Dev and Beera were best friends at school friend. Life moved on, and they parted ways like every other pair of friends in Bollywood just to meet again at the same place and same time and the same smoking zone of the same corporate.
Dev: Machan! How are you da? You studied textile engineering and you are in IT? How come you are here da? When did you join machan? Why you standing alone da? Is everything ok?
Beera: Machan I’m good Machi. I joined here six months back da. Life is very boring da machan.
Dev: Why machan? What happened da?
Beera: So boring Machan. No onsite opportunities. Same old work station, same old bike I come to office in, same old cafeteria. I want some change da.
Dev: On site opportunities? It’s just been six months since you joined da. Anyways life is like that, learn to accept it as it is.
Beera: Same old dress also I am wearing da. We wear same formal wear man. Girls are so lucky machan. They can wear so many different clothes. Salwar, Saree, trousers and what not. And now days all these girls are wearing what used to be called gym wear once upon time. And they call those leggings formal wear also. Everyone thinks they are Nadia Comăneci da.
Dev: Who’s Nadia Comăneci da? Your On-Site coordinator ah?
Beera: No machan. She was a famous gymnast da. How do they expect us to wear formal wear all five days? Its so hot here and in addition to that we need to stay in that for nine hours a day. It doesn’t suit our body. We should wear dhotis and promote Indian wear da. Dhotis and Kurtas are accepted as formals in the parliament also. I am going to write to the HR about this da.
A year later Dev and Beera meet again. This time at an air-conditioned bar in the maxim city- Mumbai.
Beera: Machan! How are you da? You got married and you are in a Bar? How come you are here da? Why you sitting alone da? Is everything ok?
Dev: Life is horrible da. No onsite opportunities. Same old work station, same old bike I go to office in, same old cafeteria, everything is same. I want some change da. Okay, you tell me machan, how are you machan? Long time no see. Where and how have you been?
Beera: I am good da. I told you last time that I was upset about the dress code policy followed in corporates, right? I did a detailed analysis and presented a case to the HR about why Dhotis should be made a part of the formal dress code. See in India our climate is humid and most of us are like bears da. The food we eat is wet and our restrooms are also wet. Dhotis are best suited for these conditions machan. Moreover they provide a free air conditioning effect throughout the day. I did a study and learnt that it prevents UTI infections also da. The HR folks were impressed and asked me to pioneer the attire change movement in corporates. Now I am the global head of the ‘Attire Alteration Management Committee’.
Dev: Wow machan. So you went onsite and all eh?
Beera: Yea machan. I just had a meeting with Ban Ki moon last week. I returned from New York yesterday machan.
Dev: Ban Ki moon is your onsite manager ah?
Beera: No da. He is the secretary general of the United Nations. We were having a discussion on understanding attire worldwide to suit the global climatic changes.
An Idea can change your life.
Friday, October 08, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Skewed Queues
Whenever I look at a white collared professional, I always wonder if education could have changed my life. I started to work at an age when I should have ideally been carrying a school bag instead of the cement bag and bricks. I started with an income of Rs.10 per month. For the first few years of my professional life, I carried cement and other amenities at the construction site. Then I learnt to mix the cement and sand in the right proportions. Soon I learnt how to lay the bricks and patch up the walls too. Today, I am sixty years old, an age when the government wants you to retire. It is only after so many years, that I can decipher the layout plan of a building whose bricks were laid by me.
The man who instructed us and got all the work done was a white collared professional. He visited the site once in two weeks and used to make some drawings which I never understood. All that I knew was that he was an educated man, and education had power. The power that distinguished the white collared people from blue collared people like me. The power to change the unchanged, the power to create and the power to destroy. I was determined to bestow the best education to my children, so that they could take on the world and accomplish the things I had never been able to. I wanted to give them all that was denied to me. I worked untiringly and sometimes, I worked for two shifts just to make ends meet. Supporting both a sick wife on one hand and a school going child on the other was no easy task. I have no regrets for the sacrifices I've made over the years, for today, my son is a white collared professional. He works in a fully air conditioned building. He wears ironed clothes to office and even his feet don't touch the sand.
Last week, my son had forgotten his Tiffin box at home. My wife was feeling terrible about it. So I decided to make her happy and I went to deliver it to him at his office. His office is located at the outskirts of the city and has not one, but 5 high raised buildings inside o
ne place. I wondered inside which building my son was working. Travel to his office is quite complicated. I had to travel by a van till the gate. While I was waiting for a van, I saw many other white collared professionals like my son who were waiting for the van. The moment the van arrived, all of them huddled at the entrance of the van and pushed their way inside. I found it a bit hard to make my way into the van. I was the last man to get in and I wasn't surprised about not finding myself a place to sit. I stood at the rear end of the van because I was afraid of standing near the door. The moment the van reached the destination, it was the same scene that was at the entrance. Everyone huddled and was racing to get out. I wonder how a fifty second delay in getting out of the van would affect them.
I called up my son to find out where I had to deliver his Tiffin box. He told me to come to a place called the cafeteria. I couldn't even pronounce the word properly. I finally discovered that it was a common gathering where everyone ate. At the construction site, the huge mountains of sand was our cafeteria. The only difference was that, here food was sold and at the construction site we brought our food. I saw a huge line of young men and women standing close together like a chain. They were waiting to get a small chit of paper from a man who was selling it from a computerized machine.
Soon my son arrived.I gave him his lunch, and he asked me to sit with him till he finished. I told him about how people were pushing one another in the van and right in front of our eyes at the cafeteria. He told me "Dad this is not some school or military to stand in attention in straight lines. How would you understand? All your life you were just a blue collared worker."
Yes I was a blue collared worker all my life. I never went to school to learn to stand in a line. I've never attended republic day and Independence Day parades to learn that I must maintain a two feet distance from the person standing in front of me. In the construction site, the only important thing was to follow a line. Hell would break loose if we didn't, and no one pushed or fell over one another. Every evening, we stood one behind another to collect our daily wages. There were women and children in the queue and hence, we maintained the two feet distance between each other. There were women who had to go home and feed hungry kids, fathers who had to go home just to give their family the money so that they could buy their dinner, but no one pushed or huddled or raced to get what was due to them . We knew there was no point in running a race that had no medals.
On my way back home, I struggled my way into the van and got a place to sit. Education sometimes can get your life into the right line. I think it requires more than just education to stand in a straight line.
