Nostalgia

As she appeared across the lawn out of nowhere, I stood there transfixed. She was a picture of beauty. A shadow fell on her face, making it impossible to decipher her expression. I kept wondering if she saw me. I was enraptured. What was it about her that made her so enchanting to everyone she met? She was like a magic spell - surreal, but potent. I could never completely understand her. She was an enigma to me.

How Ananya made inroads into my life and my heart in so less a time, I could never fathom. I would tell her everything I ever had on my mind; she would listen patiently to my talks. She was the eyes into my soul; she knew more of me than I knew myself. My earnest observation of her was a major source of my understanding of her thoughts and personality, as she'd never give out much on her own. I observed everything she did or said, for every action of hers had a reason behind it, every word of hers well-founded. We would talk endlessly on almost everything under the sun. We would agree on some points, argue on some other. But I would ultimately quit arguing, because one could almost never win over her. She always had the last word. Not that I ever complained. She broke into an innocent giggle every time I put in my guns. To beget even that little smile meant the world to me, and more.

She was a ray of morning sunshine on the horizon; a real delight to be with. There was an aura of happiness, wholesomeness and contentment about her that lured everybody into its grasp. She could turn all my worries into nothing, and amplify the joys manifold. There was an inexplicable look of satisfaction on her face – to me it seemed like that of knowing everything yet revealing little. She could always tell what I had on my mind, but would never make me uncomfortable with unnecessary prying and prodding. But surprisingly, more often than not, I'd find myself bound to tell her all my travails, as if she had a magnetic grip on my mind. She would understand everything I told her, and would follow it up with such careful and sound advice, as would make me feel like my problems never really were of any consequence. Such was her effect on me that it sometimes baffled me into believing she practiced black magic. But like I said, I never really understood her. I just revered her for all that she was.

Her eyes constantly lived in a dream. Her words went far deeper than they would appear to the listener’s mind. Her exquisite face was a brilliant cover for her true thoughts and feelings. But her clear hazel eyes revealed what her words never did. She always hid her pain and sorrows behind her perpetual smile and joyful demeanour. To anyone else, she would seem not to have a single unhappy bone in her body. But I saw through her layers. On normal days, she'd have a splendid countenance. There was a ring to her voice, a shine to her smile and a rhyme to her actions. She would sing and dance her way through work, and recount the day’s events to me with full spirit at the end of the day. On such days, I felt such a rush of happiness and contentment through my veins that I could die of it and still not mind. But she had her dark days too, and it took every last drop of patience in my body to get through those. She’d brood over every single thing, take offense on anything even remotely untoward, and in general present a picture of utter dissatisfaction with life, very unlike her true self. It was of such days that I was dead scared. She formed the very thread of my existence; I could never bear to see her out of sorts. I would try my best to pacify her, mellow down her moods, try to figure out her wishes and fulfil them as best as I could. Yet I feel I managed to do a very poor job of it in the end. It was a gargantuan task to assimilate her, yet totally unthinkable not having her as a part of my life. What would I ever do without her? I'd always shudder at the thought.

*

Sunrays seep in through the partially open window, falling in a slant on the little one sprawled on the floor, busy playing with her crayons. The sight reminds me of her mother's childlike love for new stationery. She walks up purposefully and thrusts her sketch book into my face, her hazel eyes revealing that 'look' she knows all too well I can never refuse to. Her earnest exuberance is infectious. I smile through moist eyes.

Ananya's absence is a void in my heart that time can only attempt to fill. She lit up every day of my life for as long as she breathed; twilight or dawn, she never left my side. She did not let me be alone even in her wake, leaving behind a tiny little bundle of joy to light up my days and warm my cold heart. The little one is a splitting image of her beautiful mother, and equally full of life and energy; I cannot look at her lovely face without pangs of nostalgia tugging at my heart. All of a sudden I'm back in that moment when I first saw her across the lawn. That was when I first felt love. And the feeling still survives.

I envelop our little angel in my arms and rock her to sleep.

~

[As some of my readers may have noticed, this is an edited, refurbished version of my earlier fiction piece Eyes to My Soul, the first in a series of five, but with a different plot and context. I submitted this version as my entry for a fiction story contest some months back, with the theme 'Nostalgia'. Thought of posting it here as well now!]

Book Review: English Bites! - Manish Gupta

It feels awkward to return to writing after more than four months and not have anything very insightful to share. I've been working just too hard and spending too less of a time on anything else, so the creative juices have almost stopped flowing. But I shall make a comeback - very soon.

