Suffering and failure are part of each success story

As women we are born strong, but somehow we feel our greatest strength lies in hiding our weakness.

Even I have felt it sometimes..

Like every woman I am strong, but just like most women , I feel that any sign of vulnerability is a step towards failure. I hide my moments of defeat, just like some women put concealer on scars on their face.

Sometimes to tell the greatest story of success, one has to first write the prologue of failure.

The sufferings are true, and part of the journey, but most people are afraid to tell their whole story. Can you imagine a child learning to walk without falling down?

• I have cried in front of my daughter over small issues but there are times when I have remained calm and shielded her from the hurricanes that hit my world.
• I have a temper and I have patience.
• I also give free advice to people esp when I feel they need to hear the bitter truth; I have received the same and it has done me good.
• I am not glamorous, I can be a fashion nightmare.
• I have my bad hair day (almost everyday)
• Sometimes I am not eloquent and curse myself when I scramble my head for the exact word.
• I buy books which gather layers of dust before I can actually read them.
• I am not fond of cooking daily (only therapeutically to calm myself) but still I love to make my daughter’s school lunch.
• I have had rocky spells in my marriage (and sometimes used the rocks to build the foundation)
• I have had rough days at work,I have partnered to build something exquisite and I have parted ways too.
• I have fought with my parents and siblings but i trust them the most.

(yes, I’m my own living contradiction, but aren’t we all constantly fighting between whims and reality?)

I am sometimes scared to start all over- again,from scratch, but I’d rather give it my best, than give up.

I have felt like an under-achiever, felt I haven’t accomplished everything I dreamed of and felt I am not good enough. If you feel this way on somedays, then you just need to be kind to yourself and drop the hourglass of expectations.

Life doesn’t always happen in the order we wish, sometimes the sequence may be different, but we eventually get all that we want and deserve. Keep doing your Karma (and while you are at it, do intelligent-hard work)

Despite my imperfections, I show up for life. Despite being beaten-down, I won’t give up.

Every failure, every defeat is the battle scar I have earned, marching my way to winning-big or small.

(These thoughts came up when www.ngoexpress.com along with Sampradaa Collections started a #Powersaree contest on Instagram @sampradaa, inviting women to share their empowering moment, their saree stories, tales of rocking the world in ethnic elegance-often liek our mothers and grandmothers, and celebrating being a superwoman in their special cape- The Saree. I still come across women who need encouragement to be proud of reciting their life story, because each story is unique and is meant to help someone out there)

Not all violence is physical

 

 

One morning I woke up from a distressing dream. I had some marks on my face like camouflage paint, that despite rubbing and washing, were not coming off. I had to go out with family and they said, “you cant go out looking like that?”

“I have no choice, but to go” I replied.

That’s when I woke up , still contemplating about the dream. I have never had tattoos (Scars? yes. Body art ?no !) I snuggled with my warm cup of tea, looking at the swirling smoke over the cup creating a haze, which somehow always makes me think clearly. During that moment of “Chai Nirvana” it occurred, not all violence is physical. The marks on my face represented the emotional wounds.

As women, we stand up for women who suffer domestic violence and violence outside in society. As humans we stand against any physical violence whether to man ,woman or child… even the four legged & winged friends.

We often ignore and undermine the non-physical violence.

The three common forms of non-physical violence 99% of humanity has suffered from are Complaint, Criticism and Comparison.

When your spouse is constantly complaining to you about everything at home, at work, and in life; As though everything wrong in the world is your fault? Most often complains are projected at the receiver like guns charged with bullets of blame.

From house being disorganized, to late bill payments, misplaced objects, to food not made to suit someone’s high palette, dirty laundry, to unruly kids, travel plans not going as imagined, monthly budget gone astray because of unexpected expenses, maid miseries, issues with his/her family? Trust me you cannot be everything rolled into one- an organizer, personal assistant, butler, chef, financial planner, HR department, travel agent and in-house psychiatrist… oh ! lest I forget Mary Poppins too!

Unfortunately, in light of complains, we strive to be everything and land up being just a beaten down version of wonder-woman/superman. Yes, we all have super-powers. Please accept that you are superhuman because unlike the movie, real life is not scripted. You are playing your part to the best of your abilities in any given circumstances. Just like the superheroines/superheroes in movies, you are dealing with unimaginable situations using your wits and having faith.

Complains are little invisible stones thrown at you. They scar your soul, leaving a wounded individual. Except that the wounds are not seen by naked eyes.

