Time to Migrate?

It’s hot and sultry. I look up at the AC vents and then at my co-passengers, sweat trickling down my face. Suddenly a bunch of newspapers is shoved into my hand. I turn around to find my husband sitting behind me, signaling me to fan myself cool.

I resign myself to my fate and take out my laptop in the hope of forgetting the heat and the sweat in the company of my e- books. I start out reading ‘Unsettled’ by Neelima Vinod. The going is good. I am transported to another world. I find myself ‘face to face’ with Shankara and Thatri. The excitement is building up. But just when I am trying to figure out what Thatri’s reaction will be when she finds out Shankara’s intentions, the screen goes blank. The spell is broken.

I press the keys frantically hoping to revive the 3 kg thing sitting comfortably on my lap. But to no avail. The batteries have failed once again. I curse the manufacturers. The dealer too is not spared. I curse the day I decided to buy my laptop. ‘Unsettled’ had to wait till I reached my daughter’s nest. I am left unsettled.

A week later I am on my return journey. Looking out through the window I catch sight of a the mountain ranges bathed in the morning mist. I close my eyes, allowing the beauty of the sight to seep in. I hear a knock on the doors of my brain. I open it. A whiff of cool air enters. An idea is born. I pull out the laptop. The batteries have been charged fully. Yet I let out a silent prayer pressurizing the heavens to let the idea be transported into my file in entirety without a hitch.

My fingers fly on the keyboard, words flow from the finger tips. The milieu, the chattering doesn't deter me. Slowly the world and all around me fade into oblivion. What remains is me, my laptop and my ideas taking the shape of a story. 20 minutes into my endeavor coffee arrives. I take it without taking off my eyes from the screen. I take a sip, then another. The cup is set aside. My fingers once again move to give words to my thoughts. I press ‘K’, press it again and again. No response. Baffled I look to the top of the screen. The message, “Windows is not responding” stares me back.  I am stuck. I feel like tearing at my hair. The 3 kg thing weighs me down. My husband pities the manufacturers and the dealer as I mouth my “shrap”  (curse).

“Useless baggage,” I muttered to myself. The decision was made. The ‘thing’ would not accompany me on my journeys in future. My husband suggested I choose something small and handy, a tablet maybe. I was skeptical. Yet I decided to look out for something worthwhile and that is when I came across this site.

“Whoa!” I said when I checked out the 2-in-1 Ultra portable laptop with 10 inch tablet ASUS Transformer Book T100 a laptop with detachable tablet. The features, the size all seemed to match my wants. The size, the OS are perfect but what about the battery I asked myself. Will it last the journey from Calicut to Trivandrum?  That’s when my eyes caught sight of something catchy. “Take charge of power that never wants to end” said the slogan. I looked below it and a smile spread across my face.”Nothing will slow you down ever again with the ASUS Transformer Book T100’s incredible battery life, an astounding 11 hours of continuous web browsing keeps you connected longer and always in action. With the accelerated ASUS Instant On and Microsoft Instant Go technology, the ASUS Transformer Book T100 is always ready to perform when you are.” Now isn’t that cool I asked myself. The journey from Calicut to Trivandrum by rail is around nine hours and the assured battery life of ASUS Transformer Book T100 as per the manufacturer’s, is 11 hours. Now you know what I mean. “No interruption, no jhanjhat. Only mazza hee mazaa.”

Powered by Intel Atom Processor Z3740 this 2-in-1 ultraportable laptop has a 1.2 mega pixel camera. Now that’s another advantage that I did not have with my laptop. Suddenly I remembered my half written story inspired by the mountains, on my last journey. I knew if I had something like this then, the scene would have been captured in the lens for me to savour at my will.

Aah! And if the manufacturers are to be believed, “the keyboard dock perfectly designed 19mm travel distance provides a comfortable typing experience….” Being one, who likes to continuously give expression to her feelings, her opinions and her thoughts in her blogs, now this is something that interests me? The US3.0 Super Speed Port and easy access to the Windows Store and X Box live will I am sure add spice to the experience. Last but not the least, the weight a little over 500 gms means ‘less weight, more comfort.’ So no more back aches, no more ‘moov.’

I am on the verge of making up my mind, when something hits me like a bolt from the blue. The price!!! A whooping 32,999/- (INR). Mind you this is the ‘best buy price.’ I wonder and then decide. Let’s wait, watch and pray. The price may go down or who knows Lady Luck may smile on me. A gift wrapped ASUS Transformer Book T100 may arrive someday.

And now here's a peek into the thing that caught my fancy 

ASUS TRANSFORMER BOOK T100

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This post is written for the 

ASUS - TIME TO TRANSFORM CONTEST on INDIBLOGGER

Inviting you to visit my blog FABRIC OF LIFE too, to read the latest.