The man who instructed us and got all the work done was a white collared professional. He visited the site once in two weeks and used to make some drawings which I never understood. All that I knew was that he was an educated man, and education had power. The power that distinguished the white collared people from blue collared people like me. The power to change the unchanged, the power to create and the power to destroy. I was determined to bestow the best education to my children, so that they could take on the world and accomplish the things I had never been able to. I wanted to give them all that was denied to me. I worked untiringly and sometimes, I worked for two shifts just to make ends meet. Supporting both a sick wife on one hand and a school going child on the other was no easy task. I have no regrets for the sacrifices I've made over the years, for today, my son is a white collared professional. He works in a fully air conditioned building. He wears ironed clothes to office and even his feet don't touch the sand.
Last week, my son had forgotten his Tiffin box at home. My wife was feeling terrible about it. So I decided to make her happy and I went to deliver it to him at his office. His office is located at the outskirts of the city and has not one, but 5 high raised buildings inside o
ne place. I wondered inside which building my son was working. Travel to his office is quite complicated. I had to travel by a van till the gate. While I was waiting for a van, I saw many other white collared professionals like my son who were waiting for the van. The moment the van arrived, all of them huddled at the entrance of the van and pushed their way inside. I found it a bit hard to make my way into the van. I was the last man to get in and I wasn't surprised about not finding myself a place to sit. I stood at the rear end of the van because I was afraid of standing near the door. The moment the van reached the destination, it was the same scene that was at the entrance. Everyone huddled and was racing to get out. I wonder how a fifty second delay in getting out of the van would affect them.
I called up my son to find out where I had to deliver his Tiffin box. He told me to come to a place called the cafeteria. I couldn't even pronounce the word properly. I finally discovered that it was a common gathering where everyone ate. At the construction site, the huge mountains of sand was our cafeteria. The only difference was that, here food was sold and at the construction site we brought our food. I saw a huge line of young men and women standing close together like a chain. They were waiting to get a small chit of paper from a man who was selling it from a computerized machine.
Soon my son arrived.I gave him his lunch, and he asked me to sit with him till he finished. I told him about how people were pushing one another in the van and right in front of our eyes at the cafeteria. He told me "Dad this is not some school or military to stand in attention in straight lines. How would you understand? All your life you were just a blue collared worker."
Yes I was a blue collared worker all my life. I never went to school to learn to stand in a line. I've never attended republic day and Independence Day parades to learn that I must maintain a two feet distance from the person standing in front of me. In the construction site, the only important thing was to follow a line. Hell would break loose if we didn't, and no one pushed or fell over one another. Every evening, we stood one behind another to collect our daily wages. There were women and children in the queue and hence, we maintained the two feet distance between each other. There were women who had to go home and feed hungry kids, fathers who had to go home just to give their family the money so that they could buy their dinner, but no one pushed or huddled or raced to get what was due to them . We knew there was no point in running a race that had no medals.
On my way back home, I struggled my way into the van and got a place to sit. Education sometimes can get your life into the right line. I think it requires more than just education to stand in a straight line.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Musings from 'KADHAL KAVITHAI' and more
Note : Those who don't understand Tamil, I beg your forgiveness.
I work as a receptionist in Hotel Rambha Paradise. Today, I was fired from my job.
The series of events that unfolded:
7-4.5 AM: "It's my life..It's now or never..I ain't gonna live forever..I just wanna live while I'm alive" yes the age old Bon Jovi song blares as my Alarm rings. I have a fad for fancy alarm tones. Shucks I'm late.
7-48 A.M: (In the shower) Do I need to use the Palmolive Aroma therapy shower gel now?
The song "It's my life..It's now or never..I ain't gonna live forever" strikes my head. I take the gel and fill the bathroom with bubbles. I play with a few bubbles for exactly forty five seconds to be precise.
8-15 A.M: 'Beep Beep' mobile reads '2 messages received'. One is from my manager “Where the hell are you?" Second message is from super Manager “Why the hell are you late?"
8-28 A.M: Whoa! I'm finally ready. I broke my earlier record of getting ready in 45 minutes by a huge margin today.
8-30 A.M: I proceed to work on my Orange Scooty. Yes I own an Orange coloured Scooty. My mother thinks the colour black is inauspicious, and brings bad luck. At the same time she thinks red is too outrageous, so we decided on the most auspicious colour orange. (Each time she takes a ride on the scooty my mom would say 'Namba scooty evlo mangalagarama irukku paaru')
8-35 A.M: Stranded in Traffic. My manager calls and I miss the call. Can't call back. No balance. I ride for 15 minutes and finally find a recharge shop.
9-00 A.M: I recharge my mobile for Rs. 50. I call my manager back, ‘Your balance is insufficient to complete the call." Oh God!
Message : Your 'KADHAL KAVITHAI SERVICE HAS BEEN ACTIVATED FOR Rs.50 FOR FIVE DAYS' (KADHAL KAVITHAI in Tamil refers to LOVELY LOVE RHYMES)Arghghhhhhhhhhh no time to call customer service and blast them. No balance to call my boss too. I think 'A stitch in time saves nine'. Yes, finally after 6 minutes and 45 seconds of introspection, I give my super manager a missed call.
Me: Hello! Ah Sir, there is a small problem. Can I explain?
Manager: Where the hell are you? Don't you know that today is the welcoming ceremony of the new dance bar in our hotel and the great dancer, Miss Rocky Rampant is coming for the inauguration. I thought you would bring a big bouquet made of expensive orchids from the USA, to welcome our dancer madam but you were nowhere to be seen.
Me: Yes sir, I will be there in 10 minutes sharp.
9-30: I reach just two minutes before the Miss Rocky Rampant leaves.
Manager: Where is the bouquet of Orchids from the USA.
Me: Sir, I couldn't get orchids from USA, they said Orchids from Srilanka were only available, I bought our Dancer Madame, a wonderful gift instead.
Manager: What gift is it?
Me: A pair of leggings made from snake skin. You know sir, this really tight pant called leggings is the in-thing today. You can easily find at least a hand full of girls wearing these in every corporate these days sir.
Manager: Oh really! Then I'm sure our dancer Madame will be happy. Good job.
Me: Thank you sir.
11:00 A.M: Inauguration Ceremony over.
Manager: Super Manager is calling you.
I think to myself, 'Wow I guess I'm gonna get promoted this week.'
Super Manager: This incorrigible behaviour of yours can no longer be tolerated in this organization.