Now , second form of violence is criticism. Like advice, it is dispensed freely. We criticize everyone as though we are qualified to do so- the rare jack of all and master of all too!

It appears most humans have Honorary Doctorate in criticism from the school of life!

The next time someone criticizes you for not doing your work well, ask them “ do you really think you can do it better? Then go ahead, do it!” Criticism is perfect imagination sans action. It’s someone being king of cloud cuckoo land.

Of course there is constructive criticism, but that’s rare like common sense.

Lastly, we mortals have found a way to self-torture ourselves by just using our mind. This method is called Comparison. It is one of the worst forms of emotional abuse that we all are subjected to. However this one is often self-inflicted in most adults. Even though as parents we keep comparing our children with their peers and increasing pressure on them, we seldom remember how terrible we felt when compared to our classmates and siblings? Comparison lowers self-esteem , but what it also does is crush the spirit and shrink the infinite ability we have to dream and achieve.

We compare our situation with those appearing better-off in anyway, our looks with the apparent modelesque friend, we keep comparing our income, our lifestyle , our success, our appearances, our family, our opportunities!

If only you could swap life with another, you will face a set of bigger challenges. Would you all like to be a successful businessman who was kicked out of his own company, gathered fortitude to succeed, touch lives but died of cancer? Will you be willing to workout like the fit buddy in gym or a farmer who toils at the field everyday? Is there an ideal family with no friction? Is the prada wearing, botox filled, chauffer driven lady as happy as her appearances, or she has a well of tears in her heart and laden with insecurities?

Does any job have a boss who let’s you work on your own terms and never criticizes you? Does any business have customers who won’t complain?

If every comparison was a permanent tattoo on your body, then imagine what you would look like? You would be a big piece of art screaming “I’m not good enough” . Yes, the camouflage paints from the dream that won’t wash off.

Recognize these abuses in daily life. Accept that complains, comparison and criticism exists, in us and around us. Accept them for what they are–a form of violence.

Finally, let go of it, because not all violence is physical, but the non-physical violence leaves deeper wounds.

Do not receive it, do not give it.

 

1st image source : John Hain (www.pixabay.com)

An ode to foggy morning

How inviting is stillness, echoing the sound of silence… of walking into a white fog all around. Wrapped in this cold blanket of assumed softness , when life is a mystery.
It forces us to be in a moment of meditative presence.
Resonating with the soul’s need for stillnesss, quiet and not knowing what’s next but moving on with faith.

Even in a crowd, space is created with intangible cloak surrounding me.

the mental vibes of person near me is stopped by this foggy boundary

i walk on earth with a meditative presence. Embracing now every moment!
Much gratitude

It was Delhi before “gas-chamber”

Photo : chai for me and inhaler for my daughter , as we start our morning.

I woke up to a quiet morning with little time to myself. Autumn mornings and a nip of cold , the swirling smoke of warm tea tracing memories in the air. A rare delight, it was not. Delight is when you are happy but now the pleasant memories of autumn morning are safe somewhere in the past. A day off from school because the air is unsafe to “ Breathe” , was the last reason imaginable. Yet we live in a world stranger than Orwell’s 1984. Now we look at autumn morning form behind glass doors with green plants and air-purifiers adding freshness to the room.

The other day my daughter had breathing trouble in class and her classmate was quick to share her inhaler. I was shocked! Not At the quick thinking of child  to offer inhaler( offering first-aid knowing we do not share inhalers ) but at how the world has evolved from once sharing pencils and lunches, to this generation sharing “inhalers”.

Now , the school checklist each morning is inhaler and mask, followed by water, lunch, books & RFID. The school doesn’t allow sharing food due to health issues, I do not allow re-filling water bottle outside due to NDM 1 scare in water supply and the government doesn’t want us to Breathe due to polluted air.

“Vote- seekers” (politicians) call Delhi “gas-chamber” as though they will win empathy of citizens. Those in places to bring change have left it to citizens to do the needful.

Writing slogans, car-pool, online petitions can hardly put a dent in the bigger problem.

A problem that governments of various states can easily work-out together and resolve, after all it’s the lives at stake.

Innovative techniques to reduce farm stubble have to be used. Also alternate crops like maize should be grown, instead of paddy , that leaves such stubble and lowers ground water reserves. After all the wind will blow from west to east for now.

Cars are a major source of pollution but so are bigger transport vehicles like trucks but then what about the silent problems like road-dust on streets. A study by IIT- Kanpur in 2015 revealed that that cars and jeeps contribute less than 10% of particulate matter while trucks are bigger culprits. Also road dust that accounts for about 35% of tiny particles known as PM 2.5 in the air, followed by vehicles.