Right now, I am reviewing a book that the author was so kind as to send across to me a long while back, and thankfully also has been very accommodating in letting me have my time in reading and reviewing it.

English Bites! My Fullproof English Learning Formula by Manish Gupta (a smooth-talking banker, in his own words) is not your run-of-the-mill fictional novel or a biography or an auto-biography. It's an honest attempt at making the English language more accessible and interesting to anyone who has difficulty learning it or who needs to brush up his/her English for competitive examinations like the GRE and GMAT. A latent function the book also very conveniently serves is of helping seasoned English speakers brush up their vocabulary and learn the etymologies of and relations between various words.

English Bites is primarily an attempt to make English learning an interesting and exciting exercise, and not something that one is compelled to do out of sheer need. Through his own life story - starting off from his schooling in the vernacular medium and gradually charting his years of painstaking effort at mastering the language - the author has embedded difficult and commonly misunderstood words throughout the narrative and mentioned their meanings and examples in the footnotes for easy reference of the readers. He has thus invented a fun way of helping those with the least interest or perceived aptitude for English, to start taking interest and find it more and more easy and do-able as they flip through the pages. He has written the book in the form of an account and thrown in many instances and anecdotes that amuse the reader and also drive home his point in many cases.

The author has touched upon almost all the techniques and tricks that can be used to get better at the language - Mnemonics, etymological approach, relating words to anecdotes and so on. Ever so often, suitable illustrations have been added to prep up the tale a bit. When you pick up the book and go through the first 40-50 pages, you might think it isn't going to be a read worth your time. I made the same preconceived judgment. It stems from the fact that the author is initially warming up the reader to the rationale and process behind the conception of the book. It can be a bit boring, agreed. But it gets really interesting a little farther into the book. My copy is actually full of pages that I've earmarked for giving another glance or two later.

The book is also a very interesting take on the idiosyncrasies and vagaries of the ever-elusive English language. He describes funny English tools, like Amphibiology (totally unrelated to amphibians or biology - it implies the ambiguous use of grammar) and a whole list of oxymorons used in everyday conversation. The author also frequently gives out English trivia that is great to know. For example, very few of us would have known that the word 'serendipity' is actually derived from 'Swaran Dweep', the Sanskrit name given to Sri Lanka upon its discovery.

Halfway into the book, I sadly realized that even I am not as much an expert at the language as I had so far imagined. Many of the words mentioned in the book and their varying usages quite befuddled me. But then it dawned upon me - most of the extra-difficult words are directed chiefly towards the CAT/GRE/GMAT/XAT aspirants and are of little, if any, use in everyday English conversations or the average written material, so I did not try hard to memorize any of the high-flying words that sounded alien. But many of the subjects touched upon in English Bites have enriched my understanding of the English language, as also my vocabulary, and general knowledge.

It is humanly impossible to be perfect in your first attempt at doing anything, writing being no exception, and there are indeed some areas where the book could have been better. The initial 50-60 pages could definitely use some revision to make them more appealing, for I'm convinced they could end up being a reason why people keep the book down, unfinished. There could also be a wider coverage of topics and types of words - although no one book can do enough justice to a language, especially with a vocabulary as vast as that of English. The first half of the book is slightly more interesting than the second, which could be boring for some. The narrating style could also be more informal and less professional in order to connect better with the targeted audience.

All in all, I'd give a 3 on 5 to English Bites! Published by Penguin Books, the book is priced at rupees 250. It is definitely a good pick for anyone interested in enriching their English vocabulary and verbal ability, though not so much for someone who's just starting out at learning it. It would be advisable to rather pick up a basic grammar book and work your way upwards.

Freeze your senses!

I return to writing today, after about 3 weeks, with something entirely new - a product review aside from books - a first for this blog.

Wrapped in resplendence - black velvet cushioning et al.

The other day, courtesy BlogAdda, I received two beautifully wrapped, royally presented little cases of ITC's newest offering in the confectionery segment - mint-o Ultramintz. It's supposed to be an extra strong sugar-free mint, one of its kind currently in the Indian market. It comes in a sleek little tin case, black in color, containing 60 little pearly-white pellets. The pack is really impressive to look at. So much so that I've been carrying it around with me everywhere just to show off.
Just kidding. (Or maybe not?)

The mint boasts of having been made from the finest quality menthol and special peppermint oils from France. I don't know about all that, but the mint surely blew my mind. It lives up to all the claims of its makers - it is super minty and strong. And do not be fooled by the tiny size of the pellets - they are power packed enough to freeze the insides of your mouth (in a good way though). And it is absolutely zero sugar, which is an added advantage for someone (read: me) who's lately been gaining weight by the second.