Me: Organization?
Super Manager: Yes Hotel Rambha Paradise is like every other organization. We are strict about timings and commitment. I don’t see that spark and fire in your eyes. And look at your guts, you give me a missed call. Who do you think I am? I am not your boy friend.
Me: But, Sir Can I explain what actually happened?
Super Manager: I have heard enough from you. Now please go out. You can have your salary settled next week.
Me: But sir please can I justt...
Super Manager: No more explanations. You have taken things for granted for too long. We don't need such irresponsible behaviour in this organization. Coming late is like cancer. It spreads fast and before it can spread I'm removing the root cause of the cancer. You can leave now.
I walk out of the office furious.
Manager: Can you tell me where you bought those snake skin leggings? I want to buy one for my wife.
Me: You should probably ask our super boss. He gave it to me one morning asking me to hide it in my runner.
KADHAL KAVITHAI has cost me my job. I pick up the phone and call the customer care representative (CCR).
CCR: Good Morning! This is Raj, how may I assist you?
Me: Your connection is the world on the face of this planet. It has cost me my job today. I never subscribed to any service but I get charged for it. And worse I don’t get what the service offers too.
Raj: Chill maam. Can you please explain your problem in detail?
Me: My mobile reads a message saying some stupid random service named KADHAL KAVITHAI has been activated and I have been charged Rs 50 for it. I dont want any such service and please de-activate it now. Right now.
Raj : Can I have you mobile number please?
Me: 0919802372-0942-96
Raj : Can I know why you want to deactivate this service?
Me: There is no KADHAL in my life.
Raj: Maam, this service is to help your love life. Can you please state your requirements ?
Me: I had lost my cool. 'What requirements? Okay you want requirements take them down, paal pole 18- il enaku oru Boy friend Venum. Kaalam Theriyamal Kadalai naan poda enakku oru boy friend venm. ( I need a boy friend in his sweet 18) Can you satisfy that? And I have not recieved one KADHAL KAVIDHAI till now. Can you hook me up with Jeyam Ravi?
Raj: Sorry for the inconvenience maam. I can help you with a few KADHAL KAVIDHAI's
"Justice Delayed is Justice Denied,
If you don't accept me love,
I shall consume Cyanide"
Wah Wah Wah
" I don't drink alcohol,
Honey, you give me the same kick,
I don't need a sweater when I'm cold,
Honey, You are a hot Chick."
Wah Wah Wah
Me : I need you to deactivate this right now. Bye.
11:35 P.M: My mobile rings. Unknown number. I pick the call, half asleep.
Me: Hello
Its me Raj, I too lost my job today. I told you wonderful KADHAL KAVITHAI's from my head but I guess, they were against the Cutomer Care rules.
I work as a receptionist in Hotel Rambha Paradise. Today, I was fired from my job.
The series of events that unfolded:
7-4.5 AM: "It's my life..It's now or never..I ain't gonna live forever..I just wanna live while I'm alive" yes the age old Bon Jovi song blares as my Alarm rings. I have a fad for fancy alarm tones. Shucks I'm late.
7-48 A.M: (In the shower) Do I need to use the Palmolive Aroma therapy shower gel now?
The song "It's my life..It's now or never..I ain't gonna live forever" strikes my head. I take the gel and fill the bathroom with bubbles. I play with a few bubbles for exactly forty five seconds to be precise.
8-15 A.M: 'Beep Beep' mobile reads '2 messages received'. One is from my manager “Where the hell are you?" Second message is from super Manager “Why the hell are you late?"
8-28 A.M: Whoa! I'm finally ready. I broke my earlier record of getting ready in 45 minutes by a huge margin today.
8-30 A.M: I proceed to work on my Orange Scooty. Yes I own an Orange coloured Scooty. My mother thinks the colour black is inauspicious, and brings bad luck. At the same time she thinks red is too outrageous, so we decided on the most auspicious colour orange. (Each time she takes a ride on the scooty my mom would say 'Namba scooty evlo mangalagarama irukku paaru')
8-35 A.M: Stranded in Traffic. My manager calls and I miss the call. Can't call back. No balance. I ride for 15 minutes and finally find a recharge shop.
9-00 A.M: I recharge my mobile for Rs. 50. I call my manager back, ‘Your balance is insufficient to complete the call." Oh God!
Message : Your 'KADHAL KAVITHAI SERVICE HAS BEEN ACTIVATED FOR Rs.50 FOR FIVE DAYS' (KADHAL KAVITHAI in Tamil refers to LOVELY LOVE RHYMES)Arghghhhhhhhhhh no time to call customer service and blast them. No balance to call my boss too. I think 'A stitch in time saves nine'. Yes, finally after 6 minutes and 45 seconds of introspection, I give my super manager a missed call.
Me: Hello! Ah Sir, there is a small problem. Can I explain?
Manager: Where the hell are you? Don't you know that today is the welcoming ceremony of the new dance bar in our hotel and the great dancer, Miss Rocky Rampant is coming for the inauguration. I thought you would bring a big bouquet made of expensive orchids from the USA, to welcome our dancer madam but you were nowhere to be seen.
Me: Yes sir, I will be there in 10 minutes sharp.
9-30: I reach just two minutes before the Miss Rocky Rampant leaves.
Manager: Where is the bouquet of Orchids from the USA.
Me: Sir, I couldn't get orchids from USA, they said Orchids from Srilanka were only available, I bought our Dancer Madame, a wonderful gift instead.
Manager: What gift is it?
Me: A pair of leggings made from snake skin. You know sir, this really tight pant called leggings is the in-thing today. You can easily find at least a hand full of girls wearing these in every corporate these days sir.
Manager: Oh really! Then I'm sure our dancer Madame will be happy. Good job.
Me: Thank you sir.
11:00 A.M: Inauguration Ceremony over.
Manager: Super Manager is calling you.
I think to myself, 'Wow I guess I'm gonna get promoted this week.'
Super Manager: This incorrigible behaviour of yours can no longer be tolerated in this organization.
Me: Organization?
Super Manager: Yes Hotel Rambha Paradise is like every other organization. We are strict about timings and commitment. I don’t see that spark and fire in your eyes. And look at your guts, you give me a missed call. Who do you think I am? I am not your boy friend.
Me: But, Sir Can I explain what actually happened?
Super Manager: I have heard enough from you. Now please go out. You can have your salary settled next week.
Me: But sir please can I justt...
