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The Coin Called Happiness

Yello to all my lovelies,

Seasons Greetings to all. While everyone else is either working,prepping for an upcoming wedding or simply enjoying the onset of winter,I am stuck with my books for the coming Semester exams. :/. And I just can’t get myself to doing it. The weather discourages me from studying. He wants me to stay cooped up in a blanket and only get out for  a cup of jo. 😛

Anyhow,so this time around I have a tonne of questions that need answering, not just for me you don’t, you also need to answer them for yourself.

So, essentially what is happiness? How do you define it? What criteria or how do I measure happiness?

Every time I stand waiting at a crossing and a child comes begging or an anorexic man comes and stand in front of the car begging me to purchase a book or a  charger,whatever he is selling that day, I say “Thank God” I wasn’t born impoverished. But of late I have started to wonder, if he is happy still? If he is content with what he has and gets a good night sleep after the laborious day that he has had?

Truth be told, after my Mother passed on, happiness is just a temporary state which extinguishes soon after the joke is over. With her, a part of my heart, a part of the child in me, a part of my happiness died.

So I end up comparing myself to him, considering I was born in a home where money was not as big an issue as it is for them.

These days around,every one I meet including myself are very money-centric. Retail therapy ring a bell? We find spending money therapeutic or so we tell ourselves. But in the last two years I have not found solace in my greed. I have truly cherished all the tangible gifts and blessings I have been showered with, but that does not define my happiness.

Then I wonder, there are those who have all the riches in the world but they endure and are not satisfied. It is sadness that drives them to exist and not happiness.

My father used to tell me a story when I was a child, that the richest man in the world could not eat well, sleep well, live well, merely out of the fear that someone shall try and kill him. He could not like the pauper in his kingdom sleep in peace under the tree. He was not free. His supposed wealth had tied him down and his freedom.

I even hear relationships are measured by the tablespoon of money.

But if money is such an essential component of happiness, why aren’t the people with fat bank balances as happy as their balances?

These days I think that man I pity is probably happier than I am. Albeit, money is important, it is not the sole, not even the primary component of happiness.

Ah! but this post was supposed to be about questions and not conclusions, so here it goes…

What is happiness?

Does having more money mean more happiness?

Isn’t the consumerist tendency driving us to a stage of slavery, ultimately destroying our happiness altogether?

Are we happy with what we have?

Would having more make us happier?

Are relationships not based on quid pro quo?

I thought love conquers all. But like it is said “PAISA PRADHAAN HAI” (Money is the Boss).

Let me know what you think.




The Birthday Post…

…that came 18 days after the Birthday.

First of all,I would like to wish myself a Belated Happy Birthday on your behalf(you were going to wish me?).Well,if you are family or friend or acquaintance (via Facebook or other social networking site),you would know,that after seven years I spent my birthday away from my beloved Dilli.Phew,it scares the ba-jesus out of my to have conversations and recollect memories in decades now.The perks of growing old,eh?

Well,this isn’t what the post is about,ranting about the curses of growing old.Although,if its about growing old,let us compare ourselves to Wine And Scotch,now shall we? 😀

Keeping the trauma of growing ‘old’ aside,I always have and always shall be super-kicked about the biggest day of my life(and no impending wedding won’t match up to this day).Why,you ask?Well,THIS is the day I was privileged into this World,into my family with a warm welcome.There were dreams built around me even before I came into existence,this is the first time my parents held me,they blessed me,hugged me and kissed me.This was the first day of my adventure called life.So,I shall ALWAYS be super-kicked about my birthday.And the guilt-free indulgence and the gifts are just the perks (if you are friend/family:No,they are NOT,I better get a present and some cupcakes.Its the silent rule of Birthday, :D)

I know life throws innumerable hurdles in our path,almost every day,and there are days we curse,”why the hell was I put on this planet?” yada yada yada,and I do it more than often(leaning towards the pessimistic side perpetually).But,on this day I am always grateful,to God,to my parents,to my friends,to myself,to have survived so long,to have been priveleged with all the luxuries that I conveniently take for granted,to all the days I idly waste,to all the people who decided to stay in my life and stick by through thick and thin,and mostly to myself(it is MY birthday after all,now ain’t it): for having made it through another year.