I've never been a fan of mints in general, and especially so since there is hardly any choice in the market in this segment and none of those existing have impressed me so far. I have thus been more of the chewing gum kind, that too on and off. But Ultramintz seems to have me hooked now. I can't seem to get enough of it. I carry it with me all the time, pop a pellet now and then between oodles of studies (phew!), and offer it to whoever it is I'm with at the moment. And take my word, not one person I've offered it to so far has been neutral to its effect. Everyone is like, "This is actually good! What is it? Show me!" and they take the elegant little box in their hands, turn it around a couple of times and usually go, "Sahi packing hai yaar! Where did you get it from?" And they're henceforth hooked. Too.

I'm pretty certain I have single-handedly managed to create a sizable market for this product. You see, if I like something and I find it worth a shot, I can be very persuasive in its advocacy. I generally do not promote products blindly on my blog, for I consider this space extremely sacred and anything I write here has to be well-founded and worthy enough. But I strongly recommend this mint as something to be tried at least once. Not because I got it for free, but because I am already over with my box and going to buy another one from the market.

Mint-o Ultramintz is available in packs of 60 pellets, priced at INR 50. It is an experience truly worth having.

I am reviewing mint-o Ultramintz as a part of the Product Reviews Program at BlogAdda.

Heart to heart

It's been raining, and I'm in a philosophical mood. Or maybe I'm just hungry and high on coffee. So I'm going to be straightforward and sentimental in this post.

I'm right now at a juncture in life where all my preconceived plans and thoughts have given way to a new lifestyle, which is a far cry from what my peers are experiencing, and who knows even I might have, if I had chosen a more conventional path. But I did not, and that has made all the difference.

Life has changed course, moving away from mobile antenna and fiber optic communications, towards economics, polity, environment and history. Poverty alleviation, land reforms, disaster management, good governance and historical revolutions consume my thoughts and my hours now. And I have to say I am loving every moment of it. These are things that I've always been really curious about in life. History, especially, has always fascinated me, and it does so till date. Being an engineer, I knew next to nothing about economics (no offence to those engineers who know their SLRs from their CRRs - most don't) and had kept a well-meaning distance from politics. But it's all changed now. I'm learning new things, relishing every bit of knowledge, and trying to retain all I can.

But it's an uphill task, and just enjoying the process is not going to lead me anywhere. Constant practice, 10-12 hours of meaningful studies a day and full focus are what they say is necessary. I cannot disagree - too new to the field, cannot assume much on my own. But anyhow, you get the picture I hope. So I have a whole lot to work upon if I am to have even the slightest chance at cracking the exam of the highest level in the country. (As a first step, I uninstalled Whatsapp and many other apps from my phone last night, in order to minimize distraction. Sigh.)

Aside from that, I render sincere apologies to my readers - I shall be writing here much less often for some months, for the sheer lack of time makes it imperative that I utilize my time writing stuff related to my field, if at all I write. For that purpose I have started a new blog, to make for some healthy debates and commenting on real world issues, trivia and anything that I feel needs to be shared or talked about. I hope my readers would pay a visit once (and over and over again, pleasepleaseplease!).

The Proletariat Speaketh

Do leave a comment here, or on the other blog, telling me your opinion (on anything at all - even the weather would do). I've been missing meaningful interactions with my readers for a long time - I am in dire need of some intellectual and encouraging conversation.

And I just realized there was nothing sentimental or philosophical about this post, only straightforward from the heart. Drat.

An act of love goes a long way

I have a lot of friends my age who haven't known what it is like to have a grandparent's love, or who have lost all their grandparents over the years. Till a little over three years ago, I could say with pride that both sets of my grandparents were alive and well. I have been fortunate enough to have lived with my paternal grandparents for the first twenty years of my life and was a very frequent visitor to my maternal grandparents' place as well. It is an entirely different feeling to grow up having the love and care of grandparents and their blessings aplenty. Unfortunately, my nanaji crossed over to the other world in the June of 2010. Even though everyone had known it was coming, yet it was a big blow to the family, more exceedingly to me, as I had always been extra pampered and loved by him. During his last years he was little more than a vegetable, hardly even recognizing us anymore. I wish we had had more time to spend with him. Yet, I cherish the limited memories we have - of his stories, of the orange candies, saunf and other little goodies he always had ready for us when we invaded his room. He once admonished me for having contracted myopia so early on in life, and devised ways to get rid of it. I never followed up on his advice *sigh* but I remember every word of it. Will probably pass it on in the future to my kids as their great grandfather's precious words.

