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NOT Skin or Skills

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Women’s Day today, this afternoon I was sitting in the dining hall, and some local village kids were playing around.. I was looking at one particular little girl – dark hair, bright twinkling eyes, shiny white teeth, chubby cheeks, she was wearing a beautiful green frock with golden lace and running around happily. She must be around 5-6 yrs. old. I was enjoying their play until one lady next to me suggested, “that girl is so beautiful if only she was fair” and this kind of disturbed me. I remembered once when I was in school, they wanted someone to present flowers to the chief guest, and when I suggested I could do it, and my teacher replied that we need good looking   girls.” She joked.. but that was enough for me to believe till today. That I do not look good.. And no matter how much philosophy or talks on the beautiful soul and inner beauty I hear… 1% of me at least believe that I am not beautiful… That and many such memories reinforced the belief again and again.. I see the w

T minus 1

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December has always been my favourite one. Because it’s Christmas and Winter and of course my Birthday.  While this year was a little disappointing in terms of temperature. (I still need the fans on ☹️ ) it was made perfect by so many different activities.  First half of the month was exhaustingly yet excitingly occupied in practising and preparing for the puppet show. A beautiful enriching and rewarding experience. On 17th my co trainees and lovely batch mates at Tridha decided to celebrate my birthday in advance so celebration started a day earlier. But I had no idea of another celebration waiting. Until I walked into a restaurant with My bestie Bhavu after the extra puppet show for school and cake presented to me. The shocker was that I had chosen the restaurant (or at least they tricked me well to believe so) and having no clue who could it be from I was happily surprised to see mom and the other two idiots from college. Totally unexpected. Felt so special. 

Evening Sky

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The best part of my life, sorry I should say one of all the best parts of my life is the evening time I spend strolling in the farm like a bohemian looking up in the sky observing the floating clouds and the spell-bounding hues of the evening sky. On some days I find it very light blue, some days it’s purple, some days orange and some days peeking through the dark clouds.   And as the siege of herons or a group of crows flies home it brings me a sense of content that I am already home. I love this feeling of the evening sky that looks so rested, in some time waiting to pull over the starry blanket. And listen to the magical stories that the moon narrates sometimes to all shining brightly and sometimes secretly just to the sky, that makes the stars glow so bright. There is peace in the night, absolutely, the stillness of the moment that whatever tomorrow holds, or however the day has been, now is the time to rest, to be. And yet the evenings have that special magic to prepa

What IF?

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When I think of my student life I remember my preference for the first bench right in front of the teacher (unless we had to rotate around the classroom), the second seat on the left side of the school bus, completed notebooks in microscopic hand-writing, (Dadu- my favorite friend recommended to submit magnifying glass along with my projects and answer-sheets ), being in the library even in the vacations, and practically burying myself in the books besides doing absolute urgent things like eating, bathing answering nature’s call (NERD Alert). When I married I thought, why was I so inspired to marry the last bencher, with no idea where or in what condition his books were and who doesn’t like to read (forget about poetry), who has so many people to talk to, who is people’s favorite, mom’s favorite (even my mom’s), who can know the life story of a total stranger, in an absolutely new place, in 10 literally mins (Gujaratis *rolling eyes*) WHY? Was the question with w

If I were Me

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  All my life till now, I have tried loving other colors. (Not that I hate them) I try to like them from time to time. Questions like “why do you always pick up blue or black or white” “why don’t you try doing your stuff in the day?” were frequently asked. And I always tried to change, but I was never happy. I thought I had a problem if I can’t get along people, if I prefer living in a closed room, I must be depressed. Or even when I loved Sharad Purnima Darshan more than any other day (if you want to know the difference Please Google “Sharad Purnima Darshan of Sri Sri Radha Raasbihariji or Sri Sri RadhaGopinathji). But what I realized is no matter how much I tried, I don’t feel the same for any other colors the way I feel for Blue, followed by black and white. And this realization was inspired by my son. Recently we sat doing the stone-painting. And my son fought with me for using so many colors. He said I should only use blue. He stopped arguing when he saw I was hurt (he is mo

From 7 to 7000+

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  O ṁ   ajñ ā na-timir ā ndhasya jñ ā n ā ñ jana- ś al ā kay ā   cak ṣ ur unm ī lita ṁ yena tasmai ś r ī -gurave nama ḥ I had joined ISKCON movement in the year 2006. The first two years I wasn’t very convinced of the Book Distribution Marathons. The main reason I thought was that I am hopeless in marketing anything. But then I satisfied my ego by finding a good number of reasons like, we should not ‘sell’ Bhagavad-gita it will lose its value. Or sometimes to avoid debate or arguments I would simply say I don’t have time. On December 3, 2007, I realized that Book Distribution Holds some Value when we were volunteering for a big Ayyapa Festival program through our college on the BKC grounds (Mumbai). And a Mataji came inside with some books. I was so happy to see a devotee face, I had bhagavad gita so I bought some small books – path of perfection, journey to other planets etc. And 3 of my classmates got themselves a Bhagavad gita. That day I understood, how it was worth ac

Decembers of our Life.

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If I could be a month I would Love to be DECEMBER. There is something oddly comforting bittersweet feeling of this month that I am addicted to. It’s the joy of birthday celebrations preceding Christmas nights preceding New year fun. It’s hugging your mom tight in the rikshaw, or hiding in her saree while returning from the midnight mass. Its fairy lit nights, and house turned into fairy tale castle or wondering what if Santa did come. It’s also as you grow up, the pain of knowing Santa was just a story, and even worse when you lose the man who was your santa all life. And spending the month alone, yet kindled. From day 1 every year I am in total “December Mode”. Almost every year, something about December inspires me. This year I was reflecting on what I really love so much of this month, the brief span of the cheerless sun, or the evening like afternoons, perhaps the longer nights, when the cold within finally matches the cold without, like you are one with the month, an

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