Please leave your footprints in the form of comments and suggestions. Your words mean a lot to me.

The Sunsilk Experience

The train chugged in exactly ten minutes late. But even before it came to a grinding halt I had caught a glimpse of her by the door. Making my way through the milieu I reached her only to be shoved .I lost my balance but before I landed on the platform two firm, caring hands steadied me.

“Hey Ma! Take it easy,” she said.

I looked up smiling. But before long the smile disappeared. There before me was the apple of my eyes. But what is this? She looks different. I tried to figure out what was amiss. Has she lost weight? Is it the dress...? Suddenly it dawned on me that her crowning glory was the subject of concern. I missed her long and thick tresses. I ran my hand through her hair. Gone was that silken texture. Coarse strands greeted me.

“What’s this?” I asked. “Not oiling your hair properly these days?”

“Ma, now don’t start off,” she said.

The rest of the journey back home was uneventful.

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“Ma, can you do me a favour,” she asked.

I looked at her enquiringly.

“Ma, can you rub in oil into my scalp and shampoo my head with that wild mussaenda leaf juice you always use to clean your hair?”

“Just give me a few minutes,” I said. “I will massage your head.”

“What about the wild mussaenda leaf juice?” she asked.

“That will have to wait for another day. I have to boil and keep the leaves  overnight before I squeeze the juice. Besides, it’s getting dark and it’s not proper to pluck leaves after dusk,” I said

“Then what do I do? Just see my hair. It’s like chagary (coconut husk),” she lamented.

It was then that I remembered the pack that was delivered to me the previous day, the New Sunsilk Natural Recharge Shampoo and Conditioner. The hamper was an instant hit. It looked good. But then looks can be deceptive. Would this prove the adage wrong, I wondered. I had to find out.

“Wait, I have something new. Let’s try it out,” I said.

She looked at me with wary eyes. “Hey, I am not a guinea pig,” she said. “Don’t try out anything new on me.”

“Don’t worry, at the most what will happen? Your hair will remain as it is. It can’t get any worse,” I said. Then added, “In that case, we always have the option of grandma’s remedy (wild mussaenda leaf juice) to set things right.”

Hesitatingly, she agreed. The head massage over, she stepped into the bathroom armed with the shampoo and conditioner.

Two hours later I ran my hand through her tresses. Lo, behold!  What do I see? What do I feel? …… Soft strands of silk parted to my touch.  The scalp was clean and shining and the coarse, dry hair was replaced with soft silken strands. The limp, entangled tresses had given way to a bunch of thick, strong tuft. I gently tugged at the strands. They did not yield to the pressure.  The natural look was back. The process of repair and recovery had started.

The transformation was there for me to see in my daughter's new, refreshed look. 

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A short intro to New Sunsilk Natural Recharge Shampoo and Conditioner –

Co- created by celebrity hair stylist and Sunsilk expert  Jamal Hammadi and manufactured and marketed by Hindustan Lever Ltd.,  the pleasant smelling paraben free neutral pH, New Sunsilk Natural Recharge is infused with ginseng plant root extract  and oil ( Source : Info printed on product). The idea is to nourish, strengthen and recharge the hair follicles and add bounce and volume to the hair.

A piece of advice – Want strong, silky, abundant hair?

• Nutrition is the key to good health and good hair. Have a balanced diet. Make sure you eat plenty of green leafy vegetables, carrots, fruits, nuts, etc.

• Handle your hair with care. There is a saying in Malayalam that “One spoils the eyes by touching them frequently and the hair by not touching it,” So make sure to communicate with your hair. Old timers recommend a minimum of 100 brush strokes a day. Warning – Don’t be harsh on your hair. After all I am sure you don’t want to cause damage to your crowning glory.

• Trim the hair at regular intervals to get rid of split ends. Split ends hinder hair growth.

• Tie/plait  your hair when dry. Avoid pollutants and harmful chemicals. Shield from direct sunlight.

Aah! Those long, lovely tresses

1975 - IX std.

I looked into the mirror and what I saw there

Brought not a smile to my lips but a tear to my eyes

My hair black was limp and listless, drained of life

The ends malnourished were quickly dying.

1978- In college

I looked into the mirror and what I saw there

Brought a smile to my lips, a bounce to my steps

Hair thick and flowing, the connoisseur of all eyes

Ends curled up beautifully added to my beauty.

2002 – a career woman in her early 40s

I looked into the mirror and what I saw there

Brought not a smile to my lips but a crease to my forehead

Hair thick and flowing showed signs of deterioration

Ends cracking and breaking looked ugly, impaired.

