May this Festival of Lights shower much happiness, joy and splendour on all of you!
Have a lot of good food, sweets and precious moments with your loved ones as we celebrate the glorious Festival of Lights around the World!
Yay!!!!
Image Taken From: Kelley Bozarth. Like her work? Check out kelleydealphotography.com
I’ve been through at least 20 trees over the weekend by way of facial tissues -_-
I am utterly embarrassed and seriously disappointed with my recycling stance over the past forty eight hours but it was either that or my family wading through an ocean of nasal secretion I would rather not get into courtesy the flu.
Now that I have adequately grossed each and everyone of my followers out, I apologise profusely.
See you around guys and have I mentioned I am sorry for the mental picture. Clearly imagination can have its bad side as well.
1 – Refuse to open my eyes until at least after 12 hours of sleep – check
2 – Ample amount of Junk Food to stuff my face with – check
3 – Hazardous Repellent Spray for any “healthy” foods like fruit and vegetables – check
4 – Slippers for frolicking in the sand – check
5 – Sunscreen for getting MORE of a tan at Bondi Beach – check
6 – Hairbrush to rip out the knots as a result of sea slash windswept hair – check
6 – Leaving my brain at home the entire weekend. Following the analysis of my lack of counting skills at numbering this checklist -Yeah baby, yeah! CHECK!!!
Have a spectacular weekend my peeps 🙂
Mothers are amazing, aren’t they? Unsolvable phenomenon’s if you ask me. How else could anyone possibly ever explain the unconditional love, the unrelenting support, the fierce need to protect no matter how old you get, the doe eyed adoration for you even when you couldn’t conceivably (or inconceivably) get any more irritating or incessantly demanding or annoying or downright rude.
It’s my mama’s birthday today and like all kids on this planet, I have the best-est mum anywhere in the solar system, earth bound or intergalactic. I have witnessed my mother seriously working her skin off trying to be the best role model out there and man did she deliver.
In India we have a saying – that God gifts every child with a Mother because he couldn’t be there for each one of us physically so he gave us someone in his image and my Mum is definitely my Higher Power. I don’t think there is anyone else on this universe (parallel ones included) I frustrate more (and I know it when I’m shamelessly doing it), torment more, stress more and generally poke and prod more than my mama … and what did she do to deserve it? Well give birth to me of course, she should have known better 😀
Seriously though, what did she get for it? Not much I guess, but I do know that my very definition of everything and anything good and solid in this lifetime begins with just a whiff, a tinkling on the edges of my cranium, a gentle nudge deep within the etched compositions of my soul of my mother. The values of right over wrong, my moral compass, my undying belief that in the end – good will prevail over evil, that working hard DOES get you to the finish line no matter how impossible and stupidly childish the notion seems at the moment and most imperatively, that little voice that plays in my heart surging its way to my head that uncompromisingly reminds me that everything is going to be okay is all my mama.
The obstinate power I find hidden deep within myself when I ceaselessly tell myself every morning that “I am invincible and that my dreams are going to be reality” is courtesy my mum.
My very definition of love is my mum. Mothers are truly the greatest gifts any one of us are ever going to receive. All the money, fame, designer clothes, falsified compliments this world will give you on your travels, everything you may think is good but is just another façade for what is the cruel, mocking way of society will never compare to the gift so many of us choose not to see even though it’s right in front of our eyes, what we often take for granted – our mothers.
Who else would still claim your atrocious kindergarten overused art piece of your hands dripping in red and blue paint is a masterpiece even when you’re old enough to know better? Most importantly, who else could tell you that and still make you believe it was true – that you are the brightest, most intelligent, most perfect, most wonderful living thing out there?
Who else can still make you feel warm and fuzzy after all these years, like you’re the safest with a simple brushing of your cheek with her finger or a warm caress that speaks so much louder than the words “I love you”? No one, that’s who.
To my mama – Have the best birthday ever and even though I don’t think I say this enough, I love you more than existence itself, because well, you are my reason, my purpose, my life, my soul. I love you so much more than all the beautiful words in the world I could ever create or muster up to string along together so instead, all I say is that I only wish to be a glimmer of your image in an effort to be some sort of poor tribute to everything you are!
xoxo Chotu & Motu xoxo
Whenever I think back to all the great times I have had, I often realise that those memorable experiences involved no monetary funds, or flashy, expensive add-ons. In fact, all my “everything is perfect right now” moments included a combination of those I love, happy, positive thoughts and the time to enjoy the World around me.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not saying that money isn’t important but what I am saying is that it is useless without the “real” raw ingredients to your recipe towards happiness.
