates the international children’s day was a perfect opening to my arrival. Mom says that I was of no trouble at all and that she actually enjoyed her time at the hospital munching on jell-o, yogurt and chicken.

Date: June 1st, 2010

Time: 10:15 am

Here I am today making a soft and quite landing on 24. There goes another year of my life. Yes, I am getting old. Can’t help sighing over how quick the years roll by with the wink of an eye. I wonder if I am ‘old enough’ to start scanning my face for wrinkles or worry over when that nasty grey is going to sprout over some unknown corner of my head or if I should get my memories regularly checked, in case they are beginning to fade. Okay! I am going overboard but the fact is it gets quite uneasy going through this day as the years go by. Getting old sucks and I find solace in scourging adulthood on the heaping responsibilities that fall upon endlessly (sometimes out of nowhere) making life stagnant, timeless and ‘un-awesome’. I love the independence and so cherish for more but running the errands are tough. I don’t deny that being an adult is fun but it gradually wears out with age and finally one decides to ‘settle down somewhere with that someone’ and then the routine starts running on its own as though time has jinxed itself. Baah!

Just a funny memory made me smile right now. I was at kindergarten and it was my birthday; the only day I wouldn’t have to wear those pinafores. So, I got chocolates for everyone and as per tradition, had to stand up front listening to friends sing to me. I remember going through the dilemma (yes, at such young age) if I should sing along with them. It was my first time under the spotlight and I couldn't remember other kids singing on their D-days since I had my eyes locked on their chocolate boxes and lips desperately trying to sync in with the others. Eventually I made up my mind and started to sing! Funny part is no body found it odd. Thank God those kids weren’t so bright then unlike now.            

            

Anyway it’s been two decades and four years here. Truly a pleasure in a million ways. It’s Happy Birthday to me! “Wink!”

The Buck Stops Here

The sad state of affairs with the IPL was something that was expected to happen sooner or later. Any person would ponder to look on to the other side of entertainment and realize the huge amounts of bucks flying around when our own governments are going nuts on how to shelf down the food prices. Not only has there been a betrayal of public trust but also how corruption was written all over and no one recognized those signs.

Enough has been said on the IPL issue but take a step back and look onto some of its positive side, something which I happen to read lately. Last year’s IPL in South Africa gave in a huge boost to its economy during the bad times along with the good work of promoting the country’s tourism and infrastructure. Schools in each of the host cities where given scholarships and other opportunities which uplifted and brought back lost hopes to the students. The games then were a fine example of entertainment through cricket and community recognition as a social cause.

Unsurprisingly when IPL came to India, none of this even happened. Because everything here has to be tagged in with glamour, Bollywood, parties, ego clashes, cheer girls and Page3. Oh! And yes the big bucks on the roll. Cricket is no more a game. It’s another one of those emerging businesses where you embroil to make ‘easy money’.

Source: The Hindu