2014- a woman in her early 50s

Today I looked into the mirror and what I saw there

Brought not a smile to my lips but tears to my eyes

Hair long yet thinning was dull and listless

Crying for mercy, begging for care.

Well in short this is the story of my hair. As a child I had long, jet black hair albeit thin yet curly and lovely. However by the time I reached the IX standard, I was diagnosed for a serious illness, an illness that drained my body of vital nutrients and also forced me to take strong drugs to keep my kidneys working. My hair took a beating. As days passed by the curls were gone, the tresses were malnourished and begged for food. But I was helpless. They protested, split and started falling off. The protest grew as the days went by till mother was forced to cut them short. That day I cried. I wondered what my friends at school would say. Would they who had always envied my long plaits, make fun of me or offer their sympathies? Either way it was more than I could bear. Luckily for me, no one made such a thing as even a fleeting comment.

Then in 1976 I joined college in Kerala. I was placed under the care of my grandmother (Dad’s mother). Roles reversed I started envying the long, luxurious tresses of my cousins, relatives and friends. I yearned for hair as beautiful and vibrant as theirs. Luckily for me my grandmother took my tresses in hand and decided to nourish them and make them strong, long and beautiful. Each day she would oil them before I took bath. The evenings would find her caressing my hair, removing all the knots patiently taking care not to damage them. The hair tied in a big knot on the top of the head would stay there the whole night only to be opened the next morning.

Sunday was set apart for some extra care. Each Saturday grandma made it a point to go to the fields, pick up some wild mussenda leaves and boil them. Sunday morning saw my head, my tresses dripping with oil for half an hour. Then the ritual of squeezing the juice from the leaves would start. Grandma insisted that the leaves be squeezed gently. No way to hurry the process. Her oft repeated quote was,”Vellila piriyanam engil oru archa pattini kidakennam” literally meaning to squeeze the juice from the mussenda leaves one must go without food for at least a week. In short, what she meant was that the leaves should be squeezed with really light fingers. The juice worked as a shampoo cum conditioner. At the same time it provided vital nutrients to the hair and scalp. My hair started growing long and thick. The tresses became healthy imparting a new look, new glow not only to my crown but to my face as well. Finally before the year was gone the thickness, length and quality of my tresses surpassed those of my cousins, relatives (except of course that of one of my aunts whose tresses flowed well below her knees) and friends. The envious became the envied. The tresses imparted an added confidence. I slowly came out of my shell. I often heard my classmates sing these lines of a song from the famous Malayalam film ‘Salini ente kootukari, ‘whenever I entered the class-

“Nin thumbu kettiyitta churul mudiyil

Thulasi thalirila choodee”

(Your curly hair with a knot tied at the end and tender basil leaves adorning them)

At first I was taken aback, wondering whether they were making fun of me but then realized it was pure admiration. The very knowledge was pleasing.

Even after passing out from college and starting a career I found many a head turn around admiring my tresses.  I remember my first day in my in- laws place. Ours was an arranged marriage and we met only once before marriage i.e. when he came to see me. An aunt of his told me that on his returning from meeting me the first time, everyone was eager to know how I looked. The only thing he remarked was, “She has really long and thick hair.” It seems he instantly fell for my tresses.

In the initial years of my career I took good care to maintain my hair. Yet as time passed by and I bore a child time seemed too short. Twenty four hours a day was insufficient for both office and home. The frequent shift of dwelling and consequent change of water from well to bore to tap and vice- versa on account of frequent transfers, took a toll on my hair. My hair started to fall as never before, ends split. They grew back fast but by the time I reached my mid- forties I realized that the growth rate was coming down. Even the frequent trimming could not arrest the split end phenomena.   I slowly started to realize that age was catching up on me and my pride possession, my tresses. Now that does have a sobering effect.

Today I am in my early fifties I still have long hair, longer than most of my cousins, relatives and friends in the same age group yet, I cannot help musing on the lost glory my long, luxurious, curly hair. I miss those envious looks, that added confidence those tresses imparted. Today even a short trip out in the sun, the wind has disastrous effects on my hair. They easily entangle and are difficult to dis-entangle meaning more loss of that one thing that is any woman dreams of – beautiful hair. Remember what Oliver Herford said, “A hair in the head is worth two in the brush.” I’d do anything to keep that one hair intact.

How I wish I could once again recharge my hair, impart to them that vibrant silky soft texture that had once been theirs. How I wish I could once again get back my crowning glory and with it my confidence, confidence that a lovely hair that stays as it is required to stay, imparts.  Aah! I long for those wonderful days when my hair would make heads turn.  That reminds me of an incident that took place when I was taking my daughter and little niece of four, shopping. It was in the early nineties.  Two little children sitting on the compound wall of a house happened to remark thus as we passed them, “Hai! Look what lovely hair.” I smiled but my niece did not like it. She felt they were looking with an evil eye at my tresses. She worried for the fate of my hair.