Here’s to wishing all of you true glorious happiness! I hope you have your raw ingredients packed up tight to take along with you on this weekend! ❤ ❤ ❤
Though I have no idea why I was nominated for this award by a very suave fellow blogger (who I am extremely grateful to for nominating me), Keep Picturing, I learnt fairly early on in life to run long and hard in the opposite direction (metaphorically and literally) when fortune strikes so … here’s me running!
Apparently, as a recipient of this lovely award, I have to bore you with seven facts about my semi interesting self (no modesty/sarcasm intended), so here goes …
1. My imaginary worlds are very real to me; they have been since they started infecting me at about six. Though bystanders looked at me with less suspicious disdain at six, their snickering and slightly fearful expressions did nothing to help me in masking my gleeful squeals of delight at what was unravelling in my mind in “real life” as I grew up – which isn’t very helpful in the dating world, but that’s another story.
2. There isn’t much that can rile me but when it does, Puff the Magic Dragon’s nostrils has nothing on the smoke that pours out of my ears when I’m seriously annoyed. I stand by the motto of live and let live, but I can’t stand bullying (predominantly because I have been severely bludgeoned by it throughout school), unfair treatment of those who have next to no voice, any discriminating behaviour that tends to end with an infamous “ism”, like racism, sexism, ageism, annoying-ism (or did I make that last one up?) and generally opening your yap when you have nothing worthwhile or nice to say. Don’t get me wrong, I am a strong advocate for freedom of speech, I just wish that the phrase had the words “socially responsible” latched on at the beginning of that statement.
3. I have been told that I am one of the best story re-tellers out there! This has nothing to do with any amazing abilities of capturing moments eloquently, or mysteriously channelling characters, but rather because if you’ve missed a television show or a movie I can make an one hour excerpt go on for double the time! I will recount everything, from the exact clothes people in the background were wearing, to when additional scenic music was playing along with the time and feelings the director (in my mind) was attempting to evoke, to meticulous dialogue parroting – the lot. Which reminds me, NO one has requested a movie/TV rendition from me lately – hmm, not sure why. I’ll have to ask around!
4. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is part and parcel of many aspects in my life – from cleanliness, fitness, love, writing, reading, working, everything really. Though I am trying to work on it, it was only a few days ago that it dawned upon me that I was getting OCD about relaxing! I will unfortunately stress about everything, even stressing. However, I am trying to work on it, without being OCD about it. I’ll let you know how that goes.
5. I am an absolute sucker for ethical behaviour, morals, socialism and humanity. I find a human being with these values and I am like a doe eyed puppy dog forever, basically I’m hooked for life. Nothing impresses me more and I’m going to be in love with you for the rest of time. Like stalker-ish in love that is most likely going to surpass one lifetime. Sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with it.
6. Loyalty is a MASSIVE advantage/disadvantage (depending on the circumstance I find myself embroiled in at any particular time) when it comes to my friends/family. My trust is as strong as The Great Wall of China basically. Anyone can come to me at any point in time and tell me you’re the worst thing to grace the planet since Hitler came and went but I won’t believe a word of it, unless you tell me right to my face. Even if I see you in a compromising position, I’m going to ask you straight out, but once my trust is broken, that’s it. There is NO going back. Ever. I don’t care what happens, you could be writing your truthful apology in your blood and it’s going to have no effect on me. Okay, maybe that’s pushing it. I’m going to feel queasy, take you to the hospital, send you an obligatory Get Well Soon card and then never see your face again.
7. The MOST important thing to me in my life is family. I mean, if there is anything in this World I wouldn’t think twice about laying my life on the line for, it’s for those I love. When I love you, I ADORE you – and I mean suffocatingly, woefully, painfully, torturously, obsessively, love you. However, I am slightly apprehensive of people considering this fact as a rip off from number 6 so as a bonus, I’ll admit to being unashamedly, fiercely nationalistic. Patriotism for my India is very obvious to anyone who gets to know me, even slightly. My grandfather was a Freedom Fighter against the British during the invasion, so in true spirit to the popular saying, the apple definitely doesn’t fall very far from the tree at all.
…And there you have it. Hey! Wake up, stop snoring … please 😉
Now for number 4 of the elusive rule book (below), I am going to try and nominate 15 other bloggers but unfortunately the ones I know are far too busy as celebrities in their own rights to do this … but I’ll try anyway. For those of my readers who wish to do this, consider yourself honourably invited! 😀
The Risqué Rule Book:
1. You must thank the person who nominated you and include a link to their blog – Check. Thank you once again!
2. You must list the rules and display the award – Check.
3. You must list 7 facts about yourself – Check
4. You must nominate 15 other bloggers and comment on 1 of their posts to let them know they’ve been nominated – In Progress
Thanks to Christy’s wonderful French skills, I am feeling inspired, so … Au revoir mes cheries 🙂
Like most girls, I don’t just love or adore my Daddy, I can’t imagine existing without him.