Super Manager: No more explanations. You have taken things for granted for too long. We don't need such irresponsible behaviour in this organization. Coming late is like cancer. It spreads fast and before it can spread I'm removing the root cause of the cancer. You can leave now.
I walk out of the office furious.
Manager: Can you tell me where you bought those snake skin leggings? I want to buy one for my wife.
Me: You should probably ask our super boss. He gave it to me one morning asking me to hide it in my runner.
KADHAL KAVITHAI has cost me my job. I pick up the phone and call the customer care representative (CCR).
CCR: Good Morning! This is Raj, how may I assist you?
Me: Your connection is the world on the face of this planet. It has cost me my job today. I never subscribed to any service but I get charged for it. And worse I don’t get what the service offers too.
Raj: Chill maam. Can you please explain your problem in detail?
Me: My mobile reads a message saying some stupid random service named KADHAL KAVITHAI has been activated and I have been charged Rs 50 for it. I dont want any such service and please de-activate it now. Right now.
Raj : Can I have you mobile number please?
Me: 0919802372-0942-96
Raj : Can I know why you want to deactivate this service?
Me: There is no KADHAL in my life.
Raj: Maam, this service is to help your love life. Can you please state your requirements ?
Me: I had lost my cool. 'What requirements? Okay you want requirements take them down, paal pole 18- il enaku oru Boy friend Venum. Kaalam Theriyamal Kadalai naan poda enakku oru boy friend venm. ( I need a boy friend in his sweet 18) Can you satisfy that? And I have not recieved one KADHAL KAVIDHAI till now. Can you hook me up with Jeyam Ravi?
Raj: Sorry for the inconvenience maam. I can help you with a few KADHAL KAVIDHAI's
"Justice Delayed is Justice Denied,
If you don't accept me love,
I shall consume Cyanide"
Wah Wah Wah
" I don't drink alcohol,
Honey, you give me the same kick,
I don't need a sweater when I'm cold,
Honey, You are a hot Chick."
Wah Wah Wah
Me : I need you to deactivate this right now. Bye.
11:35 P.M: My mobile rings. Unknown number. I pick the call, half asleep.
Me: Hello
Its me Raj, I too lost my job today. I told you wonderful KADHAL KAVITHAI's from my head but I guess, they were against the Cutomer Care rules.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Playing the Doosra
I've always had this weird feeling that I was not an outcome of love, but I was a mere accident. Most second kids in the family tend to get this feeling when the difference between them and their elder sibling is more than about 6 years. When the difference is so vast, and you are the second child, you tend to attribute your existence to just three factors: Firstly you could have been born because your elder sibling was a complete retard and your parents needed something noteworthy to leave behind. The age gap can be attributed to the fact that it takes a long time to see development in slow kids. So you were just an outcome of frustration that was caused by the first child. Secondly in some cases, the second child becomes an entertainment factor for the first one. Yes the existence of some second kids can be attributed to the fact that they were born just get their Bhaiyas or Didis out of boredom. Lastly, your existence could have been a mere accident. This is what they call the unexpected surprise, and when your parents don’t have a choice but to keep you, the reason as to why you were born boils down to nothingness.
There's nothing new to anything second in life. The first crush, the first kiss, first job, first car, and the list of first, is endless. When it comes to the second crush, kiss, or car we don't take the effort to remember it. The reason being the immense excitement, eagerness, anxiety can be attributed only and only to the first things you do. I don’t mean to say that mothers don't want to bear second kids, but the excitement they experience while carrying the first child far surpasses the eagerness for the second. Only when a couple is going to have their first child, they say they are starting a family. Second kids are just an addition to the family. In life, additions make us happy. An additional car, additional home, additional income, and so on, but they aren't the very seeds of our happiness. To every mother, deep rooted inside the dark corners of her heart, there is a separate special space for the first child, which the second child does not have. That's why it hurts more when the elder kids get out of control or disobey parents. The first disappointments hurt a lot more. They quitely live with us, through our memories, and never fade away no matter how hard one tries.
You can call yourself an outcome of an accident if you were born when your father was close to 40 years of age or more. Who plans for a kid at an age when every man is chasing promotions and is trying to earn himself a decent roof with atleast two rooms, or few mutual funds to fall back upon after retirement? You are like free coke that comes with Pizzas. Not completely essential, but we don't mind it, since its free. When it comes to the first kids, parents look into every detail of their upbringing. In many cases the same care and concern is not rendered to the second child, because even before the second kids begin to learn their ABC, parents get caught up with other things and start dreading their middle age and the array of trauma associated with it.
In most cases, the elder siblings set the benchmark for the second kid in everything, ranging from scoring marks, playing games, being well mannered, hardworking, and a benchmark for immunity is also set by the fist kids. The second kids are expected to at least reach this set bench mark if not surpass it. We've often heard dialogues like “You both stay in the same house, how come your brother/sister can concentrate and study but you can't?" "How come you brother/sister never falls sick as often as you do?" “Learn from you brother/ sister. Learn how to behave." Second kids are tagged to their elder siblings for everything. Many parents fail to recognize them as individuals having a separate abilities and potential.
More often than not the first kids sulk and crib about having to shoulder the responsibility of taking care of their younger siblings. Having to protect them all through their childhood while travelling in the school van, while going for picnics, while playing outdoors. And all the time it is the elder kids who have to include their younger siblings in the games that they played with their friends. They claim to be the guardian angel for their younger siblings. They fail to realise the fact that this does not help the younger kids in any way. The elder kids are lauded by the world for their responsibility which just makes it a herculean task for the younger kids to reach the bench mark set by them. Another sad thing that most second kids have to live with right from the beginning of their lives is old cradles, prams, toys and even old pyjamas. Second kids live with a whole lot of second hand goods.
When it comes to important discussions in the family, the second child has no voice. And no one cares to hear him/her out, even if the poor kid makes a lot of sense. And no responsibility is given to the second kid. Parents don’t bother until the elder kid takes care of everything. Sudden responsibility is thrust on the younger kids when their elder brothers/ sisters get married. Suddenly the second child, who was deliberately not relied upon, is expected to be responsible. Any mistake anywhere and you are branded for life that you can never match up to the benchmark set up by your elder sibling in terms of responsibility.
A friend of mine who is a second child herself, told me that she would have two kids. " I will adopt one and give birth to one. So that each of them is one of a kind." "You don't have to do that", I told her. " Just treat each of them as one of a kind."
