A Great new hobby

 We focus on marvelous technology and all the cool stuff we can do with a single click. But have you noticed a simple piece of jewelery that has made an impact in the past years.
   I am talking about for -a-cause  silicone wristbands. I wore the first ever wristband in 2004. It was for the Tsunami Relief Fund in Thailand. Since then, I have donned bands to support aids awareness and cancer.
  So where did the trend start?
  LIVESTRONG!  The Lance Armstrong foundation  launched wristbands in may 2004  as a fundraising item. Rest is history.

     If you're thinking of starting a fundraiser, don't miss out on these. It's a jewel! There are so many out there! Get creative and customize. The three things you need- The Internet, PayPal and a cause.

                    

            Here are different shades you can choose from, to show that you support breast cancer.

It could be a sweet way to show someone that they're special.

                                    Let us all start a hobby. Collect wristbands!

It's you and you and you.

 An Orange fingernail slashed with a shade of black.

 A nude colored lipstick,  leaves an imprint. Smack!

A tight black dress, maybe a little bit revealing.

A lose harem pant on the hippie who's singing.

A short bob, with bangs about to cover the eyes.

A long mane, curled to perfection on all sides.

Prom Queen, dazzling in diamonds.

An Olympian winner sprints like a lion.

A model on a calendar. Slim and sweet.

A firefighter mom,  beats all the heat.

 A  lover, gasping at her new promise ring.

 A  fighter,  abused in love, shuts the door on him.

 So many names,  countless attributions.

 Carved from roses, Made to perfection.

 Let's celebrate,

 Cuz we have something in common

                                                        

 Bright like a star, pure as heaven

 United under a specie, we are all called "Woman"

The Half Bitten Apple

      My relationship with Steve Jobs is relatively new. In 2010 I bought the much coveted MAC computer. And earlier this year, I watched his speech at Stanford University. For those of you who haven't, do it now. But one needs only a second to be drawn to charisma.
     Steve Jobs might not be the philanthropist we admire in Bill Gates, but he is an entrepreneur, a 'never quitter'. This is what I learn from him. He was " asked to quit" from the company he founded, at the age of 30. But he never gave up. He came back and since then he has become unstoppable.

    As I type these words, I look at my computer.  The layout, the design, the unique personality this machine device exudes. And the credits go to Steve Jobs and his friends. We would not have had the fancy Macintosh computers we learned about in school, there would be no speculations about iPhone 5. And there would be no Macbook Air ( with which you can slice an apple!).
   As the news of his death sinks in, we all mourn for the great mind. He has left an  imprint on our minds. Let us remember him every time we see the half bitten apple on our Macs, iphones, ipods.  And let me quote a very amusing Facebook status I read earlier - "With Steve Jobs gone, the apple in the Mac is now half bitten."

Mahabharata Part I

Arjuna and Krishnaji

    The epic of Mahabharata  is absolutely amazing. I  have watched  20 episodes in two days. It's the T.V series that was extremely popular in the late 80's, early 90's. Just when I was born. It is filled with culture and reflection. It speaks for the birth of who we are. The mythical creatures, the unbreakable vows,  the meditating sages, the beautiful princesses, the warrior kings. A kingdom, kept precious. These things seem so whimsical to us. Perhaps it is too good to be real. Perhaps we have  marked our ancient culture as conservative. It depends.
    But it is important to know where you come from. It is important to derive insipration. It is important to devote yourself.  My quest transcends the boundaries of religion. I am merely asking you all to take time to reevaluate. There have been many outcries against the Bhagwad Gita. Some leaders accuse it of being the ultimate excuse to not work hard and rely on fate. They have their right to do so. But I beg to differ. Those who choose to blind themselves in the name of fate, need no holy book to guide them. They will find ways to twist words.
   Mahabharat is not religion. It is literature. It has not only given idols to worship. It is the lead to a long road of cultural discovery. It shapes my identity.
     The heroes of Mahabharata aren't perfect. The Pandavas were cowards that failed to protect their  beloved wife from being stripped off, Krishnaji would've been called a player today.  In their faults lies our truth. Our way to realize that you can't be perfect.
     Stick around. I will share my other Mahabharata thoughts as the series unfolds.