The point of all this is not to bring to your scrutiny my quasi-narcissistic tendencies,it is to explain that it is essential that we learn to celebrate ourselves,appreciate ourselves and most importantly value ourselves.Over the years we start to take ourselves for granted and we forget the we possess the potential to obtain our wildest dreams,but we reluctantly succumb to the mundane and accept ourselves as ordinary,and gradually that is what we let ourselves become.

The point of this post is to believe in those dreams you dreamt when once you were a child,when you truly believed you could conquer the world.As we grow older,as we mature,we let forget to celebrate ourselves,to treat ourselves,to believe in ourselves,and that is precisely why I have decided that albeit I might succumb to the brutalities of life 364 days in a year,on July 12 every year I shall celebrate me and all the insanity that comes along with it.I buy myself a cake and a present and a bottle of fine Wine(well Vodka is my poison) and herald the year like it is going to be my last (or till the clock strikes 12).

Are you going to do the same?

I hope you do,



What If…

…You could never fail,what would you do?

When I saw this picture on one of my Facebook Pages,a gush of joy ran through my veins.I was jolted out of my perpetual pessimism.Was this even possible?

And with that question,the inevitable serpent of DOUBT coiled around me.

I am a fitness addict,if you’ve known me personally,I have struggled with weight loss and prefer healthier foods and a strict workout regime over lethargy,and with that ONE goal in mind I never look back,because giving up was never an option for me.

So,why not for goals in life?The tiny ones,the big ones,the ones that scare me the most,the ones which seem to only exist my cloud bubbles of dreams.If there was NO option to lose in those,IF I did not give myself an option to secede could I win it,achieve all my unattainable goals?

Maybe I can.Will you strive for yours?


The Epic Tragedy

Well if you were hoping for a tawdry,wry post how I am wallowing in my own pool of sorrows,well you are partially INCORRECT.

Partially incorrect you ask?

Well in that case,let me break the cookie about the partially CORRECT aspect of it.

If you are an ardent follower of my blog,I bet you know of the recent catastrophe that Our Dear God inflicted upon me.Apart from that,I recently met with a gruesome accident which along with the said ‘catastrophe’ has left an indelible mark that refuses to torment me.Well,if this was not enough,I am heart broken.Yes!in the literal sense.Till I am able to figure out and sort ‘this’ particular aspect out,you are free to conjecture,whatever you wish to conjecture out of it.When I shall have dealt with it,I shall generously share the intricate details of my oh-so-broken-ripped-in-pieces heart.

Anyhoo,The past month and a half has been quite  a trying one.To top it all,adjusting to a ‘NEW’ not-so-friendly,excessively hostile College(yes!my DREAM-COLLEGE Dream just shattered into pieces.=/ ).Getting back to the point,the past month and a half has been quite a trying one.And to be blatantly honest,even though I can masquerade the tears,the pain,the grief and the monumental despair behind the facade of a plastic smile,I wake up each morning,hoping and praying to this Dear God of ‘yours’ to give me strength,but each morning mechanically my body refuses to acknowledge the wake of dawn.Like a machine however,the ‘physical me’ wakes up to continue this drab routine called ‘life’.And each night,hoping and praying,I sleep off praying to this Dear God of ‘yours’ to give me strength to survive another day.Continue the said pattern mechanically,with no emotions attached whatsoever.Like a mobile computer,robots they call it,right?Yes,exactly,like a robot,no actually,a mere puppet,with the strings being held by this Dear God of ‘yours’.Just a machine,procuring its said functions.

Amidst the plethora of my grievous despondency,did you forget the partially INCORRECT bit of it?