There is no one in my life whose opinion matters more; no one else whose words have more of a profound effect on me and no other’s approval I crave for more.
My dad and I are like two opposite ends of a stick, like chalk and cheese, like the Coyote and the Roadrunner! In the end though, everyone knew that Tom and Jerry would be incomplete without one another, dull and mundane, suicidal most of the time, and the “soul of the party” – my father and I are exactly the same.
My Baba constantly complains that the thorn in his side is that I never write these long, loving letters to him, but the truth is that my father is a “feeler” rather than a “talker”. I will often find him teary eyed after listening to some injustice happening a country away (in fact, it’s a long running joke in our house, often shamefully spearheaded by my sister or myself,) but catch him doing it, and he embarrassedly rubs his eyes free of the salty substance in an instance. Why? I often ponder, and I think the reason is that for as long as I can remember, my dad has been the prankster. Most of my traumatic high school, university and even work moments have embryonically taken shape via my father – from his mortifying Pavarotti inspired opera singing in the middle of my High school car park, to his incessant requirement to call me by my nickname Motu (which means fat in my language) in the middle of an all Indian boys conglomerate, to yelling our names within the midst of a live audience while we are acting in the school play! There are so many more, trust me.
The truth is, my Baba is the one we remember as being the cool one, the Go to guy when we were attempting unsuccessfully to organise a peaceful protest to convince mum to let us take the day off school, the one who would creepily shake the car like something out of I know what you did last summer while we waited in the dark for mum (and dad supposedly) to return from parent teacher nights (only to find out later that he’d left mum in the lurk while pretending he had to relieve his bladder and never returning because he was bored!), to refusing to take our call collects while we waited for him to pick us up because he was around the corner anyway!
My daddy is the fun, omnipresent, positive one but he is also the most humble, spine chillingly open minded one. We will often be at loggerheads because I can’t believe he thinks a certain way about an issue on hand, but in my soul, I know the reason I think the way I do is because my parents have imparted with me the power to think about the World around me, and have taught me that it’s okay to question it, in fact it’s imperative. My Baba is a feminist, a socialist, a humanitarian and no one else’s opinion on my feats in life matters more. My dad is one out of the three males who have continually inspired me to never turn my back on my passion to write, and when it comes down to it, is my epitome of the perfect example of the ideal soul mate in life.
My Baba is everything to me and deep down in my soul, I know that no matter what man comes into my life, no one is truly ever going to compare to my Daddy, he may get close, but never completely as great as him.
So to my dearest Babi, this is to prove that once and for all, we do love you more than what you do 🙂 And that I have finally put pen on paper (or at least keyboard to computer screen) to express 1/gazillion of the love and adoration we feel for you, because what we feel is far too deep to document and can only be felt in the corners and crevices of our souls.
Happy Birthday to the kindest, most gentlest, most selfless, most giving, most funniest, most positive, most AMAZING father in the whole entire universe.
We love you more than anything anyone’s imaginations or real life could ever muster up.
Only Your Chotu & Motu ❤ ❤ ❤
Even though today isn’t my birthday, whenever this day comes around, I feel like I’m the one who is receiving the best gift there is anywhere and everywhere!
My sister was born today and there isn’t one moment where I’m not grateful to my parents for giving me her. There is no one else on the world who I would rather spend time with, talk to, hug, laugh with, fight with … basically love, then Mayunka.
I believe we have a different variety of soul mates, and my adorable sister is definitely my main one. We’re both such inseparable anomalies as we couldn’t be more different, but more similar at the same time. Our personalities are like chalk and cheese – I’m a thinker, she’s the yapper, I’m the quiet one, she’s the one that rocks a party, I blend into the background, she’s a head turner, I’m the shy one, she’s the flamboyant one, I write my thoughts, she is outspoken … the list goes on really. In the end however, we agree on all the things that matter, the politics, what humanity is about, morality, the importance of loyalty and so much more.
Mayunka is my rock. The reason for my sanity, why I don’t slit my wrists half the time – the one that makes me see the rainbow on the horizon when darkness threatens to overpower me, my light at the end of the dark tunnel when I am about to succumb to all the nonsensical turmoil, my lifeline when I need one most.
My confidant, my secret keeper, my inspiration, most importantly one of the three reasons I house for continuing to live and exist.
People will often tell you money, food, shelter, clothing, the latest fashion accessories make life liveable but my sister makes life enjoyably worth it.
So this is to my best friend ever. I pray you’re my sister in every life time and I love you so much more than words or anything but raw emotion could express.
Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear MAYUNKA!!! Happy Birthday to you!!! xoxo
Hello my lovely fellow blog enthusiasts!