To all the parents out there, on behalf of every second child I would like to tell you that "Life is not too easy playing the Doosra, and it is utter foolishness to expect every Doosra to be a great delivery."
There's nothing new to anything second in life. The first crush, the first kiss, first job, first car, and the list of first, is endless. When it comes to the second crush, kiss, or car we don't take the effort to remember it. The reason being the immense excitement, eagerness, anxiety can be attributed only and only to the first things you do. I don’t mean to say that mothers don't want to bear second kids, but the excitement they experience while carrying the first child far surpasses the eagerness for the second. Only when a couple is going to have their first child, they say they are starting a family. Second kids are just an addition to the family. In life, additions make us happy. An additional car, additional home, additional income, and so on, but they aren't the very seeds of our happiness. To every mother, deep rooted inside the dark corners of her heart, there is a separate special space for the first child, which the second child does not have. That's why it hurts more when the elder kids get out of control or disobey parents. The first disappointments hurt a lot more. They quitely live with us, through our memories, and never fade away no matter how hard one tries.
You can call yourself an outcome of an accident if you were born when your father was close to 40 years of age or more. Who plans for a kid at an age when every man is chasing promotions and is trying to earn himself a decent roof with atleast two rooms, or few mutual funds to fall back upon after retirement? You are like free coke that comes with Pizzas. Not completely essential, but we don't mind it, since its free. When it comes to the first kids, parents look into every detail of their upbringing. In many cases the same care and concern is not rendered to the second child, because even before the second kids begin to learn their ABC, parents get caught up with other things and start dreading their middle age and the array of trauma associated with it.
In most cases, the elder siblings set the benchmark for the second kid in everything, ranging from scoring marks, playing games, being well mannered, hardworking, and a benchmark for immunity is also set by the fist kids. The second kids are expected to at least reach this set bench mark if not surpass it. We've often heard dialogues like “You both stay in the same house, how come your brother/sister can concentrate and study but you can't?" "How come you brother/sister never falls sick as often as you do?" “Learn from you brother/ sister. Learn how to behave." Second kids are tagged to their elder siblings for everything. Many parents fail to recognize them as individuals having a separate abilities and potential.
More often than not the first kids sulk and crib about having to shoulder the responsibility of taking care of their younger siblings. Having to protect them all through their childhood while travelling in the school van, while going for picnics, while playing outdoors. And all the time it is the elder kids who have to include their younger siblings in the games that they played with their friends. They claim to be the guardian angel for their younger siblings. They fail to realise the fact that this does not help the younger kids in any way. The elder kids are lauded by the world for their responsibility which just makes it a herculean task for the younger kids to reach the bench mark set by them. Another sad thing that most second kids have to live with right from the beginning of their lives is old cradles, prams, toys and even old pyjamas. Second kids live with a whole lot of second hand goods.
When it comes to important discussions in the family, the second child has no voice. And no one cares to hear him/her out, even if the poor kid makes a lot of sense. And no responsibility is given to the second kid. Parents don’t bother until the elder kid takes care of everything. Sudden responsibility is thrust on the younger kids when their elder brothers/ sisters get married. Suddenly the second child, who was deliberately not relied upon, is expected to be responsible. Any mistake anywhere and you are branded for life that you can never match up to the benchmark set up by your elder sibling in terms of responsibility.
A friend of mine who is a second child herself, told me that she would have two kids. " I will adopt one and give birth to one. So that each of them is one of a kind." "You don't have to do that", I told her. " Just treat each of them as one of a kind."
To all the parents out there, on behalf of every second child I would like to tell you that "Life is not too easy playing the Doosra, and it is utter foolishness to expect every Doosra to be a great delivery."
Friday, August 27, 2010
600020- Long live my Adyar
600020, the number that has been an integral part of my life for little over two decades now. Every letter, every greeting card, every post card, the ration card, my passport, my license, and even my bank account details bear this number. The pin code has not changed for the past two decades but Adyar has, from being just another locality in the outskirts of Chennai to the most sought after posh residency. Adyar has been my home for over two decades now.
Adyar composed of its various nagar's (Besant Nagar, Kasturibai Nagar, Baktavatsalam Nagar, Indira Nagar, Gandhi Nagar, Shastri Nagar and few others) was the cozy hub that connected you well to the Elliot’s beach on one side, to the shopping hub of T.Nagar in 15 minutes, to central railway station in a decent 25 minutes (provided there is no traffic) and to the airport in a fairly decent amount of time is located on the southern banks of the Adyar River. It is bounded by the Buckingham Canal to the west, Thiruvanmiyur to the south, and the Bay of Bengal to the east. Back in the late 70's and 80's Adyar was the only affordable and developing locality that a middle class could invest in. The coziness of the locality provided by its trees, the beach and theosophical society on one side and the yet to develop Thiruvanmiyur with Kalakshetra on the other was a good bet for many. It was the only place where one could comfortably afford 2-3 grounds of plot and built a decent enough independent house. T. Nagar and Poes Garden were still considered to be the poshest localities in the city owing to the celebrities and rich politicians who stayed there.
As I grew up, Adyar grew with me. I grew up in an Adyar where the only prominent landmarks on Sardar Patel road were Madhya Kailas, the cancer institute, IIT madras, Ambika Appalam Depot, Adyar Bakery and two famous hotels - Hotel Coronet and Hotel Runs. There was no Sangeetha, no Shree Krishna sweets, no Style one, or Odyssey- the book store. I vaguely remember Odyssey coming into existence when I was in class 3 or 4. Adyar was still a calm and cozy locality yet to be invaded by Branded showrooms. I felt it reflected the simple taste and needs of its residents. While I was in class 4 a chocolate doughnut in Adyar bakery cost Rs.4.50. Then the price rose to Rs 7 and today its Rs 12 or 15. It’s the bakery that sells the undoubtedly best doughnuts in entire Chennai. And the right time to eat a doughnut is just after its freshly baked and placed in the stands for sale. The fresh doughnuts are placed on the stands for sale when schools usually close, at about 3-30 or 4. Over the years, Adyar Bakery has changed a lot. There are new shops that sell chat and ice creams inside its premises now. The prices of the doughnuts have changed but the taste still remains the same.