Oh you did,didn’t you?If you did not,well,it is much appreciated,you are one helluva sincere reader.=).Anyhoo,getting back to the point(this stoopid stream of consciousness technique that messes with my attempt-to-sound-mature-and-grown-up-like entry).

The partially incorrect bit:

1.I finished reading ‘The God of Small Things’.How does a mere book suffice to endure the tragedy?Well,you ought to read it to get it.This is by far the best book I have read.I connect with it on levels not many can understand.Not many SHOULD understand.It talks of death from an absolutely different perspective.And not just that,the layers of meaning each sentence has,the dark wit and the single stranded joke on ‘US’ a.k.a.humankind,to be precise:Indian-kind,no author has been able to mock us and mirror the hidden skeletons in our closet the way Arundhati Roy has been able to do.I am in love with that woman’s brain.LITERALLY.And this book,I would say She has gotten me writing again,both blogging and poetry(shall share the poem soon enough).

2.Even though,the handful of it barely drags through the day,but the handful of it stretches its limits each day.It varies to be honest.From day to day,from event to event,it extinguishes soon,yes it does,but it is there,and it grows,not by enormous degrees,bit by bit.And I suppose,it is what has save’d’ me,incorrect,save’s’ me from the wretched clutches of insanity:S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H.

Yes,the abject pitiful state of affairs never cease to befall,or that is how it seems,the gravity has been increasing from one catastrophe to another,the Epic Tragedy of all is to cease to live.

Merely surviving is like slow poison,it penetrates deep within your system at an ‘alarmingly’ slow pace.It tatters your insides bit by bit,and gradually you are left with mere flesh,and a plastic smile,the Soul and the Heart,the emotions completely extinguish.They cease to exist.All that is left is a mere ‘alive’ dead body.And to be blatantly honest,this is how I have become.Or not?Who am ‘I’ to judge?(‘The God of Small Things’ has taken a serious toll on me!Anyhoo,the stream-of-consciousness-technique messing again!)

There is a hurricane blazing inside me,masqueraded by the plastic smile and lame humor(yes!the intellect has been adversely effected by the ‘series of unfortunate events’).

The partially incorrect is,however,is my ability to try each day.Yes,these are the best of times,as in,the best to test my ability to bear the storm,the best to strengthen me,the best to fall-in-love-be-heartbroken-and-realise-that-I-failed-my-own-theory-and-experienced-rather-am-privileged-to-experience-‘Unconditional Love’,to let go off excess baggage.Yes,these are the best of times,for,I am too young,and this journey to long,and I learnt early.Yet,these are the worst of times,for I am NOT a bad human,for I do NOT deserve such tragedies,for I endure pain and the world moves on without so much as caring,that I am breaking each day,falling and rusting and extinguishing.

The partially incorrect is,that even though I have no strength to survive,I still do.This is probably what Mumma wants.

The epic tragedy of life is not NOT-TO-LIVE.And no,I am not living,I am a mere survivor of the series of storms,I am still ‘alive’,dying,not dead,for a reason.And maybe,I shall start living again,soon or maybe late.This storm inside may cease,this hollow inside however may never fill,probably I have furthermore ‘downs’ to experience and maybe I may break a HELL lot more,but I refuse to succumb to Life and its insane tragedies,and  NOT choose (what I call it now:)the convenient opportunity called Death.

Yes!I am a mere machine today,and yes,it may take a HELL LOT OF time to be back to normal(whatever normal is?According to the ‘reasonable standard of society’),but like they say, “this too shall pass”.And this Epic Tragedy shall leave an Epic Lesson to learn.



P.S.:I am thinking,I shall start penning a book soon.Say what?

“Please Don’t Pity Me”

Hello There,

Today’s post is based on the incident that took place last night.

The end result of my behavior at the said state of affairs left me completely abashed.And no I shall use no defenses to excuse myself from taking the blame for the deed done.

