Changing to a New Self

Everyday as she looked into the mirror she saw a fat girl looking back. She would open her closet and look forlornly at her old clothes. She did not fit into them anymore; she had outgrown them. She knew this routine. She would be upset for a while, feel guilty for those moments she had snacked on a few Oreos when no one was looking, steer clear from any fried items, junk, fast food; starve, and then helplessly she would get back to holding a bag of namkeen in her hand and stuffing the contents in her mouth. She felt guilty all along! But there was no way she could break out, and this guilt was consuming her daily, slowly. 

She had a close circle of friends who loved and cared for her. Though she had been living out of a hostel, she never felt away from home. She had got to know them at her workplace, and they all had got along famously. They had so many things in common - year of birth, Coldplay, Friends - the TV series, appetite for hot chilli bhajis,Magnum ice cream, and the list could go on. 

When her weight soared up by 8 kilograms, she became a worried girl. She had been on the better side of "healthy" all her life, but never did the number on her weighing scale frighten her. Suddenly the extra kilos all started making sense to her. In the few days she had to stop often to catch her breath when she climbed up the stairs, the frequent foot aches, glum feeling that accompanied her mood swings - all these moments flashed through her mind. She had to take a bold step to save herself. Save herself from ruining her health, body, and mind. She loved her life at present and too much was at stake for her to lose. 

In her heart she knew this was a difficult target for her to achieve, but she also knew how significant it was for her personal development. Her friends encouraged her when she discussed her plan with them. Finally, she enrolled for dance classes, jogged early morning at Natesan Park, religiously completed 12 cycles of Suryanamaskar each day. There were moments when her body cried out in pain, at the sudden exposure to exercise, but somehow she kept going. It had become a battle between the mind and the heart. Eating small portions of food, stretching between hours at work, walking briskly to the bus stop - she tried incorporating exercise in her routine. She prayed silently for it to work. 

2 months later - she weighed herself at the medical room in her office. She gasped out in surprise when she saw the number on the machine. She now weighed 10 kilograms lesser! It was indeed a moment to rejoice and she literally hopped, skipped, and jumped her way out of the room, and announced the happy tidings to her friends.


As most of you might have guessed, this is a non-fictional account. It was a difficult time for me as I always had faced weight issues, but this time the figures were alarming. I soon figured out that change is not always a bad thing. 

Please do check out this amazing video from Housing who also love change!

The Unsent Letter

Dear A,

I apologize for not responding to your letter. As I had told you earlier, all my waking hours were occupied by a project of gargantuan standards which had robbed me off the little social life I had for the past few weeks. Now the project is drawing to its closure, I am having some breathing space and am able to sit down and write a letter in reply to yours.

I did not know where to begin. You see, I was hesitating till the moment I wrote down the first word, and then it all came pouring out of me. Most personal letters are intimate; they act as windows to one's soul and mind. Sometimes when one writes, its such a rush that one leaves behind thoughts of apprehension and just pens down their thoughts in a flow. One forgets to hide, conceal what they would have done naturally. So there it is, my reason. But now that I see I have made substantial progress, allow me go on.

A, it was a delight meeting you last December. People say it is the best month to visit Chennai. I am glad you visited the city at a good time. I say this because the same people complain that it is too hot here, and it doesn't get better. December, according to them is the month when its the least hot.

I enjoyed the walk, back from Spencer Plaza. We talked about quite a few things back then. I found you extremely patient as I went on rambling about my work, the books I had been reading, and what my friends had to say about you. I recall that you were smiling. I would be very much interested to know which part of the conversation did you find amusing. Frankly, I was surprised when you showed interest in my work and even suggested a few solutions to the issue I mentioned. Till date I have not been very successful in having a discussion on this subject except with my friends at work. And when I could talk to you about it, I knew that I had found a friend in you. 

When we first started talking back in June 2013, I did not have much hope for us. My search for my ideal partner was drawing a nil, and I had very low expectations. But you surprised me from the first word. How do I summarize it? We connected on so many aspects - our experiences of growing up in a steel city, love for food, Bengali culture, and movies. I could discuss Gulaal, Coldplay, and Posto in the same breath and be understood. Sigh! It was happiness redefined for me.

I hope you would give me a chance to find some moments where I can bring happiness to your doorstep. It is with this thought that I hope we can continue this correspondence. 

Yours truly,
Meera

This post is a part of IndiSpire, initiative for Indian Bloggers by IndiBlogger. 

Heavy on Salt

"The dal was heavy on salt.", he declared as soon as he walked in to the house. Back from office, he set down the grey and black backpack on the floor, proceeded to sit on the chair lined next to the rickety rack of shoes. It was as if the salt had cast a dry spell on his day and had sucked out all charm out of it. This was of course was unacceptable to Mamoni. 

 

Mamoni frowned and said,"It tasted fine to me." and just like that she questioned Meera, "Beta did you add salt to the dal when you warmed it up this morning?". The question took Meera by surprise. She had been busy typing away the course objectives of the presentation for a POC which was due the next day. All her focus was in the laptop screen; she considered herself fortunate the days she did not have to  be part of such conversations. Today was not going to be one such day.

She looked up from her laptop, puzzlement written all over her face. "Are Biren said the dal was over-salted. Did you add more salt?", Mamoni asked her in a sweet stern voice. Meera looked at her husband for a sign and he looked away. Mumbling to himself, Biren withdrew into the inner room dragging the backpack after him.