I guess the first fully air conditioned departmental store that came to Adyar was Pushpa Shopee. It was located in the same place where the ICICI Bank (near the Aavin roundtana) today stands. This departmental store was the only luxury shop that Adyar had back then. Since the store attracted a few elite customers from the neighboring areas of Koturpuram and R.A Puram, there were fancy attractions like a homemade chocolates shop, a flower shop and a small outlet of the Hot breads bakery in the space near its entrance. The departmental store didn't do very well and hardly lasted for about 3-4 years. In the mid 90's the concept of shopping in trolleys and in an air conditioned shop still seemed too much of a luxury to the residents of Adyar. They preferred buying the household goods with the reliable shopkeeper at the corner of their street. It is a symbiotic relationship that every resident shares with the shopkeeper at the street corner. He cannot sustain business without them and they cannot do away without him at least during emergencies. And back then, residents were identified by the house names or the colour of their houses and not by names of apartments. That was the Adyar I lived in.
Adyar did not have a vegetable market. There were few small shops not more than about 150 sq in size, that sold only vegetables and the residents got their quota of veggies from these shops or a hawker who sold it to them on a daily basis. The nearest market was the Tani-Torai market in Mylapore. Even today Adyar does not have a separate vegetable market, which is why its been invaded by the Pazhamudhir Cholai's ( A store resembling a departmental store but sells only vegetables and fruits).They claim to sell the vegetables at the market price and pose a stiff competition to the hawkers and the other small timers. Adyar being the gateway to the IT highway has given room for many such shops. The IT professionals, mostly youngsters who are new to the city, living in rented homes or as paying guests, prefer buying their random dose of vegetables in these shops, than haggle with the hawkers or the small timers. They could walk right into the store and pick up what they want without even having to know the name of the vegetables or fruits in the local language. They don't mind paying extra since it saves them a lot of hassle.
Adyar has changed and its quite difficult to keep in pace with it. A new eatery, a new coffee shop, a clothes showroom, a hospital just springs up out of the blue. Every home or apartment has a new landmark each day. Today almost every street in Adyar has a unisex saloon or a spa. You'd go mad with the choices: Naturals, Green Trends, Kaya skin clinic, VLCC, Kanya, Anushka Saloon and the list goes on and on. As a kid, I remember there was a saloon named Topaz near Guhan studios on Sardar Patel road. It was the one and only famous saloon. “Haircut Rs30/- only” the board outside used to read. It was a small 250 sq ft shop with about four or five chairs. Being the only saloon in Adyar, the owner earned a huge fortune every Sunday. In order to keep pace with the spas and the unisex saloons the saloon has spruced up a little. It is now air conditioned and offers massages, facials and even spa treatments. Topaz today, has a faithful following of customers from old Adyar.
Adyar does not have Eros theatre anymore. There is a lancer showroom in its place. Hotel traffic Jam in Gandhi Nagar disappeared a few days back. Gandhi Nagar ladies club, where I learnt my first forehand in tennis ceases to exist. There are no more See- saws or Swings on the Elliot’s beach. The entire place is so congested with eating stalls that there is hardly any place where kids can run and play games like Kho Kho or Lock and Key. Gone are the days, where the only landmark in Besant Nagar was Maharaja Departmental stores and the Velankanni church. Thankfully Besant Nagar still retains its status of being the snug residential area unlike Gandhi Nagar, where half of the independent houses have been butchered into matchbox like apartments. Besant Nagar retains the calmness of interior Crescent Avenue in interior Gandhi Nagar. Crescent Avenue leads you to the banks of the Adyar river and St Patrick’s school. An early morning walk here would make you feel as if you are in Ooty or Kodai. The RBI quarters in Besant Nagar is a city by itself inside. The only place that keeps the colony spirit, which otherwise is alien to most apartments alive. The only places that have not changed in Gandhi Nagar, are famous Grand Sweets and Snacks and 100 year old school St Michaels. Grand Sweets is a shop that every NRI is familiar with. The only shop that sells the best savories and pickles in the whole of Chennai (Don’t convince me on any other shop. This is the best).
Today you don’t have to go to T. Nagar to buy yourself a Pattu Saree. You don’t have to go to Mount road or Richie Street to buy an electronic gadget. Adyar has it all, what you need and what you will need.
I wonder if Adyar would be called Adyar in a few years from now. But something that every name board, every shop and every Adyarite would carry is 600020. Its identity reduced to just a six digit number.
Adyar composed of its various nagar's (Besant Nagar, Kasturibai Nagar, Baktavatsalam Nagar, Indira Nagar, Gandhi Nagar, Shastri Nagar and few others) was the cozy hub that connected you well to the Elliot’s beach on one side, to the shopping hub of T.Nagar in 15 minutes, to central railway station in a decent 25 minutes (provided there is no traffic) and to the airport in a fairly decent amount of time is located on the southern banks of the Adyar River. It is bounded by the Buckingham Canal to the west, Thiruvanmiyur to the south, and the Bay of Bengal to the east. Back in the late 70's and 80's Adyar was the only affordable and developing locality that a middle class could invest in. The coziness of the locality provided by its trees, the beach and theosophical society on one side and the yet to develop Thiruvanmiyur with Kalakshetra on the other was a good bet for many. It was the only place where one could comfortably afford 2-3 grounds of plot and built a decent enough independent house. T. Nagar and Poes Garden were still considered to be the poshest localities in the city owing to the celebrities and rich politicians who stayed there.
As I grew up, Adyar grew with me. I grew up in an Adyar where the only prominent landmarks on Sardar Patel road were Madhya Kailas, the cancer institute, IIT madras, Ambika Appalam Depot, Adyar Bakery and two famous hotels - Hotel Coronet and Hotel Runs. There was no Sangeetha, no Shree Krishna sweets, no Style one, or Odyssey- the book store. I vaguely remember Odyssey coming into existence when I was in class 3 or 4. Adyar was still a calm and cozy locality yet to be invaded by Branded showrooms. I felt it reflected the simple taste and needs of its residents. While I was in class 4 a chocolate doughnut in Adyar bakery cost Rs.4.50. Then the price rose to Rs 7 and today its Rs 12 or 15. It’s the bakery that sells the undoubtedly best doughnuts in entire Chennai. And the right time to eat a doughnut is just after its freshly baked and placed in the stands for sale. The fresh doughnuts are placed on the stands for sale when schools usually close, at about 3-30 or 4. Over the years, Adyar Bakery has changed a lot. There are new shops that sell chat and ice creams inside its premises now. The prices of the doughnuts have changed but the taste still remains the same.