The reason why I'm reminiscing about him today is a dream I had last night. I saw my nanaji, hale and hearty, feeding a large gathering of unfortunate and destitute people outside a temple. There was a look of utter contentment and fulfillment on his face. He was serving food single-handedly, and suddenly turned back and smiled. That's only as far as I can recall. It may have only been a dream but it had a profound effect on me. It felt as if he was trying to send across a message to me. And then it suddenly dawned upon me. He, or probably my conscience, wants me to do what he was doing in the dream. Now it may only be a foolhardy belief that someone can visit you in your dream, or a dream can serve as a sign, but I took it rather as a motivation to perform an act of kindness that we often skip out on doing in our busy lives.

I'm therefore cooking a complete meal all by myself today. No help from anyone. I'll be taking it to the Vinayak temple near my place in the afternoon and feed the devotees, rich and poor alike, urging them to bless my grandfather's soul, wherever it might be. I've never paid homage to him till date - perhaps this is my chance.

I do not know how to cook a lot of Indian food though. I can cook good Italian cuisine and exotic beverages, but that's not the kind of foodstuff you'd serve at a temple. So Kitchens of India has come to my rescue. I'm cooking paneer makhani and vegetable biryani using their mixes, adding however a unique touch of my own. I'll also prepare dahi raita and salad and make hazoori petha halwa for prasaad. I must admit I have never done anything like this before. I'm trying to keep the fare simple but sumptuous, in keeping with the purpose and my intention.

It is an act of love on my part for every fellow human being and homage to those who've passed away. The fact that it coincides with my grandpa's death anniversary was perhaps destined. I hope I'll be able to do justice to my cause and bring smiles to the faces of as many people as I can.

[This post is my second entry for the My Weekend Party with Gourmet Food contest.]

The Perfect Indian Homecoming Experience

It has been a trying week. Too much of writing to do; too much of traveling around as well. No wonder a severe back ache has been my constant companion for the last three days. To make things even more taxing, my much-talked-about-but-rarely-seen NRI uncle and aunt from the US announced their long-awaited arrival to India yesterday. And now my grandparents are hoping to host them for lunch, first at their own place, then at ours. As if one extravagant show of Indian hospitality wasn't nearly enough, there's gonna be twice as much effort now to woo them, for God only knows what. Last I checked they were just coming down for a relaxing holiday, and maybe to get a good tan. What's with all the show and hype? They're Indians at heart after all. They know our ways, our food, and our culture very well. Why parade it in front of them every time they decide to fly down to their country? Beats me. But grandparents' logic - can't surpass it. So they want to host the perfect homecoming lunch for the guests this weekend.

But the fun part begins only after. Because they've entrusted the responsibility of deciding on the entire menu and party preparations, to who else but yours truly! The only catch being that the majority of the fare needs to be authentic Indian, although I could play around with the finer details here and there. So no one's complaining.

Being a blogger has its many perks, like I often iterate, and one of these is the exclusive access to immense information and opportunities laid out there for us bloggers. As if to turn my thoughts into reality, IndiBlogger recently came up with an amazing contest in association with Kitchens of India. It was only through them that I came to know of the vast variety of ready-to-eat exotic Indian foods, conserves, chutneys and mixes that Kitchens of India have on offer at unbeatably low prices. And they're available for easy ordering online, above all. It has made my party planning easier than ever, no kidding.

So now a lunch has to be hosted on Sunday at our place for the foreign-returned entourage, comprising of a typically rich pot-bellied uncle, his wife, their two teenage boys and their American household help. We've decided to go with an all-vegetarian theme, in keeping with the fact that we, the hosts, are vegetarians. In any case the extent of my knowledge about non-vegetarian food starts from Tandoori Chicken and ends with Seekh Kebabs, with nothing significant in between. So the responsibility of treating the guests to authentic Indian non-vegetarian food has been taken up by my illustrious grandmother at her place on Saturday.

I chose our lawn as the ideal venue for a laidback afternoon of catching up over sumptuous food, good music and amazing weather that has been pleasing us Delhi-wallahs for a week now. No amounts of air conditioning in the confines of a room could ever compare with a cool breeze, ever so little drizzling, a canopy of trees all around and eating under the shed outside in nature's midst. Words aren't enough - you have to be there to soak it all in and realize the true beauty of what I speak. As for seating, I have decided on having a number of padded chairs and cushioned mattresses with pillows strewn all around the floor, to make for a comfortable space to lounge around. Music is my biggest forte and I've also heard one of my NRI cousins is a pro guitarist, so there's going to be no dearth of entertainment either. What remains to be seen to is - well - the food.