Just a thought

We look for so many reasons. Reasons to fall in love. Reasons to start a fight. Reasons to cry. Reasons for another reason. Have you ever noticed that the quest to match the reason with it's possible  answers takes us a whole time.
I was sipping a can of coke today. Nothing special about it. Then I looked at it for a moment and realized I could do so many things with it. I could offer my neighbor to go play fetch with her dog. Or maybe I could collect and sell all the cans and earn some money for the yummy Mocha Coconut at Starbucks?
I ended up doing something quite outrageous. I turned my empty can into lady Gaga. It took us a little time but we ended up finding the bracelets the fluffy pink crown and even a butterfly. I was at the mall and a few stopped and watch as I tried to  make my Gaga-can look cute.



I must say my little art and craft time with myself might have looked like a total waste of time, but we can derive so much from my beautiful (admit it!) creation. If an empty bottle can look so nice ;) have you ever sat down and thought what that beautiful heart of yours can do?

Set goals, shall we? Let's make this summer a productive one. Don't let the sun melt your energy *insert a heart here*

The Holy River

Background: This story is set in Kathmandu, the capital of my country Nepal. Girls are married off at an early age and expected to treat their men like god.


There is a temple Pashupati and river that flows besides it called Bagmati. Bagmati is a a very holy river for the Hindus, yet it is extremely polluted. People are ignorant


*************************************************************************************************


The sad thing about the place I belong to is that it could have been more and more beautiful, had we not tampered with its course. But alas, we have is what we have, and what are we to gain from complaining about what we couldn't do and what we don’t have?





Just like everyday of the past two hundred and ninety seven days I wake up to the sound of a rooster. It is the most pestering sound. Weird it is that it seems to pierce through only and only my ears. Every morning, I wake up with a start. I cast a glance on the other side of the bed and see him sleep peacefully besides me. My husband. I don’t love him, but he is a nice man. I have never been beaten or forced and he brings me flowers every now and then. But I don’t love him. He is too ugly and old for me. I am beautiful and can thrive. But I must comply to his needs and serve him to the fullest. Well, that is what everyone says. Secretly, I see no God in him and I stopped drinking water from his feet after I found out that he will never come out of the deep sleep to catch my crime.


I place an empty pot on my slim waist and swiftly get out of the house. Dawn has just begun to crack and the road outside is silent. Some street dogs lie fast asleep on the paved roads. I walk further. I cherish these mornings, for coming out of that damp tiny room in that congested building to the real world of Kathmandu gives me a sense of freedom. if I had money and mind to make money I would never return back to that room. I would never return back to where my mother bore me. I would run and run. From people and from what they say.


I see a few people on the sidewalk. They are old and sick. They beg me for money and cry out in pain. I have five stolen oranges from my sister in law’s room and give it to them.They smile and give me blessings. I smile back and walk ahead. The temple of Pashupati lies in the heart of the city and of the people that live here. Its golden shrine and ancient architecture and the river Bagmati in the background is magical.The dirt and death in the river is lucid. No one’s eyes can escape the weight of the souls Bagmati river carries. But the purity and divinity that is held within this holy river is hidden beneath the dirt and ignorance. Its secrets lie subtle.


I stand on the very bank of this river and gaze upon my reflection. But all that is to it is dark brown mud and green plants. I cannot feel its beauty. However, I bend down and collect a handful and wash my face.


Splash it goes against my face. I smile to myself. I feel awake. It is not the water, it is more. It is refreshing. It lightens up my face, it seeps into me and alerts my inner being. It is my moment to rise and shine. The sun plays its game and slowly dries away the last drip and I sit there just closing my eyes.


“ Not many of you do that.”


I jump. When I look back I see an old man sitting by a rock and watch me. His hair reached his thighs and forehead bore markings. I do not know if he looks amused or its simply the way he is. But he looks at me knowingly. As if he can see beyond my face. I know not to mingle too much with these street people disguised as fortune tellers and pretend to not have heard him.


“ Human mind works in strange ways. There is yours. You are the first in many years who truly loves the purity of this impure water. You have nothing hidden in that glee like every other person I see.”


I still don’t speak and pretend not to hear.


“ Alas. So young. You are not a coward but not brave. You hide but you want to fly. You people. Dont know what this life could mean if you just fight that fear.”


I fill the pot and pour the water over my body and pretend to be immersed in it.






“ You know what my peace is. It is eating these pigeons. Everyday i eat one. Usually an old one, or an injured one. I help it get rid of the pain. I kill it ad fry it and drink its blood and feast on its bone. It's the same you do with the water. Do you not feel immortal? Why aren’t we all like that.”


I stop what I am doing and stare at the water flowing away. I wonder where it goes. Maybe nowhere. Maybe it just goes on and on. Never stops. No end and no start. It just is there.


I look back at the saint and he is now smiling. He is playing with the pigeons and is talking with them.