Martin Luther rightly said, “The hair is the richest ornament of women.” Compare a beautiful face with long tresses as the sole ornament and another with limp, thin, balding hair sporting diamonds and rubies. Who wins? The first I am sure. I'd like to once again be that first one.

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This post is written for Sunsilk recharge you hair, recharge your life contest on Indiblogger

Those were the days

“Pluckh!” She fell into the cold water as I stood staring at her. The sound alerted amma who was enjoying a swim. Suddenly before I realized what was happening she was hauled out of the water safe and secure. ‘She’ here was and still is my best friend - my younger sis. Well, that fall in the pond was our first tryst with beauty consciousness. She was a babe of a little over two and me a child of four. 

We were on a short vacation to my mother’s ancestral home. The pond in question was one attached to the house where the ladies took a dip and enjoyed a swim. The two of us fascinated by the sight of a pond and people swimming in it made it a point to accompany amma for the swim. The obedient we, never dared disobey amma’s orders. But that day it so happened that lil’ sis   decided to roll in the lap of mother earth and in the process smeared herself with mud. The elder sister in me decided she needed a scrubbing and a dip and off started the bathing process. Soap applied I led her down the steps into the water. But the slippery stone decided to play spoil sport and there she went “Pluckh!” into the water. Well this was not the last of our adventures. In fact it was the first in a series to come in the following years.

On another occasion we decided to join amma at the pond near my paternal house. Sis was just three and I was five. Just as we were sneaking out through a side gate our cousin a boy of sis’s age insisted on joining us. So off went the three of us on our mission “Pond Visit”. The rain the previous night had left puddles of mud and water in the narrow lane at the side of the house. Hardly had we covered 100 m when suddenly our cousin got stuck in the mud. Our efforts to rescue him having failed we left him there all alone after assuring him we’d call amma and get him out of the mess. But once at the pond we coolly forgot about him and sat watching mom washing the clothes. We told her that we had informed Dad. So happy were we watching the fish playing in the waters and children swimming, that we did not notice Dad arrive with a stick. It was only then that mom realized that we had told her a lie. We ran all the way home avoiding coming into contact with the stick. Later we came to know that our aunt alerted by our cousin’s cry had sent Dad on our trail. 

Our tryst with beauty and danger did not end there. One cold winter morning Mom sat on the charpoy outside with the neighbouring ladies stitching a sweater for Dad, while the two of us played indoors. Little sis still a baby of three attracted by a picture of a girl with rosy cheeks on a magazine cover, expressed a desire. She too wanted rosy cheeks.  The genius I decided to grant her wish. When mother came she was aghast. Little sis was proudly showing off her ‘rosy cheeks.’ I too was mighty pleased and proudly revealed the secret of the transformation. I had bitten her cheeks till they were rosy red. Luckily mom let me off with just a small session on the dangers of my action. That was the last time sis ever expressed a desire for rosy cheeks and the last time I ever bit her or anybody for that matter. My incisors learnt to vent their love only and only on food. They vowed never to dig into human flesh any more.

Ahh! As years fled by we grew and with it our beauty consciousness and pranks. One hot summer day in the afternoon Mom sent us off to take a short siesta. I think I was in the second and lil’ sis was in the kinder garden. We had for company our neighbour’s daughter who was three years my senior. Well, we decided siesta could wait but not our desire for a catwalk session. So off we went applying a liberal dose of talcum powder on our face, neck and hands to look shining white, a bottle of red liquid bindi served as lipstick and the kajal as mascara. Hair tied up with ribbons, wearing mom’s heels we started our ramp walk only to find ourselves falling head over heels and inviting mom’s wrath. In the process one of us also shed some blood. That I believe was our first and last attempt at catwalk.

As years passed by and we grew in age our pranks too took other shapes. We started becoming more sober, more mature and more responsible.  By the time we reached our teens we had outgrown the kind of pranks we played as kids.  But the days we spent as kids, the pranks we played, the fun we had still remain with us and once in a while we relive them, share them with our kids and laugh at ourselves. Those years will never come back but those memories are there forever.

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Amma- mother

Kajal – a black cream of sort applied in the lower eyelid

Bindi – a sign worn on the forehead usually round in shape.

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This post is written for the Dove   contest on Indiblogger

Inviting you to visit my blog Fabric of Life too to read the latest  

Please leave your footprints in the form of comments and suggestions. Your words mean a lot to me.