What happened you ask?

On my way back from a ritzy Delhi Market,there were cardinal red lights,and like my luck always works,I had to halt at almost all such intervals.For all my precious Delhi folk know about this,I hope,and for those who don’t,halting at a Crossing implies not merely waiting for the annoying Red Light to switch to Green,but also destitute children importuning the slightest act of generosity they can be bequeathed with.Yesterday,instead of the incessant begging this particular kid with an amputated arm was selling Gajra (a.k.a.flower garland).No one paid heed to the poor chap,so out of ‘sympathy’ I decided to give him a Rs.10 note.As I handed him the note,he immediately took out one strand of Gajra from the stack in order to hand it over to me,which I blatantly refused (please know I have extremely short hair and Gajra-s are usually meant for the hair!).The kid-with-the-amputated-arm did not appreciate my ‘gesture’.Admonishing me politely he said,“Ma’am!I don’t want your pity,I want a hard day’s pay.I might not have one arm,but I most definitely have the Will Power as its replacement.”

The half an hour long drive back home,was probably the longest I have ever traversed.It made me ponder as to why we ‘pity’?Probably because an amputated arm/leg is a cue to our superiority?We ‘pity’ people because it makes us stand at a better stance than them.We as human beings in order to feel good about ourselves confuse pity with generosity.We tend to ‘pity’ people below our own financial standing,we ‘the taller’,’the thinner’,’the fairer’ folk tend to ‘pity’ the ones who do not possess these physical attributes of ‘beauty.’

The lesson I derived from the hour-long introspection yesterday was the one of Acceptance.We need to start accepting these so-called man-made ‘flaws’.We as human beings are all flawed,physically and/or mentally.No body is perfect.The least we can do is give every one a chance to prove their mettle,and if people are in genuine need of alms,then do it out of love and not pity.Do it for the sake of ’empathy’ and not ‘sympathy’.

So,I shall end the post here.

Do,pardon the stream-of-consciousness write-up,I ought not to pen a post with The Blackberry by my side.The incessant BBMs really do spoil the chain of thought.=/

Please do give this one a thought.

Till the next time,

This is N signing out.

Of Procrastination…

Dear Me/My Mind/My Heart/My Will(Whatever it is that controls it),

Do you not understand,that when I finally sleep at night?I am disappointed with myself,for putting off what I could have accomplished today.

I do sincerely understand,that you are acing it et al.But there are bazillion tasks that are left mid-way,unfinished,unresolved.And yes,you too do not like it.

So,from tomorrow,eerr,I mean today,NOW,do start cooperating with me and lets just be completely glad at sleep time that the day was fully lived.

Thank you,

Much love,





Yes!I intended to pen down this post on Valentines,but my inertness is well,overpowering.(trying to lessen it though!).Anyhow,back to the point.


May it be the heart-shaped candy boxes to red roses,perfect Valentines Day present,or a simple dinner with your spouse,this time around everyone pines on making their loved ones feel special.For me,it is a celebration of love itself.From family to friends to the beau,for me it is about appreciating the loved ones,who love me regardless of my flaws.Those who stuck by through thick and thin.And Valentines is yet another reason to express my bountiful love for them.=).

The title is a catalog of the languages I can translate the English love to.Why?Ah!The lesson beckons.

Amidst the chaos engulfing the political fronts,let us take time to realize that love expressed in all languages has a similar intention.It is a beguile feeling,that engulfs all pain and hurt.It simply expresses the joy one feels in the presence of the other(may it be your spouse/family/friends/pet et cetra).Moreover love exudes a language of its own,it yields patience,forgiveness,trust,faith,courage and hope.Love transcends over the man-made boundaries and provides for the believers a reason for a Better Place,a Happier Residence without the restrictions of boundaries,castes,creed,color,gender.Utopia you call it?

Well,I derive my Hope from Love.And to all,I wish,A Very Loved Life.=)

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