“ Not many have the mind to discover their inner peace. You seem to have. At an early age. Your age I ran after women ad robbed helpless people. You are wise. You have the choice. I am off to eating. You have your answer.”


He leaves with a pigeon and walks towards the street. I don’t want to see more.


I look at the river again. My river so beautiful. I can see beneath brown and scum, I can see the beauty beneath the picture these people have painted. It dances against the sky. It teases the clouds and dares them to shower upon it. Secretly it begs for peace. It calls me.


I can feel it come towards me . Slowly we pull towards each other. Eager to embrace. I close my eyes and jump into it and immerse in its beauty. Four five six times. I don’t want come out. Slowly I flow with the current on an endless journey. Like the river. I am in the river. I am the river.


*****************************************************************************************************


A few days later they found her sari, her bangles, her shoes and the pot. The pot showed a flowing river that never ended and a single feather of a bird.


Some say it was a pigeon.


Some believed it to be god and built temples upon it.




The river still smells of rotten ignorance and hypocrisy.

Mantra: Deception day 1

Note I wrote this two weeks ago but FORGOT to post it:
       On my Quest to find inner peace, I  travelled to places so far inside my conscience, I was scared  that I would never come out of it. It was almost a limbo. But quite not. Then, I found inner peace- On my phone. I am so glad that I wanted  to be tech savvy and cool. Because that led me to become the proud owner of Samsung Captivate.

   So ya. I went to the Market and typed in dozens of words that would lead me to one single goal- peace of mind. In the end, I downloaded an App called 5- minute meditation. Yesterday, when my heartbeat was unusually high, since I was panicking about papers and quizzes and life and life, I gave it a try. 

It was pretty relaxing. If you feel exhausted and frustrated. Join the league. It's called stress and it's been here forever. Now you can sit and whine and whine and whine. You'll succeed in what you wanted to do. That's nothing.  But you can also step up. Now you must think - Ah, she is starting to sound like a self help book. 

   Now come on. I swear if there is one thing I am not, that's a self help book. I am just sharing a little bit wisdom that appeared before me. It taught me to deceive your mind. Your stressed mind is confused. Exhausted. And all it wants to do is feel better.

    Meditation is the best way. Totally immerse yourself in it. Push yourself to believe that it is the answer.  Don't try to be smart about it. Don't let your mind think about why it's not working. Just tell yourself it is.

Yep she helped me for a week.

I tried this one and it's awesome. It's still running on my phone.

    Try it for a week and share your thoughts.  These were free. You might find fancier and costlier ones. You can choose whatever. But keep in mind your goal. And that's attaining  peace of mind

                         

Once upon a time....and Now

This is the picture that's on my book. The smile is familiar to me now.

The  University introduced me to the Rwandan Genocide. It's devastating. I miss my copy of The Diary of Anne Frank. It lies in my bedroom, back home. I was probably 13 or 14. The same age as Anne Frank. The first time I read it, I couldn't comprehend the magnitude of  barbarism, this young girl was witnessing. But I read the book more than once. Every time, we had a World Wa rII lesson or a chapter on the Holocaust, I would re-read her entries. It started to make more sense.. I get the same almost- nauseous  feeling now. When we watched Alfredo Jaar's " We wish to inform you that we didn't know", the same feeling of disbelief was back.
Just one single thought. Sums up, everything.
How
A Million people, butchered to death in  less than 100 days. And the rest of the world turned the other way. The documentary blames Top Leaders for ignoring the happenings. It's just eerie, to think how you can just overlook such a thing. It's unbelievable.

And we move on to technology. To generations of iphones and tablets and rockets. And not even long ago, 80,000 bodies were thrown into rivers.

The Thirty Years War, The Revolutions, The Nuclear attacks." Price for independence". Just so that you can sing of glory.
But is anyone free?

To be continued........

Blues

        

It's when we look for excuses. 

Have you ever noticed that Monday is just like Sunday? 

We add the Blues. 

These man-made, these long calender of events, 

this snowy day.

 It's all the making of a story. 

Facts are thrown at you like bullets. 

Or could they be flower petals, gently being sprinkled.

See I am talking about perspective. 

I mean, how long will we wait for the right time. 

Oops mine could have just gone. 

It's probably the wisdom that comes in the twenty. 

But I am rather on the philosophical edge.

 It's like giving birth. 

Only the pain of bursting out of this cocoon isn't as tangible.

 But this monumental endeavor could awaken me.

It's almost epiphany. 

And maybe not. 

It's always been there. 

I am just not able to catch it.