Hope you are all wonderful and well. I just got back from our amazingly spectacular interstate escapade with my gorgeous sis Mayunka and we had the time of our lives!
We went to see the great night show of the Italian Masterpieces Art Exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria which was awe-inspiringly jaw dropping, being the lucky few to have ever witnessed these great masterpieces in the World only made the entire event that more tantalising!
Then we had the shopping adventures that were naturally, a focal point of our whole trip, but by far, the best time we had together was jogging along Melbourne’s famous Yarra River, we definitely looked like locals then :p
Shared some great food at restaurants that were open till 3am the next morning and walked till our feet screamed in agony at being tortured as unfairly as they were. Had some fresh, hot donuts & crepes at one of the many popular street food stalls and generally laughed and frolicked like there was no tomorrow – exactly the way a holiday should be, wouldn’t you agree?
Anyway, it’s good to be home, as always! Looking forward to reading some of your wonderful posts I have missed over the last couple of days, See you around 🙂
A lot has happened in the World this week, as it does every week.
We’ve had a Soccer World Cup finish, Australian Swim Legend Ian Thorpe has come out as being gay, a few choice celebrities (no names being mentioned) have gone around doing what they do best, being social misfits and poor examples of role models for those who tinker on their seats edges wondering what their next moves are going to be, and something else I quite can’t recall. It’s on the tip of my tongue, so I’m guessing it’s semi important?
Oh that’s right, that little pesky thing the World is snappily entitling The Gaza Strip. Maybe not as catchy as Brangelina, but then again, it isn’t quite as important either, is it?
I mean how could an entire nation of people in devastating upheaval and pain, a clear brazen example of genocide occurring under our very noses in the twenty first century, a blatant demolishing of the very concept of human rights, truly compare to whether Germany actually deserved to take home the inanimate Gold Cup, the gender Ian Thorpe chooses to spend his private life and nights with, and whether Justin Bieber’s crotch shot was a misguided PR stunt? The answer is simple, it can’t.
It’s not bedazzling enough for all of us, sitting here comfortably in our arm chairs in our own little private havens with our fingers securely brushing our remote controls ready to tap the buttons lightly to change the channel every time a haunting image of what’s occurring in the Middle East has the audacity to interrupt our lives and assault our screens. I mean, how dare they? It’s happening a world away, why should I care?
I’m not here to make a statement on who’s right or wrong in this war occurring on the same planet we all share, but what I am incensed about is our extreme powers of “de-sensitsation”.
Who’s right or wrong is hardly significant really, what does matter though is the mammoth loss of life that the rest of us couldn’t care less about. I am met with a lot of anger and opposing comments every time I dare to broach this subject, you know the kind – scathing hate like “Why should we interfere?”, “They don’t want us to get involved”, “It’s their problem, not mine”, “If they’re too stupid to understand, that’s their fault”, and the undulating list rolls on.
Hailing from a nation that prides itself on never having invaded another’s home, I couldn’t agree more. The rest of us shouldn’t interfere, because the message that gives is that we don’t think you’re civilised enough to deal with this problem on your own, but how does that justify turning a blind eye to the pain and misery of our fellow brothers and sisters?
How does understanding, making our children aware of what seething animosity results in so that they learn that war and inflicting torture on one another is not the solution, not make this world and our conjoined futures better? How does not teaching one another that no matter what our creed, caste, and colour, that we share our basic human emotions of grief, agony and turmoil at losing a father, a mother, a brother, or sister and our children, not be an absolutely imperative lesson to study for all of us?
Is the media to blame? I think this is far too simplistic and just another brazen example of ‘passing the buck’, shifting responsibility onto someone else humans so easily partake in to feel better. As hungry devourers of news, why do the people so often forget that the real power lies firmly enclosed in our palms? The fact that you chose to click on the photograph brazenly displaying one of the Kardashian sister’s blaring bikini clad behind more than the one that excruciatingly portrays a mother’s incomparable desperate desolation at the loss of a child as she clutches her daughter or son’s lifeless, dismembered body to her bosom, begging for it all to stop while she cradles them both into oblivion, dictates what the media gives you.
It’s time we take a little bit of time out of our busy reality television watching schedules and participate in a little reality check of our own. Try and think about how it would feel to be in the middle of that tumultuous turbulence and what you’d experience if you truly believed you were all alone and that no one else cared enough to think, even in fleeting, about how your life was worthless.
This world is never going to improve if we don’t stop for a moment and think “what am I doing to make this better?” Make your voices heard people, the powerful in our society don’t own half as much as you believe they do and they know it. They’re just waiting for you to fight for your basic human right to tell them that.
MP Sharma 