I guess the first fully air conditioned departmental store that came to Adyar was Pushpa Shopee. It was located in the same place where the ICICI Bank (near the Aavin roundtana) today stands. This departmental store was the only luxury shop that Adyar had back then. Since the store attracted a few elite customers from the neighboring areas of Koturpuram and R.A Puram, there were fancy attractions like a homemade chocolates shop, a flower shop and a small outlet of the Hot breads bakery in the space near its entrance. The departmental store didn't do very well and hardly lasted for about 3-4 years. In the mid 90's the concept of shopping in trolleys and in an air conditioned shop still seemed too much of a luxury to the residents of Adyar. They preferred buying the household goods with the reliable shopkeeper at the corner of their street. It is a symbiotic relationship that every resident shares with the shopkeeper at the street corner. He cannot sustain business without them and they cannot do away without him at least during emergencies. And back then, residents were identified by the house names or the colour of their houses and not by names of apartments. That was the Adyar I lived in.
Adyar did not have a vegetable market. There were few small shops not more than about 150 sq in size, that sold only vegetables and the residents got their quota of veggies from these shops or a hawker who sold it to them on a daily basis. The nearest market was the Tani-Torai market in Mylapore. Even today Adyar does not have a separate vegetable market, which is why its been invaded by the Pazhamudhir Cholai's ( A store resembling a departmental store but sells only vegetables and fruits).They claim to sell the vegetables at the market price and pose a stiff competition to the hawkers and the other small timers. Adyar being the gateway to the IT highway has given room for many such shops. The IT professionals, mostly youngsters who are new to the city, living in rented homes or as paying guests, prefer buying their random dose of vegetables in these shops, than haggle with the hawkers or the small timers. They could walk right into the store and pick up what they want without even having to know the name of the vegetables or fruits in the local language. They don't mind paying extra since it saves them a lot of hassle.
Adyar has changed and its quite difficult to keep in pace with it. A new eatery, a new coffee shop, a clothes showroom, a hospital just springs up out of the blue. Every home or apartment has a new landmark each day. Today almost every street in Adyar has a unisex saloon or a spa. You'd go mad with the choices: Naturals, Green Trends, Kaya skin clinic, VLCC, Kanya, Anushka Saloon and the list goes on and on. As a kid, I remember there was a saloon named Topaz near Guhan studios on Sardar Patel road. It was the one and only famous saloon. “Haircut Rs30/- only” the board outside used to read. It was a small 250 sq ft shop with about four or five chairs. Being the only saloon in Adyar, the owner earned a huge fortune every Sunday. In order to keep pace with the spas and the unisex saloons the saloon has spruced up a little. It is now air conditioned and offers massages, facials and even spa treatments. Topaz today, has a faithful following of customers from old Adyar.
Adyar does not have Eros theatre anymore. There is a lancer showroom in its place. Hotel traffic Jam in Gandhi Nagar disappeared a few days back. Gandhi Nagar ladies club, where I learnt my first forehand in tennis ceases to exist. There are no more See- saws or Swings on the Elliot’s beach. The entire place is so congested with eating stalls that there is hardly any place where kids can run and play games like Kho Kho or Lock and Key. Gone are the days, where the only landmark in Besant Nagar was Maharaja Departmental stores and the Velankanni church. Thankfully Besant Nagar still retains its status of being the snug residential area unlike Gandhi Nagar, where half of the independent houses have been butchered into matchbox like apartments. Besant Nagar retains the calmness of interior Crescent Avenue in interior Gandhi Nagar. Crescent Avenue leads you to the banks of the Adyar river and St Patrick’s school. An early morning walk here would make you feel as if you are in Ooty or Kodai. The RBI quarters in Besant Nagar is a city by itself inside. The only place that keeps the colony spirit, which otherwise is alien to most apartments alive. The only places that have not changed in Gandhi Nagar, are famous Grand Sweets and Snacks and 100 year old school St Michaels. Grand Sweets is a shop that every NRI is familiar with. The only shop that sells the best savories and pickles in the whole of Chennai (Don’t convince me on any other shop. This is the best).
Today you don’t have to go to T. Nagar to buy yourself a Pattu Saree. You don’t have to go to Mount road or Richie Street to buy an electronic gadget. Adyar has it all, what you need and what you will need.
I wonder if Adyar would be called Adyar in a few years from now. But something that every name board, every shop and every Adyarite would carry is 600020. Its identity reduced to just a six digit number.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Finding....
Come what may,
One day I will find my way,
This time my mind won’t sway,
Like they say, Life’s not an easy way.
Fear, resentment and frustration are at bay,
Just to tell me that there’s no way.
I don’t care about what others say,
Or about the wicked games that they play,
It could be an endless journey,
And confusing in many ways,
Come what may,
One day I will find my way.
One day I will find my way,
This time my mind won’t sway,
Like they say, Life’s not an easy way.
Fear, resentment and frustration are at bay,
Just to tell me that there’s no way.
I don’t care about what others say,
Or about the wicked games that they play,
It could be an endless journey,
And confusing in many ways,
Come what may,
One day I will find my way.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Adventures of Miss AB in Trans-fat land
I am Miss AB, now don't mistake me to be Amitabh, Abhishek or Aishwarya Rai Bachan. AB- Stands for Aloo Bonda. Previously, I used to hate the name, but now I guess I am used to being called that way. I am too depressed these days that I have begun, expanding horizontally, resulting in profound rotundity all through my anatomy.
I find profundity in rotundity. You don't get what I mean right? The best things in this universe are rotund. The sun, the moon, the earth itself, apples, cherries, grapes, Gulab Jamuns, Rasagullas, Pan Cakes, Cookies, Chocolate truffle (I mean the whole cake), Pizzas, Thattai, Murukku, Onion uthappams, Gol gappas,Peanuts, Baskin Robin's ice- cream scoops, Parle Pop-ins, Pure magic biscuits and the list of irresistable round things is endless. The best round object in this world is the potato. And how can I forget, Aloo Bondas and Aloo parathas. If I had to choose between food and sex, I would choose the former, because its easily available at anytime you want, you don't have to depend on someone for it and 'FOOD'gets you out of depression.