Given the ongoing Mango season and every Indian's undying love for mangoes, they have been kept as the theme of the meal. [The entire lawn is covered by a dense canopy of mango trees, so the ambiance and food compliment each other only too well].

 Here's a glimpse of the menu I've prepared:

~ Welcome drink: A refreshingly cool Mango Panna drink to welcome the guests

~ Starters: My all-time favorite Nachos (Tortilla Chips) as well as crispy potato fries with a choice of two dips: a tangy Tamarind and Date Chutney, and a sweet Shredded Mango Chutney.

~ Main course: Vegetable Biryani (Using the Vegetable Biryani Mix), an exotic Mughlai Paneer replete with cashew nuts, Mirch ka Salan (a signature dish made from chillies, symbolic of the Indian love for spicy food), Peeli Dal Tadka made by mom, Lachha Paranthas, along with traditional Punjabi accompaniments including Lassi (spiced buttermilk), Sirke wale pyaaz (onions marinated in vinegar), Green salad and a spicy Hot Mango Chutney instead of the usual mango pickle.

~ Dessert: (This one's the course everyone in India actually waits for throughout a meal!) Moong Dal Halwa is like heaven on a plate, literally. No other delicacy surpasses it in its royality, at least for me. But keeping in mind the possibility of varying preferences, I'll also keep various flavors of ice cream and topping syrups on the menu.

~ Conclusion: A traditional Indian meal, a la the ancient maharajas' style, is seldom complete without a meetha paan in the end. So that's how I'll sum up the yummilicious, lip-smacking gastronomical experience I've put together.

I am hoping the guests feel as tempted, and salivate in the mouth as much at the sight of the meal, as I have while putting the whole thing together. Keeping my fingers crossed until then!


[This post is my entry for the My Weekend Party with Gourmet Food contest.]

The importance of finding yourself

I have always been a closet philosopher. But like I said, only in a closet. Most people do not know the philosophy that I live my life on. They only see me as a fiery comet, a rolling stone that goes her own way and does what she likes, and fortunately gets lucky every time. It isn't however like that. I have made more mistakes in my life than a lot of people manage to make in over 40 years. But I have worked to get what I have, and striven to be who I am. It isn't after all luck that bides by you in tough times, but your own courage and perseverance. Those who have led an ideal life - graduation, post graduation, stable job, marriage, two kids, a car and an insurance - would look down upon me today for my choices. They might even think the same of me ten years down the line. Because I have, so far, built a less than ideal life for myself that may look crazy from the outside but is much more fulfilling than the so-called ideal life is on the inside.

I have often been considered the only rebel in the family. From an early age, they knew I was different from the other cousins and the aunts and the uncles. I was industrious and creative but aloof to most conventional practices. I was courageous and stood my ground when others buckled. They time and again relate this anecdote from when I was only two years old. Our uncle told my elder sister (who was four) that our father was a daku (robber) and that he went to the forest and hunted lions with his big gun. She, a simpleton, believed him and went and repeated the same to the family only to be told that it was all a joke. She was left confused and disillusioned. Such occurrences were fairly common and they shaped her personality in such a way that has bearings on the way she deals with people even now. I, on the contrary, when my turn came, smiled and maintained that my father was a doctor who treated patients and saved lives. No amount of coaxing, cajoling or charm could induce me into believing otherwise, because I knew what was right. And to this day I haven't let go of this aspect of my personality. I have been bold, and yet stayed reasonable and real enough to survive in all kinds of surroundings. And it has never failed me in these twenty one odd years.