Construction sites are equally responsible for pollution as are restaurant and hotels.

Perhaps on a more neighbourhood level, civil society activism is needed where RWAs can pitch in to address issues like road dust, planting more trees in neighbourhood and leaving less carbon footprint in every possible way.

The urban jungles can use more green and less concrete.

However, for “vote-seekers” the problem to resolve immediately is the one that gets votes, not humans suffocating in capital of India which is leisurely termed as “gas chamber”.

If we are in gas chamber then what does it make those at top responsible for putting us in it? Need I say more or is it understood?

The only difference is we are all in the same “gas-chamber” – the haves, the have nots, the policy makers, the vote-seekers and the voters.

 

right to Breathe (clean air)

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. – Albert Camus

image source : pixabay

The Countdown to Diwali has always been associated with the beginning of pleasant autumn mornings when the air is cooler and the tea cup in morning feels warm, not hot. As a child I eagerly counted days to Diwali as soon as the effigy of Ravan was burnt on Dushhera. The wait for Diwali was full of endless to-do lists : buy firecrackers, visit friends , Diwali lights,  Diyas , rangoli designs ideas (the unspoken competition of who makes the best rangoli) and of course our homes inadvertently becoming “ mithai ki dukaan”. On the day of Diwali we eagerly awaited for Lakshmi-puja to be over quickly so that we could burst crackers.

After Diwali , there was the mandatory illness due to allergies.

Now that was my magical childhood. Magical despite the pollution as childhoods often are presumptuously magical.

My motherhood has a different story. Come autumn , I enjoy the mornings from a distance, as though looking out the window but reminiscing in past. I stare outside thinking how much trouble it will be to manage my daughter’s breathing issues. She will miss out on dance and sports due to it. When she is in school, I have to ensure that my work revolves in a periphery of maximum 20 minutes drive to school, as the numerous emergency calls from school due to my daughter’s breathing issues are scary.

My to do list for Diwali still begins after Dushhera which includes Friends to visit, gifts to buy, rangoli design and most importantly stocking up on masks, mosquito patches and inhalers.

Am I blaming Diwali for pollution? Am I blaming change in season for mosquitos leading to dengue mania? Am I saying that it’s various kinds of pollution caused by us which are making us sick?

Am I blaming the farmers for burning stubbles that fill the Delhi air with unbearable smog clogging our lungs and making children fall sick?

Can a different farming technique prevent this cause of pollution across major parts of North India?

Am I blaming the pollution in metropolitan cities caused by variety of factors and not just one?

The toxic gases & particles emitted from bursting firecrackers are more dangerous.

Even though  India’s carbon emissions have increased by 5.2% in 2015 contributing 6.3% of all global CO2 emissions, even though global emissions remained unchanged (researchers at the ‘Global Carbon Project’.)

We are not alone in fireworks, The July 4 fireworks in US emit the equivalent of 50,000 metric tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. (Source inverse.com)

However, cultural celebrations are not the lone cause of pollution.

Industrialisation without consideration for environment, decrease in number of trees per capita , increase in urban density of population, rapid urbanisation with environmental disregard , and mobility of population are amongst the prime reasons for India being ranked 4th in carbon dioxide (kt) emissions (2,454,968 kt)

The difference between reasonable restrictions and blanket ban is the degree of trust put in citizens to be responsible humans. The demand for clean air or even the Right to Breathe is because somewhere over and over again our government has failed to give us holistic economic development.

Thanks, to the Supreme Court’s ban on firecrackers- No one will buy and sell firecrackers in Delhi, it’s a breathing respite. But there will still be buying , selling and burning of firecrackers . There will also be pollution on the other 364 days .

I have an urban jungle in my house and balcony, even though having greenery in house comes with the fear of mosquito-friendly existence. The added electricity bill due to air-purifiers makes me guilty of  consuming electricity by burning fossil fuels in order to have clean air. 

Perhaps now is my turn to demand Right to breathe (clean air). We live in times where high-speed data is more important than clean air. A generation that can tolerate air-pollution but not mobile phones without internet connectivity (carcinogenicity of cell phone towers is a debate for another time )

For now we are gifting plants on Diwali as my 9 year old feels that’s the best gift along with sweets.

Does pseudo-faith supersede humanity?