I am a diet dropout. The last time I ever ate diet food, was when I ate Marie Biscuits. I tried a diet called the GM diet. This was when I stocked a life time of nutrients and vitamins into my body. The results of the diet seemed outstanding when I went up to measure the merits of my performance on the weighing machine. The pointer showed a four degree shift to left and I was terribly excited. But my joy was short lived, and I happened to meet an old friend who ended up not only destroying my temporary happiness but also got me into deep depression. " Oh my god!! You've put on so much weight. What happened?" she said. I wanted to tell her that I had actually lost weight, but remained silent. That was the last time I had met her. I hate it when relatives and friends remind me of my rotundity in weddings, and other happy gatherings. It makes me awfully depressed that I end up taking two servings of the dessert.
And then dawned hope. I read Kareena Kapoor's success weight loss story. Yes even I could become my dream me. I just had to streamline my depression eating. My deep depression had caused me to blog relentlessly, usually late at nights when my apetite soars high."Its okay if I ate Milk Bikies or Parle- G at night, but I must avoid pampering my taste buds by smearing Jam in between the biscuits", I thought. My oil intake was quite under control. Ever since the microwave was introduced, every south indian house hold used it mainly to make oil free papads and fryums. What actually needed attention was my Bornville, and Bonda intake.
I hate my boy friend for three things. One, for naming me Aloo Bonda, two for gifting me Bornvilles everytime we meet, and the third one for fixing up our meeting point at Bamblimas Bonda stall. Otherwise, he's a nice chap. He accepts my rotundity and does not rub it in. Unlike most men, who find the collar bone jutting out as the most appealing factor, my guy finds profundity in rotundity. I have a gym mate who is just as plump as I am and her boy friend presented her a weighing machine on her birthday. She felt so miserable that she broke down half way on the treadmill one day. If I was her, I would have dumped the third rated bastard. My boy friend is the only soul who tells me that I have lost weight after each session at the gym. I often envy the skinny women who come to gym. I am curious about how they are so skinny despite eating the same amount as I eat. Despite just eating two Chapatis for both lunch and dinner and running six miles for 2 months continuously, the pointer on the weighing machine showed just a two degree shift to the left. I had expected to lose at least 5 kilos. Just as I was about to suffer a slight nervous break down, I saw a really huge woman enter the gym. In my estimate she would easily weigh at least 200 pounds.
She saw me sit in the couch, waiting to get my new diet plan. She asked me if I was waiting for the dietician. " Did the diet help?", she asked. " Not really. I just lost two kilos after two months" I said. " Be happy you at least lost two. I lost none. Be happy girl. Fat people like me find profundity in rotundity. God made most strategic parts of the human body rotund, just to make human beings more appealing. And I have many other parts rotund, and that makes me even more appealing." she said laughingly. "Let me know after you're done with your appointment." she said, and walked towards the juice counter. Just as she turned, I saw what was written on her pink t-shirt. " Your weight is not down your waist, but up your head. All that matters is how you carry it."
I find profundity in rotundity. You don't get what I mean right? The best things in this universe are rotund. The sun, the moon, the earth itself, apples, cherries, grapes, Gulab Jamuns, Rasagullas, Pan Cakes, Cookies, Chocolate truffle (I mean the whole cake), Pizzas, Thattai, Murukku, Onion uthappams, Gol gappas,Peanuts, Baskin Robin's ice- cream scoops, Parle Pop-ins, Pure magic biscuits and the list of irresistable round things is endless. The best round object in this world is the potato. And how can I forget, Aloo Bondas and Aloo parathas. If I had to choose between food and sex, I would choose the former, because its easily available at anytime you want, you don't have to depend on someone for it and 'FOOD'gets you out of depression.
I am a diet dropout. The last time I ever ate diet food, was when I ate Marie Biscuits. I tried a diet called the GM diet. This was when I stocked a life time of nutrients and vitamins into my body. The results of the diet seemed outstanding when I went up to measure the merits of my performance on the weighing machine. The pointer showed a four degree shift to left and I was terribly excited. But my joy was short lived, and I happened to meet an old friend who ended up not only destroying my temporary happiness but also got me into deep depression. " Oh my god!! You've put on so much weight. What happened?" she said. I wanted to tell her that I had actually lost weight, but remained silent. That was the last time I had met her. I hate it when relatives and friends remind me of my rotundity in weddings, and other happy gatherings. It makes me awfully depressed that I end up taking two servings of the dessert.
And then dawned hope. I read Kareena Kapoor's success weight loss story. Yes even I could become my dream me. I just had to streamline my depression eating. My deep depression had caused me to blog relentlessly, usually late at nights when my apetite soars high."Its okay if I ate Milk Bikies or Parle- G at night, but I must avoid pampering my taste buds by smearing Jam in between the biscuits", I thought. My oil intake was quite under control. Ever since the microwave was introduced, every south indian house hold used it mainly to make oil free papads and fryums. What actually needed attention was my Bornville, and Bonda intake.
I hate my boy friend for three things. One, for naming me Aloo Bonda, two for gifting me Bornvilles everytime we meet, and the third one for fixing up our meeting point at Bamblimas Bonda stall. Otherwise, he's a nice chap. He accepts my rotundity and does not rub it in. Unlike most men, who find the collar bone jutting out as the most appealing factor, my guy finds profundity in rotundity. I have a gym mate who is just as plump as I am and her boy friend presented her a weighing machine on her birthday. She felt so miserable that she broke down half way on the treadmill one day. If I was her, I would have dumped the third rated bastard. My boy friend is the only soul who tells me that I have lost weight after each session at the gym. I often envy the skinny women who come to gym. I am curious about how they are so skinny despite eating the same amount as I eat. Despite just eating two Chapatis for both lunch and dinner and running six miles for 2 months continuously, the pointer on the weighing machine showed just a two degree shift to the left. I had expected to lose at least 5 kilos. Just as I was about to suffer a slight nervous break down, I saw a really huge woman enter the gym. In my estimate she would easily weigh at least 200 pounds.
She saw me sit in the couch, waiting to get my new diet plan. She asked me if I was waiting for the dietician. " Did the diet help?", she asked. " Not really. I just lost two kilos after two months" I said. " Be happy you at least lost two. I lost none. Be happy girl. Fat people like me find profundity in rotundity. God made most strategic parts of the human body rotund, just to make human beings more appealing. And I have many other parts rotund, and that makes me even more appealing." she said laughingly. "Let me know after you're done with your appointment." she said, and walked towards the juice counter. Just as she turned, I saw what was written on her pink t-shirt. " Your weight is not down your waist, but up your head. All that matters is how you carry it."
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