A majority of Indian people's mindsets are still a bit conventional, to say the least, when it comes to the ideal way of living life. But there are little seeds of change that are coming up everywhere, and I believe in being a part of the movement - in bringing change into myself and my surroundings, so it can slowly permeate to a larger audience. I have the courage to live my life a certain way and the perseverance to stand up every time I fall. And I have fallen numerous times. I have given my parents reasons to believe the worst in me. I remember a time, around when I was in high school, when my parents thought I was a promiscuous Hussie. [Emphasis on 'thought'.] They had brought me up a certain way, fed me with a comprehensive list from an early age of what is wrong and not to be done, and what is right and to be done at all costs. Study, score centuries, build a gleaming career were the do's. Have romantic alliances, hang out with friends, watch too much of TV or movies were some of the don'ts. Understandably so, from an Indian parent's viewpoint. I had slightly different beliefs. So I took the middle path. I became a brilliant student, much respected and admired by everyone at school and home, but I never held myself back from experimenting wherever I felt I wasn't out of line. I received flak a number of times for my so-called 'misdemeanor' but that could not bog me down. I knew, somewhere down the line those were the kind of exposure and experiences that would help me later on in life. And they did, and do even now. Those were trying times but I held on to my belief in the Almighty and in myself. My family was all that mattered to me and with determination and some hard work, I eventually won their trust and admiration back.

By the time I passed out of school, I had mixed opinions on what I wanted to do in life. So I took a practical decision. I went with what my mother (herself educated and well-aware) expected me to do - engineering. It wasn't for lack of choice that I took it up though. I had taken up admission in University of Delhi's best department in Chemistry, the subject I loved. Yet I was more convinced by my mother's argument than my own, so I took a decision. And I have not regretted it till today. I believe it was bold of me, and not meek as some would have it, to go by someone else's belief in me rather than my own conviction. Not that I ever liked what I was doing. But I knew it was the right call, and I persevered throughout those four years, making each moment count towards building for myself a life worth being happy about. 

Everybody was satisfied that an engineer was coming up in the family. But not for long. Along the way I discovered my hidden flair for writing. It had been there ever since I was a kid - I used to write poetry and essays and all my teachers would tell my parents about how good I was. But it did not occur to me till I was 20, to make a career out of it. And when it finally did, people freaked out. Writers are unconventional, especially in the middle class society that I live in. They told me to concentrate on my engineering, and to get a conventional job in the industry. I said okay. I did not wish to let my parents down, for they are the reason I am. So I studied hard, gave the exams of their choice, cleared them as also clinched a job. But then lightning struck again and I realized I want to be a civil servant. Now in India, IAS is the ultimate thing. Nothing beats the tag of being a bureaucrat. Being a writer along with a bureaucrat would only be what they call 'sone pe suhaga' (akin to 'cherry on the cake'). But it is believed to be ridden with corruption and extreme exploitation, so I was discouraged from even thinking about it. That was earlier this year; I have graduated now. Everybody keeps telling me to go for a stable engineering career. I hold onto my faith nevertheless. I have given much thought to my decision, and I know it is where my calling lies. I have slowly but thoroughly convinced everyone who matters, that it isn't just a passing fad and that I have it in me to be better than just another engineer. Moreover, even if I failed, I'd have the satisfaction of having pursued my dream and  in the process gained a vast amount of knowledge and built my own opinion on matters of importance. It is what I want, and I shall not stop till I have it. 

So with infinite amounts of patience and determination, I have carved a different niche for myself in the small world I live in. It has been a slow process, taken years and years, but I look back sometimes and feel proud of all that I have done and gone through till now. I have been bold enough to follow my heart but reasonable enough to stay real and not get carried away with anything. And it motivates me to stay the same, rather improve, and achieve everything that I believe I am capable of.

I am only but a single instance of personal strength and courage. I am not old or accomplished enough to put down my life and my choices as an example of anything. There are a lot of instances of bold, real people out there who are living fulfilling lives despite all odds being against them, and whose lives inspire me to no end. We live in a world where physically impaired people are competing in the Olympics in all the sports. Innumerable social workers and non-profit organizations have been coming up in the last few years to work for causes ranging from illiteracy and poverty to women's rights and bonded labor. People today are increasingly taking a stand for human rights or the society's rights in general, as has lately been seen in the cases of Jessica Lal, Arushi Talwar, the 16th December gang-rape victim, the Lokpal Bill issue and so many others. There are bravehearts posted at Kargil and the Siachen glacier, protecting the country from infiltration as best as they can, while silently convincing their hearts that they'll return safe and sound to serve their mothers and love their wives and children.

Every great achievement is a sign of boldness within the achiever's heart, perseverance in their efforts and realness in their purpose. With even one of those elements missing, an achievement isn't half as praise-worthy. And that is why, mothers must teach their children, not to be 'ideal' but rather to be bold and fearless, at the same time remembering who they are and what ideals they stand for. Because ultimately it's all about finding yourself and having the requisite courage within to live up to your own ideals. To put it in even fewer words: BE BOLD, STAY REAL.

[I am writing on Be Bold Stay Real at BlogAdda.]