We returned on Sunday 27th august, since Monday is school day. In evening the rumour mills started about schools being closed on Monday. ( since the deraviolence might spread more after the quantum of punishment is announced on 28th August ). .
A late night tweet put speculations to rest as schools remain open. On Monday morning the watsapp messages kept increasing, mostly parents who were asking each other if they were sending their kids to school? In one class 16/ 20 were bunking school. In another 12/20 would bunk. Then other friends, from other schools all over Delhi, were both contemplating and deciding in the same sentence as to not send the kids to school.

The mass bunking had begun.
Fear crept in and had taken form of inaction in action.
The last time I remembered something like this was more than 2 decades ago when a certain place of worship was demolished. Fear then , fear now. The common denominator is always a pseudo-faith that supersede humanity.
A shaken belief in government and administration reminded us how vulnerable we are in the hands of those who are to protect us? How unsafe we feel when small sects of blind-faith erupt like volcanoes.
Dera verdict is victory of the silent victims against a greater established organisation well funded with muscle, money and masses. .
Sometimes the truth echoes greater than the noise of violent mobs.
Faith is a beautiful emotion as long as its put in the right place.
Peace out~ Prachi .

Sampradaa- a wealthy life

Sampradaa is sanskrit word for wealth.
Often the modern interpretation of wealth is limited to material wealth . The long race of trading our time and life to accumulate wealth, and give it away to buy stuff which has shelf life of a banana, the reality remains are we focused on only one kindf riches ?

Wealth is holistic and it encompasses everything that makes a rich life.

In ancient India the Goddess of wealth had many forms like knowledge, courage, victory, progeny, health, food, natural resources, animals to name a few.

In modern times wealth is equated to cash and assets, but what about the asset of a healthy mind and body?

We must aim to bring together the different kinds of wealth given to us -emotional, physical, mental, spiritual, relationships and financial. Would you add other kinds of wealth to it? Like that of patience, family , natural resources of our planet, the wealth of good memories, of positivity and most importantly the wealth of gratitude.
Can we truly enjoy all our abundance in the absence of gratitude?

When we start accepting with gratitude all that is in our life, we will step into a consciousness of next level.

Yes all wealth are important in the right balance to enjoy the precious journey on earth… and thus begins our journey with you.

A house for everyone

Radha was particularly happy today. It was a mild autumn afternoon. The air was fresh with a slight chill that could only be felt on the tip of the nose. The leaves had started to turn shades of orange, sienna and amber. It was the incidental beauty of autumn when each leaf turned into the colours of spring flower. Radha’s children were playing outside, under a tree and the sounds of their laughter and crackling of leaves when crushed under their feet, was music to her ear, along with occasional beating of the hammer. The final repairs on her house were about to finish. Radha had helped her father-in-law and her husband all along the process from planning out the date of repairs, arranging the material and until today. Now they were fixing one last section of the façade of the house – a 6ft x8ft piece, which went on the front wall. Her father-in-law was inspecting it before it went on to finish the house-repairs.
Radha offered her husband water and said “ I’m so grateful the work is over before cold winters set in. I was worried about our children spending time in the house in its former condition.” “it was all possible because of you, esp. the money we saved on repairs due to your careful planning” spoke her husband, as he looked at her face,  the slight wrinkles that smiled with her smile.  The wrinkles that defined the smile in her kajal smudged eyes.
Her husband smiled at her and returned to work.

Radha watched her kids play near the house; they had mud all over them. An antic, which usually upsets Radha, did not bother her today. She was way too happy about what was being accomplished. She had requested her husband and father-in-law over a month ago for weatherproofing the house for the chilly winters.
Radha’s husband interrupted her trail of thoughts as he asked her to help hold the 6ft x 8 ft frame in the centre, while he and his father nailed it on both sides to the rest of the structure. The 6ftx8ft frame was the front wall. The side walls were 6ftx6ft.  The walls were wooden frame with plastic sheets tied and nailed on them. The plastic sheets were sturdy and durable. They were from the sacks used to sell dry cement and sand in, which was used for construction of permanent brick and mortar houses for most city dwellers. Radha got them from the construction site where she worked as a labourer. Usually the construction contractor sold the empty sacks for Rs. 15 each, but Radha got ten of them in exchange of one day’s wage. She thought it was a fabulous deal to get 10 empty sacks from the construction contractor , because if she went to the kabadi wala(junk dealer) he would charge her Rs 18 or Rs 20 per sack. For the rich it was the contents of the sacks that built their massive dwellings, For construction labourers like Radha the empty sacks were as good as cement to build her tiny box house. After all it sheltered her family- their dreams and disappointments.
(wrote it last autumn…. maybe now is the time to share)