Meera jogged her memory back to the morning hours. Today morning she had woken up late by 10 minutes and that had set her routine back. She had taken out the kaddu ki sabji and doled out a portion of it to warm it up for the lunch. Meanwhile she had brushed her teeth, collected the milk packet from the packet, taken out the dal for heating up. But she did not remember adding the salt. "I did not.", Meera replied softly. Mamoni looked at her with a look that accused her of lying. She was a Leo, known to be a fierce woman who reigned over her household, and the kitchen was her domain. She was not going to be found lacking in handling this situation. Just this evening she had told Meera how the begunis she had made on Sunday, were low on salt. "Baki sob thik, noon ta ektu kom chilo", she gave her critique's feedback. 

Meera was disheartened on hearing it. That afternoon, when she was serving the beguni along with hot kichudi, Mamoni had showered praises on her. She declared that the begunis had come out right, crisp and tasty. Biren was beaming with pride. He knew that it was not easy to a good word from Mamoni's mouth. If only he knew what was on Mamoni's mind.

Salt is a key ingredient which is used for adding flavour in many cuisines. One has to be very careful while adding salt. A little more and the food could become unpalatable, a little less and the food could go untouched on the plate. It has to be there in the correct quantity so that one can savour the taste and enjoy the food. Criticism is just like salt, a little more and you can make someone unhappy, doubtful of their abilities; little less and they would be too sure of their skills to even care for improving. Meera mused as she lay on the bed, eyes locked on the fan above, blades following each other in a never ending chase. 

The Original Phenomenal Woman: Maya Angelou

Women live under the illusion that their body dimensions define their identity. They are suffering from an unhealthy body image. There is a tremendous pressure on the youth to conform to the society's image of a healthy human, which for the majority of us is not reality. There is a lot of unhappiness, negativity resulting from the societal rejection which ultimately leads to an identity crisis. I have friends worried about their weight gain, when not sweating it out at the gym and trying out new diet recipes, we look over fashion magazines and fawn over the gorgeous ladies that grace these pages. And every one of them without an exception is a skinny version of us. A recent news item took me back to my Gender Studies class back in 2009. We were studying this poem by Maya Angelou, Phenomenal Woman. After the first reading, i looked around and saw the faces of my friends. Our eyes shone with admiration, amazed at the sheer brilliance of the poem and its idea. We were completely bowled over by its powerful message. It was nothing new, unknown to us. On the contrary, we possessed knowledge of it. The poem celebrates womanhood in its true essence. It celebrates the gender, sexuality, and power that it embodies. It encourages women to discover, embrace, and bask in the glory of their true identity. A woman's identity is the confidence, the attitude with which she takes on Life. She is built with it, and every form of her exudes this power. It is authentic, unique and cannot be bought, faked, or duplicated. Discard the fake ideas, be yourself. Read the poem, be inspired by yourself!

Phenomenal Woman - Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size  

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,  

The stride of my step,  

The curl of my lips.  

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,  

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,  

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.  

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.  

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,  

And the flash of my teeth,  

The swing in my waist,  

And the joy in my feet.  

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered  

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,  

They say they still can’t see.  

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,  

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.  

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.  

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,  

The bend of my hair,  

the palm of my hand,  

The need for my care.  

’Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Phenomenal Woman was first published in 1995. Maya Angelou passed away on 28 May 2014 at the age of 86. She had a difficult childhood, growing up in a U.S.A. which was stricken with race crimes and gender discrimination. She was a brave, strong willed woman who never gave up hope and displayed courage even in the most gravest times. She will forever remain as the original Phenomenal Woman. An inspiration to women across the world.

Dowry - Is that all to Marriage?

Being a quarter-of-a-century old arthropod is difficult, more so if you belong to the female species. And if you have the good chance of being born into an Indian family, then be prepared for a rough ordeal into the world of match making.

If luck has been unfavorable towards you, with regard to love, then count yourself in for some tough times. Yes its that time of your life, when all that parents talk to is about marriage, prospective grooms, the constant reminder that you-are-not-getting-any-younger, and so on. In most cases, this is just the prelude. it is often followed by emotional manipulation wherein you are tricked into giving your consent for this matrimony affair.

And then suddenly the ugly part of this drama is unveiled. I am talking about the forbidden word, Dowry. For most of us who have the privilege of hailing from educated families, brought up in free thinking environment, this is a rude awakening.

That was Rupa, last year. She was told that the groom's parents wanted a car, gold accessories for his sisters, and furnishing for his new flat at Thane. At first she was aghast, shocked that such an expectation was put forth despite them being family acquaintances. Rupa was shattered.

Of course she called things off, and on her family's insistence had to politely cite her sudden disinterest in marriage as the main reason. What remained with Rupa at the end of those 7 months was pain, disbelief, and disappointment. The experience left her emotionally scarred, and I as her friend have tried to understand what would have led to a well-to-do family to have such atrocious expectation.

And then it dawned upon me, it was never a marriage, it had been a business arrangement from the very beginning. Its like a bargain that you strike with your vegetable vendor at the weekly bazaar. When you arrive at a price that is agreeable to both parties, one decides to part ways with his goods and you have your item.

And yes, I am talking about marriage. Thats the horrifying part of it all.

Rupa is doing well today. She has move on since that incident. This has made her a stronger person, prepared her for the better or worse times of life which are yet to come.